Chapter Nine
Somehow, Hunter forced himself to step away from Dawn and straighten his tie. Somebody said something, but he didn’t catch what, not with his blood roaring through his veins.
Mate, his bear whispered in sheer joy. She is our mate.
Well, he already knew that, but Dawn seemed to recognize it, too. She’d snuggled right in and danced with him, and even afterward, when the daze cleared from her eyes, her gaze was steady and warm. Unafraid.
But damn it, people were bustling all around them again, and someone called Dawn away. She went, casting longing looks over her shoulder that made him want to beat his chest and cry, Mine!
“Way to go, partner,” Kai murmured with a smack to his back.
“Who knew the big lug could dance?” That was Cruz, who didn’t sound as grouchy as usual.
Hunter ignored them, keeping his eyes on Dawn. He took a deep breath, savoring the scent of Dawn that still lingered all around. When was the last time he’d felt so good?
It didn’t last long, though, because a moment later, a cry broke out, and every muscle in his body tensed again.
“Where is my photographer? Damn it, where is that man?”
“Bridezilla returns,” Cruz muttered, beating a hasty retreat.
Kai grabbed Hunter’s arm and steered him away from what was sure to be another scene. “The wedding rehearsal will be starting soon. Remember?”
Hunter groaned. How could things go from so good to so miserable in such a short time?
“Listen, I can cover for you until the rehearsal party,” Kai started, and Hunter’s universe brightened again. “But I promised Tessa I’d be back before eight.”
Hunter waited as Kai went on.
“Dawn is going off duty now. Why don’t you get a ride home with her? Take a little break.”
Hunter checked his watch, then his sanity. Wait. Was he really going to leave his post?
“I said, I can cover for you,” Kai said, reading his mind.
Hurry, his bear said, sniffing in the direction Dawn had gone.
So he did hurry. He practically sprinted, in fact, and caught up just as she was getting to her car.
“Dawn,” he called, screeching to a stop before he spooked her again. He caught his breath, pretending he wasn’t panting.
She whirled, and he feared the worst. But her face brightened when she saw him, and her lips quivered when she said, “Yes?”
Her tone was upbeat. Hopeful, almost.
He clamped his lips together because suddenly, he wasn’t sure what to say anymore. Maybe just, Dawn, can you give me a ride? Or should he be a little bolder and say what he really felt? Dawn, I love you desperately. Please, don’t let me go.
He cleared his throat, but all that came out was a jumble.
“I’m off for a few hours. You too?” she asked, coming to his rescue.
He nodded eagerly. Too eagerly?
She leaned on the open car door and considered for a minute. “They want me back for the rehearsal party tonight. In plain clothes,” she sighed. “Bride’s orders.”
For once, Hunter couldn’t find fault with one of Regina’s wishes. Not that he minded Dawn in uniform — hell, he’d love looking at her if she wore a penguin suit — but the uniform was a constant reminder that she was an officer of the law, and he was a man who occasionally had to operate outside the law, if only when he had good reason to.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “I’m off for a little while, too.”
He held his breath while she considered a second longer. “Would you like a ride home?”
He jerked his head up and down and circled to the passenger seat when she nodded him in. His overeager bear nearly made him dash around the car, but he hit the brakes and walked at what he hoped was a casual pace.
Don’t be such a child, he chastised his bear — a little hypocritically, really, because he was equally delighted. He buckled up, leaned back in the seat, and looked around. Holy smokes. He was in a car. With Dawn. Driving. Going someplace — a place he couldn’t recall anymore, but it barely seemed to matter.
He sat very still, telling himself not to get too excited. But boy, was that hard. His mind kept flashing back to images of their dance — and worse, overlaying that with memories of their kiss.
“Long day today,” she murmured, filling the silence.
“Long day,” he agreed.
The window was open, and thank God for that, because he could have passed out just from her heavenly scent. Jasmine and buttercup and hibiscus, all mixed together, along with something new. A scent he couldn’t quite place.
Ask her, his bear said. Go ahead and ask her.
He sat perfectly still, afraid to say a word. He couldn’t ask Dawn what he was dying to say. He didn’t dare.
Come on, already, his bear demanded. Just ask.
She was just warming up to him again. He’d ruin everything if he pushed too hard.
Wanna bet? his bear said, sniffing deeply.
He closed his eyes, trying to place the new ingredient in her scent, and froze when he realized what it was.
Desire.
He sat very, very still and sniffed again, double-checking. That was definitely the scent of desire. A sweet, cotton-candy scent he often caught wafting between the mated couples of Koa Point — Kai and Tessa, and Boone and Nina.
Dawn and Hunter, his bear murmured, trying their names out side by side. We even sound like we belong together. And Meli means honey. We’re made for each other.
Ah, the logic of a grizzly. Hunter sighed.
So ask her, already, his inner beast cried.
He’d barely spoken ten words to her today. Make that, over the past days — or weeks, even. There was no way he could express what he felt.
You don’t have to be a poet. Just ask, his bear said.
Maybe he should wait until they got to the gate of Koa Point.
His bear rolled its eyes. Say it. Say, Dawn…
“Dawn,” he said, barely above the sound of the engine.
She turned her head.
Would you like to stop by my place? his bear coached, sounding out the words for his thick brain.
“Would you like to stop by my place?” he whispered.
For a second, he thought she hadn’t heard because she just drove along. But then she opened her mouth and shook her head. “No.”
His heart sank. I told you, he started accusing his bear, but Dawn spoke up, cutting him off.
“No, but I’d like you to stop by my place,” she said, quiet as a mouse.
She kept her eyes glued to the road, but he could sense her heart rate accelerate the way he wished the car would.
Say something, idiot, his bear hissed.
“That would be very nice,” he managed.
His bear groaned.
What? Hunter demanded.
Is that the best you can do?
He considered. Yes. That was the best he could do. But heck, Dawn didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the car’s speed inched up as she made a turn inland.
“It’s just up here, about two miles,” she murmured.
He nodded, pretending his heart wasn’t leaping around in glee.
“So, about Lily…” Dawn started.
Right, the landlord. Hunter liked Lily, but he hoped to hell she was out. But if not, okay. He could sit and drink a cup of tea instead of making the most of some private time. As long as he got to stay near Dawn.
“She’ll probably be out. It’s bridge night,” Dawn said.
His heart thumped a little harder, and his pulse spiked. “Bridge night. Nice,” he said like a total moron.
Bridge night is great, his bear crooned.
They passed a sugarcane field and a scattering of houses before turning left down a lane of cottages shaded by pines. Dawn parked in front of the blue-shuttered house at the end and sat still for a minute.
“Um, if you don’t want to…” he said, though it made his gut churn to imagine her changing her mind now.
She shook her head and stuck on a smile. A brave smile that made him wonder what was going on in her mind. Was it his bear, scaring her again?
She motioned him out of the car and walked briskly down a path along the left side of the house. “That’s Lily’s place…”
Hunter nodded, thanking every god in the Hawaiian pantheon that the older woman wasn’t home.
Dawn pointed to a yellow cottage with white trim around the back. “I rent the place back here…”
“Nice.” Somehow, he’d imagined her in exactly such a place. Small, cozy, and neat, with potted plants and a lantern by the door.
The chair on the little porch faced west, where the sun was setting in vivid stripes of red, orange, and yellow. The screen door opened with a squeak, and he held it, trying to hide the shake in his hand while Dawn fumbled with the keys.
“There,” she murmured, pushing the door open and gesturing him in.
The place was neat as a pin, of course. Whatever dishes she’d used for breakfast had been dried and put away, and the magazines on the table were arranged just so. Each of the throw pillows on the love seat was offset from the one behind it at exactly the same angle, like a flicked-open fan in various shades of blue.
“Nice,” he said, stepping to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on one wall. There were books on Hawaiian flowers, Hawaiian quilts, and Hawaiian history arranged by category and set apart by owl figurines of all shapes and sizes. A glittery owl. An owl made out of a coconut. A ceramic owl. Even an owl made out of seashells.
Hoo, hoo. Right on cue, an owl hooted from outside.
Pu’eo is Dawn’s aumakua, he remembered Lily saying. The form her ancestral spirit took.
“Wow,” he said, spotting a basalt poi pounder by the loveseat.
“I’m kind of a flea market junkie,” Dawn said, pointing to the antique Victrola in the corner.
“Does that work?”
“Sure does,” she said, lifting the lid and cranking the handle. She carefully placed the needle on the record and let it spin. “The song takes a second to start up,” Dawn murmured as the scratchy sound of an old-time 78 record filled the room with quiet anticipation.
The door to the bedroom was ajar — the only other room under the peaked roof — and Hunter couldn’t help glancing in. His breath caught when he saw the quilt on the four-poster bed. A bright, yellow quilt with a flowery pattern.
“Oh.”
“What?” She came up to his shoulder and looked, too.
“My mom had a quilt a lot like that.”
A slew of sounds, sights, and smells washed over him. The babble of the creek beside the cabin he’d grown up in. The fresh scent of wildflowers in spring. The sunny yellow of his mother’s old dress, recycled as patches in the quilt.
He turned away from the memories so quickly that he nearly bumped into Dawn, and he caught her arms — more to steady himself than her. They stared at each other for a second, and then, without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. A hug that had nothing to do with steady anything, because his heart was pounding away.
He started to pull back, afraid of how Dawn would react, but her arms slid around him and tightened, refusing to let go.
“This is good.” Her voice was muffled, and his chest heated under the spot closest to her face.
“It is good,” he whispered, resting his head on hers.
They stood there for a long minute while the Victrola needle went around and around, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Not sure he wanted to do anything, because just holding her was great. But when her hands started moving along his back, his bear gave him all kinds of bad ideas.
She wants this, too. No need to hold back.
Of course, he had to hold back. No way was he going to risk scaring her again. Not that she seemed all that scared, which figured. Dawn was as tough as they came, even if she reminded him of an exotic flower.
The song on the phonograph kicked in with a slow, soft island tune from the thirties. One of those happy, ukulele tunes with just enough of a beat to it that their bodies started to sway.
“On a little bamboo bridge,” Dawn whispered.
He took a deep breath, relishing the press of her chest against his. Her hands rubbed up and down his back, waking every nerve, and it was all he could do not to grind his hips against hers.
They circled slowly, taking tiny steps in time with the tune.
“Hunter,” she whispered, slowly raising her face to his.
Her eyes were bottomless pools of black that shone like pearls, and her lips moved.
Kiss her, his bear prompted.
Slowly, giving her every chance to protest, he lowered his chin. But she didn’t pull away. She drew nearer. A moment later, their lips met, and little zips of lightning raced through his veins.
Heaven. Just like that, Hunter was transported to heaven. Dawn’s lips danced over his. Every move she made, he mirrored, from the slide of her hand along his ribs to the upward pull of her lips. Her mouth cracked open, and his did, too, letting her taste him. She broke away long enough to grab a deep breath, then dove back in, sweeping her tongue over his teeth. Her hips swiveled against his, and the scent of arousal spiked, rising above the scent of gardenia wafting in from outside.
He nearly groaned. In fact, he did groan, and his knees buckled slightly, making his groin bump her hip. That set off a whole different brushfire in his body, and he had no choice but to tip his head up toward the ceiling and count to ten.
“No good?” she whispered.
He shook his head immediately. “Really good. Just trying not to rush this.”
She laughed, making his bear cheer. “Well, we do only have…” She checked her watch. “Two and a half hours.” Her voice was light and playful, but a second later, it grew grave. “Listen. I really want this, Hunter. I want you. But I don’t know… I mean, I’m not sure how far… I mean…”
He caught her hands and pressed them to his chest, anchoring her there. “We stop the second you want to. We go as far as you want, but no further.”
Her cheeks flushed. The music hit a flirty high note, then went back to its gentle swing.
Dawn swung, too, her hips moving with unmistakable need against his. But while her body seemed all in, she was still hesitant. It showed in her dilated eyes, in the way her mouth opened and closed.
“I’ve never actually… I mean, I feel ready, but part of me…” She kept starting and stopping, not making any sense.
He held her gently by the shoulders and searched her eyes.
She pulled in a deep breath. “I’ve never been with a man before.” For a second, she stood there, apprehensive of his reaction. “I mean, I’ve never slept with anyone.”
He couldn’t help but gape at her. Dawn was a virgin? No way. A woman that confident, that beautiful must have had sex with someone somewhere along the line — or so he’d assumed.
Then it hit him. That bastard football player back in high school. Had he left Dawn with scars that deep?
I told you we should have killed him on the spot, his bear grumbled.
He closed his eyes, remembering it all. The unsettled, itchy sensation that had him backtrack to the shed at the end of the school fields. The nauseating scene he discovered when he flung the door open and found that ass of a quarterback, Clive, lying over Dawn, tearing at her clothes. Her small fists had been pummeling Clive’s back with no effect, and she’d worn a look of sheer terror. When Hunter flung Clive across the shed and pulled Dawn to her feet, she shook all over and tears streaked down her face.
Hunter always figured fate had guided him to Dawn just in the nick of time, but maybe he’d been a little too late. That rat bastard, Clive, had done damage of a different kind. Clive had stolen one of life’s purest pleasures from Dawn, and that wasn’t right.
God, she was tough, never letting on as to how deeply she’d been scarred. And shit, what an asshole he was for assuming she’d simply put the brutal memories behind her.
“We can stop. We can—”
Dawn shook her head vehemently. “I want this, Hunter. I really do. But I think I might have to rush this part. To get over the hump. You know…”
No, he didn’t know, but hell. He’d do anything she wanted, even if that meant stopping cold.
“I need to… I need…” She searched for words then muttered, “Aw, hell,” and dove back into a kiss. A kiss so out of the blue, she ended up pressing him against the wall. Her hands were everywhere — on his chest, his waist, his back — and all he could do was prop his hands on her shoulders and let her go.
Her kiss grew harder, hungrier. She pulled his shirttail out of his pants to touch his skin. He held his breath as her soft hands traveled over his chest, caressing him the way he longed to caress her. But he couldn’t. Dawn needed to take the lead, and he had to follow.
Even if it kills me, his bear agreed, clenching its teeth.
Her hands loosened his tie and fluttered over the buttons of his shirt. She couldn’t quite work them open, so he took over while her hands slid down a long, sensual trail and tucked into the back pockets of his pants.
“Good idea,” she murmured between kisses as he worked the buttons down for her. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, pushing the shirt back.
They were definitely out of time with the scratchy tune on the Victrola, but Hunter couldn’t have cared less. When Dawn got to work on her own shirt, all he could do was watch as she revealed more and more of the creamy skin at her neckline, then the edge of her bra. It was white and a little frilly at the edge, a hidden hint of feminine that contrasted with her uniform.
“What are you looking at, mister?” she teased with false bravado, working the rest of the buttons down.
Looking at the woman I love, he nearly said. An amazing woman who hides her fears — and her desires.
“Looking at the real you,” he murmured.
“You think you know the real me?”
For years, he’d assumed he had. Now, he wasn’t so sure. But damn, would he love to devote years to understanding what made her tick.
He tilted his head from side to side. “I’d like to find out.”
Her lips tightened. “What if you don’t like what you find?” Her eyes dimmed as if she had a dark secret. But hell — he had plenty of his own. Secrets and scars he’d like to drag out and erase with her help, one by one.
But not tonight. Tonight was about taking the next step.
Sex! his bear cheered.
No, sex wasn’t the next step. Not in and of itself. Building trust was, and he needed that as badly as Dawn did.
No sex? his bear cried, confused.
Yes, sex. Well, hopefully. Just don’t get it mixed up with what really counts.
Sure. Fine. Whatever, his bear muttered. He sniffed deeply, getting high on her scent.
“You mean you’re not perfect?” he said, answering her question at last.
Dawn scoffed. “Far from.”
“Good,” he murmured, pushing the shirt over her shoulders. “Then I won’t feel completely outclassed.”
She looked shocked, as if she’d never really stopped to consider what a class act she was, and he chuckled, tossing the garment aside. Then he caught her hands and guided them back to his chest, dying for her to touch him again.
I’m dying to touch her, his bear groaned, because there she was, the woman of his dreams, wearing nothing but a nicely filled bra, right in front of his eyes. Her chest heaved, teasing him.
Go slow, he told his bear.
He looped his hands behind her neck and gently worked her hair out of its braid. The long, black strands were just as silky as they were in his dreams, and he finger-combed them again and again.
Nice, his bear mumbled. Nice.
Her eyebrow arched in a question, and he nodded. Yes, he’d been dreaming of doing that for years.
His bear fast-forwarded to a scene several years down the line in which Dawn came home from work, flopped wearily on the love seat, and let him finger-comb her hair. How was your day? he’d ask, massaging her shoulders. And he’d be the happiest man on earth because he got to be the one to hear her out, each and every day.
He cleared his throat and put the brakes on before he got ahead of himself — way ahead of himself. With one shaky finger, he guided back the strands that had fallen in front of her face. Then he leaned in and kissed her.
Dawn met him eagerly, whimpering into the kiss and inching her hands toward his slacks. She hesitated at the waistline then reached lower, palming his cock through the fabric.
Hunter tipped his head back and surged forward on the balls of his feet, letting the pressure build. He flattened his hands on the wall on either side of her head — careful not to cage Dawn in, but to steady himself. To hang on to that little bit of self-control.
She splayed her fingers and stroked, making him groan. Then slowly, gingerly, she lowered his fly and snaked her hand in. Her eyes went wide, and there it was again — that sense of hesitation, that dichotomy of holding back when she really wanted to dive in. Finally, she gripped him fully and mumbled something unintelligible into the kiss.
Hunter jerked forward and back, rocking on his heels. He could have closed his eyes and continued until he came in her hand, but he forced himself to stop. This wasn’t about physical pleasure. This was about bonding with his mate.
He opened his eyes slowly, afraid that the aroused glow might frighten Dawn. But she met his eyes easily and tipped up her chin.
“Touch me,” she whispered, pulling his hands toward her breasts.
Hunter bit his lip, telling himself to go slow, but Dawn’s eyes flashed.
“Don’t,” she said, making him stop cold.
He steeled every muscle and stopped instantly. Shit, this was it. She’d changed her mind.
Dawn shook her head and shaped his hands into cups under her breasts. “I mean, don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.”