3. Cara

Chapter 3

Cara

When we leave the coffee shop, Hunter takes my hand in his. It’s stopped raining outside, so it’s cool and damp, but his hand is warm and strong around my fingers.

I look sideways at him, taking in his strong profile, his heavy jaw and his silver-streaked hair, and I marvel at how and why he ever swiped on me in the first place. A Christmas miracle, maybe.

“Did you drive or walk?”

“I…” I have to swallow around a lump in my throat, that’s how nervous I am. “I walked. I live near campus.”

Dark red slashes across his cheekbones. Not a blush, exactly. Something much more mature and responsible than a blush. He glances sideways, and smiles slightly at my wide-eyed, unvarnished observation of him. “Would you trust me to drive you home?”

“I…” Again with that lump. “I’m actually expected at the library soon. Just…over there.” I point across Main Street. “I’m a community tutor. Every weekend, I set up at a table and school kids can come and do their homework with me.”

Something flickers in his gaze. “That’s admirable.”

I duck my head, hiding a smile. “Thank you. It looks good on the resume.”

He stops walking and lifts my face with the slightest of pressure, his fingertips under my chin. “It is. But it’s also a considerable investment of time in your community. Take the compliment, sweetness.”

I blush. It’s not mature or responsible. It’s girlish and silly to let the compliment and the endearment work their way under my skin like this.

He strokes his thumb across my bottom lip, his eyes darkening as I sway toward him. “ Not here,” he murmurs. “Let’s keep walking.”

He takes my hand again, tugging me against him. Even though he’s taller than me, we fall into a natural pace, and before long we’ve circled the block and we’ve arrived at the wide alley between the library and the community theater.

Picnic tables dot the space, and overhead there are strings of white lights, although this early in the morning, they aren’t turned on yet.

Right now, we have the whole space to ourselves.

Main Street is just steps away, but Hunter has found me a private little nook for my first kiss.

Slowly, he backs me up against the brick wall, his gaze searching my face the whole time.

“Hunter,” I breathe.

He strokes his knuckles along my jaw, then brushes his fingertips over my hair. Soft. And then his hand pushes into my hair, his hand closing around the loose strands, his fingers caressing my scalp before he closes them in a gentle fist. “Hold still, Kira.”

“Cara,” I whisper, but I don’t think he hears me before his mouth descends on mine.

His lips are so warm in the cool misty morning, so strong and sure against my mouth that my heart leaps at the contact, flinging itself at this solid oak tree of a man who is giving me the soft, careful first kiss he promised.

Oh, how I love it.

He caresses my mouth with his, making me melt, and then he pauses. “More?”

The question is felt as much as it is heard.

“More,” I whisper back, and I barely get it out before he tilts my head to the side, slants his lips over mine, and licks into my mouth.

Wild, glorious heat sparks inside me at the first stroke, shooting dizzying fireworks throughout my whole body.

I don’t know what I was thinking someone else’s tongue would feel like against my own, but this is better than anything I could have imagined. This is…incredible .

Panting, I clutch at him and kiss him back, licking deeply into his mouth, swallowing his groans.

He releases my hair, his hands sliding down my body and into my open coat and under my shirt.

At the first delicate swipe of his fingers on my waist, I gasp and then giggle.

“Ticklish?” he asks.

“I guess so,” I breathe.

“Is this okay?” He firms up his touch, his thumb dragging against the bottom of my rib cage. This time, the reaction isn’t that fluttery panic, but a deep, warm sizzle.

Oh. Oh yes.

“Mm-mmm,” I say as I catch his lip between my teeth.

He groans.

And when he slides a thick, muscular thigh between my legs, I take it that he likes the biting, so I do it again.

He pushes his tongue into my mouth, down my throat, and I get it now. I get why people make out in the library stacks and on the couches in the common rooms.

I get why people abandon their studies to do nothing but kiss, because I want to kiss this man forever and ever, and then at least a dozen times more after that.

His leg feels so good between my thighs. So very, very good.

I tip my head back, almost slamming into the brick wall, but he’s got me. One of his hands immediately snaps up to cradle my head.

Plus, he tells me he does, and I believe him.

“I’ve got you. Daddy’s got you,” he breathes against my neck, and that’s so electrically perfect I know it’s okay that his other hand is moving up under my shirt, his thumb tracing small circles on the underside of my breast.

I tremble at the exploration, straddling the line between tickling and caressing.

My nipples pull tight, aching for that touch to be a little higher, a little harder.

His kisses trail down my neck to where my pulse is going a million miles an hour at the hollow of my collarbone, and then he groans into that spot and I feel it, I feel it in the matching throb against my hip.

He wants me.

He’s not just giving me a kiss. This man…this man…he’s hard for me.

And I’m riding his thigh like a cowgirl.

We’ve gone right past kissing to…

Is this second base?

I don’t even know, but I like it, whatever it is.

“More,” I beg. “Please, Daddy.”

His hand goes firm on my ribcage. He groans, low and dark, and his hips jerk, pushing his thick cock harder against my body.

Just for a second.

But then, as if he’s gone right to the edge of something dangerous, he freezes.

He inhales slowly, dragging in air as he presses his face into my neck.

And then his touch slides away from my breasts, his fingers trailing back down to my waist. They catch on the waistband of my jeans, and there’s a deep tug inside my belly, shooting want straight between my legs, straight to where I’m pressed against his thigh. I rock my hips. Even as I know he’s putting a stop to this, I can’t stop myself from taking a final desperate bit of pleasure.

“Sweetness…” He drags in another, rougher breath and braces himself against the wall, his hands on either side of me now. His whole body shudders. “We have to stop.”

“I’m sorry.” I scramble to the side, under his arm and away from him. And somehow I manage to pace down the alley, even though my legs feel like they’re made of jelly right now.

“Don’t be sorry.” He comes up behind me and sets his hands on my shoulders. Squeezes. Kisses the top of my head. “It’s just that we’re in public, and…”

“I got carried away.”

“We both did. That was…” He curses under his breath. “I wasn’t expecting that. You are incredible. That was, without a doubt, the best kiss of my entire life. I had no right enjoying it as much as I did.”

“Really?” I turn around.

He looks down at me with a surprised expression that turns guarded as he searches my face. “Was it not good for you?”

“Oh. No, it was so good for me. You are…” I puff out my cheeks and laugh. “So fucking hot, pardon my French.”

He laughs, too. “Okay. Good. I wanted it to be good for you. I… You…” He strokes my cheek with his knuckles.

A car horn on the street interrupts whatever he was going to say next.

He steps back and holds out his hand. “Can I walk you to the library front door?”

I slide my fingers through his. “I would love that. Thank you.”