Finally, she was clean and smooth. Before she got out of the steaming shower, her curiosity got the better of her. What did Seth see that gave him that hot, rabid expression every time he stared between her thighs? She’d been looking at her sex closely while she shaved, of course. But now she took a moment to inspect herself objectively, something she’d rarely ever done. The hot shower combined with her previous arousal and orgasm left her labia plump and soft. She spread her sex lips. She looked vividly pink and glossy next to the pale, smooth skin of her thighs. The vision was surprisingly delicate and beautiful, but also flagrantly sexual at once.
Oh. So that’s what he saw.
Her excitement mounting by the second, she toweled herself off and applied a lightly scented moisturizer over her whole body. She donned her robe and went in search of Seth.
She found him in the living room making a fire in the huge stone fireplace. At first, he didn’t hear her silent approach in her bare feet on the soft carpet. She took a moment to study him while he was turned away, watching the kindling he’d laid begin to catch fire. He wore a pair of dark blue cotton lounging pants that were held by a drawstring at his narrow hips. She took a moment to admire the phenomenon of his slanting, muscular, corded back. His skin took on a reddish-gold tint in the light of the flickering fire.
Such a beautiful man. And he was hers.
For now.
He turned and regarded her soberly, and she realized he’d known she was there all along.
“You have eyes in the back of your head,” she murmured, stepping toward him.
He stood from his crouching position before the massive fieldstone hearth. Her gaze caressed his powerful chest before her chin tilted back to look into his impassive, handsome face.
“If you’re so intent on what’s in front of you, you’ll forget what’s creeping up behind. I haven’t stalked in years, but that’s one lesson my father taught me that’s served me well over the years,” he said quietly.
“I’ve never heard you speak of your father,” she said, taking another step toward him.
“He wasn’t a big part of my life. He and my mom separated when I was six. He’s an alcoholic.”
“I’m sorry,” Gia said, compassion rushing through her.
“Jake, my older brother, got the brunt of it. He lived with my father for all of his childhood. It was a lot worse for him. I was an unexpected accident. My mother had me when she was forty-three. She’d learned to deal with my dad a lot better than when Jake was young. She and I got along really well, so I never felt any great absence without Dad being there. As things stood, my dad would show up occasionally—once in a while sober, even. When he was clean, he used to take me stalking with my two uncles. It was one of the few occasions where none of them would drink. I think the memory of their father influenced them in that, and even they had to admit drinking was counterproductive to stalking. Those memories with Dad, Uncle Mac and Uncle Gill are few and far between, but the ones I have are all good.”
“Stalking?”
He nodded. “For deer and elk.”
“So . . . hunting,” she clarified.
He shook his head. “We rarely went for the kill, unless Uncle Mac hadn’t worked for a while and needed the food. The challenge was to get within shooting or bow-and-arrow distance of the animal without it being aware of your presence. It required swiftness on the land and wits for tracking, but most crucially of all, truckloads of patience just to keep still for interminable periods of time.”
“Oh,” she said, thinking. “I like that. It certainly sheds light on your control.”
He studied her for a moment, the fire popping and crackling as it caught hold fully behind them.
“I don’t get why you think I have control. I don’t have an ounce of it when it comes to you.”
She couldn’t think of how to respond to such a blatantly sweet compliment.
“The fire is getting warm,” he said, stepping back and sitting on the stone hearth before it. “Do you want to take off your robe?”
Her heart jumped. She nodded.
“Come here. I’ll take it off,” he said quietly, putting out a hand for her. She stepped in front of his long, bent legs. He opened his thighs and pulled her between them. He untied her robe, his brisk matter-of-factness about his task once again sending a jolt of arousal through her. When he parted her robe, she felt the heat of the flames curling against her naked skin. She found his slow, deliberate gaze moving down her body almost excruciatingly arousing.
By the time he stared between her thighs, her clit pinched in acute anticipation. What did he think of her naked and shaved? It was hard to read his rigid, still expression. She was about to say something—she wasn’t quite sure what, but she couldn’t stand the heavy tension crackling in the air between them—when he reached with one hand and parted her flushed sex lips. Heat licked at her exposed outer sex. His impassive expression broke slightly, and suddenly he was leaning down, nuzzling her smooth labia with his lips and nose, inhaling deeply.
She made a broken sound of surprise and arousal, her fingers running through his fire-warmed, smooth hair. Then he sent the tip of his tongue between the crack of her labia and agitated her clit, and she clutched onto his head as a wave of sensual heat rushed through her. She stared down at him, entranced, watching as his dark pink tongue laved her with a tight focus. He cupped her left buttock and pushed her closer, increasing the pre
ssure of his stiffened tongue. She gasped and moaned, her fingers tightened on his head. His single-minded hunger left her speechless and completely at his mercy.
He slicked his tongue along her labia, as if trying to capture her essence. He pressed avidly against the sensitive folds, as if learning her flesh. She moaned in rising arousal when he swiped his tongue down toward her slit, teasing her with the tip. He lifted his mouth and again nuzzled the slit of her labia. He parted her sex lips with his fingers and sat back, his stare burning her.
“Look at that,” he said thickly, awe tingeing his tone. “You’re so damn pretty. So sexy.”