Hunter growled and pushed both hands into it, his eyes focused on his own hands as they ran through the silky length. With both hands holding her face, he finally met her eyes. “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you.”
She didn’t have time to respond, not that she knew what to say after his confession. He dragged his lips across hers in what felt like desperation.
When Gabi let one hand fall to his hip, the other to his ass, Hunter pressed her against the massive window and gathered her hands in his. He lifted them above her head and leaned into her, from shoulder to knee. It was as if he was controlling his own ability to slow this down by keeping her from touching him.
It was frustrating, and erotic.
Though they were both still fully clothed, the extent of his desire pressed low on her belly, close, but not close enough.
Hunter continued kissing her, hot, urgent kisses that left her utterly breathless.
With her hands inoperable, Gabi ran one leg up his.
He tore his lips away. “If you keep touching me, I’m going to make love to you right here, with all of Dallas watching.”
She swiveled her head and attempted to catch the lights behind her. She wasn’t quite ready for that leap into exhibitionism. “Then I suggest we find a proper bed.”
One of his hands loosened on hers and his free palm held her cheek. “Are you sure, Gabriella?”
Is there any question?
He was giving her an out . . . an out she no longer wanted.
“Your bed, or mine?” she asked with a smile.
One minute she was bound to the window, the next she was in his arms. “Mine’s closer.”
He tossed back the down comforter and laid her on the white sheets.
Gabi welcomed him back into her arms and continued the kiss he’d kept from her for over a week.
The weight of him, his strength, made her dizzy. Or maybe it was the lack of air. Gabi lifted her chin, forcing his attention to her neck.
She tugged his shirt from his slacks. Removing his shirt wasn’t possible without space between them. And right at that moment Hunter was using the tip of his tongue to explore the space behind her ear.
When her fingertips met with skin, she let her nails drag.
Hunter lost his concentration and moaned.
With her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “I love when you lose control.”
“Grrr.”
She giggled, let her fingers slip into his pants.
His sought out the bottom of her dress. The feel of his fingers riding over the edge of her stockings made her smile.
He froze, and half lifted from her heated frame. He gathered the edge of her dress and lifted it higher on her thigh.
She knew the moment his eyes feasted on her garter. “Christ, Gabi. What are you wearing?”
“If you have to ask . . .” she let her words fade as she took in his reaction to the lingerie.
He ran a hand under the clasp, left it in place, and continued to explore her. “You’re like Christmas.”
Heated from his touch, his words, his eyes, she said, “It’s time to remove some of the wrapping.”
She sat up and reached behind her back. The zipper of her dress wasn’t an easy catch, so Hunter took over.
She heard the gentle slide, felt his fingers lightly brush her skin as cool air met her flesh. Sitting still, she didn’t fidget when Hunter took his time removing the dress from her shoulders.
Only when the dress pooled around her waist did Hunter stop staring and lean forward to touch. He lingered on her shoulder, trailed his lips to the tops of her breasts, still bound in her black lace bra. He was attempting to remove her dress, and she tugged at his shirt. They both met the floor at the same time.
Gabi knew Hunter filled out a suit, but under was the real view. A view she’d thought a lot about since she’d first seen it on the beach on her brother’s island.
With the liberty to touch, she did. Everything about the man was confident and strong.
Hunter left the bed for the two seconds it took to shed his pants. He tossed his wallet on the nightstand and returned in only his boxers.
He ran his hands over her breasts, cupped them before moving to the back to unclasp her bra. “Christmas and birthdays,” he mumbled as he tossed her clothing away.
Her breasts were heavy in need of his touch.
She didn’t have to ask. Hunter replaced his hands with his mouth. Had she ever felt so completely ready to accept a man into her body? Was there a time she felt this cherished?
Cherished was probably the wrong word, but it was the only one that continued to scroll in her head. Hunter was making love to her . . . not simply trying to get inside. Pushing away any doubt of his intentions, she leaned back against the pillows and drowned in the feel of him.
He took his time, until she was raw and squirming. He’d yet to touch her most needy parts, and they screamed for his attention. He moved down her waist, kissed the edge of her hip.
When she lifted her hips, she heard him laugh.
“Now it’s me who’s dying,” she told him.
He lifted one of her legs until it was bent at the knee, and he knelt between them.