Tangled Up Read online

  I stripped off and stood under the water, aware of the water flowing over my naked skin. I couldn’t stop thinking of him and I stayed under the water longer than I intended. It felt symbolic, as if I were washing away the past. When I joined him in the kitchen, I could see he’d showered, too. His hair was still wet. His feet were bare.

  I was wearing my favourite pair of skinny jeans and a pink T-shirt. I wasn’t dressed up, but neither was he. On the other hand, Hunter looked good in anything. Hayley was right. He was gorgeous. Smoking hot, and if I had my way he wasn’t going to be wearing clothes for the rest of the night.

  It was time to get Hunter out of my system.

  Keen not to look too rabid and desperate, I slid onto a tall stool while he pulled a bottle out of the fridge.

  I’d expected it to be wine but it was champagne and I jumped slightly as he popped the cork and then watched, fascinated, as he poured it skilfully without spilling a single drop and handed me a glass. His fingers brushed mine and I shivered.

  ‘What are we celebrating?’

  ‘Our first date.’ His eyes gleamed and I grinned and raised the glass.

  ‘Sounds good to me. So if this is our first date, you’d better tell me about yourself. Tell me about Thailand.’ I sipped and felt the bubbles fizz in my mouth.

  Hayley and I only ever drank champagne at Christmas, usually when someone else had brought it, and we usually managed to lose half the contents over the floor when we poured.

  It tasted delicious.

  ‘Thailand was both brutal and brilliant.’ He cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them efficiently while I watched.

  He told me about his experiences training with the best and if anyone else had been talking, I would have been hanging on to every word because training in Thailand was a dream for me, but I was finding it impossible to concentrate. I tried focusing on his mouth but that didn’t work either, because all I could think of was how it felt when we kissed.

  I dragged my gaze from his mouth and watched him whisking the eggs. I didn’t think that could be erotic, but turned out I was wrong about that, too.

  There’s something about a man’s forearms I find really sexy, especially Hunter’s. They were strongly muscled and male. Dark hair dusted skin bronzed by his trip to the Far East. He was powerfully built and supremely fit, every inch of him hard and honed.

  As he reached for the salt, I saw the muscles in his shoulders flex. He must have felt me looking at him, because he glanced across and his gaze locked on mine.

  He stilled and I tried to look as if I’d been paying attention to every word but I hoped he hadn’t been in the middle of asking me a question, because I didn’t have a clue what he’d said.

  Slowly, he put the salt down.

  My heart was pounding like fists against a boxing bag.

  We both moved at the same time.

  I slid off the stool and he dropped the salt.

  We collided in the middle of the kitchen.

  I slammed him back and his shoulders crashed hard against the fridge as he ripped at my T-shirt, tearing it over my head.

  ‘Naked,’ he growled. ‘I need you naked.’

  I needed him naked, too, but I was beyond speaking.

  His mouth was hungry on mine. His fingers bit into my thighs as he pulled me against him. I could feel the hard, throbbing length of him and his hands were jammed in my hair.

  It was rough and crazy. We were locked together and my limbs felt as if they were melting. He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around him. He crossed the kitchen in a couple of strides and lowered me to the counter. My legs were still wrapped around him and I heard the raw rasp of his breathing as he struggled for control.

  He stood for a moment, his legs between mine, his hands on my thighs trapping me. Then he lifted his hand and stroked my damp hair back from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek. For such a powerfully built man, he was incredibly gentle. That probably shouldn’t have surprised me, because martial arts is all about control and his control was absolute. And yes, that was sexy. There’s nothing as erotic as leashed power and Hunter was all about leashed power.

  I could tell he was fighting what he was feeling.

  His fingers lingered on my face and he tilted my chin so I was forced to look him in the eyes. My stomach swooped.

  I knew this was a turning point.

  I knew he’d paused because he wanted me to be sure. He wanted me to have a moment of calm in this stormy, crazy world we created together.

  Whether we carried on or not was my choice.

  And it was the easiest choice I’d ever made. This moment had been inevitable from the moment he’d walked back into my life.

  I lifted my hand and closed my fingers over his wrist, feeling strength and sinew. Then I turned my head and ran my tongue over his palm.

  I’ve no idea what signal he’d been waiting for, but clearly that was enough, because he lifted his other hand, cupped my face and lowered his forehead to mine.

  The anticipation was almost killing me.

  The ache in my pelvis was so intense I had to struggle not to wriggle on the counter. For several seconds he just looked at me, and I looked at him, wondering how long I could keep this up without ripping his clothes off.

  Just when I thought I was going to have to abandon dignity and beg, he slid his hand behind my head and brought his mouth down on mine.

  This time there was less of the uncontrolled crazy and more of the deliberate. His kiss was slow, sure and insanely sexy. A strange weakness spread through me, the craving instant and total. If any man knew how to kiss, it was Hunter. I moaned and parted my lips against his, inviting more, offering more. Heat uncoiled deep inside me and spread through my body. My limbs felt shaky and useless. His grip on my face tightened, I felt the erotic slide of his tongue against mine and I lifted my hands to his arms, resting my hands on his rock-hard biceps.

  I’d never been with a guy as strong as Hunter. Not that it should make a difference, because it’s not as if he used that strength when we were having sex. On the contrary, he controlled it ruthlessly, held himself in check, but there was something about knowing he was doing that that was deeply sexy. He was all man, from the top of his glossy hair to the soles of his bare feet.

  He curved an arm round my back, holding me firmly, and the other slid to my breast.

  I wasn’t wearing a bra, because frankly, there wasn’t much point. The rough pads of his fingers grazed my nipple and sensation shot through me. Just a touch, a simple touch, and yet already I was desperate. The pleasure was dark and exciting, the intensity just a little scary.

  He kept his mouth on mine, explored my mouth with ruthless control, but I could feel that control slipping. I could feel the change in him, feel the ravenous hunger that made his kiss a little rougher, a little harder and I didn’t mind, because I felt the same way. Something happened when we were together. Something that, for me, had never happened with anyone else.

  Without lifting his mouth from mine he dropped his hands to the counter either side of me, caging me. I could feel him through the thick fabric of his jeans, rock-hard and ready. I heard myself moan and slid my hands round his back and under his shirt. My hands made contact with sleek male skin and rippling muscle. I ground myself into him, heard him curse softly and then he was lifting me off the counter and unzipping my jeans. It took a couple of attempts because his hands weren’t quite steady and my jeans were glued to me but somehow that made it all the more exciting. I sensed that he was right on the edge of control and I loved the fact it wasn’t just me who felt this way. And then I was naked, my jeans on the floor with the rest of my clothes, and he lifted me back onto the kitchen counter. I gasped as the cool surface touched my bare bottom. I was wondering what he had in mind when he straddled the stool in front of me. His eyes were dark, hooded and fixed on me. Holding my thighs apart with his hands, he finally broke eye contact and lowered his mouth to my inner thigh.

  The contr