At that moment, he pulled the plug from the tub and urged her to stand. She complied, her head lolling on his shoulder, granting him more trust than she’d ever given. His heart caught as he lifted her into his arms, out of the tub.
And right on cue, she asserted herself. “Hunter, this carrying me thing—”
“Is it really worth another argument?”
After a long moment, she sighed and sank back into his arms. A bit more progress. He smiled.
Hunter angled her through the doorway and back into Logan’s room, dimly lit by one small bedside lamp. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“No.”
“Do you feel safe?”
Kata’s black lashes fluttered over her pretty hazel eyes, and his heart stuttered again. What was it about this woman? Her independence? That she wouldn’t give all of herself easily, but once she did, it would be so worth the battle? He didn’t exactly know the answer, but he couldn’t wait to find out. But she was, without a doubt, his.
“Yeah,” she murmured huskily. “No one is getting in here, past you. I hate to admit it, but I probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep alone at my own place. Thanks for watching over me. Though I don’t appreciate the whole ‘withholding orgasm’ thing.”
“We’ll rectify that.” He smiled. “Eventually. Rest for now.”
Without another word, she grabbed the sheet and snuggled next to him, then drifted off to sleep. When she closed her eyes, when her brain shut off, she trusted him. Her back nestled against his chest as though she found his touch comforting. They fit together as though they were made for each other, missing puzzle pieces that had finally snapped into place.
Hunter released a shuddering, exhausted breath. No matter how tired he was, when he felt Kata warm and naked beside him, his c**k stood at full staff. Shit. He glanced at the clock. Thirty-eight minutes until the hour. He set a vibrating alarm on his cell phone and closed his eyes.
No matter how soft and accepting Kata seemed now, this was going to be a damn long night.
KATA lay across the sheets like a sacrificial virgin, arms and legs spread, in the near dark. She could make out a shadow between her thighs. Male. Stark, intriguing face not quite visible. Tremendously wide shoulders blocked the rest of the room. Powerful hands glided over her thighs, up to her hips. She tingled everywhere he touched. Then he settled his palm there, and sensations converged into an unrelenting ache. He fueled it by rubbing his thumb, hot and relentless, over her clit.
She shifted restlessly, trying to capture more of the sensation. Desire multiplied, tightened, gathered like a tropical storm, swirling, growing. With a gasp, she reached out for something to anchor her, but found nothing. Certainly, there was no escape. He made sure she felt every skillful, slow touch of his hands . . . but never gave her enough to hurtle her into release.
More. Please! She moaned, her entire body thrashing in need.
He stopped, not moving a muscle, not persisting with that perfect attention to her clit. The sweet ache between her legs turned vicious.
Kata wanted to beg but couldn’t speak. She wailed in frustration. As if he understood, he lavished attention on her clit again, harder, faster—the pressure precisely perfect to launch her into a supernova of an orgasm. Then he added to her sensory overload, slipping something inside her, prodding a spot that sent her careening faster and farther into a drowning pool of need.
Somewhere in the back of her hazy mind, she knew she was dreaming this unabashedly sexual fantasy, but it was too delicious to force herself to consciousness. Knowing it was all in her head, she opened her mind to the mounting pleasure. God, this dream man knew his way around her body, and wasn’t that heavenly?
Her back arched, her body lifting and clenching as she thrashed madly, seeking that little bit extra she needed, exactly where she needed it. She was nearly there, so ready to explode. But he eased back, gave her a gentler touch, avoiding her most sensitive spots. A mewled protest rose up in her throat.
Damn, she wanted this—bad. For a dream, it was so vivid. She wanted to see her lover, ask him why he tormented her, beg for relief.
“Kata.”
The whisper was as real as the breath hot against her breast.
She flung her eyes open. Hunter knelt between her legs, his big body casting a shadow over her, his stare hot, predatory. The buzz cut of his hair made what might have been a pretty face look harshly male, throwing every dip, plane, and jut into stark relief. His washboard abs tightened above his faded jeans. They were zipped but not snapped, giving her a tease of what was behind that bulge in his fly. She nearly swallowed her tongue. Desire bloomed fiercely inside her.
With an unrelenting stare, Hunter gripped her thighs, his hands pushing their way up her flesh, back to her very wet sex. His thumb toyed with her clit.
And Kata knew then that none of what she’d been feeling had been a dream. He’d brought her to the very verge of climax and left her there to ache and twist. Just as he’d vowed that he would.
She wanted to bite his damn head off, tell him to stop messing with her. But if she said anything of the sort, he’d take her defiance as a personal challenge. There’d be no orgasm in her future—immediate or otherwise. And Hunter had done his job, as she imagined he did all things, capably and well. Thanks to his expert touch, she needed what he could give her . . . if he chose to.
“Hunter?” She raised her hips to him, begging in the only way her pride and apprehension allowed.
Verbalizing how badly she ached for him left her exposed in a way mere nudity didn’t. Admitting that she yearned to be covered, taken, powerless under his touch, seemed as smart as swimming with chum in shark-infested waters. Hunter was definitely capable of chewing through her resistance and eating her alive.
The wicked gleam in his eye, the half smile on his mouth, told her that he knew everything she felt and feared. “Want something, honey?”