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All the breath left his body.
He couldn’t think with her straddling him like this.
Hunter caught her waist and rolled her gently, putting her back in the blankets, then caging her upper body with his arms. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Ah . . . no.” He kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck. His hand stroked the safe area around her navel, the base of her ribs. When his fingers brushed the thin line of lace along her hip, she drew a quick intake of breath.
He liked that sound. A lot.
He ran his finger under the lace, tracing along the front of her body. She stretched under him, and he bent to run his mouth over her stomach, breathing in the scent of her.
Her hands were in his hair. “You’re killing me,” she whispered.
“In a good way?”
“Yes.”
That made him pause. His hand went still on her stomach, and he rose up to look down at her. “I owe you a full truth, too.”
She dragged a finger down the center of his chest in a way that made his breath shudder and his eyes fall closed.
“Maybe you can tell me later,” she said.
He caught her wrist and smiled ruefully. “At school—when I kissed you in the parking lot—”
“I remember.”
“I told you I’d know exactly what to do if you jumped me.”
“Evidenced by what you’re doing right now, you mean?” That made him blush, which made her laugh.
But then she sobered. “I won’t tease. What’s your deep, dark truth?”
This was harder to tell her than anything else had been. It probably would have been easier if they weren’t both half-naked. He wished he could stop blushing for god’s sake. “I’ve never—ah—”
“Hunter Garrity.”
“What?”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re a virgin?”
If her voice had carried any amount of mockery, he would have denied it. But it didn’t, and he didn’t.
“Yes,” he said.
“I figured.”
“Hey!”
She didn’t smile. Her cheeks appeared extra pink in the firelight now. “No—I meant . . . I am, too.”
“You are?”
She nodded.
He couldn’t stop staring at her. “But . . . you’re so . . . so—”
