Darkest Desire

by Darkest Desire(Lit)

  The first drops of rain splattered down on Morgan and Hunter, and the purple-green clouds gathered in intensity. It was going to be some storm. Before took in what was happening, Hunter was flagging down a cab and holding the back door open for her. Morgan hesitated for a second just at the point the heavens opened, drenching her woolen jacket within moments.

  "Come on," urged Hunter above the roar of the rain as it sheeted down. Drops trickled down his glasses and his brown hair was plastered to his scalp.

  Morgan didn’t have to be urged twice, darting into the back seat before he could change his mind. Hunter’s solid body slipped in beside her, and then he was giving the driver her address, and the cab lurched off through the murky downpour.

  The cab was warm inside and the damp conditions outside soon steamed up the windows, shutting out the rest of the world. Morgan tried to peer through the steamy windows, but she couldn’t make out a thing. Water dripped from her hood down her neck, and her jeans stuck clammily to her legs, making her shiver despite the heated interior.

  The next thing she knew, a warm arm settled around her shoulders, pulling her close to the side of the male body sitting next to her.

  "You can snuggle up against me," Hunter murmured. "I’m always warm."

  Morgan stared at him, trying to detect a double-entendre in his expression, but he was straight-faced. She pulled away slightly leaving the tiniest sliver of space between them but didn’t remove his arm. It felt kind of nice. Comfortable.

  "Thank you," she said, avoiding his eyes. "And for sharing your taxi with me."

  "Always willing to help a lady in distress."

  "Not exactly in distress, just a little er … damp."

  Morgan hadn’t meant to be suggestive with that last word, but it seemed to hang between them, steaming up an already warm and heavy atmosphere. She hoped he wouldn’t say anything corny in response and he didn’t. He was silent in fact but only verbally. His right thumb brushed seemingly casually along her neck, eliciting another shiver. This time it was nothing to do with being cold.

  He flicked his thumb along her nape for a second time and suddenly she was damp. There. Between her thighs. How could he make her respond like that? With just one touch. He must be some sort of demon.

  Morgan thought again of the wild creature who inhabited her night terrors and glanced up at the genial, rumpled archaeologist who sat beside her. They were nothing alike, but something … oh! She was being ridiculous.

  "Nearly there," he whispered against her hair. Morgan realized that the space she’d subtly created between their bodies had just as subtly disappeared. She was now pulled tight against his side, his warm, lemony scent seeping into her pores, his scratchy chin against her forehead as though it belonged there.

  Morgan felt unable to move, unable to talk. A great tidal wave of lethargy swept over her body, leaving her unwilling to do anything but just sink against Hunter. She felt his devious thumb against her neck. Did he know it was a woman’s most sensitive point? Or was it just random? He didn’t look like a man who was a great connoisseur of women. His appearance was charming, haphazard. He wasn’t dressed to impress, and he had nothing of the playboy about his manner. Still, without much seeming effort, he had her in a warm clinch and had moistened her panties in a way no other man had done for years. If ever.

  The cab drew to a splashing halt at the curb outside her old terrace house. Morgan turned her face to thank Hunter but he was handing the driver a bill, and before she had time to gather her thoughts, the door was open and she was being dragged along beside him. They sprinted up the narrow tiled steps, gasping for breath as they reached the partial shelter of the porch. Hunter’s big body crowded hers as he stood behind her, taking the brunt of the rain as it fell relentlessly, waiting patiently as she fought with her slippery front door key.

  At last they were inside, breathing heavily and dripping wetly on the floor of the tiled foyer. Morgan shed her wet knit, hanging it on the old-fashioned coat rack. Hunter followed her lead, shrugging out of his coat to reveal a long-sleeved navy tee-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest.

  The cool air of the hall drifted across Morgan’s chilly skin and she shuddered slightly. She looked down at herself, seeing her nipples pucker against the damp fabric of her top. She looked up and saw Hunter had noticed them too. She moved to fold her arms defensively across her chest and her tongue emerged to wet suddenly dry lips.

  Morgan’s action unwittingly turned Hunter’s attention from her breasts to her mouth. She watched transfixed as he raised a hand to her mouth, running his thumb along her bottom lip.

  "Did you know you chew your lip when you’re nervous?"

  "Um, no … I.…" She stopped as he touched a rough spot on her lip, the roughly callused pad of his thumb tenderly soothing the sore skin. "Hunter.…"

  "You do." His voice was little more than a breath; his attention fixed on her mouth. "Every time you worry your lip, I want to touch you here." He ran his thumb back the other way.

  Morgan felt her breath catch in her throat and her knees weaken from his roughly tender caress. Her thoughts turned to mush and she opened her mouth to tell him to stop but nothing emerged. She tried again.

  "Don’t," she said and brought her hands up to his wrist, not sure whether she wanted to pull his tormenting thumb away from her mouth or keep it there.

  "Do you want me to stop?" He said it politely as though it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.

  Morgan was irritated with him for asking her to make a decision. She wanted him to continue but she didn’t want to have to admit it. When she didn’t say anything, Hunter pulled her forward into his arms, his hands loosely on her shoulders.

  "Morgan?" he prompted.

  "I don’t know," she breathed, staring at his chest. "I can’t think."

  "Either you do or you don’t," Hunter replied, his hands moving to rub circles into her shoulders.

  His body sent of waves of heat, like a force field, sucking her into his orbit. Morgan’s blood sizzled and all she could process were his harsh breathing and her thundering pulse. Speech was beyond her and she shook her head to tell him.

  Hunter stood still for a brief moment, unsure if it was a denial and she meant to put an end to it, but instead she lifted her mouth the final fraction of an inch to meet him, their lips settling together in a soft exploratory kiss.

  He was warm as a blazing furnace, his arm around her shoulders was secure without being possessive and the male scent of him was so seductive that Morgan propelled herself further into their embrace, raising herself to her toes and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, the fingers of one hand twisting into the thick brown hair at his nape.

  She moaned as he deepened the kiss, his lips sliding across hers, his tongue darting out to stroke her softness and, when she opened her mouth to take a deep breath, pushing inside to meet and mate with hers. As their tongues pursued their erotic exploration, Hunter’s arms slid from around her neck down her back, stroking in broad circles, pressing her closer to his solid body.

  For some reason Morgan hadn’t appreciated the hard strength of his body. His clothes hid the muscular power developed during long days spent outdoors engaged in physical work but when her hands gripped his arms, she could feel the tension and steel in his biceps.

  He moved one leg to brace himself for her weight and Morgan’s body moved naturally between his thighs, her groin pressing against his. She felt his penis, pushing at her through the layers of their clothes and she moved herself against it, pressing hard as his tongue curled around hers. The dull ache between her legs suddenly became insistent, making her cry out in anticipation.

  One of Hunter’s hands descending to press against her rounded bottom, holding her in place, the other smoothed up her body until it reached her waist. He tunneled under the soft cotton of her tee-shirt, his hand stroking around to the soft warmth of her belly.

  "I want to see you. All of you." He pulled his head bac
k for a moment, gasping for breath.

  Morgan felt the white tee-shirt lifted over her head and float to the ground behind her as though in slow motion, her bra-clad breasts exposed to his gaze. It didn’t seem real that this was her, straight-laced Morgan McConnell, half-naked in her dark hall with a man she had met just twice before. She wished briefly that she were a little less voluptuous up top and wondered whether he was thinking the same thing. Then he lifted his eyes and she saw that amber had turned a molten gold with passion.

  "You’re so perfect," he told her. "A goddess." He released her to touch trail the tips of his fingers across the lacy fabric of her bra until they reached the pink-brown crests jutting against the lace. He acquainted himself with their softness, bringing them to stinging, rigid life and then dropped his mouth to the left one. He took it deeply between his lips and teeth, tugging on it powerfully, making Morgan cry out and her body twist against him in passion. His tongue lapped at the little nub through the lacy fabric, pulling on it until it hardened almost painfully. He turned his attention to the other one, and Morgan pulled his head more tightly against her skin, the short coarse strands of his brown hair abrading her breasts as his head moved against her.

  Outside, a car door slammed and Morgan shot up straight, wrenching herself away from Hunter. Oh God, what the hell was she thinking! She barely knew this man sucking on her breasts. Heaving air into her lungs, she grabbed her tee-shirt from the floor and wrenched it on. Her fingers were shaking so much she could get her arms into the sleeves.

  She glanced up to watch Hunter sink against the support of the wall behind him. Her damp tee-shirt twisted as she pulled it awkwardly over her head and she swore with frustration.

  "Shit!" She pulled it roughly down, the wrinkled fabric unpleasantly damp against her.

  Hunter turned slightly away, his jeans uncomfortably tight against his swollen flesh. Morgan couldn’t help watching as he rearranged himself discreetly. She wondered how it would feel to touch him with her hand and blushed fiery red at the thought.

  "I suppose you want me to apologize again?" Hunter turned back to her.

  "No… I just … I’m sorry but I’m just not … it’s best if you leave," she muttered. She couldn’t even look at him but he grasped her chin in his hand, lifting her face so she couldn’t avoid looking at him. It made her feel slightly better to see the red line along his cheekbones. At least she wasn’t the only one embarrassed by what had happened.

  "Look, Morgan. I don’t know what you’re thinking but if you’re worried that all I want is a quick fu … a fling --"

  "Please. I really don’t want to discuss it now." Or ever. Morgan looked away from his probing eyes. She felt tears well and she never cried.

  She felt more than heard Hunter sigh. "I want to see you, Morgan, away from work. I’m not involved with anyone else, in case that’s worrying you. In fact I haven’t been involved with anyone seriously --"

  "No … I.… Look it’s a bad time, OK. The exhibition opening is just around the corner. It’s my first big project for the museum since I moved there from Great Western and…."

  "Don’t make excuses." Hunter grasped her shoulders, gently shaking her. "I don’t think you would have reacted like that if you weren’t as interested in me as I am in you. We’re adults. So let’s just see where it takes us, huh?"

  Oh, God. She didn’t feel capable of making any sort of rational decision at the moment; she just wanted to be alone for a minute to get her act together. She pulled away from Hunter’s hands and put a hand up to cover her thumping heart.

  "I can’t think right now…."

  Hunter looked at her assessingly. "If there’s someone else…?"

  "Uh, no … I just.…" Morgan came to a stuttering halt, realizing almost immediately her mistake. If she’d implied there was someone else, Hunter might have backed off. Too late now.

  "I want to see you, Morgan." His voice was low but firm.

  Morgan looked desperately around the shadowy foyer, desperate to find an escape route. She felt her mind warring with her wanting body. Her head told her to back off, while her body yearned for more of Hunter’s caresses. If he pushed her, she would succumb, and she didn’t feel ready to indulge in an intense sexual relationship with him.

  She wanted him to leave so she could think rationally and with her usual calm about her predicament. She heard the rain drumming on the roof of the house and knew he would need a taxi to get home. He --

  Morgan frowned as something flitted through her mind, something she’d missed at first. She lost it and then it floated past again and the second time, her brain grabbed it and brought it to ground.

  Her mouth parted and she raised confused eyes to Hunter’s, whose own glittered as he observed her from against the far wall.

  "How … how did you know where I lived?"

  Hunter took a breath. "What?" he said casually. Too casually.

  Morgan gnawed on her bottom lip. "In the taxi, you knew what address to give to the driver." Her voice was flat. "How did you know?"

  Hunter shifted uncomfortably, his eyes not meeting hers. "Uh … I found out."

  "Found out? How?"

  "The phone book." He shrugged and tried a casual smile. "Does it really matter? I was interested in you so I …"

  Morgan stared at him, hard. "What? Checked me out?" She felt uneasy at his blatant interest. No other man before had been so interested in knowing about her life. "So you know where I live. What else do you know?" Her voice rose accusingly. She hated her privacy being invaded.

  "Nothing!" Hunter raised his hands in supplication. "I was interested in you from the first moment I saw you in your boss’s office – before in fact – and so I found out everything I could about you. What’s weird about that? Morgan, listen --"

  "Before?" she started to ask, then shook her head. "It doesn’t matter. I can’t … I’m sorry, Hunter. This isn’t what I want." Morgan tried to make her voice sound firm, final, while inside she felt as though she was a quivering mass of indecision.

  She watched Hunter shrug his jacket on and bit her lip until she tasted blood.

  "I’ll phone a cab for you," she started to say but he shook his head.

  "I want to walk."

  "But it’s raining and your umbrella’s still at the…." Morgan broke off as she met Hunter’s sardonic look. "You didn’t leave your umbrella at the library did you? You were waiting for me outside. You knew I’d try to avoid a confrontation with you."

  Hunter’s mouth twisted self-deprecatingly. "OK, you got me. Sorry." He didn’t sound it.

  "It’s not funny."

  "No, it’s not." He indicated the front of his jeans where the fabric still fought a battle with his aroused flesh. "It’s fucking painful, right at the moment."

  Morgan’s eyes flared at the realization that she could affect him like that. She felt guilty and delighted in equal measure. "I’m sorry," she lied

  "You could kiss it and make it better." He was smiling at her, flirting, but his words held an edge of seriousness that made Morgan look at him in shock and blush like a virgin schoolgirl.

  "No? Oh well, another time, maybe, when we know each other better."

  "Hunter…."

  "Deal with it, honey. I’ll leave you alone now but this isn’t the end. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’ll be back."

  The front door slammed behind him and Morgan watched through the window as he walked briskly down the street. He didn’t look back.

  Morgan let her breath out before she was aware she’d been holding it in. For one seemingly sweet, easygoing archaeologist, Hunter Riley sure had a temper, not to mention a streak of persistence a mile wide. Usually men found her reserved, prickly nature too much trouble and quickly went in search of easier prey, but she suspected that Hunter would not be quite so easily deterred. That made her mind flash to the dream warrior who hunted her at night and she shivered before pushing the thought aside. Right at the moment, she had bigger problem
s with one very determined flesh and blood man. Hunter had made it quite clear he was coming after her, whether she liked it or not. What was not so clear was what the hell she was going to do about it!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Absolutely impossible, Morgan."

  Morgan pushed a loose strand of hair from her pale face and pressed her lips together. Her boss was in a particularly difficult mood. And since she’d arrived in his office nearly twenty minutes before, he’d turned downright obstinate. In contrast to her own pale cheeks, his were ruddy with frustration and--dare she say it--temper. Yes, Gus was about to lose it. Big time.

  "Gus, just listen for a moment. We can handle this professionally and smoothly if --"

  Spittle foamed on Gus’s lips and a speck hit her face. He was absolutely apoplectic.

  "Morgan. What don’t you understand about the word no?" He ran an exasperated hand through his thinning hair. "The absolutely crucial thing at this stage is Riley’s support. We haven’t yet secured the torque as a permanent part of our collection and until we had the deal signed and sealed I will not even contemplate messing him around."

  "But Andrea --"

  "Andrea is doing very well but she’s inexperienced and has a tendency to rush in. She certainly is not up to establishing and maintaining the kind of rapport with Riley that the museum needs to get the torque on a permanent basis." Morgan opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand. "I haven’t finished. Apart from that, I do not want to change the contact arrangements. Riley likes you. He trusts your judgment."

  "You don’t know --"

  "But I do. Riley has made it crystal clear how much he values your involvement. My dear, the man was so complimentary about you last time he was in my office that he could have been your PR agent."

  Yeah, well, she knew all about what Hunter had been up to last time he was in her boss’s office.