Hot Ice (38 page)

He reveled in the texture of her lips and the small breathy sounds she made as she opened her mouth to welcome him inside. He deepened the kiss. He wanted to absorb her, to draw her so deeply inside himself that she wouldn't know where she began and he ended. He loved the feel of her tongue moving languidly inside his mouth, and the brush of her hands as she stroked his face with cool fingers.

He felt an indescribable, overwhelming combination of lust and tenderness as they kissed. He wanted her, had wanted her from day one, with a blistering intensity that shocked him. No woman had ever had this effect on him. Part of him wanted to take her hard and fast and satisfy this insatiable craving he had for her. The other part of him wanted it like this—slow and lazy. Time to discover how many ways he could make her come apart in his arms.

Still kissing her, he started undoing the buttons of her shirt, spreading the cotton open as he went. Her skin warmed under his light touch and her legs moved restlessly against his.

He lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and sultry, her mouth swollen and damp from his. She pulled his head down, but he resisted, making her frown with impatience.

"Don't rush it." Hunt smoothed his finger along the little frown lines between her brows. "We have a couple of hours."

He rolled to his side next to her, supporting himself on his elbow as he continued unbuttoning her shirt, fascinated as more creamy skin was revealed. Her bra, what little there was of it, was flesh-colored lace, and even so it was shades darker than the plump swell of her breasts. He ran his finger across the soft mounds, delighted that he could see the rosy peaks of her nipples through the semisheer fabric.

Keeping the fingers of one hand buried in his hair, Taylor curved her other arm over her head, watching his face. "You're driving me insane, you know."

He reached over and picked up the flashlight, moving it to a better position so the golden light bathed her body, then continued slipping each small button from its hole and folding back the edges of her shirt until he reached the waistband of her jeans, all the while allowing his fingers only the most gentle of touches, skimming over the smooth silk of her skin.

With every brush of his fingers, Taylor's skin warmed to a soft creamy blush. Her fingers tightened in his hair as he popped the top button and eased down the zipper, taking his time to reveal her waist, the small dimple of her navel, her flat stomach. She reached down to flatten a hand over his, pressing his palm harder against her mound.

Hunt slipped his hand from beneath hers. He chuckled as she gave a huff of impatience, which quickly turned to a feline-sounding purr of pleasure as he recaptured her mouth, at the same time clicking the front opening of her bra to free her breasts.

Taylor whimpered with pleasure as Hunt cupped her breast in his warm palm with unhurried leisure, then brushed his thumb across her nipple until she moaned with need. Only one side of his face was lit, giving him an almost sinister appearance. At this point she didn't give a damn if he was the devil himself. She wanted him more than she wanted her next breath.

When Taylor thought she couldn't stand another second of "slow," he lowered his head and took the hard bud into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. She could barely control her sharp intake of breath as, using tongue and teeth on her nipple, he seemed bound and determined to drive her over the edge.

"Hunt!" she cried softly as pleasure, sharp and sweet, radiated from the tip of her breast to her womb.

"Right here, darling."

She felt as though she were hanging from a ten-story building without a harness. "This is… ah… extremely one… sided."

He raised his head. "You're not enjoying it?" he asked, his eyes devilish as they met hers.

"If… I were enjoying th-this any more, I'd be arrested. I meant I want to… to…" She forgot what she'd been about to say as he used both hands to skim her jeans down her legs, while his mouth did delicious things against her stomach.

She helped him get her pants off, God she helped him. Kicking and wiggling to get the fabric down her legs and over her feet in record time.

Her six-hundred-dollar La Perla thong disappeared as if by magic as Hunt cupped her derriere in his large, elegant hands, bringing her mound to meet his greedy mouth. "Wait…" She needed a moment. A second to catch her breath.

He didn't stop, clearly determined to steal her breath altogether. He used his mouth, tongue, lips, and teeth to stake his claim. She whimpered, her body moving of its own volition as his tongue thrust deep inside her, his fingers dug into her hips, his shoulders kept her body open to him. Panting, she flung her arm over her eyes and gritted her teeth. Hanging there above the earth as the intimacy of his kiss seared her flesh made her temperature rise to boiling and caused her hips to arch off the blankets, thrusting her body against his mouth.

"Come inside me," she begged as his tongue brought her closer and closer to the precipice.

His penis was velvety hard as he pressed against her, sliding in easily because she was so wet, so ready for him, that she pressed a hand against his chest as she waited for wave after wave of sensation to subside before she could let him slide in to the hilt.

She was lost.

And there was no way back.

Chapter Forty-one

5:30 A.M.

Friday, October 13

"Wake up, love. Time to get cracking." Taylor blinked open gritty eyes to see Hunt crouched beside her, illuminated by the glow from his flashlight.

Dressed completely in black, he was all but invisible, except for his hands and face. He smelled of fresh air, some kind of medicinal soap, and coffee. She wanted to drag him back into the warm, rumpled nest of blankets.

Instead she rubbed her eyes and sat up. The blanket covering her slipped to her lap and chilled air caressed her sleep-warmed body. "
Brr
."

"I've brought hot water, clothes, and coffee."

"Coffee first?" she asked hopefully, and was rewarded by his chuckle as he placed a wooden bowl of steaming, eucalyptus-scented water beside her. Kneeling, he slid the strap of a black duffel off his shoulder, deposited the bag onto the floor, then handed her a metal mug.

"Careful. It's hot." He pulled up one of the blankets, wrapping it around her bare shoulders.

She lifted her head, then used both hands to cup the warm metal container and bring it to her mouth. "Elixir of the gods. Those guys brought Juan Valdez with them." She looked at him through the rising steam and took a sip. "You said something about bringing me something to wear? I brought my work clothes."

"Nothing like this, you didn't." He held up what appeared to be a
shadow
in one large hand.

Taylor squinted, trying to figure out what the thin black… thing could possibly be. "What
is
that?" She reached out to finger the fabric. Thin. But not silk. Considerably heavier and more dense. Almost rubbery.

"A LockOut suit."

Taylor set the mug aside. The scalding hot coffee had warmed her insides up nicely. Wide-awake and intrigued, she said, "Okay. I'll bite. What does a LockOut suit lock out? And why am I going to wear it?"

"Think of it as a wet suit. Only better. It's like a second skin, maintaining a constant body temperature of sixty-seven degrees. Also acts as a shield."

"A shield? Against what?"

"Water and fire, for starters. It's self-healing, and almost impervious to nicks and cuts. More important, it's practically bulletproof."

Taylor rubbed the thin fabric between her fingers again. Thin. Rubbery. Weird. It felt insubstantial in her hands, and she wondered if this was like the emperor's new clothes. "You're kidding me, right? This stuff can't be bulletproof."

"Practically."

"Practically isn't bad," she said, taking it from him. It was lightweight and infinitely more practical, she decided, than Lycra leggings and ballet slippers. Cool. A new uniform. It was always gratifying to wear the right outfit for the occasion. She scrunched it in her hand. It would take up no room at all. Could, in fact, be stuffed into a pocket, once she'd finished a job. "How practical is practically?"

"Better than a bulletproof vest."

"Sold. I'll order a dozen right now."

"I thought you might feel that way," Hunt told her dryly. "Here." He nudged the lightly steaming wooden bowl closer to her knee. "Want me to wash you?"

Yes, please
. "Didn't you mention you wanted to leave
soon
?"

The thought of Hunt bathing her intimately brought a flush of heat to her skin. All over. If he touched her right now, she'd go off like a rocket. "I'd better do it myself," she told him regretfully.

What she wanted to do was—
Never mind
. She reached into the bowl and wrung out the cloth floating in the water. "Thanks."

She lay back on the blankets and ran the warm, soapy cloth down her belly, her eyes fixed on Hunt's face. "The magic suit?" she prompted, not feeling cold at all. Hunt's eyes glittered feverishly as he watched, mesmerized, while she spread her knees to bathe herself. The coolness of the night air kissed her skin. The heat of his gaze spiked her body temperature.

Their eyes locked. An entire thesaurus of desire arced between them. Mouth dry, Taylor licked her upper lip. "Nudge the bowl a little closer, would you?"

He snatched the cloth from her hand. "Bloody hell. I'll do it." He plunged the fabric into the water and wrung it out with enough force that warm water sprinkled her skin. Yet when he touched the damp material between her legs, his touch was gentle.

Her nipples peaked as Hunt washed her carefully and skillfully. Sparks of electricity zinged through her body and her hips arched off their bed. She reached out a hand to grab his shoulder. "Hunt, please—"

With a snarl, he tossed the cloth back into the water and leaned over to crush his mouth to hers. Taylor wrapped her arms about his neck, and he pulled her to a sitting position as he ravished her mouth with teeth and tongue. After several moments he put her aside, resting his forehead on hers.

"No more. As much as I want to make love to you again, there's no time. Help me here, darling."

Taylor closed her eyes as the sharp anticipation of her body simmered. She cupped the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his hair. They stayed that way, foreheads touching, until her parts got the message that they weren't about to party and her breathing was back to normal. Almost.

With a final stroke to his hair, Taylor raised her face and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "Okay. Up. Dress. Out."

He rose and held out his hand. "Stand. I'll help you into the suit. Put this on." He dangled her thong on one finger.

Taking his hand, she let him pull her to her feet. Her knees were weak, but she locked them until she felt a little steadier. With a smile, she took her underwear from him and shot him a mock-suspicious glance. "I don't have to wear high-heeled boots and carry a whip, do I?"

"Not this time." He waited as she drew on the thong, then held out the bottom half of the suit. "One leg at a time."