3. Hunter

The sound of a door opening and closing along with a mumbled thank you had me sitting up straight at the table, suit flush to my skin. The wide open, floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse let in a soft but humid breeze, and I breathed it in, relishing the sheer amount of oxygen in the air.

Boulder was nearly a mile in the sky. The Oahu resort I was in was about twenty feet in elevation. Even though the humidity was beginning to get on my nerves, I had to admit, I felt like I could breathe better.

Charlotte came around the corner of the kitchen wearing a black satin dress that reached mid-thigh, black satin heels to match. Her face held a scowl, one that told me I was in serious trouble.

"I thought we were meeting at a restaurant," she hissed.

"I never said that." I motioned for her to sit across from me at the circular table, but she didn't move an inch. "You honestly think I'd talk proper business in public? I'm not the kind of man that lays it all out there for anyone to overhear my affairs."

She blinked at me a few times, the irritation wavering just a little. "Then what's with the rose petals everywhere? That's not exactly professional. Neither is the music."

I snorted. I'd asked the resort to set up for a private meeting but considering I'd booked the honeymoon cottage, it appeared they took that in a different way. The music had been an unexpected addition. I wasn't complaining, though. Hopefully it would soften her demeanor. "It was a miscommunication between me and the resort staff," I explained, swatting the question away with my hand. "Please sit, Charlotte."

The way her body moved instinctually toward the chair after I spoke was enough to make my cock twitch. I thanked the heavens that she couldn't see it beneath the table. My gaze clung to her exposed arms and collarbone as she slowly sunk into the seat, suspicion dancing in her eyes.

"I want to hear more about your experience," I said. In truth, I'd already decided she'd be fine for the role, and I wasn't desperate to find someone perfect. I just wanted to hear her talk, wanted to see the way her mouth moved, forming words that didn't drip with disdain. There was just something about her, whether it was her attitude or her beauty, that drew me to her. Made me want her. Made me salivate at the idea of her under me in my bed.

"I thought we were going to eat," she said, barely keeping control of her irritation.

"Do you not hear the sounds coming from the kitchen or smell food cooking?" I asked, waving my hand in that general direction. The clanging of cookware and snapping of utensils trickled out of the room, the scent of Cajun spices and seafood filling the air. She glared at me.

"Tell me a little bit about yourself first," I began, leaning forward onto the table with both elbows firmly placed on the glass surface, "and then you can eat whatever my chefs have dared to cook us."

She looked between me and the kitchen, her straight black hair blowing softly in the ocean breeze. Part of me wondered if she had some sort of ancestral ties to the islands. She didn't look entirely native, but there was something within her that made me think she might want to stay here instead.

"Fine," she sighed. "As I said, I've been a stable hand since I was eighteen, but I've been around horses my entire life. I basically grew up strapped on the back of a horse. I got my bachelor"s from Colorado State. I considered continuing on to a master"s, but I was itching to get back into the field."

"Do you have any experience in the breeding sector?" I asked.

"No," she said, and the way her lips wrapped around the word was enough to make me imagine one of my fingers sliding between them. I didn't give a shit about her answer. I wanted a meal, and not one that came from the kitchen. "I'm interested in it, though. But I don't agree with show breeding."

I shook my head. "We don't do show breeding. Mostly we breed for competition or working horses, though we do occasionally breed just for riding. We don't do miniatures or dwarfs."

She nodded, her gaze lingering on the kitchen. I wondered how hungry she was. "Good. That makes me feel better about it."

"Tell me what you want to know, Charlotte," I said, letting my eyes scan over her chest while she wasn't looking. Little freckles dotted her skin, right down from her shoulders to where her breasts came together?—

"Are you staring at my tits?"

I blinked away the haze of lust that had come over me and sat up straight, eyes flicking back to her face. Her cheeks had flushed, her brows stiff. "No," I lied, the word slipping out too quickly.

"You were."

"Did you grow up in Boulder?" I asked, changing the topic as swiftly as she had. She stared at me in confusion, the question taking a moment to process.

"Yeah."

"Were your parents involved with horses?"

Her throat bobbed as she raised her chin. "Yes."

There was something there. Something she wasn't saying, something hiding just beneath the surface of her icy facade. "Why did you leave Boulder?"

"That's personal," she replied.

"You and I will be spending quite a bit of time together, Charlotte. Personal won't be so personal."

"I like to keep my work life separate."

A little chuckle crept up my throat as one of the chefs rounded the corner of the kitchen, two plates in hand. She set them down in front of us. A hefty spoonful of what I could only assume was bulgur sat in the center of the plate with eight perfectly peeled and seasoned shrimp surrounding it, covered in a thin sauce.

I didn't dare question it. Everything they'd served me so far since I had arrived was phenomenal.

"I don't think you'll keep it separate for long," I responded once the chef had cleared the room.

She stabbed at a singular shrimp with her fork and popped it into her mouth. I could have sworn she was taunting me with it. "Why?"

"Because I saw the way you looked at me the other night," I deadpanned. "I saw the way your body reacted to mine. I heard your breath catch, felt the little shiver that made those goosebumps flare."

She stopped chewing midway through my words and forced a swallow. "You're an asshole," she coughed, reaching for the pitcher of ice water in the center of the table to pour herself a glass. I slid the bottle of wine her way instead.

"I'll need a reference from your previous employer." The words slipped from me like butter as I popped a shrimp between my teeth, collapsing the poor little sucker in one bite. "Have them email me."

Her face paled while she poured herself a glass of wine. "My father can vouch for me."

"I don't accept familial references?—"

"My father is Brody Hammersmith."

My teeth clanged against my fork, too rough of a bite made with too much shock. Brody Hammersmith. My business mentor, the man who had been at my side throughout the majority of my journey up the ladder. His name alone was worth more weight in gold than any other reference she could give me. Brody never talked much about his family, though I'd heard of a daughter once or twice in passing. What had he called her? Lydia? Lola? "Lottie."

She stared blankly at me.

"Your father calls you Lottie."

"Yes," she breathed.

I shook my head, surprise getting the better of me. "Fuck the reference," I said. "It's definitely not needed. You can start on the first of next month. Though I will say, I was not expecting to run into Brody's daughter on my brief getaway."

She stifled a laugh as she popped another shrimp in her mouth. "And you wondered why I ran away when you told me who you were."

"I can't be that scary," I mocked. I lifted my glass of wine to my lips, savoring the scent of it before taking a sip.

The smile that spread across her face was one of fucking heaven. "I don't know about that," she teased. "Dad's pretty much drilled it into me that every man he mentors is a piece of shit playboy who often thinks with his dick but has a good mind for business. No offense."

Piece of shit playboy with a mind for business. He wasn't entirely wrong. I had a reputation, and so did the other men I knew he worked with, but surely I wasn't that bad.

Although I held great respect for Brody, the idea of him disapproving so drastically about a woman I couldsleep with, his daughter no less, only made her that much more enticing.

"None taken," I smirked, stuffing the last bit of food into my mouth and swallowing. "He's not wrong, I suppose."

"I know he's not."

"Then tell me," I started, pushing my chair back and lifting myself to my full height. "If you knew better, Lottie, why didn't your body react the same way as your mind?"

She leaned back in her chair, that iciness of her features returning in a second. I stepped around the table, coming ever closer to her, and watched as her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

"If you knew better, why couldn't you stop yourself from staring at me in the stables yesterday?"

She sucked in a breath, averting her gaze to the glass of wine in front of her.

"If you knew better, why did you touch yourself after you ran?" I tucked a knuckle under her chin, the warmth of her skin a stark contrast from the cold glare she leveled at me. "And why did you think of me while you did it, all alone in your bed?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she snapped.

"I could tell by the way you looked at me," I said, my lips tugging upward. "I could tell by the way your cheeks flushed as you took in every ounce of me. Tell me, Lottie, do you think the real thing would be better than what you imagined?"

She tried to push my hand away, her irritation growing, but I held strong beneath her chin. The flush in her cheeks grew darker, her lips parting, her eyelids lowering just a millimeter. "You're extremely unprofessional."

"You're imagining it now, aren't you?" I purred. I leaned down over her, bringing my face as close to hers as it had been two nights prior. Just a breath between us. My cock already throbbed in my slacks, begging me to give it something, anything. But I wanted her. "Wouldn't you rather have the real thing instead of some silly fantasy? Wouldn't you like to know what it feels like when I touch you instead of having to settle for your fingers?"

Her breath caught in her throat, those goosebumps breaking out again like hives across her skin.

"Let me show you."

The music shifted into something deeper, darker, more my speed as if my own interests had somehow leaked into the playlist. It was a song I'd heard a few times before, enough to know it by name—When You're Smiling and Astride Me by Father John Misty. Slow enough that I could do exactly what I wanted to tip her over the edge.

I hooked my free hand in hers and lifted her from the chair, her body following everything I silently commanded of it. She portrayed a cold and hard exterior, but her body had a mind of its own. One that ignored her denial of what she truly wanted, what I could feel emanating from her in waves.

The lyrics slowly filtered in as I pulled her body into mine. Every inch of her against me felt exactly as I imagined it would, but I knew damn well she hadn't expected anything close to what she was experiencing. From the way she shivered to the way her breathing shallowed, every little space where we connected was new to her, surprising and unfamiliar.

It wouldn't be by the end of the night.

She moved with me as I slowly began to sway, each sensual chord and note amplifying just how much I needed to take her. It normally didn't take this much effort, but for a prize this big, I'd play into it.

Her lower lip caught between her teeth as I cupped the side of her neck, my thumb hooking around the front side and dragging across her bobbing throat. "Tell me to stop and I'll stop, Lottie," I rasped, lowering my face to hers. Our lips brushed, just the faintest of touches. "Tell me to stop and I won't touch you exactly how you want me to."

Her eyelids fluttered closed, and I took that as the only sign I needed.

I pressed my lips to hers, firmer this time, more than just a fleeting touch. Heat flooded my body like a wildfire, and in less than a second I'd deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth and tasting the wine she'd just sipped. The wine, though delectable and rich, wasn't nearly as intoxicating as the woman in my arms.

Fingernails dragged through the short hairs on the back of my head, leaving little trails of heat as they held me to her, unrelenting and needy. I'd never felt more reassured that I knew how to read a woman, and know when I was wanted. Granted, I couldn't recall the last time my advances were refused.

"Just once," she mumbled against my lips. She backed up as the music reached its peak, pulling me with her, until her ass met the backrest of the couch. I let my mouth explore her more, let myself taste the skin of her neck, the little soft spot beneath her ear. "What happens in Oahu stays in Oahu. Understand?"

I lifted her just enough to set her on the backrest, to slot myself between her thighs. My free hand roamed the soft flesh there, curving around the muscle and pushing the black satin further up. "I understand," I chuckled.

She sucked in a breath as I breached the hem of her dress, warm skin beneath. Not a hint of anything more.

"Were you hoping for this?" I asked, my thumb dragging gently across already slick skin. Her answering little squeak was enough to tell me damn well that she had been hoping for exactly this. "Or do you always forgo panties, Charlotte?"

Footsteps sounded behind me and I immediately felt her stiffen. I didn't care.

My thumb delved between her lips, her slickness coating it entirely. Had going back and forth with me turned her on? Or was she just so intensely easy to please? I found her little bundle of nerves in an instant, making her gasp as she dug her nails into the back of my head in a silent demand.

"Can we… can we go somewhere more private?" she gulped. I pulled my head from the crook of her neck, saliva dampening my lips, and watched as her eyes clung to whichever chef had inevitably entered the room to drop off more food. I didn't want that food, though. I wanted the feast that was in my hands serving itself to me.

"Not one for onlookers?" I laughed.

"Something like that."

Sinking my fingers between her lips, I slid them down then up, across her clit and further, slipping two inside of her with shocking ease while teasing with my thumb. The longer I touched her, the wetter she became. "You're an awful liar."

"Please," she rasped, her voice breaking as I curled my fingers inside of her.

The sheer willpower I had to exude over myself to retreat from inside of her was shocking, even for me.

"You're all dismissed," I called out in the vague direction of the kitchen. In one fell swoop, I wrapped my arm around her waist and hoisted her up and over my shoulder, bare ass in the air. She grunted, the blood rushing to her head while she hung upside down over my back.

"You fucking beast?—"

Making my way toward the bedroom of the suite, I landed a sharp but playful smack against her rear, interrupting her mid-sentence with another little shriek. "You're getting what you want, sweetheart," I teased. Placing a soft little kiss against the spot I'd hit, I shoved the bedroom door open. "I wouldn't complain about it."

"Put me down, Hunter," she hissed.

"You wanted privacy."

"I'm more than capable of walking!"

I lifted her up and off my shoulder, dropping her on the soft plush sheets with an audible thud. Her dress was bunched around her waist as she got her bearings, the blood returning to her extremities, eyes latched onto my hand as I unbuckled my belt.

If for one second she thought she was getting away without being thoroughly fucked, she was sorely mistaken.

"Did you wonder what it would feel like to have me inside of you?" I asked her, baring my teeth mockingly while pulling my belt through the loops and dropping it on the floor. "Or did you just assume?"

Her jaw steeled. "I assumed."

"Good." With every item of clothing I stripped, I felt freer and freer. The jacket itself was restricting enough, but the shirt—apparently I needed to get some new ones. "Then I get to prove you wrong."

Her little snort was cut short when her eyes snagged on my chest.

"Jesus," she breathed.

"Nope, just me." Her eyes rolled so hard I thought I might not ever see that glaring blue ever again. But when she heard the sound of my zipper coming down, they were back on me, wide as the Pacific as I finally set myself free. "Fuck, that's been aching since you walked in the goddamn door."

Her lips parted, all sense of attitude washed out to sea. Kicking off my pants and my boxers, I climbed over her on the bed, the scent of her perfume washing over me now that we were free of the overwhelming scent of Cajun food. Fresh-cut strawberries, a hint of cinnamon, a sweetness like whipped cream. I hadn't smelled it that first night at the wedding, and I wondered if she'd put it on specifically for me this time.

I left a trail of kisses and teeth marks along her neck and collarbone, and within a second she was sliding the straps of her dress down, bringing the neckline lower and lower until the tips of her breasts broke through. Not even a fucking bra.

I'd struck gold with this one.

Taking one of her nipples between my teeth, I lapped at it viciously, savoring every little whimper and moan that reverberated from her chest. I pushed her legs up, holding the backs of her thighs, until she was practically a pretzel. "Are you on birth control?" I asked, my voice muffled from her flesh between my lips.

Wild eyes met mine. "Yeah. Are you… uh…"

"I get tested monthly. Nothing to report."

She nodded and let her head fall back onto the bed. "Perfect."

The tip of my cock rested against her thoroughly soaked entrance. A little droplet slid onto the shaft, shiny and slick and fucking beautiful, and that was all I needed to see before pushing myself into her.

Every inch felt like paradise around me.

The moan she let out was guttural, raw, half demonic and half angelic. Her head tipped farther back, her neck stretching, and I felt the sting of her nails against my chest before the warmth of her palm. "Fuck," she breathed. "Were you made in a goddamn factory?"

I laughed as she flexed around me, her walls squeezing me for emphasis. "Unfortunately not. I have faults and flaws just like everyone else." Sitting up straight, I dragged my hand down the back of her thigh to where we met, slowly and precisely circling her clit.

And then I started to move.

"Oh my God," she whined, her back arching, her fingers fisting the sheets instead of ripping my skin open. "Oh my God, Hunter."

"As good as you imagined?" I teased. I knew the answer, always did, but it never got old hearing it. I gave her a little more pressure with my thumb, relishing in every little extended cry she made.

"Better. So much better."

I picked up my pace, adjusting her body so I could bring myself deeper and bury myself up to the hilt. Her hips reacted to every thrust, and I had to wonder just how long the image of her like this would stay planted in my mind. Would I think of it every time I saw her back in Boulder? Would I wantit, want her, every time?

She tightened around me, fierce eyes meeting mine. Close. "You take me so well," I purred, leaning down over her just enough to give her an ounce of my warmth. "Like you were fucking made to fit around me."

I pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and kept my pace as even as possible, driving her further and further toward her release. She cried out, one hand releasing the sheets and wrapping around the back of my neck, holding me to her.

"Ask for permission."

"What?"

"You don't get to come until I tell you to," I smirked, loving the way her brows came down hard, the way she glared at me like I was the worst man she'd ever met. "So ask me for permission, sweetheart."

"You're horrible."

"And you're so fucking close. I could just stop," I said. I took her lower lip between my teeth, begging silently to whatever god existed that she didn't fight me on it, didn't call my bluff. I was getting close myself, and fuck, I didn't want to stop. Didn't want to ever stop.

Tightening walls bared down on my cock, making it somewhat difficult to keep my pace, but I pushed through it. So close. So, so close.

"Ask."

"Hunter," she cried. Her nails dug into my neck, deep enough to leave little indents. "Please, can I?—"

"Come." The word came out as a growled demand, my hips stuttering as I tried to hold myself back. She tightened and released, tightened and released, practically sobbing her moans while her orgasm ripped through her. I quickly tumbled after her, losing myself inside her, burying myself so far that I thought I'd never come out.

————

I wasn't sure if she truly believed I was asleep or didn't care if I noticed the shift in the bed, heard the sound of footsteps padding across the floor, or the bedroom door shutting quietly. Whether it was shame, guilt, or pure horror at what she'd just done, something drove her to leave well before the night had truly begun.

I grinned into the pillow, blinking open my eyes to the wide view of stars from the window of the cottage. It didn't matter.

I'd won. I'd had her, I'd taken her, another conquest fulfilled.

But it didn't feel like enough this time.