Never Too Late (12 page)

In the moonlight, her eyes looked fathomless, deep pools of emotions he couldn’t even begin to guess at. She studied him for several heartbeats, then drew in a deep breath, which unfortunately had the side effect of lifting her breasts in even closer contact to his chest. He was trying to keep control and remove the other arm when she spoke, her voice low, throaty.

“Would you kiss me again?”

Every synapse snapped to attention and blood gushed to his groin. “I, uh, don’t think that’s a very good idea right now.”

She gazed at him. “Why not?”

He decided he had no option left but stark honesty. “I haven’t been with a woman in three years, Kate. If I kiss you right now, I’m afraid I’ll eat you alive.”

She appeared to digest his words for a long moment, then she smiled. “And you see this as a problem because…?”

Chapter 10

F
or the space of about two heartbeats, Hunter managed to resist that look in her eyes, the invitation in her voice, then with a groan he surrendered and dragged her against him, his mouth descending with raw, unbridled hunger.

He wasn’t gentle. He swept his tongue inside her mouth and pressed her hard against his erection, his body aching with need.

She made a low sound he took for arousal and wrapped her arms around him, her mouth warm and welcoming.

They stood on the balcony locked together for a long time, mouths and bodies tangled together.

All his pent-up need seemed to explode as he kissed her, roaring through him like a wildfire in high winds.

Finally he dragged his mouth away. “We’re going to put on a hell of a show if we don’t go inside.”

She blinked several times, color stealing over her cheekbones. “Right. You’re right.”

With hands that fumbled, she slid open the terrace door and led the way into her hotel room. He was afraid to say anything, afraid she might change her mind, but she kept her hand tucked in his while she slid the door shut and straightened the curtains.

When she was done, she turned back to him, her mouth swollen but her eyes bright with desire and something else he couldn’t identify.

He made a low, raw sound and pulled her against him, his mouth finding hers again.

He had never been so aroused, so ravenous for a woman’s touch. When she slid her hands inside his shirt to spread those small, elegant fingers across the muscles of his back, he shivered.

He ached to touch her, to fill his hands with feminine flesh, but he felt strangely paralyzed, afraid when he did he would lose whatever thin hold he had on his tenuous control.

He brought his hand to her rib cage, just under the cotton of her shirt, but couldn’t seem to move it farther. Her skin was incredible, soft and warm and sweetly scented, and he could feel her small, delicate ribs move with each breath.

“Touch me,” she commanded softly against his mouth.

His stomach twirling with anticipation, he slid his thumbs up, up until they brushed the undersides of her breasts through the fabric of her bra.

This time she was the one who shivered, a delicate, erotic tremor. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations pouring over him. He felt like a randy teenager again, all raging hormones and fumbling hands and stunned disbelief that she was actually letting him go so far.

“Funny thing about three years of celibacy,” he said hoarsely. “I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever done this.”

“I know just what you mean,” she murmured, a small smile curving her lips.

He puzzled over that remark but didn’t have the brain power to figure it out as she arched against his hands. He had to touch her. Really touch her.

To his vast relief, she wore a front-clasp bra and it only took him a moment to work the tricky thing. At least he hadn’t forgotten that particular skill. An instant later his fingers were brushing against warm, soft flesh.

Her breath came in short little gasps as he spent what seemed like hours relearning the feel of a woman’s body.

Later he had no conscious memory of slipping off her shirt. One moment it was there, the next she stood before him wearing only her unhooked bra hanging free.

She had small, high breasts, her nipples dark against her creamy skin and he devoured the sight as long as he could stand without touching her again.

With nothing in the way now, he lowered his mouth to the slope of first one breast and then the other, then he drew one taut nipple into his mouth. She smelled of hotel soap and vanilla sugar and woman and he couldn’t get enough.

She let out a low, ragged sound and buried her hands in his hair while he savored the incredible wonder of exploring a woman’s body again.

Not just any woman, he thought. He had had a dozen chances or more since his release for meaningless sex, but he had wanted none of those women. Only Kate, with her big eyes and her soft heart, made him almost frantic with need.

He was going to explode, right now, he thought. His arousal jutted against the fabric of his Levi’s and all he could think about was coming inside her.

Driven by sudden urgency, he yanked his own shirt over his head, then went to work on the metal buttons of her jeans. To his embarrassment, though, his hands were trembling too hard to work them free, and finally her hands stopped his increasingly frustrated efforts.

“Here. Let me.”

Seconds later she slid out of her jeans and her panties, until she lay before him on the bed, an exquisite, naked offering.

He couldn’t breathe, could only stare, his blood racing and a wild surge of emotion in his chest.

“I’d forgotten how beautiful a woman’s body could be,” he said hoarsely. “The hollows and curves and dark places. Do you mind if I just stand here for a moment?”

She blinked, her eyes wide. “I…no. Of course not.”

Kate tried not to feel self-conscious as he devoured her with hot and hungry eyes. He had warned her he would eat her alive. She just hadn’t expected him to do it with his eyes.

He was the beautiful one, she thought, all muscles and sculpted strength. He had always had a powerful body but his years in prison had turned him into something hard and dangerous.

Finally he slipped out of his jeans, then pulled something out of his wallet and tossed it onto the bedside table.

At the sight of that square metallic packet, Kate’s insides twitched with a combination of nerves and anticipation.

“You’re prepared.”

She thought his short laugh had a layer of self-mockery to it. “I bought a jumbo pack when I got out but they’ve been gathering dust for the last month.”

“Why? I’m sure you’ve had women banging down your door for the chance to, um, bang down your door.”

At last he joined her on the bed and she almost forgot the question when he kissed her again.

“I don’t know why,” he admitted. “I wanted to but I couldn’t manage to work up the enthusiasm—or anything else—for anybody. Until you walked out onto that deck three nights ago.”

His words slid through her like an intimate caress and her whole body seemed to catch fire.

He kissed her, a slow, deep mating of tongue and mouth. She wrapped her arms around him, her love for him a heavy weight in her chest.

She was doomed to heartbreak with this man. She knew it as surely as she knew the names of every muscle and tendon his mouth and hands explored, but she wouldn’t waste this moment worrying about the future.

Right now she would savor this moment and add it to her precious store of memories.

He kissed her deeply, intensely, as if to memorize each centimeter of her mouth, until she was weak and trembling. After years of second and third dates—and nothing more—she had become a bit of a connoisseur of kissing. She had never experienced this wild desperation, the edginess of his mouth on hers, as if he were afraid this was his last kiss and he wanted to make it matter.

While he kissed her, his hands began to wander over those curves and hollows and dark places he had talked about, until she was breathless and near frantic with need.

Finally, when they had touched and tasted and explored until she lost any coherent thought, he found the tight, aching bud between her thighs and she nearly rocketed off the bed.

He made a low, raw sound and, still kissing her, began to dance his fingers across her. Heat and desire and love wrapped her tightly in a cocoon of need, tighter and tighter until she couldn’t breathe; her heart raced and her vision blurred. Finally he thrust a finger deep inside her and she cried out his name as the cocoon burst free and she soared.

When she fluttered back to earth, she found him watching her with those hot, hungry eyes. She pulled him to her for another kiss, one hand fisted in his hair, the other clutching him to her.

“I have to be inside,” he groaned.

“Oh yes,” she said fervently, then added a polite “please.”

He laughed hoarsely. “I’m afraid I won’t last very long,” he said as he reached for one of the foil packets from the bedside table. “It’s been so long for me.”

She was breathless—nervous and still painfully aroused at once. “That’s all right. We can take it slow the next time.”

His eyes darkened at her inference that once wouldn’t be enough, then he entered her with one powerful motion.

Though she tried to brace herself for it, Kate stiffened and swallowed her instinctive cry as she felt the resistance of her hymen break free with a deep, burning ache.

Hunter froze, his features stunned. “You’re a frigging virgin!”

She had the completely insane urge to giggle at the oxymoron as the first pain began to ease. In the face of his fury, she decided it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Well, technically, not anymore.”

He held himself rigid, unmoving for a few seconds, long enough for her to marvel at the novel, wonderful sensation. A man was inside her! Not just any man but Hunter Bradshaw. The man she had loved forever, long before she even could admit it to herself.

The ache all but forgotten, Kate wrapped her arms around him and arched to angle him in deeper. Hunter’s breathing was ragged, tortured, his neck corded with veins.

After a moment of holding himself absolutely still, he groaned. “I can’t stop. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” She kissed him, her arms tight around him, as he surged deep inside her.

He drove into her no more than four or five times then with a hoarse cry he found release.

Kate held him close as long as he would let her, until his frenzied heartbeat slowed and his ragged breathing returned almost to normal.

After a moment, he slipped out of her arms and rose without a word, crossing to the bathroom to take care of the condom. She heard running water and then he returned to the bed with a warm washcloth for her to wash the streaky blood off her thighs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The quiet anger in his voice, so at odds with his considerate gesture, sliced at her composure but she took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his baffled, angry gaze. “Why? What difference does it make?”

“One hell of a lot! You know it does! I never would have let things go so far if I had known you had never been with a man before.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t tell you. I wanted to make love to you, Hunter. I’m a grown woman and can make my own choices. Tonight, this was what I wanted.”

“Why?”

He looked genuinely baffled at her behavior. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she knew he wouldn’t welcome the information.

Finally she shrugged, heat crawling up her cheekbones. “The moment seemed right,” she said. She didn’t want him to know the depth of her emotions—the last thing she wanted right now in addition to his anger was his pity—so she tried for a light, casual tone.

“You were here—a strong, warm, attractive man who appeared more than willing. Maybe I decided I was tired of wondering what all the fuss is about.”

She regretted her glibness when a feral expression crossed his features. “I don’t like being used, Kate. If you wanted a stud, you’re looking in the wrong pasture.”

Tears burned at his coldness but she knew she deserved it. “If that’s all I wanted, why would I still be a virgin at twenty-six years old?”

He yanked on his jeans. “That’s a question I would certainly like to know the answer to.”

Kate drew the sheet around her, compelled to be honest about this, at least. “I’ve always thought I was too picky. Sex just never seemed a priority to me. I had my goals and I preferred to focus on them, not on anything that might be distracting. I never dated anyone who seemed worth the energy for all of this.”

He continued watching her out of hooded eyes and she yearned for even a hint of softness in him.

“During one of her psych classes, Taylor told me I never date the same man more than a few times as a self-protective mechanism. She believed I use my experiences in childhood as a shield and a crutch. I don’t let people too close because I look at everyone through the suspicious, wary eyes of a child who has been hurt one too many times.

“I don’t know if either of those theories is true, mine or Taylor’s,” she went on. “I only know this was my choice, Hunter. One I’m glad I made, even if it will likely make things a little awkward between us for a while.”

He made a disbelieving sound, as if to imply they had moved beyond awkward into excruciatingly uncomfortable.

“You should have told me,” he said again. “At the least, I could have made things easier for you and not attacked you like some rutting beast.”

“I’m sorry.” The words seemed inadequate but she had nothing else to offer.

He studied her for a moment then he picked up his shirt. “I think it’s best if I leave now,” he said, his voice low, reserved. “Tomorrow will be a long day of driving to Miami.”

She absorbed his rejection without even flinching. Determined to hide her hurt, she lifted her chin.

“I don’t regret what happened between us, Hunter. Most of it was wonderful, until the last part there and even that was starting to feel good. I don’t want you to regret it either.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and walked toward the door.

“Good night,” he said brusquely, then he walked out into the hall. A moment later she heard the click of the door to the room next to hers, then all was silent.

Kate let out a long, pained breath. She meant what she’d said to him. She didn’t regret making love to him, even with the empty bed and the empty space in her heart he had left behind.

She had a feeling years from now she would remember this wild-hair trip to Florida as one of those pivotal, life-changing events. Making love to Hunter would certainly qualify as pivotal in any woman’s life, especially one who had loved him for years.

He might leave her heart bruised and her body aching. But every single moment had been worth the price of admission for the chance to be in his arms.

Kate had a feeling she was in for a long, uncomfortable day.