Predator by Vonna Harper

the hunter or cougar, and thankfully not the murdered doe. “I don’t understand,” she whimpered, straining against Stark’s hold.

Chapter Six
    Stark released her arms and massaged away the imprints his fingers had made. She watched, fascinated by his sure, long and strong fingers.
    Hers was a woman’s body, nothing spectacular, but honed by a physical life. If he wanted a centerfold, he hadn’t gotten one. But if he needed someone capable of matching him—
    “You aren’t going to run away,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
    A perverse part of her longed to point out that taking off dressed as she was might be grounds for getting herself locked up, but his tone was too serious for that. As she shook her head, she acknowledged that what remained of her blouse and bra hid nothing. It didn’t matter; modesty had nothing to do with this moment.
    “The connection—I didn’t know it would be this easy, that you would begin to join us so soon.”
    “Us?”
    “You’ll understand soon enough.”
    If she sat cross-legged, her pussy would be exposed in naked invitation, so although that would be more comfortable, she left her legs stretched out in front of her, leaning forward a little to keep her balance. Despite the rough ground, her body continued to hum with the aftereffects of his manipulations. “That’s—that’s how you intended to, what? Convince me, entice me, force me—damn, I don’t know what I’m talking about!”
    “Let me do the talking, then.”
    “All right.”
    “Good.” He trailed a thumb between her breasts. “I need to tell you what happened to me, because I believe it’ll help you understand what’s going on.”
    “All right.”
    “It started for me the way it did for you. I was hiking, simply hiking, hoping I was miles from poachers, glad to be away from job pressure and touching base with why I’d gotten a master’s in forest biology. I worked for the Bureau of Land Management and had been incorporating new federal regulations into my job description and was frustrated because I had to spend so much time indoors.” His eyes glazed. “I was doing a lot of soul-searching.”
    “About what?” she encouraged when he fell silent.
    A warm, strong hand settled over her knee. “Whether I’d made a mistake in my career choice, and what the hell could I do about it.” His head came up. He looked fierce, defiant. “I’d made so damn many sacrifices getting where I was professionally and…”
    I understand. How I understand . “What kind of sacrifices?”
    “Personal. Letting a woman I loved walk out of my life because I put work first, moving thousands of miles from family, limiting friendships.”
    A chill cooled a little of the fire his closeness continued to feed in her. She too had moved halfway across the country so she could work in a national forest and had ended an engagement because her fiancé hadn’t understood the hold the wilderness had on her. She had few friendships, and only two, both with fellow rangers, that she could call close.
    “You were trying to decide whether to stay with your career?” she asked.
    “Yeah. Complicating my decision was a simple fact: if I turned my back on the only thing I was qualified to do, how was I going to support myself?”
    “It was more than that. You knew you had to work in the forest in order to feel alive.”
    A moment ago his eyes had taken on that far-away look, but they immediately intensified, and he stared at her as if determined to reach all the way to her soul.
    “I’m saying that because I feel the same way.” The words might be the most honest she’d ever spoken. Her back had started to ache, prompting her to bend her legs so she could sit Indian-style. Too late, she realized she’d exposed everything.
    With his hand on her knee, his gaze traveled down her body, registered what she’d revealed, then returned to her face. “I was in conflict,” he said, “second-guessing, talking to myself, trying to