door closed and his lips caught hers, a gentle brush, then hot and hard, his mouth devouring hers. This time he wasn’t asking permission, he was taking and blazing the trail for his body to follow. She felt his hips press against her, his hands wrapping around her waist, holding her in place. His mouth left her wanting and wet, and his insistent body had her flexing her hips, returning the pressure. If she had any lingering uncertainty, it fell away, discarded on the elevator floor. And if they didn’t get to his room soon, she feared her clothes would follow.
He pulled away slightly. “More, Maggie?”
She groaned and, leaning back against the mirrored wall, offered him access to her body. Touch me there, she thought. But she couldn’t say the words, not yet, not here. In the elevator.
“Someone might see us,” she mumbled.
“They might. Is that part of your fantasy?”
“No,” she managed, still mesmerized by his touch.
“Then we better get you to the bedroom.” His hand moved from her waist to the back of her thigh, leaving a trail of sensation. “Up you go.”
He guided her leg upward until it wrapped around his waist. Then he lowered his other hand to her butt and lifted her off the floor. His lips found hers and he ground into her, pressing his hard length between her thighs.
The bell dinged and the door opened. Breaking the kiss, he turned and carried her out of the elevator and into the hall. Maggie closed her eyes and tried not to think about the grandmothers who might be wandering the hotel in search of ice. Instead, she ran her lips over his neck, nibbling the same place that he’d kissed earlier when she’d been pressed up against the car. Still holding her with one hand, he made his way along the hall. When he stopped, she felt herself pitch forward.
“Don’t drop me,” she said, drawing back to look at his face as he regained his balance and slipped his hand into his back pocket. His fingers brushed her calf in the process and Maggie squeezed her legs tighter. This man—he made her want and feel things she had thought out of her grasp. But here he was delivering them.
“We’re here.” Hunter smiled and slipped the card into the electronic reader.
He carried her into the room, kicking the door shut behind them before setting her on the bed.
“Take off your shirt,” he said, standing over her, his dreamy eyes watching her with a wicked glint. “I’ve been dying to see your breasts since you sat down at my table.”
Maggie had always been a rule follower, but occasionally she’d allowed for some creative interpretation. This was one of those times. Reaching for the bottom of her shirt, she ever so slowly began to lift. Inch by inch, she felt the cotton drift up over her belly.
Standing at the edge of the bed, Hunter stared, his eyes fixed on her hands, his chest rising and falling faster with each inch of skin she revealed. She watched his hands form tight fists at his sides.
“Higher,” he commanded, his tone raw and deep.
Loving how she affected him, she drew the fabric up and over her breasts, feeling the soft tickle as her shirt teased her erect nipples. Arching forward, she silently begged him to claim her. He didn’t move. Maggie pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Her nipples hardened further and her breasts ached to the point where if he didn’t touch her soon, she might need to take matters into her own hands—literally.
“In my fantasy, I wasn’t the only one undressed,” she said softly, not wanting to strip away his control, but needing to see what lay beneath his clothes.
“I’d hate to fall short,” he said, never taking his eyes off her chest.
“Impossible,” she murmured as he pulled his green polo over his head and tossed it to the floor.
Her jaw dropped as she drank in the sight. Biceps that begged to be squeezed, broad shoulders, perfectly defined pecs that tapered off to a narrow waist—she’d wanted muscles and, heaven help her, he delivered, with a body that would put most male underwear models to shame. Maggie dug her fingers into the bedding to keep her hands from reaching out and touching his six-pack abs.
Her gaze followed the dark hair from below his navel to where it disappeared beneath where the waistband of his jeans hugged his hips. More. She wanted to see more of him. But she couldn’t ask. She’d placed him in charge.
Forcing herself to look up, she saw the scarred flesh around his recent gunshot wound. It wasn’t the only marking on his otherwise perfect body. Unlike most underwear models, his torso featured a jagged four-, maybe five-inch scar on his right side. But that one looked old compared to his shoulder wound. Both were vivid reminders of who this man was. A battle-worn soldier. Who knew what type of damage he had on the inside?
But not even that sobering thought could dim the hum of desire pulsing through her.
“My turn,” he said, his low, lusty tone drawing her attention away from his recent injuries. “Your jeans, Maggie. Now.”
This time, Maggie didn’t waste any time. She slipped out of her heels and stripped off her jeans, pulling her underwear with them. Her hands moved swiftly, with confidence, and she reveled in the way her whole body hummed with anticipation. She sat at the edge of the bed, her feet resting on the soft carpet and her back stick-straight. Naked and waiting. She counted to ten. If he didn’t move by the time she reached the magic number, she was reclaiming control, to hell with her fantasies.
Seven, eight, nine—
Hunter closed the gap and knelt by the foot of the bed, pushing her legs wide. Exposing her to his view. Maggie leaned back on her elbows. She saw the tension in his strong arms, his hands resting on her thighs, preventing her from closing her knees. She expected to feel embarrassed as he studied the most intimate parts of her body, but instead she became more turned on by the second.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze moving up to settle on her breasts.
The slowness, the waiting, the needing was more than she could take. She’d never been this close to exploding without a man buried inside her. Maggie whimpered.
The corners of Hunter’s lips hitched up as he leaned forward and caught her breast in his mouth. He took his time, sucking and running his tongue over her nipple, while his hand massaged her other breast. Pleasure pulsed through her entire body.
“I could stay here all night,” he murmured. “With my face buried in your breasts.”
“No,” she groaned. “Please, I need more.”
He looked up at her, his eyes promising she’d get what she wanted. “I thought I was in charge,” he teased.
“You are,” she gasped as his thumbs traced small circles on her nipples. “Just please don’t stop.”
Pressing her breasts together with his hands, he lowered his mouth and licked her cleavage before kissing his way back to her right nipple. Maggie cried out and rocked closer to him, eager to slide off the edge of the bed if that’s what it took to get him inside of her.
“Easy, girl.” She felt his words against her stomach as his mouth moved lower.
Keep going.
