Page 63 of The Spider Queen
When his hands were free, I didn’t wait but a moment before jumping into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pressed my lips to his.
I sank into the kiss, feeling it in every part of my body. When I pulled back, I was pleased to see a slight flush on Hunter’s cheeks.
“That’s some greeting,” he murmured, nuzzling my nose with his before kissing me again.
Sighing, I hung onto him like I was afraid I’d fall. But I didn’t need to worry because Hunter was Hunter and he’d catch me.
I slid down the front of his body. His breath hitched, and I didn’t bother holding in a smile.
“I have a few more things I have to do,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Put the chicken and rice into the oven and then change.”
“You don’t need to change.”
“Yes, I do. I want tonight to be special.”
He reached out and caressed my cheek. “It’s special because it’s you, Poppy. No other reason.”
We stared at each other, awareness blooming between us. Taking his hand, I slowly backed up until we reached my room. I’d changed the sheets earlier and turned down the comforter in anticipation.
But Hunter’s eyes weren’t on anything except me.
I reached for the hem of my threadbare T-shirt and pulled it up over my head.
His gaze dropped to my breasts, devouring them with his heated gaze, yet he didn’t move to touch me.
Next, I peeled off my leggings. When I stood in nothing but a pair of pastel blue cotton boy shorts, I looked at him and whispered huskily, “Your turn.”
His fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. He was slow, methodical, and I thought I would die with the torture of waiting to see his chest. I’d been pressed up against that chest for weeks, feeling the beautiful sculpted contours of his muscles. I felt safe against that chest.
“You’re gorgeous,” I remarked as he unveiled himself.
Long lines and firm muscles of an athlete.
When we were both naked, I took him to my bed. Lying down, we faced one another. Our hands skimmed, hesitant, respectful. And then we were kissing. Consuming, burning. Our gasps and moans mingled, our tongues took and gave, equally, fervently.
Hunter slid over me, into me. We moved and there was nothing except him and the feel of him. I breathed in. His scent clung to me, lingered on my sheets.
“Poppy,” he whispered, his lips tasting mine.
I gasped his name as I shook and came, shivering in release. He gripped my hips, slammed into me, shouted to the heavens, and stilled.
Pressing his cheek to my breastbone, he panted and shuddered. I grazed his hair with my lips and closed my eyes.
Darkness had fallen and faint starlight christened the desk and carpet. I was drowsy and happy, sated beyond bliss, feeling more like myself than I had in weeks.
Hunter pulled me against him. Curled around me from behind, his fingers played with the poppy necklace around my neck.
“Poppy, I—”
“Shh,” I whispered, stroking his arm. “Let’s just have this moment.”
His arms tightened around me and then we fell asleep.
I slowly surfaced from sleep. Hunter’s arms were still around me, his naked leg thrown over mine. I felt his warm breath on my neck and snuggled deeper into his embrace, even though I needed to use the bathroom.
