The Complete Red-Hot Collection. Kelly Hunter

him before looking up. ‘I heard you. I just didn’t listen.’

      ‘Come here.’

      He hauled her on top of him, tilting them both back so that she straddled his hips. The hard weight of his erection dug into her thigh.

      ‘We’ve got the whole night. You’re not rushing me.’

      Stretching his hand back, he found the drawer beside his bed and produced a foil packet. He reached down, sheathed himself, and before she knew what was happening he thrust up into her. The sudden movement was the perfect blend of pleasure and shock… with the tiniest, most delicate hint of pain.

      Strong arms held her flat against him, her breasts pushed up against his chest, her lips at his neck. Each moan shot fire through her, and each thrust of his hips bumped her most sensitive part, making her body hum. Orgasm welled within her, climbing, peaking and pushing.

      His hands were in her hair again, yanking her face up to his so his lips could slant over hers. Teeth tugged at her mouth, the taste of him drawing her closer and closer to release. She ground against him. So close… so close.

      ‘Come for me, Chantal. I want to feel you shake around me.’ His voice was tight, his breath coming in hard bursts.

      ‘Brodie…’ Her voice trembled, release a hair’s width away.

      ‘Scream for me.’

      And she did.

      On and on and on she cried out his name, eyes clamped shut, fists bunched in the pillow, face pressed against his neck. The bubble burst and she tumbled down, down, down. As she clamped around him he found his own release, groaning long and low into her hair.

      Silence washed over them. The air was cool on their sweat-dampened skin. He held her close, clinging on as if he wanted to stay that way forever. She didn’t move in case he let go.

      He could officially die a happy man. The gentle weight of her comforted him. One of her legs had wound around his; her foot was tucked against his calf. As her breathing slowed he stroked her hair, breathing in the heady scent of her perfume mingled with perspiration and sex.

      Beside his head her hands were still clutching the pillow. Outside, Saturday-night parties raged on, contrasting with inside, where a hazy silence had settled over them.

      ‘That was okay, I guess,’ she mumbled against his neck, chuckling when he turned to look her in the eye. ‘If you like that kind of thing.’

      Glossy dark strands of hair covered half her face and he pushed them aside, drinking in her drugged gaze with satisfaction. Her lips were swollen and parted, her cheeks bright pink. Tracing her lower lip with his thumb, he brought her head down for a slow, teasing kiss.

      ‘And do you like that sort of thing?’

      ‘Nah—orgasms are overrated.’ She grinned, pushing herself up so she straddled his hips.

      The view was pretty damn good from this angle.

      ‘Blasphemy.’

      ‘Total blasphemy.’ She planted a kiss on the tip of his nose and traced the lines of his latest tattoo. ‘This is new.’

      ‘It’s twelve months old.’

      ‘“In the waves of change we find our true direction”.’ She read the words that had been etched onto him forever. ‘That’s beautiful. Why that quote?’

      ‘I thought it made me sound intelligent,’ he joked, hiding his sudden vulnerability with a wink.

      How did she do that? She had a homing beacon aimed straight for his most sensitive areas… and not the good kind!

      She smirked. ‘What’s the real reason?’

      ‘I felt like I needed a reminder that change is necessary… healthy.’ He sighed, and rolled so that she came down and landed on the bed next to him.

      He’d meant to move away, but her body immediately curled into his, finding the groove between his arm and his chest. It felt so damn good to have her by his side, to finally be able to wrap his arms around her without the guilt of the past. He only had one night—he might as well let himself enjoy it.

      What if one night wasn’t enough?

      Bookings were piling up. He’d be sailing back to Queensland soon enough to bury himself in work and his family. Even if they did stretch this fiasco on for more than a night his time here had a solid end date. Normally that was what he liked. But he wasn’t experiencing his usual sense of relief at their ring-fenced sleeping arrangements.

      ‘Do you think you need to change?’

      ‘Everyone needs to change,’ he replied, running a fingertip up and down her arm.

      ‘What do you want to change?’

      He laughed, shaking his head. ‘What’s with the twenty questions? I thought I’d signed on for a night of steamy sex—not the Spanish Inquisition.’

      ‘Is that so?’ She reached for him, the brush of her fingertips hardening him. ‘What if I’m done?’

      ‘I’ll say when you’re done.’

      Rolling on top of her, he mentally thanked the king-size bed for its endless space.

      Pinned, she tilted her face up at him, a defiant glint in her eye. ‘You’re not the boss of me,’ she said.

      Yeah, right. He had her exactly where he wanted her. Kissing his way down her neck, he sucked on her skin, only stopping to draw a still-hard nipple into his mouth. Her breasts were perfect: smallish, but firm, topped with bronzed peaks that were oh-so-responsive to his touch. She arched, stifling a groan. He licked, nipped, tugged until she let out the heavenly sounds of pleasure.

      ‘That’s it,’ he murmured against her breast. ‘Don’t keep that wonderful sound from me. I want to hear you.’

      ‘Bossy boots.’ Her head lolled back against the pillow. Her eyes were closed, but a wicked smile curved her lips.

      ‘Damn straight.’

      ‘We were talking.’ Strong fingers gripped his hair, pulling his head up so she could look down her body at him.

      ‘And now we’re not.’

      ‘Why are you so averse to talking?’

      ‘I’m not averse, but I prefer touching you.’ To illustrate his point he kissed a trail down to her hip, swirling his tongue over the slightly protruding bone.

      ‘You’re such a guy.’

      With her hands still in his hair he made his way to the juncture of her thighs, blowing cool air on her heated skin. ‘Want me to stop?’

      ‘What if I say yes?’

      Her voice wavered. Victory.

      ‘I’ll call your bluff.’

      Delicate licks drew an anguished moan from her.

      ‘Stop.’

      ‘Okay.’ He pulled his head away but she pushed him back into place.

      ‘Damn you.’

      He laughed against the inside of her thigh, nipping at the sensitive flesh before moving back to her sex. The honeyed scent of her made his head swim, made him want to ravish her. It wouldn’t be right to push her over the edge too quickly. She would have to wait while he had his fill.

      He drew the sensitive bud of her clitoris into his mouth, working her, teasing her, tasting her. Smooth legs draped over his shoulders; demanding hands pushed and pulled him into place. Chantal was clear about what she wanted, and that was exactly the way he liked it.

      ‘Brodie…’ she gasped. ‘For the love of…’

      ‘Want me to stop again?’