Chapter 11 #2
She was about to repeat her own question when his arm locked around her waist, pulling her tight against him. A gasp escaped her throat, but before she could think of mustering a breath to scold him or protest, his mouth descended on hers.
It was the kind of kiss she’d assumed didn’t exist in the real world, and when girls she’d known boasted about it, she figured they were exaggerating. A hot, primal kiss that made her forget everything that wasn’t the hard crush of his lips against hers or the feel of his rough hand on her neck.
Instinctively, she grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him back just as hard, like this was their previous battle of wills turned physical. She kissed him as she’d wanted to in the stairwell, with his hand on her chest, or when he’d stopped her and pressed her up against the wall.
She felt him smirk against her mouth, but instead of wanting to hit him for his smugness, she raked her fingernails down his back.
A growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and it was her mouth that quirked into a smug smirk.
She’d never dared to be so bold before, but she had the sense that there was nothing Hunter wouldn’t take in his stride.
He’d said he didn’t scare easily, and she would’ve bet good money that he didn’t shock easily either.
His tongue flicked against hers, neither too much nor too little, and she savored the intensity, her tongue moving with his as her hands wandered over the contours of his frankly breathtaking body.
His biceps made her think he was smuggling rocks up his sleeves, the sculpted planes of his chest undeniably pleasing to the touch, his abdomen deeply satisfying to run her fingertips over, his neck firing up a desire to kiss that hot skin.
Rising on tiptoe, she did just that, her lips tasting the salt of him, tracing a line from one side of his neck to the other. He smelled of the outdoors, of crisp mountain air and mossy woodland, with an undernote of woodsmoke—one of her favorite scents in the world.
Of her youthful vices, bad boys had never been one of them.
But she was beginning to wonder if she’d made a mistake by not indulging sooner.
Then again, all those supposed bad boys who’d tried to make moves on her really were just boys compared to Hunter.
A laird, a fighter, an actual warrior with scars to prove it, a protector of an entire people… and a helpless baby girl.
Her back arched as his hand slid up the back of her neck, his fingertips gently tilting her head back.
She gasped, the blood in her veins white-hot and spreading as he grazed his teeth across her bottom lip, almost like a light punishment for daring to kiss his neck.
A punishment she delighted in, as that pain and pleasure spiraled together and shot down to the very core of her in a crackling pulse of pure electricity.
All of a sudden, he spun her around and pushed her up against the bars.
She didn’t even feel the metal digging into her back as he deepened the kiss.
She couldn’t breathe and didn’t care to, her frantic gasps filling the cell as he pressed his body against hers, his hand sliding around her thigh to raise her leg.
Hearing his unspoken commands, she wrapped her leg around his hip and almost cried out as she felt his hardness between her thighs.
No, Hunter definitely wasn’t a boy. Not in the slightest. There were at least a couple of layers of fabric between his cock and the part of her that yearned to take in every inch, yet she could feel the sheer size and thickness of him even so.
Oh God… Oh my God…
She’d never wanted anything or anyone more, and it wasn’t as if there was any real risk. She had an implant to protect her from time-traveling babies. Besides, when she went back home, she didn’t want to regret what she could have done.
Hunter’s hand trailed down her thigh, pushing back the infernal layers of petticoats and skirts, his touch inching toward her clit.
Just then, the glide of his hand became a grasp, his fingertips sinking into the soft flesh of her thigh as if he needed to anchor himself. Rather, as if he needed to stop himself.
He pulled back, and her entire body throbbed in protest as she stood there against the bars, trying to catch her breath. He, too, seemed a little breathless, his eyes still shining with hunger, but another step back and she knew the moment was over.
“I daenae ken how ye ended up here, lass,” he said thickly, his throat bobbing, “but I’m glad ye were here today. Ye have me gratitude.”
Nancy stared at him in disbelief, disappointment replacing the sweet pressure in her belly.
So, that was it. He’d kissed her out of gratitude, because he couldn’t just say, Thank you. A man of action, not words. A man who felt he ought to give her something in reward for what she’d done earlier.
Now, it felt like torture. The most incredible, singularly earth-shattering kiss of her life had happened with a man who lived three hundred years in the past, who was just happy that she saved his baby.
And sure, she was overjoyed that Freya was alive and safe, but right now, she was more pissed off that he thought that was appropriate, to rile her up and then… step away.
“This cannae happen again.” He added insult to injury as he touched his thumb to his lips, as if he didn’t believe it had happened in the first place.
And I suppose he’ll accuse me of sorcery, she thought with no small amount of annoyance.
She’d waited twenty-seven years for a kiss like that, and to find out it would be the one and only was just a crap cherry on top of a crap cake of a day.
“Fine by me,” she said with a tight smile. “But next time I do you a favor, how about you just say ‘thank you.’ That ought to nip any misunderstandings in the bud.”
His expression darkened. “I told ye, lass, ye have me gratitude. Daenae squander it.”
“I wouldn’t know how,” she replied, telling herself that she’d just gotten carried away, that it was just because she was cold and dazed and, yes, needed some human contact after being thrown through time, far away from her best friend and the world she knew.
It had been comfort, nothing else. A symptom of all the excitement of the day, but now she’d had her jab of reality. If nothing else, she’d be able to tell Emily how the Hawk kissed. It was all just research, and Nancy was nothing if not a thorough investigator.
“Come on,” Hunter said gruffly, gesturing for her to leave first. “The healer is waiting to meet ye.”