More, Please(8)

I stared down at the shiny material of the slinky lingerie I’d brought. Then switched my gaze to the homely pajamas that I knew, especially in this mood, would drive him crazy. He’d set the mood when, after dinner, he came up behind me as I was rinsing my plate. He’d slipped his arms around my waist. He’d kissed my neck softly, stilling my movements. Without a word, he moved me to the side and took the plate from my hand. “Enjoy the rest of your wine. I’ll clean up.”

I smiled, thinking about it. He’d turned all domestic on me, so soft and subtle compared to the Hunter at work, but with the same current of power and command. There were very few men who could do both, but he was one of them.

Heat sparked in my groin as I let my fingers trail over the silky material on the right.

I’d feel sexier in that, with the garter and maybe even heels.

I glanced at the cotton pajamas again.

But he’d feel more comfortable, and maybe more open, if I wore frumpy pajamas.

I bit my lip, bracing my hand on my hip in indecision.

That was when I noticed the folded pile of clothes on the chair near the fireplace. His T-shirt and some light sweats—the very ones I hadn’t put on that morning in case he got weirded out.

A smile graced my lips as I packed away what I’d brought. His clothes were the best of both worlds. I’d feel sexy for reasons it was hard to explain, and he’d get the domestic vibe he loved. Win-win.

I took off my clothes, all of my clothes, and stepped into his sweats. As expected, they fell down to the middle of my bare butt. I threw on his shirt, letting it drape over my body.

I looked like a woman in a Hunter sack.

I hoisted up the sweats and looked around for a way I could keep them up. A belt would look weird, especially since there were no belt loops, and using a safety pin would make getting out of them awkward.

With a frown, I looked around the room for divine inspiration. That was when I noticed the draft. There was a door open.

I’d closed the doors so I could get dressed.

I glanced up, half terrified I’d see Blaire running at me with a chainsaw and a hockey mask.

Hunter stood in a tank top, glistening and beautiful, his muscles on display with a sheen of manly sweat. A drop of liquid ran down his cheek and into his five o’clock shadow, rugged and gorgeous. His sweats clung in the right ways, hugging his muscular thighs and cupping his large manhood, currently starting to tent his pants.

He wiped a thumb across his lips as his eyes drifted down my body. “Come into the bathroom.”

The command in his voice sent shocks into me. I didn’t even remember to add the “please.” I was moving before I could process the words properly.





Chapter Three





Hunter turned and shut his bedroom door before following me across the room. He threw a T-shirt in the hamper as he entered the bathroom behind me. As I turned to face him, I felt his strong hands on my hips.

He pushed me against the wall. His lips claimed mine, needy and eager, rough and commanding. He pushed down my sweats and ran his hands up the sides of my thighs.

I reached out for his shoulders, but he caught my wrists and pushed my hands up and out to the sides, bracing them against the wall. He was taking charge. This wasn’t a time for sexual equality, it was a time for me to pleasure, or be pleasured, as he saw fit.

My chest tightened with excitement.

His tongue entered my mouth as he captured both my wrists in one of his large hands. I moaned as his hand slipped up my shirt and pinched a nipple. Shooting pulses of both pleasure and desire fired through me, pooling in my core.

He stepped back, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and ripped it over my head. He tossed it to the ground before letting his gaze travel my body once again. Taking another step back, he eyed me like a predator might. He pushed down his sweats and boxers. His large erection bobbed out, ready and eager.

“Turn on the shower to whatever temperature you want,” he commanded.

Swallowing a lump of seedy desire, I opened the glass door to a large, square shower. I turned the knobs until I had the right temperature, only to step out and notice he was reentering the bathroom. The clothes were still on the ground, and he wasn’t carrying anything, so I had no idea what he’d been doing, but the look of hot lust in his eyes left me with no time to dwell on it.

“Get in,” he said in a firm voice, moving with that muscular gracefulness that had all the spit drying in my mouth.

I stepped into the warm spray, letting it coat my head and wet my hair. He stepped in after me, and despite there being plenty of room, he pushed me against the tile wall before reaching up to adjust the showerhead. The spray hit our bodies as he leaned down to my lips.