He sucked in a breath. “Yeah.” He covered her hand with his, trapping it against his chest.
She could feel the powerful beat of his heart, and her own pulse began to race.
“And you’re going into a biosphere for eight months.”
“Yeah.”
She took her courage in both hands. “I wonder if you’d do me a favor. It would only take a few minutes.”
“Sure. I already said I’d be happy to walk you back to your—”
“That’s not it.”
To the left of the bar there was a narrow alleyway. Airin pulled Hunter into it, leading him halfway down to a door she assumed led into the kitchen or back room of the bar they’d just left.
The alleyway was deserted. There were no lights, except for the ambient illumination from the streets on either end.
Perfect.
Hunter looked amused as he leaned back against the wooden door. “Okay, now you’ve dragged me into the shadows. Are you a spy? A beautiful assassin? A member of Hawaii Five-0?”
If only she were anything that interesting.
“No.” She hesitated. “What if I told you that your first guess was right? That I’m an alien here to observe Earth?”
“Then I’d say your Blue Hawaii really did pack a wallop.”
She plowed on. “If I were an alien . . . someone who was here for the first time . . . you wouldn’t think it was weird if there were things I’d never experienced. I mean, of course it would be weird that I was an alien, but it wouldn’t be weird if I’d never kissed someone before.”
He stared at her, and she was very grateful for the shadows that hid her face. Her cheeks were probably bright red.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Airin. I’m pretty sure you’re under the influence of rum and blue curaçao, but let’s forget that for a moment. What is it you want to ask me?”
It was harder to think clearly with his hands on her shoulders. And in the darkness, his face was more inscrutable. The lines of his cheekbones and jaw were harsher, more rugged.
More alien.
“I want—”
She stopped, took a deep breath, and started again.
“I want—”
A moment of silence, and then Hunter squeezed her shoulders.
“Spit it out, Airin. What do you want?”
“I want you to kiss me.”
Chapter Three
The electric jolt in his chest traveled straight to his groin.
What was with all that alien stuff? Was it really possible Airin had never kissed anyone before? As in ever?
It couldn’t be true. She was so goddamn beautiful. Her skin was like cream, and her hair was black silk. Those big soulful eyes were gazing up at him, and her expression was . . . doubtful? Wistful? Hopeful?
“You don’t have to give me a reason to kiss you,” he said gruffly, his pulse already in high gear. “I’m standing here looking at you.”
She licked her lips, which drew his attention to her lush, beautiful mouth.
“But you’ll need a reason for why I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m twenty-four years old and I—” She swallowed. “I want . . . I need . . . I want you to show me what it’s all about. I want to understand . . . to experience . . .” She trailed off.
Was this some kind of role-playing thing? Or was she really so inexperienced she was worried about what he’d think of her?
“Airin.”
She shook her head, looking frustrated. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“You must think I’m some kind of freak. Do you want to say good night and walk away? Do you—”
His hands seemed to move of their own accord, sliding up from her shoulders to frame her face.
She stopped talking abruptly, her lips still parted.
Her skin really was as soft as it looked. It was so soft it felt like he shouldn’t be touching it with his rough, calloused hands . . . and yet he never wanted to stop.
The bones of her face were so delicate. Her temples, her cheekbones, the lines of her jaw.
And that mouth. Soft and rose-pink, with a cupid’s bow up top and a full, luscious lower lip begging to be kissed.
It was impossible to believe she hadn’t been. Who was she, this mystery girl? What was her story?
“Maybe you are from another world,” he murmured, his thumbs moving over her cheekbones.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
“I am,” she whispered, tilting her head back a little. “And I’m doing research.”
“Kissing research?”
“Kissing research.” Her eyes opened. “You and I will never see each other again. Kiss me, Hunter. Show me what I’ve missed.”
There might be reasons not to, but hell if he knew what they were . . . or cared.
But he couldn’t give free rein to the heat firing his blood and making his pulse pound. He had to treat this moment as though Airin were telling the simple truth: that she’d never done this before.
“A kiss starts a long time before the actual mouth-on-mouth action,” he said. His voice sounded a little rough, and he cleared his throat.
“It does?”
He nodded. “Remember in the bar, when we were looking at each other? You know what I’m talking about.”
He was so tuned in to her he saw her pupils dilate.
“Yes,” she said. “I know.”
“That’s when this kiss started. That’s when I knew you wanted me.”
Her lips parted, and he had to clamp down on the raw lust gripping him.
“And you?” she asked, her voice a whisper that went right to his groin. “Is that when you knew you wanted me, too?”
He let his hands settle on her shoulders again.
“No,” he said. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”
He felt her shiver. “You did?”
“Yeah. But that look we shared in the bar . . . that was when we both knew we wanted each other.”
Her shoulders were as delicate as the bones of her face. His hands felt huge and clumsy as they gripped her, and he had to work to keep his touch gentle.
Then she moved a little closer to him, and he had to work harder.
“What happens after that? After two people know they want each other?”
She was only inches away. Every time he took a breath his senses were filled with her—the rich, intoxicating scent of the lei she’d worn, the faint spiciness of whatever shampoo she used, and the salty tang that came from the sheen of perspiration that made her skin glow.
“After that, I’ll show you how revved up I am . . . and I’ll get you revved up, too. So revved up you have to kiss me or explode.”
Her hands rose and settled on his chest. “I feel that way now.”
He could feel the warmth of her palms through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. The heat of her seeped through his skin to his very bones and the pounding heart beneath.
“You’re not where I want you yet,” he said.
Her eyes, just inches from his, looked enormous. A guy could lose himself in those eyes.
“How will you get me there?” she asked breathlessly.
He took hold of her wrists and moved her hands to his shoulders, which brought their bodies closer. Then he grabbed her hips and turned them 180 degrees, putting her back against the wooden door.
She gasped, and her grip on him tightened.
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I want you to feel surrounded,” he told her, putting his hands on either side of her head.
“Surrounded by what?”
“Me.”
He leaned in close, letting her feel the whole length of his body from his knees to his chest. When his erection brushed against her and then settled against her belly, she made a new sound . . . half breath, half moan.
He brought his mouth to her ear and spoke softly. “I don’t want you to be able to think about anything but me. I want you shivering and quivering. I
want your heart pounding. I want you wondering if I’ll taste as good as I feel, and if I can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before.”
She was already quivering. And as he pressed even closer, he felt her nipples harden against his chest.
“Please,” she said, her voice so faint he could hardly hear it.
Her ear was right there, and it was so damn tempting.
He caught her lobe in his teeth, and she gasped. He nibbled and licked and blew a cool breath over her damp skin. Then, as she let out a little squeaking breath, he dragged his mouth down her throat and pressed a kiss into the hollow above her collarbone.
Her head fell back to give him better access, and something in him responded to the surrender in that movement. He nipped the soft, delicate skin over her jugular, and when she gasped and shuddered, he pressed his lips against the place to feel the wild thrum of her pulse.
“Oh. Oh. Ohhhhhh . . .”
The raw honesty of her response made it seem possible this really was her first kiss. Logic said it couldn’t be true . . . but it felt true.
It felt like he was the only man in the world who’d ever touched Airin this way.
He pulled back and stared at her. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her lips parted.
He had a hundred other weapons in his arsenal to drive her wild before their mouths ever touched. But as he looked at her flushed, beautiful face, the last of his restraint went out the window.
He slid his hands into her hair and kissed her.
Airin’s whole world was reduced to one thing: Hunter’s lips on hers.
Nothing had ever felt so good. But “good” didn’t do this justice. Hot baths felt good. Massages felt good. Morphine felt good.
This was good and terrifying and overwhelming and electrifying, and she never, ever wanted it to end.
His lips teased hers open. Then his tongue was in her mouth, and oh God, it was glorious.
He tasted like the whiskey he’d been drinking and something else—something that made her feel hot and restless and wild.
She’d been afraid it was too late for her to have a first kiss. Who had a first kiss when they were twenty-four? You got to fumble around not knowing what you were doing when you were a teenager. At twenty-four, that kind of inexperience made you a freak.
But Hunter wasn’t treating her like a freak. He was treating her like a woman—a woman he wanted.
She’d watched kissing scenes in movies as a form of research, hoping that when she finally got to kiss someone herself, she’d be able to act like she knew what to do. But with Hunter, she didn’t need to act. She didn’t need to know anything. He was in charge, and all she had to do was go with it.
He pulled back just long enough to make her miss him. Then he was kissing her again, nipping at her lower lip and licking where he’d bit, and using his hands to change the angle of her head before diving in for another wet, carnal, oh-God-that-tongue encounter.
When he finally broke the kiss, she was panting and shivering, her blood leaping, and there was an aching throb between her legs.
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “How does anyone do anything but this, ever?”
His laugh sounded a little shaky. “That good, huh?”
“That was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He gazed down at her for a long moment. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he reached out and traced the line of her lips with the knuckle of his index finger.
“I’ve kissed a lot of women in my time, and none of them ever said that.”
“I bet they thought it, though.”
He smiled. “Man, you’re good for my ego.” He paused. “I don’t even know your last name. I know we said we’d never see each other again, which seemed to be a selling point for you, but . . . hell, why don’t we at least exchange phone numbers? I’ll be out of touch for a while, but once I’m free again I—”
“No.”
She spoke sharply, and Hunter looked startled.
“Sorry. It’s just, like you said . . . we’re supposed to be two ships passing in the night.”
He nodded slowly, but she could see the curiosity in his eyes.
“Okay, mystery woman.” He cocked his head to the side. “Will you at least tell me where you live?”
Western Massachusetts, she started to say . . . but that might be too much information. A lot of people, especially people in the astronaut business, knew that her mother lived in splendid isolation in the Berkshires. He might put that together with her first name, which was a bit unusual. She hadn’t been in the press much—certainly not like her mother had—but he still might figure out who she was.
“I’m from New England,” she said.
“New England,” he repeated, reaching out and twining a finger in a single lock of her hair. “Okay, that’s something. At least I know you really are an earthling.”
There was a melting feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her scalp was tingling, and she wished he’d go on touching her forever.
But it was getting late, and if she kept dragging this out she’d end up doing something stupid, like telling him exactly who she was and giving him her phone number. Then she could spend the next eight months wondering if he’d call her after he got out of the biosphere.
She remembered something her mother had said once. The problem with being a woman is that the very men who attract us—the ones who are brave, daring, heroic—are also the men most likely to abandon us. Soldiers, aviators, astronauts.
Her father had been an aviator. He hadn’t exactly abandoned them, though. He’d been killed in action.
But maybe her mother thought of that as abandonment.
“Stay far away from heroes,” Dira Delaney had concluded.
An unnecessary caution, Airin had thought at the time. It wasn’t likely she’d ever meet such a man—at least not while her mother kept such a close watch on her.
And yet, here she was.
Hunter unwound that single strand from his finger, and she felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. But then he slid his whole hand into her hair, and the tingles in her scalp spread over her entire body.
A thousand pinpricks of pleasure.
She closed her eyes. “You should go,” she whispered. “Your brother must be wondering where you are.”
He slid his other hand into her hair. “I don’t want to go,” he said, his voice husky, and his words sent even more pleasure coursing through her.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “That’s a nice thing to say. When I think back on tonight, I’ll remember you saying it.”
“I’ll remember feeling it,” he said.
There was a long, electric pause. Then, very deliberately, he let his hands drop to his sides as he stepped back.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to walk with you?”
“I’m sure.”
She took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair, trying to reassert ownership over herself after Hunter had planted his flag so thoroughly. Then she took a step, and another, until she’d reached minimum safe distance.
She started to turn away. “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder. Then, without waiting for him to respond, she began walking toward the main road.
She didn’t look back until the alley was two blocks behind her. But Hunter was the type who might follow her to make sure she got home safely, and she turned once to make sure he wasn’t there.
There was no sign of him.
“Good,” she said out loud.
But as she continued on to her hotel, she knew she’d been hoping for one more glimpse of his face.
Chapter Four
“It’s a bad idea,” her mother said.
“But I’m interested in the biosphere project. And I’d love a chance to see the volcanoes on the Big Island.”
“I’ll be too busy to look after you properly. You should stay here on Oahu.” Dira took a sip of her espresso. “This is
an excellent hotel, Airin. You haven’t even tried the spa and wellness center yet. You know I don’t go in much for that sort of thing, but I always keep an open mind toward innovation, and they do have a remarkable reputation. There’s a Himalayan salt chamber and some other avant-garde treatments.”
They were having breakfast together—coffee and a croissant for her mother, a ham-and-cheese omelet for her. Dira Delaney always insisted her daughter start the day with a high-protein breakfast, although she never followed that advice herself.
Airin had lain awake for hours the night before, reliving every minute of her time with Hunter. That was the reason for her request this morning.
Hawaii was a chain of eight islands, and the one they were on now—Oahu—was a forty-five-minute plane ride from the Big Island, where NASA and the University of Hawaii had built their Mars simulation center. The biosphere itself sat on the slopes of Mauna Loa, the world’s largest volcano.
If she went with her mother to the Big Island, there was a chance she could see Hunter again. And even if she didn’t get to see him, she’d still be closer to him. They were going into the biosphere in two days, right? If she went with her mother to meet the project engineers, there’d probably be video feed of the astronauts inside the habitat. She could observe Hunter, at least.
She paused with a bite of omelet halfway to her mouth.
Observe him?
Good Lord, what was happening to her? One kiss had turned her into a stalker.
“All right,” she said, setting her fork back down on her plate. “I’ll stay here.”
Dira nodded briskly. “Good.”
They were having their breakfast out on Airin’s lanai. It was a beautiful morning, with a deep blue sky above them and the turquoise ocean below. The air was warm and soft, touched with the scent of flowers—bougainvillea and other plants she couldn’t name.
The lanai was beautiful, too. The chairs were beige wicker with snow-white cushions, and their table was covered with crisp white linen, fine china, and silver. If there was trouble or misery anywhere in Hawaii, they were far from it, safe in the most elegant, rarefied bubble money could buy.
Dira Delaney looked as rarefied as her background. Her coal-black hair was cut in a no-nonsense bob, and though Airin knew she chose that style because it was easy to care for and she hated fussing with her appearance, the effect was one of untouchable elegance.
Show Me Page 3
