Hunter (In the Company of Snipers Book 14) by Irish Winters

Author:Irish Winters [Winters, Irish]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-06T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Holy shit!

Meredith couldn’t think of another way to describe the breathtaking scene laid out before her. She’d carefully crossed the river to speak with Hunter in private, not expecting the dazzling sight that met her eyes. This crazy, angry, wonderful man was fishing. In the river. Stark assed naked. Who does that?

His strong back was to her, every last muscle delineated by the silvery touch of moonlight on his skin. The tattoos on his biceps and back rippled. Meredith licked her lips, wanting to run her tongue over every last swirl of that ink. Just because.

Edging closer like a stalker, her pounding heart sapped the strength from her knees at the sight of the twin moons smiling at her. The man’s backside was hard muscle. The hollows of his butt cheeks rippled with shadow when he pulled the line taut and high.

“There you are,” he muttered, his deep voice washing over her. “Come to daddy.”

Oh, I am so coming.

Her feet moved forward in automatic response, but her faltering steps were no match for the long-legged stride of the alpha male in the river. The sinews in his calves flexed the farther he ventured from shore. What fish could refuse his command? She couldn’t, not with her brain atwitter like it was. Hooked. She was hooked. Heck, she’d be flopping on shore just for the sheer joy of being caught—and landed—by him.

Make that bedded.

Stout thighs, thick and marked with power, drew her eyes once more to the tight backside of an aesthetically endowed man. At least Hunter hadn’t had that part of his anatomy inked. Adonis wished he looked so good in the buff.

The sheer size of Hunter’s shoulders made her think of football and all those beefy workhorses at the fifty-yard line. Only they were encased in pads and protection. They had no necks. Hunter had an elegantly straight neck atop rippling shoulders, made more masculine with the inky definition of a tribal tattoo and that obscene boot print. Even the snake curling around his arm seemed somehow tame in comparison to that boot.

Hunter didn’t need protection from anything in the river, but she might.

“Got you now.” He twisted sideways as the silvery creature at the end of his line surfaced, thrashed, and sent a hearty splash heavenward. While Hunter reeled it in, Meredith crossed her legs and eased to the ground. I can’t take this. He’s beautiful. Every last inch and crevice and... I can’t take this.

This perfect male specimen, her friend and past rival, had become her guilty pleasure. The hastily made bandage was missing from his chest, but he seemed none the worse for wear. The only way he could possibly top this strip show would be if he—

Oh. My. God.

Hunter turned around, holding the wiggling trophy in the moonlight, his other trophy aimed directly—at—her. “You thought you’d get away, didn’t you? Forget it. Tonight you’re mine.”

Meredith flopped to her back, careful that her holster didn’t stab her. Yes. Yes. Yes. I’m all yours. Tonight. Forever.

“Merry?”

Her body cringed all the way to her toes.

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