Wild Thing Read online

  Toni took a bite of tuna with a piece of roasted red pepper and tomato on it. The flavors exploded in her mouth, and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. Hunter was a seriously awesome cook. She’d be stunned to have a meal this wonderful at a five-star restaurant in Manhattan; to think he threw it together while she showered was unbelievable.

  When she opened her eyes, Hunter watched and wore what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

  “This is so… incredible. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to carry on a conversation. I’m sorry, but this is…” She shook her head trying to come up with a proper label but failed. She needed a thesaurus. “Stunning, amazing, magnificent, luscious, delectable… they all pale in comparison.”

  Hunter took a bite and chewed. He looked like one of those über-sophisticated wine tasters, which was funny considering his attire—a T-shirt and shorts he’d risked his life to save. “I would have liked the tuna to be a tad more rare, but you distracted me.”

  Toni rolled her eyes. “It’s perfect. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “My mom is a great cook, so she started me off.” He sipped his wine and then holding it by the stem, rolled it around in the glass, watching it slide back into the bowl.

  Toni stared at his hands, strong, scarred, and beautiful—hands that looked as if they should belong to a concert pianist, but full of character too.

  “All the Kincaid men are good cooks, but Karma…” He shook his head, but the side of his mouth tipped up. “Mom was never able to get Karma to fall in line. I started as a short-order cook on the weekends during high school. I worked as a guide in the summers, which meant outdoor cooking, and then as a cook off season all through college, moving up through the restaurants my grandfather owned. Well, Grampa Joe really isn’t related, but he’s like a grandfather to me. I made it to the big time before I quit.”

  “You just quit?”

  “Yeah, I did. I wasn’t happy. I love to cook, but I don’t like being indoors all the time, not to mention the hours. No, I like my life just fine the way it is.” He took another sip of his wine.

  Toni thought she saw a flash of something other than contentment. But then, what did she know?

  “When I get a wild hair, I go to the restaurant on Castle Rock and give the chef a day off with pay. It’s great to cook and know I can spend the next day skiing, teaching, or doing whatever else I want to do.”

  “It must be good to be king. Me, I pretty much have to do what I’m told.” Toni looked down at her plate and found it was almost empty. She wanted to cry. She felt this way whenever she read a really great book too. She’d curse the dwindling pages.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Hunter was watching her again.

  “Dinner’s almost gone. I hate when perfect things end—the perfect meal, a great book, a wonderful movie, a play. The entire second half, I know it’s dying in a way. And no matter how wonderful it is, I’ll never see it, taste it, read it, or hear it for the first time ever again.”

  He pushed his plate toward hers. “You’re welcome to eat off my plate, but that won’t help with the first time conundrum.” He took a bite of tuna and looked deep in thought. “I guess it’s a good thing we’ll have a week of firsts, though I’d really hate to see you sad every time you experience one.”

  In one sentence he took the conversation from polite dinner chat deep into sexual territory. Judging from the heat she felt in her cheeks, she’d turned bright red. Damn her and her Irish skin. God forbid she should get her father’s Italian olive complexion. No, she was paler than pale. Toni finished her wine only to have Hunter refill her glass the second it hit the table.

  Hunter apparently wasn’t waiting for a response, which was probably a good thing. It wasn’t often she was left speechless.

  He picked up her empty plate, and when she rose to help, he waved her back. “I promised you coffee. Do you want regular or decaf?”

  She sank into her seat and picked up her wineglass. “What’s the point of drinking decaf?”

  “Ah, a woman after my own heart. I keep it in the freezer for my Mom when she visits. Caffeine keeps her up all night. Though, to be perfectly honest, if the same happened to you, you wouldn’t hear me complaining. Dessert should be about done. I just need to finish the sauce. I hope you have room.”

  “Dessert?”

  Hunter pulled a pan from the oven, flipped it onto a cutting board, and lifted the inverted pan off a weird looking loaf. Whatever it was smelled positively heavenly. He placed slices on two plates, arranging them so one slice leaned on the other. It drove her nuts that from where she sat, she couldn’t tell what it was. After he had the servings on the plates to his satisfaction, he took a saucepan from the back of the stove and spooned something chunky over the top and then drizzled sauce over each portion like they did in restaurants. Then he took something small and red out of the refrigerator and placed it on one plate beside the tilted masterpiece. Weird, since there was only one something. He looked it over and cleaned the edge of the plate with a towel. Amazing.

  He brewed the espresso, cut a sliver of lemon peel for each cup, and then set the coffee and dessert on a tray along with a sugar bowl and utensils. By the time he was done, she’d finished her wine.

  Hunter carried the tray from the kitchen. “It’s getting a little cold. Do you want me to light a fire? We can have our dessert in the living room.”

  “You don’t have to go to any more trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. I have a gas starter, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t mind. Besides, it gets pretty cold at this elevation once the sun goes down.”

  She followed him to the living room. She hadn’t noticed the cold until she stood, probably an effect of drinking too much wine. Hunter set the tray down, and she could only stare. “What is that?”

  “Bread pudding with raisins and chocolate chips and an apple port wine compote.” He set the plate with a rosette made out of what looked like the peel of the apple on the coffee table and sat beside her.

  “Wow, Hunter, you can cook for me anytime. I wish I could reciprocate, but the best I can do is Toaster Strudel, and that’s only if my toaster doesn’t burn it. I feel as if I should take a picture of everything you serve.”

  “I’m told it’s better if you just eat it.” He put his arm around her and sipped his coffee, but made no move to sample his own portion.

  “Okay.” She cut off a piece, a little hesitant because she’d never been a pudding lover, but this stuff didn’t look like any pudding she’d ever eaten. She scooped up some of the apple compote and tried to get the whole thing into her mouth without dripping it on Hunter’s T-shirt. Sweet wine, apple, chocolate, and raisins flirted on her taste buds along with warm bread pudding. “Oh my God.” She couldn’t help but moan. “This is better than sex.”

  Reclining in a deep slouch, Hunter pulled her closer to his side, balancing the plate on his flat stomach before tasting his rose-less pudding. “No. Not better than sex, but I’ll admit it’s close.”

  “Yeah, well, speak for yourself. For me, this is definitely better than sex.”

  Hunter’s nose brushed her temple. “That may be your experience so far; but then you’ve never made love with me.”

  ***

  Hunter sipped his coffee and watched Toni demolish the dessert while he wondered what kind of idiots she’d slept with if she considered his bread pudding better than sex. He knew it was good, but damn, he couldn’t think of any food he’d eaten that could compare to great sex.

  Toni ran her finger through the remnants of the port wine reduction. When she caught him watching, she reached over and slid her finger into his mouth. He really liked her. She was surprising and so refreshing compared to other women he’d dated. Her eyes widened before they darkened as he sucked her finger in, licking o
ff the port and then nibbling the tip. When she tried to take her hand back, he caught her wrist and tugged her over, settling her on top of him. “There. That’s much better.”

  “I’m crushing you.”

  “No, you’re not.” He kissed her before she could say whatever she was revving up to. Catching her just as she opened her mouth, he took full advantage of her surprise. She straddled him, pressing her chest to his as he slid his fingers through her thick, still damp hair.

  She’d used his shampoo, and the scent on her drove him wild. Their tongues tangled, vying for control. Her mouth waged war as her body relaxed and molded to his. He could kiss her forever. She wrapped her arms around his neck, settling on his lap, coming in full contact with his erection. All the air escaped his lungs, and she moaned before rocking against him.

  Damn. He’d planned a nice slow seduction—a good dinner, conversation, a couple bottles of wine, dessert and coffee, sipping port, necking on the couch… but once she came in contact with his dick, she went from zero to sixty in under three seconds. Not that he wasn’t right there with her. He took her mouth the way he’d take her body if they both weren’t fully clothed.

  She pulled away. “Hunter?”

  “Yeah?” His hands went to her hips, holding her still because if she did any more rocking and rolling on his lap, he just might embarrass himself.

  “I guess it’s time for sex.”

  “What do you mean… time for sex?”

  “We’ve done the wining and dining, dessert in front of the fire, nice music. Sex comes next, right?”

  Warning bells went off in Hunter’s mind, and not just because she was straddling him and felt too good for words. “I cook for a lot of people. I don’t sleep with all of them. Sex wasn’t the reason I cooked.”

  “Sure, whatever. But if you don’t want to have sex here on your couch, I think we should move. Not that I have a problem with having sex on the couch, if that’s cool with you. I mean the fire’s nice. I just don’t want to wait, and you seem up for it. So—”

  Ignoring the niggling feeling that something wasn’t right, Hunter lifted her as he rose. He was probably making too much of it. Maybe it was a sign of inexperience or nerves. He swallowed her scream and tried to turn off those damn alarm bells as Toni wrapped her arms around his neck and her long legs around his hips. He didn’t think he’d make it all the way to the bed, not for the first time, at least, but the rug in front of the fire was nice. He filled his hands with her ass, cushioning her as he knelt and came down on top of her.

  “Here?” She reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  “Now.” He grabbed the waistband of her shorts, since that’s where his hands were, and thanked God she wasn’t wearing underwear. She was already going to work on his shorts when he pulled her T-shirt up. She let out a laugh when her arms got stuck between them.

  “I’ll get my shirt. You lose your shorts.”

  “Deal.” Seconds later, he had the condoms out of his pocket and his shorts off. He threw his clothes over his shoulder and took a second just to stare. Toni was spread out in front of him, the firelight dancing on her pale skin. “You are a vision. I don’t know what part of you to kiss first.”

  A blush spread from her neck and moved to her face, which surprised him considering her frank discussion about where and when they’d have sex. He decided to start where her blush had. Toni had a long, graceful neck, and when his lips touched the pulse point on the side of it, she blew out a breath and ran her hands down his back.

  “Hunter?”

  “Toni?” He nibbled on her earlobe.

  “Do you think I could get on top?”

  He stopped what he was doing and rolled over. “Sure.”

  She lay on her side and did her own visual examination of his body. “It’s not that I didn’t like what you were doing. It’s just that you’ve already seen me, but I didn’t have time to explore you before you went and jumped into the river.”

  He cringed. “I’m sorry.”

  Toni ran her hand over him, her fingers tangling in his chest hair. “I didn’t say that to get another apology. I just”—she slid her leg over his as her hand moved south—“want to explore you too.”

  His stomach muscles tensed as her fingers roamed over them. Hunter blew out a breath and sucked air back in when she reached for his erection, wrapping her fingers around it. She kissed a trail from one hard nipple to the other, her hand sliding down the length of him and back. He did his best to keep his hips on the floor when every instinct he had was to raise them. Her hair slid over his chest, tormenting him almost as much as her lips and busy tongue were. He gathered her hair, holding it, giving him a clear view.

  The visual was one he was sure he’d see again and again in his dreams. Her breath on the sensitive head had him swallowing hard. He closed his eyes. So much for the lack of experience—Toni definitely knew what she was doing, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. “Toni?” He hardly recognized his own voice.

  “Problem?” She slid her mouth over him, wet, hot, and damn… her tongue traced the ridge around the head before sucking him in deep, her lips meeting her hand.

  He thought he may have said no, but he was groaning too. It felt so amazing…

  When Toni stopped, he wasn’t sure if he was thankful or not. He took a deep breath as she kissed her way back up his chest. “So, how do you want to do this? Do you want me on top or what?”

  She wasn’t looking at him. Not his face anyway, and the alarm bells he’d been trying to ignore were louder now. He’d never choreographed making love before, never discussed it so technically. He pulled her on top of him, face to face, but she avoided his eyes. “Toni, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing… other than the obvious. I guess if I have to tell you, I’m doing something wrong.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. What’s going on with you?”

  “I’m trying to have sex. I mean, you set the stage, sex comes next, and well, I’m here…”

  “Shit.” He rolled her off him. “I don’t expect you to have sex with me because I made dinner.”

  “Do you just want me to finish what I started? I can do that.” She stroked what was left of his erection, and he pulled her hands away.

  “No.” Damn. “I can’t do this.” He reached for his shorts, thankful he hadn’t thrown them far, and stepped into them, zipping the fly. He tossed her the shirt and went looking for the boxers he’d pulled off her earlier. “We need to talk, and when we do, I’d appreciate it if you would look me in the eye.”

  Chapter 7

  Toni sat on the floor butt naked and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. She’d thought things had been going fine until Hunter pulled a Dr. Jekyll on her. She slid the T-shirt over her head and caught the boxers he tossed her way before standing and anchoring her hands on her hips. “What is your problem? I thought you wanted to have sex. Don’t tell me it wasn’t part of the plan. I’m not an idiot.”

  Hunter walked shirtless to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. “Do you want something to drink?” He drank a full glass and poured more.

  “No. I want to know what I did to piss you off. I held up my end of the bargain. I was just trying to make sure you got what you wanted. I don’t understand you. What did you want me to do?”

  He came back to the living room and sat on the couch, shaking his head at her like you would at a dog that messed on the carpet and should know better. She pulled on the boxers and tried to control the urge to run. This was just great. She didn’t know where the hell she was or how to get back to the inn. She was trapped. With him.

  He patted the couch beside him. At least now he didn’t look that angry. “Come here, and let’s talk.”

  “You know, Hunter, I think we’ve talked enough
. I guess I read you wrong. If you don’t want to have sex, that’s fine by me.”

  He placed his water on a coaster on the coffee table and stood, coming toward her. “I don’t want to just have sex. I want to make love to you.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He put one hand on her waist and one finger under her chin, lifting it so she had to look at him.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I’ve wanted to make love to you since the moment I met you. I want to learn all about you. I want to know what you taste like, how it will feel when I’m inside you and you’re coming. I want to be able to look into your eyes and share that with you. That’s not having sex. That’s making love. Sex is the physical act. Making love is so much more.”

  Toni thought it was bad facing a mad Hunter, but this version was downright scary. She stepped away and looked him square in the chest. “I… I… I don’t know if I’m…” Capable? Why did that sound so pathetic? And worse, why did it scare her so badly? She blinked away unshed tears. God, she was turning into a head case.

  He moved closer and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

  Jeez, what the hell was she in—a freakin’ Lifetime Movie of the Week? “Are you for real? Guys don’t turn down sex. What’s wrong with you?”

  She took a chance and looked him in the eye. He smiled at her—that toe-curling crooked smile she was learning to like a bit too much.

  “Nothing is wrong with me. You’ve just been sleeping with the wrong men.”

  “Oh, and you’re the right man?”

  “I guess you’ll find out when you’re ready. Just say when.”