Page 37 of Heart of the Hunter (Band of Bastards #3)

“I want you, Hunter.”

The way his eyes bulged would have been comical if it didn’t hurt so much. She was certain she could have shot Hunter with an arrow, and he would have looked less horrified than he did after hearing her confession.

“No,” he choked out in a raspy voice, then turned away from her and stalked to the pool. She thought she heard a groan on the wind, and she strained to determine if it was coming from something hiding in the trees, or from Hunter.

She turned away in frustration and paced the small patch of grass in front of the felled tree trunk.

How dare he walk away from her when she had laid herself bare in front of him?

At least emotionally, even if she hadn’t done it physically.

Though, if he’d given her any other response, anything to show he wanted her the way she wanted him, she would have bared everything to him.

But he did want her, and she knew it. She might not be worldly when it came to matters of men or the heart, but she knew the way Hunter held her in his arms on the horse was not just to keep her from falling to the ground.

He’d clutched her to him like he was afraid of dropping something fragile.

She may have dozed much of the way from the burned hamlet to Hawkspur, but she’d been very aware of the way his thumb rubbed gently against her ribs where his hand rested, and she’d counted at least seven different times that he’d pressed his lips to the top of her head or nuzzled her hair.

The water sloshed as Hunter stepped into the pool and Anora turned her head in the direction of the sound.

His boots and breeches were in a pile by the shore, and he waded into the water with his back to her.

She couldn’t tear her gaze away as the water slowly rose higher on his muscular calves and thighs as he walked deeper into the pool.

His entire body was limned in silver moonlight, accenting the broad expanse of his shoulders, the muscular planes of his back, and a very firm bum.

She swallowed hard and flexed her fingers that itched to touch him.

He dove under the water sending ripples over the surface as he skimmed along beneath it. When he did emerge, he shot up like a jumping fish, then flung his head back so that his hair sprayed water in a high arc above him.

“Hunter!” She sounded like a mother chiding a petulant child, but she didn’t care because he deserved the rebuke.

He turned slowly, the lithesome movement of his body mesmerizing as her eyes stayed riveted on the expanse of his chest and the ripple of muscles on his stomach. Everything about him exuded lethal strength and carnal allure.

She most definitely wanted him.

“Why won’t you touch me?”

He opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut. In the light of the moon, she could see his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. His eyes were trained on her, but he stayed silent.

She was long past the age when most women married, and she had accepted that a husband and children may not be in her future. Not only had she not found a man willing to take her as she was, she’d also not found any she thought attractive or interesting enough to tolerate for a lifetime.

Until Hunter.

She felt exhilarated when she was with him. He was the only person who ever made her stomach flutter or her heart pound as it did now, and she feared if she did not seize this moment, she may never get the chance again.

She was terrified!

Terrified of rejection, but even more so of regret.

“You wouldn’t kiss me at the inn.” She tugged on the leather thong tied at the bottom of her braid as she walked slowly toward the edge of the pool, then ran her fingers through her hair to loosen the strands. “But you kissed the top of my head when you thought I was asleep on your horse.”

He continued to stand as still as stone as he watched her.

The knowledge she had his attention emboldened her and caused her skin to tingle with excitement.

It was not at all appropriate that they were alone like this.

Nor was it appropriate how much she wanted to touch him.

And it was vastly inappropriate how curious she was to see all of his body.

“Tell you me you don’t want me, Hunter,” she said as she kicked off her boots and set them aside.

Hunter’s lips parted, but whatever he meant to say appeared to get stuck in his throat when she unbuckled her leather belt, pulled it off, and dropped it on the ground next to her boots.

It did not escape her notice the way his gaze followed her hand as she bent and reached down to grab the hem of her gown.

She enjoyed having his attention far more than she ever expected, but when she hitched up her gown to reveal breech-clad legs, his lips curved into a smirk, and she heard him huff out a small laugh.

She couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Here she was, feeling powerful in her newly found confidence, and then she ruined it by stripping away her gown to reveal…

more clothing! Her cheeks were suddenly hot with embarrassment, and she closed her eyes, so she didn’t have to look at Hunter.

She still had the hem of her gown in her hand as she straightened to her full height, feeling anything but appealing standing in her breeches.

“Anora.” Her name rolled from his lips in a guttural growl.

Oh, hell! He was going to chastise her for trying to seduce him and tell her she was being a fool.

“Damned breeches,” she said with a sigh of defeat. “I know you dislike them and now they’ve ruined the moment.” A woman with more experience would know how to salvage the situation, but she was at a complete loss.

She looked to see why Hunter was not laughing at her for the disaster she’d made of the moment only to find him staring intently at her.

The expression on his face was not one of mirth, or disdain, or disapproval.

Instead, his eyes were sharp, and his lips were parted as his tongue slid slowly over them, like a predator eyeing his prey.

Perhaps all was not lost.

“Do you know why I dislike your breeches?” he asked in a deep drawl.

She slid her hand up higher on her leg with the hem of the gown still clutched in her fingers, then shifted on her feet to jut out her hip. Her confidence soared again when the focus of his eyes when directly to the curve of her hip and then down her leg. “Why?”

He swallowed hard then lifted his eyes to look at her face. “Because your legs look so fucking good in them, and all I can think about when you are wearing them is what you would look like without them.”

The smile that curved her lips was beyond her control and only grew wider as he started moving toward her from the far side of the pool.

She kept her eyes locked with his as she untied the breeches at her waist until they were loose and began to slowly slide toward her ankles.

Hunter moved almost languidly across the pool as he watched the breeches fall, but when she started to pull the gown up the length of her body, he froze again.

She lifted the gown over her head and added it to the pile on the ground.

Wearing only her chemise, she took a deep breath to steel her nerve and walked into the pool.

The thin undergarment floated up around her legs and her skin rippled with gooseflesh as she glided deeper into the water.

Once she was submerged up to her waist, she tipped her head back and dipped beneath the surface of the pool to rinse the smoke and ash from her hair.

When she surfaced again, Hunter was directly in front of her.

“Do you know what you are doing?” His voice was hoarse, the words hardly more than a raspy whisper as he scrubbed his hand over his face.

Anora reached to brush her fingers along Hunter’s collarbone, tracing the ridge of it to the notch at the base of his throat, fascinated by the way goosebumps rose on his skin and she wondered if it was from her touch or the chill in the air.

She lifted her gaze to his as she slid her palm down his bare chest to feel the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His skin was warm despite the coolness of the night air and of the water.

“No. I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said with a coy smile, “but I think I will figure it out.”

He put a hand over hers where it rested on his chest and skimmed the knuckles of his other hand along the line of her jaw as she looked up into his eyes.

She practically purred when he traced his fingers in a featherlight touch down the column of her neck.

Her breath caught in her throat at the delicious sensation of his caress on her sensitive skin.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, but his tone and his face lacked conviction.

“Stop talking and kiss me,” Anora said, leaning into him.

Thank God, he did as requested, because she felt like she’d combust if he didn’t.

He touched his lips to hers with a growl that rumbled in his chest and vibrated against her hand, still pressed over his heart.

The kiss was gentle, but it set her heart to racing, the beat of it thrumming in her ears.

She breathed in, the heat of his breath warming her lips, and relished the soft press of his mouth against hers.

It was nothing like her first, only—and unpleasant—kiss.

This kiss sent delicious waves of desire spiraling through her.

But she wanted more.

She put an arm around his lean waist and pulled herself closer to him.

Hunter rewarded her by wrapping one hand around the back of her neck and the other to the small of her back as he sucked her lower lip between his.

She gasped and felt her stomach flipflop.

When he released her lip and slipped his tongue between her teeth to rub against hers, unexpected heat pooled low in her belly.