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It was different now, with no secrets between them, just the night sky to bear witness. Sweeter, somehow. Quieter. She tasted like strawberries and peanut butter, and the feeling of her weight on his chest was just about the greatest thing in the whole entire world.
She teased at his mouth with her tongue, sliding her hand under his shirt and tracing lines on his chest with her nails until he was sure she’d set the night on fire.
He broke the kiss, and it took just about every ounce of self-control he had. “Kate—you’re hurt—”
“Please,” she said, kissing along his jaw, finding his neck. She spoke into his skin. “Please. I need the distraction. Please, Hunter.”
She was crying again.
“Kate,” he whispered. “Kate.” He brushed a thumb across her cheek, stealing the tears.
“Just kiss me,” she said.
Then she didn’t give him a choice. She was straddling his waist, her mouth consuming his every thought, her tongue alive in his mouth.
His hands went immediately to her waist, but that skimpy tank top barely stretched past her rib cage, and he found bare skin, soft and warm and supple.
“Take your shirt off,” she said in a whispered rush—and before he could even consider it, she was already pulling at the hem, dragging it up his body and wrestling it over his head.
And she was sitting on his stomach, her bare legs practically wrapped around him.
He focused really hard on breathing.
Tough, since every breath made her move fractionally, and he was very conscious of every inch of warm skin resting against him.
“Kate—I don’t want to hurt you—”
She leaned down close, putting her forehead against his, the way she had when they’d wrestled around behind the carnival. “So don’t.”
Then she pulled the tank top over her head, and she was in nothing but a bra and panties.
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—”
