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5
CARLY WANTED NOTHING more than to strip and run into those dark waves with him. Her muscles ached for it, but her mind wouldn’t give in. Before the accident ten months ago, she wouldn’t have given his offer a second thought, probably would’ve been the one suggesting the skinny-dip.
She was no fun anymore.
And when she lost sight of Hunt for a second after a crashing wave broke over him, she held her breath until he resurfaced.
Damn. She hated this, hated herself for being so scared. She held on to Hunt’s T-shirt in one hand, picked up his pants with the other and shook the sand from them while he frolicked in the water. There was no underwear to be found, and she guessed the term going commando was indeed coined by the military for a reason.
How did she get involved in all of this?
Right, the movie thing. The I’m-dating-someone-already excuse. The Candy Valentine fantasy.
She would have a lot more fun if she brought along Hunt. The parties she was expected to attend would be boring and stuffy and Hunt could do his magic hypnotizing act on the whole lot of them. He’d probably be a big hit, but had he actually agreed to help her?
He ran back up the sand and stopped in front of her. Salt water dripped off his body which, even with only the moonlight to see by, looked better than anything she’d ever seen in a gym or on a surfer.
Her hands fisted at her sides, nails biting palms again until he let a lazy half smile tug at his mouth. He was standing so close, so naked, daring her to do something, anything. She thought about the way he’d swum out, how powerful his body looked cutting through the moonlit waves.
She wanted some of that power for her own, needed to release the tension that was making her body ache. And her fantasy was standing right there.
She reached out, touched his shoulder, wanting to feel the water on her before it possibly brought on another panic attack. But somehow the combination of Hunt and the sea wasn’t scary, at least not with his broad shoulders blocking her view of the waves.
Not scary at all, especially when she used some positive visualization. And at that moment, she was pretty positive about what she wanted.
She leaned into him, and his hands went around her waist, pulled her against him, and she tasted the salt water on his lips, lost herself in his mouth. Her hands tugged at his wet hair while her body molded to his. She wondered why she’d protested earlier. The kiss was warm and tender and she almost forgot to breathe.
She didn’t plan on stopping anything, wanted him to put his hands on her, all over her, to make her forget surfing and the wedding and everything except his touch.
As if he understood, his hands went under her tank top. He caressed her back, then drifted leisurely over the curve of her breasts as if he had all the time in the world.
So strong and so right. Her nipple swelled against his palm.
“I bet this is how you like it, Carly,” he whispered, running his tongue along the sensitive, outer rim of her ear, leaving a trail of salt water along her shoulder. Hunt captured her lobe in his teeth, nipping while he brushed a thumb over one nipple and then the other with just enough pressure to make her press into it. “You want more, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she murmured, knowing he’d managed to hypnotize her, too. Knowing she wanted his mouth on her breasts and anywhere else he deemed to kiss her.
He pushed her back and put his mouth over one nipple, which was still covered in the lacy fabric of her bra. He flicked the bud with his tongue. Her breath quickened, and she longed for his tongue rasping her nipple without the barrier.
Impatiently, she pushed him back, tugged her tank top over her head, and he was on her again, unhooking her bra and working a nipple with his tongue.
The strength of his arm around her waist was the only thing holding her up. He was so close, and still, she wanted him closer.
“Hunt, yes,” she moaned as he worked the bud in tandem with the hand he’d slid down her shorts. When his fingers slid inside her thong and touched her, she jumped. He chuckled against her breast, worked a finger into her center.
She was ready, so ready for him, and moved against the beat of his hand while he used his arm to steady her. His wasn’t letting her nipple go, continued to tug it gently between his teeth, roll it and lick it until she was sure the neighbors would hear her cries above the pounding surf. The need that burned her belly began to tighten–when need met want and urgency couldn’t be contained anymore.
“Let go, baby,” he whispered against her breast before putting his tongue back to work. She buried her face into his neck, held his shoulders for dear life as the orgasm rocked through her, pulsated against his hand.
When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her, until he slid down on his knees in front of her.
Just like the fantasy.
Hunt pushed her thighs apart, then held her hips and brought his face to her belly. He ran his tongue over her skin, making her shiver. And then he looked up. With that lazy half smile he jolted her already-on-edge nerve endings. Her breath went taut.
And then he got to his feet as disappointment washed over her from head to toe.
“We’d better put some clothes on before your neighbors decide to take a nightly stroll of their own,” he suggested.
What had she been thinking? This part of the beach behind her house was secluded, yes, but not private, and several other houses dotted the shoreline and shared the same patch of sand. Anyone could’ve walked by. Granted, she and Hunt had been more than hidden behind the dune and the tall sea grass, but she was half naked and he was much, much more than that.
“What about you?” she asked, and watched as he pulled his pants on after he’d helped her with her tank top. She stuffed her bra in the pocket of her shorts.
“I’ll live,” he said. “Besides, it wasn’t my fantasy, although it was pretty close.”
They walked back toward Carly’s house. He caught her hand in his, leading her to the portico and the sliding glass door. She was sure he was going to invite himself in. Better yet, he’d pick her up and carry her inside, up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Hunt’s eyes met hers and he smiled. He kissed her again before he sauntered off around the side of her house. After a minute’s pause, she heard the engine of the bike–a sound that rumbled through her the way he had, and then it shot away into the distance. No man had that kind of self control.
Obviously, Hunt had, that and a lot more self-restraint than the average man. From what she’d seen, there was nothing about him that could be deemed average.
She wasn’t sure if she would see him again, but at least he’d gotten her over the dunes. Literally.
Somehow, even though he had control of the fantasy, she had a sinking feeling the ball had been left in her court. It was sink or swim time for Carly, and she couldn’t even get in the water.
She wandered along to the kitchen, a strange combination of utter relief and pent-up energy flowing through her. She thought about calling Sam, and even as her hand reached for the receiver, she remembered that her friend was supposed to be living out her own adventure tonight.
They’d certainly have a lot to discuss, come morning.
6
SAMANTHA GRAYSON WAS going to hunt Candy Valentine down and hurt her. That was the only thing she could think of at first, when Joe uttered those fateful words no woman ever wanted to hear.
“What do you mean, how can I bring you home to my mother now? ” Sam thought of a few more choice words too, said them, and understood that her last shot of meeting Joe’s mother was over. She just wanted Joe out of her apartment, and out