Page 12 of A Spark of Luck
“Doc, you better verbalize yes or no.” His eyes blazed with a keen light.
She cupped his face and stared into those eyes. “I’m half naked. So that would be yes.”
Hunt shifted to look at the bed. “This is the narrowest bed ever.”
“Don’t think you can maneuver?” She grinned at him, attacking his shirt. She wanted him naked, too.
“Oh, I can maneuver.” He shucked both his duty shirt, his t-shirt, and his restraint. She ran the pads of her fingers over his chest, fascinated by springy, dark hair and deep, obscene scars. She hurt for him, knowing from her work what kinds of injuries caused those scars.
“You look like you’re never seen a man’s chest before.” Hunt pulled on her hips to tuck her tighter to him, his erection rocking against her stomach.
Her panties wet, she fought against the need to shed every stitch – a battle she understood she wanted to lose. Sensation piled on, coming in rapid-fire bursts, leaving the art of breathing wedged in her throat and her vagina throbbing. This raw intimacy made her pause.
They were strangers except for a vulnerable moment in time. But then his fingers tweaked her nipples, and a crashing bolt arched through her body, changing her understanding of passion.
Some men could be left, and some could not.
Slow down.
With raw need raging through him, Hunt wanted to slam her down on the bed and take her. He wanted inside her with a gut-tearing wish. Yet, his brain, still partially engaged, wanted to seduce and savor. He’d never done that before. His usual sexual encounter was to rush to the finish line because it allowed him to stay emotionally unavailable, leaving no one behind his shield. He never allowed anyone inside his skin, inside his head, so he got the release he needed and walked away.
He’d learned to protect himself young, and those lessons multiplied with his job. Yet this woman, her eyes a blue that skimmed sky and ocean, her face flushed and tender, tempted him beyond ecstasy. Her fingers savored his skin, leaving his knees shaking. Her mouth a hot, smoldering draw left him wanting kisses and more kisses. Her skin smelled of apple blossom sweetness. The so soft feel made him gentle his touch, cursing the rough calluses of his war profession.
He let himself do what he wanted, which was to cup her breasts, shape, and mold. Big or small didn’t matter to him because they were her. He kept his lips on hers until he’d learned enough of the shape to want his mouth on her nipples, too.
The little death. This wasn’t it. This was emotion torn asunder and wrenched out of him by the essence of her across his skin. Instead of forcing her under him like a marauding Viking, he turned and laid back, pulling her on top of him.
Her little squeak made him freeze, but she flowed against him like it was where she wanted to be.
“You froze.” She’d gone still above him. Then she moved as if to get off, and he stopped her by tracing her spine with his fingertips. Instead, she settled closer against him.
“I feel like we both should know better than this.” He dropped his lips to her neck and used them to lap up her warmth, her feminine musk.
“Not sure I care.” She tipped her neck to give him better access and dipped to kiss a scar. She licked her way to his nipples. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”
He cupped her chin and did what churned inside – kissed her, devoured her. Her pulse pounded under his fingertips, and he forgot who should know better than what. He swept his fingers down her back and shaped the globes of her ass in each palm. Lord, a glorious handful crowded his senses, and the want erupted to have her naked against him. In his lizard-of-a-male brain, he’d hoped for sex when he came here, but his higherbrain function reasoned he should get to know her. Again, not his usual modus operandi because frog hogs – the women who hung out to get a SEAL notched in their bedpost – didn’t really care. That wasn’t Doc.
He slipped his hands under the waistband of her scrubs – thankfully, they gave with the pressure – then under the waistband of what had to be bikini cotton panties, and the air backed up into his lungs. Warm, soft skin molded under his fingers, Cait sighed in his ear, her mouth making little kisses and licks across his jaw and to his ear – heaven beckoned.
Hard as steel, he held his breath and tapped down on imagining her wet heat – necessary to stave off an unseemly reaction.
“Do you need me off you?” Cait’s quiet words were filled with concern, her fingers frozen on his belt.
“Don’t you dare. I need you naked. I need me naked.”
“Bring it, LT.”
“Let’s leave rank outside the door, Cait.” He tipped her mouth back to his and tasted, her mouth a place that felt like home.
She murmured against his lips. “Let’s.” Using her hands to lever up, she rolled off him to stand and shimmy out of the rest of her clothes.
Stunned, Hunt traced every inch of her, the pale color of her skin, the sweet berry color of her nipples, the blonde thatch between her long coltish legs. She bit her lip, her eyes a battle between pride and shy that nailed him right in the gut.
He shifted his feet to the floor and stood, unfastening his belt, and unzipping in one motion. He let his pants fall, sat back down to untie his boots, and set them at the edge of her bed. She stepped back to give him more room, and he stood and ditched his pants. Commando made it easier. Aware of Cait’s eyes devouring his body, he stayed facing her and let her look.
Even though she’d stroked his leg and handled his butt in the emergency room, she hadn’t touched his front. She deserved a good look same as he did her. Except she moved against him, her lips working her way across the long scar on this chest near his heart, cradling his turgid erection in the vee of her legs. Her hands slipped around to his ass at the same time he dropped his hands to hers.
Ready to fall back to the bed, he had to do a quick maneuver when she twisted them and pulled him down on top of her, the bed groaning with the sudden weight. “I’m too heavy.”
