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Until right now, until Carly, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d lost with his choices.
Heart pumping, agitated, Hunter stared up at her amber eyes. Her glossy brown hair fanned across her breasts, and he was incredibly turned on not only by her dominant posture as she straddled his lap but also by her aggressive moves. Despite his troubled thoughts, desire was the clear winner, made obvious by the fact he was so hot he was ready to burst. It all got worse when she cupped his face, lowered her head, and kissed him with a potency that seared him from the inside out, slanting her mouth across his.
Lips and tongues engaged in a duel, she dragged her nails down his chest, scraping the flat nipples, and a groan escaped him. In response, Carly gently began to move her hips, rubbing her slick center along his hard length. Sweat beaded at his temples as he fought the urge to take over. The sensual moment went on, lingering, driving him mad, until she tore her mouth away, sat up and opened a foil packet. When she grasped his erection his blood sang, and his every cell urged her to hurry as she rolled the condom on. With the look of a woman who knew what she wanted, she positioned herself over him and he arched up to meet her, going deep.
“Hunter,” Carly groaned, her eyes flaring wide with shock and delight. And then her lids fluttered closed, as if the strength of her desire surprised her as much as his pleasure at her boldness did him.
But that hardly seemed possible.
She splayed her hands on his chest and began to rock her hips, nails digging into his flesh as she arched her back, angling to absorb more of him. He met her thrust for thrust. Eyes closed, cheeks flushed, her mouth parted, she—without hesitation or apology—slowly drove him higher. Pushed him further. Giving him what he craved. All the fire and sultry passion that had turned his head from day one was present in her movements.
Backing him closer to a line he didn’t want to cross.
Rocking his hips in time with hers, bench hard against his elbows, he clenched his fists, slipping further under her spell with every painfully pleasurable moment. Her soft body, her citrusy scent and her relentless, no-holds-barred attitude gained more ground, stretching his reserve. Dragging him closer to the edge.
As if she sensed his waning restraint, Carly tunneled her fingers into his hair and brought her mouth back down, devouring him. Desire shot through his veins, carrying the compelling need to the far reaches of his body. Drowning in the intensely disturbing feeling, he knew he should take over to preserve his sanity. The fact that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, made him angry with himself. Even as she consumed him, increasing the pace. Her mouth and hips greedy. Demanding he give up everything.
Carly dropped her hands to his butt**ocks and shifted, taking him deeper between her legs.
And he lost a little more of his hard-won control.
Carly lifted her lips a fraction, her gaze burning into his as she whispered wicked words that feathered across his mouth, her voice mesmerizing as she slowly pushed him back until he lay flat on the bench. She leaned over him, relentless as she made love to him from above. Her sweet smell, her softness and her seductive ways were threatening to undo him. His abdomen tensed. His sweat-slicked skin was damp against the wood bench as he fought the exquisite sensation of being immersed. Surrounded. Holding on by a thread.
Carly’s moans grew more frequent. More urgent. And Hunter slid deeper, losing more of himself with every passing moment as Carly drew him closer to the flame. And then Carly cried out and her nails dug deep into his skin.
Like a bolt of lightning his control cracked, incinerating him in a blinding flash even as his mind went blank, engulfed by the terrible pleasure. He arched his neck and wrapped his arms around her waist, pumping his hips wildly. Bucking hard. His need desperate and dangerous. Almost destructive. With a harsh groan, Hunter clutched Carly closer as his muscles burned, tensed and coiled ever tighter. And when the pressure became so fierce he thought it would destroy him it snapped, releasing him with a force that shot him into oblivion.
SEVEN
“Carly.”
The lilting female voice cut through the murmur of guests in formal wear in the posh, expansive living room of William Wolfe’s home. From the doorway leading to the back corridor—her only means of an easy escape—Carly spied the wife of the CFO of Wolfe Broadcasting approaching. Though she was pushing seventy, through the magic of expensive surgery Elaine Bennett’s face had a mask-like look that defied designation.
For a moment Carly was a teensy bit jealous, because she felt as if she’d aged ten years in the week since she’d last seen Hunter, walking away from her at the gym.
