Page 11 of A Spark of Luck
“I’ve been on missions all over Afghanistan, Doc. It’s not a matter of time. I don’t keep track like that.”
“This is my second time here, and I feel like I’m still stuck seeing the same thing day in and day out.”
“Not a site-seeing place, Doc. Too dangerous.”
“I have a name, Lieutenant.”
“I know.”
She shifted her position, coming close to bumping his legs. “Cait. My name is Cait.”
Those green eyes sparked. The circle of gray in the core of his eyes stopped them being pretty. But they didn’t come across gray either. She knew she wouldn’t forget them, but she could read nothing of his expression. Like he’d shut it down hard on purpose. A good skill to have as a SEAL but not as a friend. But she wasn’t his friend, was she? She was the doctor who’d sewed up his ass.
He stayed silent and gazed at her, eyes never breaking contact with her face. Most men would have at least checked out her boobs. But not this man.
“As you already know, my friends call me Hunt.” He handed over the last three apple slices,wiped his knife on a napkin from the bag, and then flicked it closed. It disappeared into one of the big pockets on his pants.
“Are we going to be friends, Hunt?” She finished off the slices before he answered.
“I’m not here long enough to make friends, Cait.”
Something hummed in his tone and a wash of pleasure went down her spine. Her nipples beaded, shooting heat to her core. This wasn’t any kind of come on she’d ever experienced. Was that what this was or was he warning her off?
The way to find out was to ask, but did she have the nerve? She swallowed the last of the apples and reached for the water on her bedside table. Taking a swig to clear her dry throat, she dug deep for the guts. “What are you here for?”
“I was wondering.” He took the cookie out of the bag and laid it on her nightstand.
“Wondering?”
“Whether you touching me in the hospital and zinging my body was a biological fluke or something else.”
His words sent a flash of that zing across her skin. A raw, scary pitch took over her stomach. Cait licked her lips, switching off all her mental arguments. She lifted herself across his lap before she could let the doctor in her take over instead ofthe woman. His hands fell to her hip to cradle her there and keep her from falling.
His eyes sparked. “Well, I guess that answered my question.”
“Yeah, I guess it did.” Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was fucking Afghanistan. She touched him when she stitched him up, pretending she wasn’t affected. The warmth of him seeped into her pores and she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to snuggle in and so she did.
His lips were right there. Kissing him seemed like a mighty fine idea. He must have thought so too, because he tilted his head and leaned into her like there was nothing he wanted more than a taste.
Lips. Together. Bumping noses didn’t stop either of them.
The first sweet slide of lip-to-lip stole past her guard. Her hands moved to his face, the roughness of the stubble from his beard prickling her skin. He slipped his hands from her hips to her waist to pull her closer.
The kiss transitioned from polite and tentative to as raw and wild as the mountains around the base. Her heartbeat thumped in her core. Her bones went liquid, and she collapsed against him to get closer. He moaned and so did she. Desperateto taste, she pressed her tongue along the seam of his lips and requested permission to enter.
Her lips against his seemed so right she couldn’t stifle the need to press her breasts against his chest. Fingers at his nape, his tongue met hers and tangled her tight in a wave of shimmering want, beading her nipples, making her ache. She broke away and followed the track of need, tossing the leash. She squirmed apart from him to straddle his lap, sanity lost and not caring. He kissed her again, his mouth demanding, so she let her tongue dance along with his. With teeth and lips and tongues dueling, she let herself sink farther into the thank God wonderful feel of him and marveled he wasn’t pulling away.
In fact, his clever hands loosened her t-shirt from her waistband. His palms skirted underneath, his warmth against her skin decimating boundaries. Wild sensation rolled one wave after another, ripping down defenses that had only collapsed one other time – when she had touched him to fix his body. His rough warrior caress flared a sense of belonging that did not make sense.
Thankfully, she’d already ditched her surgical top when she came through the door. Now she pulled her T-shirt over her head wishing like hell she’d worn her black bra, not her utilitarian white. Hunt’s hands kept her balanced. She mourned theloss of his mouth for those seconds it took to sweep the shirt away because a responsible thought rose to her attention.
Hunt eased back. His eyes swept her face then dropped to her breasts. His fingers released the fasteners at her bra back and the fabric dropped leaving Cait bare – physically and emotionally.
“Beautiful.” Hunt whistled quietly, his hands caressing her skin. He dropped his mouth to her neck, kissing and charming his way back to her mouth. His hands stroked the shape of her breasts, and the burn in her lower body moved closer to inferno. He was strength and pure iron will against her. She needed this, needed him with an agony that enveloped her. Every curve, every inch of skin was a throbbing pulse point waiting for what he’d do next.
She wasn’t idle by any means. Her brain was not functioning to argue herself in or out of doing her own exploration. Instinct guided her to the flame, the heat of him. The nape of his neck, the strength of his fingers, the firmness of his lips.
She didn’t do this. But would she ever get the chance to feel like this again? Lord, she was how old? Had spent more time saying no than saying why not.
