Seeing Red(95)

“Kerra?”

“Hmm?”

Trapper stirred, then raised his head, lifted a strand of hair off her neck, and twined it around his finger. “Why is it that every room you occupy feels like a tropical rain forest?”

She laughed. “Because I’m cold-natured.”

“Not all parts are cold,” he growled, and she felt his teasing nudge inside.

She swatted his backside, then ran her hand over the taut muscle and squeezed it until he grunted a pleasured sound. “We generated a lot of heat,” she said, “and you’ve got all your clothes on. What happened to getting nekkid?”

“I think we did just fine with clothes on.”

“Better than fine.” She gave an exaggerated purr.

“That sound alone makes me want to lose the threads.” He withdrew from her, levered himself up, then left the bed and began pulling off his boots.

Kerra stacked her hands beneath her head and watched as he undressed, admiring each part of him as it was revealed. The yummy trail that she had admired from the towel up thickened and flared around his sex, of which he could be justifiably proud. She reached out and brushed her fingers across him. The hair and flesh were wet. She gave him a meaningful look.

“About that …” He exhaled through his lips. “It was safe sex. I swear. Just unprotected.”

As she lay back, she trailed her fingertip along his hard thigh from crotch to knee. “I knew what I was doing.”

They looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Seconds ticked past. It was an ideal time to acknowledge that something important had happened.

His voice low, Trapper said, “It felt good, Kerra.”

“It did,” she whispered back.

It was simple, but, in its way, profound. He wasn’t one to make romantic declarations, and if she said anything now, it would be more than he would want to hear.

She was perilously close to letting this evolve into something that would leave her heartbroken. She was perilously close to becoming like Marianne. But she wouldn’t take back having made love to him. Not for the world.

They continued to hold each other’s gaze for a few moments longer, then Trapper changed the mood by crawling back onto the bed and leering at the provocative display of her bared breasts. “I don’t know whether to strip you or not. I kinda like you the way you are.”

“I look shameless and slutty.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“I know,” she said, laughing. “But it’s a little uncomfortable.”

“Then I’ll strip you.” He pulled her top over her head and reached behind her to unhook her bra. When he came away with it, he held it up against the lamplight and looked through the sheer fabric. “Why bother? This thing is useless.”

“Not my choice. Carson picked it.”

He looked at her, then at the bra, then back at her. “Carson picked it?”

“When he did that shopping for us.”

“That settles it. I’m gonna kill him. Fucking pervert.” He flung the bra away, then leaned over her, wrapped his hand around her breast with the finesse of a caveman, and fastened his mouth to her nipple.

Her laughter ended on a sigh when the lashing of his tongue turned lazy. “You love this?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you love? Specifically.”

“Hmm?”

“Trapper?” She pulled his head up by his hair. “Are you listening?”

“No.”

He raised up and kissed her thoroughly but without the fervency of before. This was a tender and leisurely aftersex kiss. But it stirred her no less. And him. In the midst of it, he took her hand and moved it down, pressing her palm over his penis and rubbing the back of it until she took up the massage. She felt the heat spread through him, signifying a reawakening of the passion that had consumed them only minutes ago.

“Yes, I was listening,” he said when he ended the kiss but continued whisking his lips across hers. “Specifically, I love that your nipples stay hard.”

“They do not!”

“Most of the time.”

“You’re imagining that.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. She felt his smile against her lips before he leaned back in order to look at her. “But it wasn’t my imagination that night I came to see you in the hospital.” He stroked her as he talked, following the path of his hand with his eyes. She felt their touch as keenly as that of his fingertips.

“I was chilled,” she said.

“You were scared. But you would have been really scared if you’d known what was going through my mind.”

She raised her head high enough to kiss his scruffy chin.

He smoothed his thumb over a red spot on the slope of her breast. “Maybe I should do a clean shave.”

“Don’t you dare. What was going through your mind?”

“That night in the hospital? How to get my hands on you without you screaming the place down. Besides those prim white socks, the only stitch you had on was that flimsy gown. Knowing there was nothing but you underneath, wanting to see it all, touch you everywhere, it was killing me.”

“Was it?” she asked in a sexy voice.

His breath caught suddenly, and as he released it, he moaned, “What you’re doing now is killing me.”