HUNTER (The Caine Brothers Book 1) (7 page)

“It is nice.”

“This beach is incredible.”

She reached for his hand and twined her fingers in his as they strolled in the sand. Normally he’d resist that kind of affectionate display, but it had been such a natural gesture he barely gave it a second thought.

“So, what do you want to do tomorrow? We have the whole day to explore,” he said.

“Well, we should check out the spa, maybe the pool, check out the art walk. The resort offers a lot of classes—cooking, Spanish, yoga, Latin aerobics, dance. There’s golf, bird watching, a nature walk. That’s just the amenities here at the resort.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I read the brochures while you were in the shower.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll pass on the classes. Just knowing they have them is enough for me. Golf takes all day, and I don’t have the patience for it anyway, but we might want to spot check the course to see what the quality is. We can go tour the spa just to get an idea of what they offer. You said those are the amenities at the resort. Did you research off-resort activities?”

“Of course. I’m nothing if not thorough.”

She shot him a sexy look, waggling her eyebrows at him. A blast of lust shot to his groin, reminding him he still wanted her naked, underneath him, in bed. Or anywhere.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, giving as good as he got.

“You wish.”

“I know.”

She laughed. “Okay, stud. Anyway, back to activities. There are all kinds of local activities like horseback riding, catamaran cruise, a volcano tour, zip lines, rafting, hot springs, cave tours, stargazing. All kinds of stuff.”

“Now I wish we were staying a week. I’d love to do all of that.”

“I’m sure a lot of visitors would. You could put together all kinds of packages rather than leaving visitors to try to search out the things they want to do. Make it easier for them to find what they want.”

They passed a few other couples on the beach, most of them walking, a couple of them sitting. The moon glowed on the waves, and the air smelled like tropical fruit, saltwater, and faintly of wood smoke.

“Is that music?” Allison asked.

He stopped to listen, and he heard it too—a low bass and brass over the top. “I think so.”

“Let’s go find it.”

She pulled him along, past the gardens to a path that led to a lounge that faced an open-air dance floor. The look in her eyes when she saw it reminded him of a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

“I don’t dance,” he said, hoping there was enough finality in his voice to stop her before she said a word.

She beamed at him, making him want to give her whatever she wanted—an impulse he never got. Ever.

“Everybody dances,” she said, dragging him into the lounge.

The band was a Latin combo with drums of some kind, a few stringed instruments including at least one guitar, and a trumpet.

“I need a drink if you’re going to force me to dance.”

They found seats at the bar and ordered drinks—guaro sours recommended by the bartender.

He sipped his drink and she danced in her seat until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Sorry. Can’t wait for your liquid courage to kick in.”

She took another sip of her drink, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then bounced off the barstool and onto the dance floor. Hunter watched, hypnotized by her fluid, sensual movement. If someone had asked him last week if he’d thought Allison McDowell was a dancer, he would have laughed. Buttoned up, tight-assed, all-business Allison? No way. But there she was on the dance floor, those fucking sexy legs, her ass rolling to the music, her graceful arms over her head.

His body craved her. Yeah, his cock throbbed for her, but he wanted to touch her, kiss her, taste her, explore her. He wanted those legs spread for him. He wanted her to roll her hips like that on top of him.

When she pulled the tie out of her hair and shook it out around her shoulders, he noticed she caught the attention of several other guys. One of them left his seat at the other end of the bar and wandered over to the dance floor, taking up a position right in front of Allison. She didn’t notice him at first, but then he started dancing with her and she looked up and smiled at him.

Enough of that. Hunter may have actually growled. He took a swig of his drink, then marched to the dance floor.

From behind, he put his hands on Allison’s waist and pulled her back against him. There was no way she could miss his erection.

She spun, the look on her face fuming angry—until she saw him, then her face melted into the kind of look every man wants to see on the woman he wants—pure fucking desire.

“Hey, I was dancing with her,” the other guy said.

Hunter looked over Allison’s shoulder and said, “She’s mine. Get lost.”

“I was here first.”

Allison gave Hunter a sly, sexy smile, then turned to the other guy and said, “Sorry. I’m his.”

The other guy huffed off back to the bar. Hunter rested his hands at Allison’s low back and moved to the music. She draped her arms over his shoulders and moved against him.

“You might want to see someone about this condition. It seems to be a persistent problem,” she said, referring to his cock.

“I am seeing someone for it, she’s just damn stubborn.”

She shook her head and tsked. “Maybe you should do something about that.”

Her pupils had dilated, and she lifted her brows in a question, as if daring him. To drive her point home, she danced her way all the way around him, touching, pressing, brushing herself against him. The world around them dropped away, and Hunter’s focus narrowed to Allison—her rhythm, her smell, her touch. There would be no waiting for tomorrow. He wouldn’t last that long.

Once she’d made it full circle, she twined her hand around his neck, digging her nails into his hair. The bite of her nails was his last straw.

“That’s it. We’re leaving.”

He reached up and grabbed her hand, pulling her off the dance floor. He hauled her through the bar and out into the lobby.

“My shoes.”

“Fuck your shoes. You owe me and I’m collecting. Now.”

Allison had to admit, she’d pushed him pretty hard. She’d made up her mind earlier in the day she’d agree to his proposal. She really had intended to sleep on it, but damn the man was sexy, and after dinner and the walk on the beach, she was feeling romantic and relaxed and magnanimous. The Latin music and dancing, though, had her turned on all over again, and when he snuck up behind her and pressed his erection into her back, she knew she couldn’t wait.

He stabbed the button for the elevator.

“Took you long enough,” she said.

She couldn’t help jabbing at him. He was just so fun to tease. The thunderous look on his face, now, though, hinted at danger, at a man pushed to the edge of tolerance. She didn’t generally like to live on the edge, but the thrill of not knowing what he’d do rushed through her veins.

He tugged her around to face him and buried a hand in her hair, grabbing a fistful of it, holding her head in place. “You’ve been an awful tease today.”

“You turn me on, Hunter,” she whispered. “You make me feel sexy. You make me want to play with you.”

“Fuck,” he said, and shoved her against the strip of wall between the elevators. He took her mouth in a frenzy. She had to hold onto him to keep from being consumed by the whirlwind of hunger.

She heard the elevator ding through the fog of desire.

“Elevator,” she said, short of breath.

Another couple exited, giving Hunter wide berth, but smiling all the same. It couldn’t have been any more obvious what Allison and Hunter were on their way to do if they wore a sign advertising it.

When the elevator door closed, Hunter pushed Allison back against the wall and kissed her again. She rested her ass on the railing and hooked her leg around his waist, reaching down to fumble with his belt.

She was just about to reach her hand into his pants when the elevator reached their floor.

“Just push the stop button,” Allison said as the door started to open. Thankfully nobody stood in the hall waiting for it.

Hunter closed his eyes and tilted his head back, taking a couple of deep breaths before speaking. “There’s no stop-the-elevator-so-we-can-have-sex button. Though, there really should be. Plus, there’s probably a camera in here somewhere. You want to put on a show for whoever monitors the camera?”

Allison jerked her hand out of Hunter’s pants and slid off the railing, smoothing her skirt. “No.”

“Good. You’re all mine. I don’t share.”

A frisson of some weird pride skittered down her spine. She normally hated possessiveness in men, but the feeling of inciting that kind of behavior in a man she also wanted to be all hers was pretty damn delicious. Because if any bitch made a move on Hunter right now, she’d scratch her eyes out.

Hunter took a firm grip on her wrist and led her out of the elevator, marching down the hall at a breakneck pace. She managed to keep up, no problem.

At their suite he held out his hand for the keycard. She reached up and slid it out from under her bra strap.

“Seriously?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to carry a purse.”

Hunter crowded her from behind as she unlocked the door, one hand up her dress and firmly on her ass.

“Hurry,” he said.

When she opened the door they tumbled in and he slammed it behind them. Hunter shoved her against the wall, kissing her again. Her lips were well swollen by now, and she still couldn’t get enough of just kissing him.

She tossed the keycard on the floor and grabbed at Hunter’s shirt, fighting with the buttons. He moved his kisses down to her neck, and his hands up under her dress bunching it in his fists and pulling it up over her body. Her arms got tangled in the fabric until she finally helped him get the dress over her head.

They came back together like magnets, unable to keep their hands and lips off each other.

Allison fumbled with his shirt again, but pheromones clogged her brain blocking her ability to remember how buttons functioned.

She grunted and gave him a frustrated shove. “Take it off,” she said.

He took a small step back, just enough space so he could unbutton his shirt, but not enough that he stepped out of her personal space. But he didn’t take the shirt off. He just smirked.

“You first,” he said.

“You already stripped my dress off. I want your shirt off.”

“You’re not done yet.”

She still wore her bra and panties. “Really?”

“Yes. Really. I want you naked. Now.”

“What about what I want?”

“I’m collecting what I’m owed, remember?”

She absolutely remembered, and remembering turned her on even more. Her panties restricted the throbbing need to finally feel his cock inside her. Her nipples hardened in anticipation of his touch. She also remembered his naked body and she really, really wanted to feel it against her naked body.

“Fine,” she said.

She reached around her back and unhooked her bra, then let it slide off her arms. She tossed it in the same direction she’d dropped the key card and her dress.

The cool air—and his feral gaze—pebbled her nipples. She hooked her thumbs into the top of her panties, then looked up at Hunter. His expression had turned hard and hungry, his eyes dark and dangerous.

“Do it,” he said.

Rather than obeying instantly—because really, there was no way that was happening—she waited just a tick longer before pushing the panties down over her hips and letting them flutter down her legs and pool at her feet. She kicked them toward the growing discard pile.

Hunter stepped back again, enough to take in her full form. Instead of feeling awkward and naked in front of her boss, she felt sexy and desirable under his gaze. It gave her a feeling of freedom and power, as if just by removing her clothes she could lead this big, powerful man around by the…well…cock.

“Your turn,” she said after he’d looked his fill.

“Turn around,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Not good enough.”

“You are a stubborn woman, you know that, right?”

“I think we’ve established that already.”

“Turn the fuck around so I can see your ass.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll spank it.”

She smiled a slow smile, liking that idea more than she should. It warmed her all over. “You spank mine, I’ll spank yours.”

“Goddammit Allison.” He spoke the words through teeth gritted so tightly she thought they’d crack. A glance down answered why.

“You better get those pants off before you bust a seam,” she said.

He took a menacing step toward her and she giggled.

She turned and sprinted into the bedroom, squealing when she looked over her shoulder to find him following, a devilish grin on his face.

“I’m going to get my hands on that ass,” he said.

“I sure as hell hope so,” she said, putting the bed between them. “But you’re way over dressed for the occasion.”

He looked like a starving predator stalking what he hoped would be his next meal. That feeling of living on the edge of danger had her giddy.

He fixed his gaze on her, intense and fierce, as he stood on the other side of the bed and stripped out of his shirt, baring the magnificent chest she remembered. Her fingers itched to touch him. He didn’t blink as he stripped his belt off, and undid his pants, allowing them to slither down his legs. He kicked them aside, leaving him standing in his boxer briefs.