The Hunter Read online

  Except he did like it. Too damned much.

  Slow.

  But she wasn’t making it easy, the way her fingers were digging into his shoulders as she gripped him harder and harder, and he felt her own pleasure building.

  He cradled her face in his hand, stroking his thumb over the soft curve of her cheek, feeling his chest squeezing tighter and tighter with each caress. Her lips were like velvet, her breath like honey, and she smelled … God, she smelled like a fistful of bluebells that had been sitting in the sun. He wanted to sink into her and let that scent swallow him up.

  His fingers slid around her neck, plunging through the soft waves of her hair. She’d been wearing a hooded cloak, but the hood had slid back to reveal the magnificent golden mane, loose, no doubt, because of the haste of her departure.

  He didn’t want to think about that now—but it was a good thing tracking her had been so appallingly easy. All he wanted to think about was how incredible her lips felt on his, how good it felt to have her breasts crushed against his chest and her hips nestled to his groin, how silky soft her hair was on his fingers as he gripped the back of her head and held her mouth to his, and how much longer could he stand to take it slow when every fiber, every instinct, every drop of blood and bone in his body wanted to slide his tongue into her mouth and taste her deeper.

  He groaned, anticipating the feeling of her tongue circling his. It was going to feel so good …

  His head, his heart, every part of his body was pounding. He couldn’t wait any longer.

  He brushed his mouth over hers again and urged her lips apart. Then he filled her mouth with his, swallowing her gasp of surprise when his tongue licked into the honey-sweet cavern.

  Oh God, that was good! Even better than he’d anticipated. Hotter. Sweeter. Darker and more erotic.

  He pulled her closer, needing to feel the friction of her body against his as his tongue plunged deeper and deeper in her mouth. He bent her to him, feeling himself drowning, feeling his body being dragged into a vortex of pleasure so acute he wasn’t going to be able to pull himself out.

  He could feel her heart hammering against his, feel her shock, and then her discovery as her body awakened to the passion that ignited like wildfire between them—hot, devastating, and uncontrollable. He’d never felt anything like it. But it was nothing to the sensations that exploded inside him when he felt the first circle of her tongue against his. It sent a wave of heat to his groin so strong that it nearly made his knees buckle.

  She might be innocent, but there was nothing innocent about her response or the sensations it incited. Going slow was forgotten as he pushed her back against a tree, wrapped her leg around his waist, and descended into the madness of passion, their tongues gliding and sparring in a wicked dance.

  His cock was throbbing, positioned at the sweet juncture between her legs. He couldn’t resist. He started to rock, needing the friction of her body moving against his.

  He wasn’t thinking now—had he ever been?—instinct had set in. He was kissing her harder, dragging his hands over her body with a possessiveness that said they were meant to be there. He cupped her incredible breasts, and then her bottom as he lifted her more tightly against him.

  Oh God, right there. That was it. He clenched, his buttocks tight against the pressure. It felt so good, he had to fight the urge to come.

  He couldn’t wait to be inside her.

  He dragged his mouth from her lips to her neck, covering the frantic pulse beneath her jaw with his mouth and sucking until she squirmed and moaned against him.

  Hot. It was so damned hot he couldn’t breathe.

  He could hear the quickness of her breath, and the soft little gasping sounds she was making were driving him wild. He felt her body shudder with surrender and knew she was his.

  Mine. The knowledge pounded through him like the hammer of a drum. He tore his mouth away and looked down at her. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen and her eyes half-lidded with passion. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

  Something strange stirred in his chest. A feeling—an emotion—he’d never felt before. It was more than lust and more than possessiveness, it was softer … sweeter … more significant.

  But then his gaze dropped and all the desire, all the passion, all the strange emotions he was feeling tore out of him in one horrified breath. Dangling across the breast that he’d just held in his hand was a wooden cross.

  Shame rose inside him, as bitter and nauseating as bile.

  What the hell was he doing? She was a nun, for Christ’s sake! The immensity of his sin took him aback.

  He released her so suddenly, she swayed, and he had to reach out to catch her before she fell to the ground.

  One moment Janet was climbing the gates of heaven toward a beautiful sea of light, and the next she was flailing in darkness, trying to catch herself from falling on the cold, hard ground of reality.

  The swift curtailment of the most incredible sensations she’d ever experienced left her yearning, aching, and confused. When the arms that had been holding her so tightly suddenly closed around her again, she gasped with relief and clutched him like a lifeline.

  Don’t stop, she wanted to say. Please don’t stop. It feels so good.

  But then she looked into his eyes and the coldness—the disgust—was like a drench of icy water, shocking her back to reality.

  She jerked away from him, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from his. Why was he looking at her like that? What had she done?

  And then she remembered. The look wasn’t directed at her.

  They stared at each other in a moment of mute horror. Hers for how easily she’d succumbed, and his with the shame and guilt of what he’d done. Or rather, what he thought he’d done.

  Were she really a nun, kissing her would be a grave sin indeed, and from the sickened look on his face, the realization was hitting him hard. Seeing the depth of his torment, Janet felt something in her chest grow tight and hot.

  She wanted to tell him the truth—and for one moment she almost did—but then sanity returned. Right now, her habit was the only thing that was keeping them apart. Were she to remove it—figuratively—it could very well lead to having it removed literally.

  After that kiss, she didn’t trust herself.

  She’d never imagined …

  Never thought …

  Never realized it could be like that.

  She’d never thought she could be capable of such madness. For surely it was madness when the feeling of his mouth moving over hers, the wicked sensation of his tongue flicking against hers, the heat of his hands on her body, could obliterate all rational thought and make her forget everything that was important to her?

  She didn’t want anything to interfere with her work for Bruce and Lamberton, and instinctively she realized that this man could threaten that.

  Her gaze slid to his mouth. For lips that were often thinned and pulled in a rather grim line, they were certainly soft and smooth as honey when he wanted them to be. For that matter, she would never have expected such a rough and uncouth warrior to kiss with such skill and tenderness.

  Obviously, those “hundreds” had not been without effect.

  Why did that realization make her chest ache?

  It wasn’t that she cared who he’d been with, she told herself, it was just that she didn’t like surprises. Especially ones that were so devastating. And that kiss certainly qualified.

  Mother Mary, she’d nearly let him take her innocence! Indeed, she’d practically handed it to him with no more inducement than a skilled kiss and a few heated caresses.

  Her cheeks burned. Well, maybe more than a few. She had to force herself not to drop her gaze further, remembering the incredible sensation of the thick column of his manhood riding against her. She’d wanted him even closer. She’d wanted him—her cheeks burned—inside her. Wanted it so intensely that she would have thrown away everything—her virtue, her morals, he