The sight of his aroused manhood brought an involuntary gasp to her lips and that in turn brought an abrupt halt to Hunter’s rushed, frantic motions. He let himself down beside her gradually and took her hand between both of his.
“Don’t be frightened of me, Kari. I couldn’t bear that.”
“I’m not frightened,” she said breathlessly as he leaned over her. She touched his brows to smooth away the wrinkle of worry. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful.” He didn’t hear the words, but read them on her lips.
“Ah, my love.”
Sighing, he pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in the wealth of her hair and breathed deeply of its perfume. He drew her closer, pressing her breasts against his chest, and arching her against his hips. His hands spread wide and smoothed down her back.
“Help me with my slacks.”
She eased away from him and unbuttoned her slacks. With his help she dragged them down her legs. He laid them carefully at the foot of the bed, then turned back to her. This time her panties were pale ivory. He gave her time to protest when he curled his fingers into the elastic band. When she didn’t, he lowered the panties past her hips, her thighs, her knees. He carefully slipped them over her feet and removed them.
He made a low, satisfied sound deep in his chest when his eyes took in her nakedness. His palms slid up her long silky thighs. One hand brushed over the soft tuft of dark-gold hair. Then his lips.
She sighed his name.
He lay down beside her and planted a warm, wet kiss on her responsive mouth as his hands celebrated her shape and the texture of her skin, each hollow and curve of her body.
He kissed her neck and ears. The base of her throat was outlined by his tongue. Fervent kisses were pressed into the plumpness of her breasts. Airy ones were dusted onto her nipples.
He parted her thighs and his caressing fingers found her dewy with desire. “Kari,” he groaned and complimented her on her readiness. He knelt between her legs and draped her thighs over his. His hands slid beneath her and tilted her hips toward him.
“I know it’s been a long time for you. Stop me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t.” She raised her hands to his shoulders and clutched them as he guided himself into the smooth sheath of her body.
He was very thick and very hard. She was tight and small but yielding. He didn’t take her all at once, but by slow precious inches. When he was fully buried inside her, he looked down into her face and smiled. His eyes said all that needed to be said.
His strokes were long and sure, extensive and exquisite. With each one, Kari was made ever more aware of what it was to be a woman being loved by a man. For the first time, she knew her true nature. This was what she had longed for. Now she had the answer to everything that had been unclear.
When the tumult came, he made certain she could feel all of him, then bathed her with his fire, even as she poured her love on him.
Chapter Eleven
SHE WAS GLAD HE WAS STILL SLEEPING. AFTER A NIGHT OF such loving, she had wanted to wake up before he did so she could study him without his knowing it. Her smile as she gazed down at him was complacent. How handsome her lover was!
His tousled hair showed up darkly against the pillow and across his brow. His lashes were straight and black. She loved his eyebrows. They were thick and uneven, the eyebrows of a man with integrity and intelligence. Perhaps his nose was a trifle long, but it was slender and finely shaped.
Silently she scoffed at herself. She was thinking like a fool, but she was foolishly in love. Had anyone ever told her she would be lying naked in bed next to Hunter McKee, D.A., she would have thought that person insane.
Yet here she was, and she couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be.
The lower half of his face was shadowed by morning whiskers. He might look very attractive with a beard, she thought. But then those grooves that were drawn down the sides of his mouth—during a particularly affectionate moment the night before, she had insisted they were dimples—would be covered up, as would that determined chin. And what a shame it would be to hide that sensuous upper lip behind a mustache. No, his face was too well chiseled to be covered with a beard and mustache.
Only the fear of waking him prevented her from touching his mouth. It was a pleasure-giving instrument with an uncanny sensitivity to her needs and desires. Even now her stomach experienced that delightful sinking feeling as she recalled the way his lips and tongue had introduced her body to carnal pleasure.
She was also tempted to touch his chest. When she had scooted from under his protective arm, he had rolled to his back and flung one arm over his head. The other arm looked like it had been caught in the act of reaching for her. His outstretched hand formed a loose fist on the sheet. She knew from experience that his chest hair could tickle her. The flat brown nipples nestled in that thick forest were as sensitive as hers. She had only discovered that last night under his patient tutelage.