A Kindled Winter

by Rachel L. Demeter

  David trailed his palm over the curve of her hip … up her waist and the slope of her neck. His fingertips tangled in her curls. He felt as her entire body fell limp and vulnerable. Inhaling a thin sigh, she sagged against his chest and molded her body to him. David’s pulse jumped to life while his fingertips glided past the hollow of her ear. Then he brought his lips against the fine cartilage and softly blew. She shuddered in his arms and pressed her body closer.

  “Something very special, I hope,” he said, breathing the words onto her nape. David leaned forward, nudging her body against the workbench’s edge, and outstretched her hand. “Here—grab it. Nice and firm. There you go.” She did as commanded. “A sheet of sandpaper, too.” Reclaiming her hand, David slid her palm across the dusty surface and set it atop a stack of sandpaper. She pulled the box close to her with shaking fingers. “That’s it.”

  David placed the hand that was holding the sandpaper on the lid, applied a light pressure, and glided it back and forth in gentle motions. “Nice and easy—just follow the direction of the grains. We want to erase all the tiny imperfections … allow the wood’s inner beauty to shine through.” A faint scraping noise permeated the air as Jeseca smoothed away the wood’s rough exterior. Combined with the feel of her skin against his own, the delectable, citrusy scent of her hair drove David wild.

  It happened in a single, delicious rush of movement. All of his barriers shattered. David latched onto her waist, spun her around full circle, elevated her body in midair, and lifted her onto the workbench.

  Their lips crashed together in an explosive, primitive motion.

  Urging him closer, she tipped her face and allowed him full entry. He chased her gasp with his tongue, filling her mouth with heat and slick promise.

  They were both starved, feasting off of each other with equal fervor.

  David glided a single fingertip along the length of her spine—up, up, up—all the way to the base of her neck. His palm coiled around the delicate shaft while her mouth moved in sync with his own. God. She moaned inside his mouth and rocked her hips against him, returning that age-old dance with a heated intensity.

  His heart did a quick somersault, spun by the sweet sounds that fluttered from her throat. Drinking in her essence, he deepened their kiss and propped his hands on either side of her body.

  Seconds transformed into minutes, and both David and Jeseca were left entirely spent and breathless.

  Her cheekbones turned rosy, and her lips darkened to a sensuous red. Defeated and at her mercy, he curved his neck until their foreheads joined together in a delicate touch.

  “Christ, Jeseca. The things you do to me. You’re like a damn drug. Totally altering my mind.”

  Her eyes brightened and her lips quirked into a small grin. “Just what the doctor order?”

  Chuckling, he brushed away her wayward curls and briefly glanced downward. His eyes drew to her neck’s pale flesh—and he was overcome with the desire to press his lips against her collarbone. He wanted to taste all of her, to consume her warmth, to track his tongue across her beating pulse. And a moment later, he did exactly that.

  His lips descended on her throat in a movement he was unable to control. His tongue teased her throbbing pulse point, swept up and down the slim column of her throat, and traced it. Feminine moans echoed the woodshop … his personal domain. Trembling fingers dove into the waves of his hair and tugged his face toward her breasts. He grunted and worshiped them straight through the material—molding his lips against the taut peaks.

  Then he caught sight of the unfinished rocker horse—and a painful jolt of reality shot through his mind and body. Peeling white paint flaked from the horse’s neck, and black, vacant eyes glared at him like a silent sentinel. The weight of David’s guilt returned at full force. He heard Lizzy’s panicked voice in his ear … felt as his son’s flesh and bones disintegrated into ashes …

  He tore away from Jeseca, overwhelmed by the vicious crush of memories.

  It was my fault. It should have been me.

  The dark truth rang through his mind and overpowered everything else.

  He didn’t deserve this—any of this. He didn’t deserve pleasure, he didn’t deserve contentment. And he most certainly didn’t deserve Jeseca Reed.

  He deserved emptiness and cold solitude. Nothing more.

  With trembling hands, he assisted her off of the counter, fled the woodshop, and ventured into what felt like a frozen wasteland.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Burning flesh swells my nostrils. Bile bubbles inside my throat. The world around me transforms into a nauseating blur. My mind detaches from my body, and only one thing alone matters: I must save my little boy. Nothing else exists. Not the flames crawling up and down my arms, consuming me alive—devouring my skin with the fervor of a thousand hungry mouths. Not my T-shirt, which quickly turns to ashes and falls away from my body. Not the rancid scents of my boiling flesh and burning hair.

  Only Charlie matters.

  Lizzy’s voice echoes the kitchen, muffled and panicked—as if emerging from the surreal depths of a dream world. “Save him, David! God, please, please, please …”

  I grasp Charlie against my racing heart, roll across the marble floor, and hold him tight—struggling to suffocate the flames. Take me instead, I inwardly scream. I deserve this—not my little boy. But he falls limp in my arms and crumbles into nothingness. Soul-wrenching cries swell my eardrums and melt my insides into a dense, quivering mass. The screams are primitive, guttural, choked … almost inhuman in their despair. And it’s not until the tears cascade down my cheeks that I realize they’re my own …

  •

  Christmas Eve

  Jeseca’s skin tingled as David’s cries echoed the home. They sounded guttural, painful, thick with agony. Each one crashed down with the force of an ice-cold wave. And she understood his grief—that numbing terror that comes for you in the darkness of the night, the ways dreams so often twist into nightmares, leaving you cold and trembling within a black eternal void …

  Heart pounding, she threw back the cover, fetched her robe from her suitcase, which David had retrieved the previous morning, and eased into the dark hallway. Cold blasts of air stung her cheeks, and she instantly wished she’d worn socks or slippers. Her toes felt numb, colder than ice … and ironically each step burned more than the one before it. The ground below her feet seemed to be paved with hot coals rather than oak wood. Regardless, Jeseca followed after David’s cries, drawn to his agony, needing to relieve his pain in some way.

  The sound of his despair made her skin crawl and heart ache. It was unbearable. She felt it with every breath, every thought, every manic beat of her pulse.

  Unable to stop herself, she tracked down the winding hall and followed after those twisted sobs. They loudened with each step until she could perceive nothing else. Holding her breath, she cracked open David’s door. Brody was seated several feet from the bed; his legs trembling and ears planted to either side of his head, he appeared very discontent with his master’s erratic behavior. And Jeseca immediately saw why.

  The very devil had been unleashed.

  Crossing the room, she ran her fingers over Brody’s coat and hesitantly approached the elaborate king sized bed. David’s body was half-hanging off the mattress. The blankets were tangled around his flailing legs, and a sheet of sweat coated his skin. Perspiration beaded from his forehead and trickled down his face. His auburn hair was damp and glued to his temples.

  The rivulets glistened like tears beneath the frail moonlight. He was shirtless, too … dressed only in boxers. The material was soaked through and plastered against his glistening skin. His muscles violently convulsed, manipulated by his movements.

  She crouched beside the mattress, her heart in her throat, and scooted forward until she sat inches away. Moonlight shimmered through the large window and highlighted his beautiful, agonized features. Then her chest contracted as she noticed that tears coated his cheeks.

&nb
sp; He was sobbing. A slew of incoherent words exploded from his lips while he manically tossed and turned. The sheets entangled him, securing his limbs with the force of iron manacles. He appeared to be possessed—as if he were battling a host of inner demons.

  She tightened the robe’s sash around her waist, then tentatively reached for his arm. Gently shaking him, she leaned forward and whispered, “David? It’s—it’s okay … Shh. Please.”

  Her voice seemed to effectively cut through the nightmare. The choked sobs, incoherent chanting, and jerky movements subsided. Exhaling a relieved breath, she sprawled a hand over the middle of his chest. His mangled skin was soaked through—veiled by a thick sheen of perspiration. Beneath her palm, his heartbeat slowed, resuming a normal pace. Then his eyes shot open and hooked into her own. All breaths purged from her lungs. The despair, vulnerability, and utter agony in his stare sliced through her chest.

  “Jeseca …?” His voice was a torn whisper and almost inaudible. The moon shifted in the sky, directing the light from his strained expression. He blinked once, twice, three times, then murmured, “Are … are you really here?”

  Barely aware of what she was doing, she cradled each side of his face with her hands. She eased forward, until her knees grazed the mattress, and drew him into a slow, sensual kiss. A guttural moan shook his body while he eased onto his elbows. Then he released a sigh, slanted his face, and deepened their kiss.

  “Yes. I’m here … here with you,” she breathed inside his mouth. “And I’ll stay with you … however long you need me.” Then, mimicking his own words, she added, “I’ll stay as long as you need me. All night or the rest of winter. I’ll be here for you …”

  Strong arms latched onto her waist and hurled her body onto the bed. A shiver of fear raced down her spine. He broke off their kiss and locked onto her gaze. He’s little more than a stranger, the rational side of her mind warned. The other half of her brain rebelled with its characteristic stubbornness: possess me, it screamed. Jeseca’s heart chimed into the debate, beating with rapid agreement.

  She craved this man.

  A riot of emotions swam in his blue eyes: despair, uncertainty, and searing desire. He looked dangerous. Rugged. Haunted. Powerful, long fingers coiled in her curls and gave a tender tug, reeling her ever closer. Her body responded without further encouragement. She pressed against his straining erection and undulated her hips back and forth, up and down, side to side …

  Oh, God.

  A ragged curse tore from David’s lips. He latched onto her waist and flipped her onto her back. Jeseca felt the air vacate her lungs. Hovering high above, his lips swooped down and claimed her neck in a searing kiss. “Our personalities are nothing alike. Complete opposites, in fact,” he murmured between rough kisses. The sultry baritone of his voice resonated through her veins and set her entire body on fire.

  His enchanting voice swelled the darkness, surrounding her, gripping onto her senses with a thousand beckoning fingers. They held her captive—and she readily surrendered her freedom. “We’re like day and night. Summer and winter. Fire and ice. And yet something about you whispers my name and echoes inside me …” His mouth found her pulse point. Damp, hot lips nibbled on her skin and sent her wits reeling. “You should have never come in here. It was a mistake.”

  “Then tell me to leave and I’ll go,” she replied through a thin whisper. Her voice sounded thick with desire, hoarse … she hardly recognized it as her own. “And I don’t believe we’re complete opposites,” she said, her words husky and guttural. “I think the real you is hiding.”

  Impenetrable silence took hold. Only the wind and David’s heavy breathing breached the quiet.

  “Should I leave?”

  Please, don’t send me away. Don’t shut me out.

  More silence. “No. I need you … I need you to stay with me.” The words emerged from the darkness and wrapped around Jeseca’s heart with the force of a lasso. He plunged a hand beneath the bathrobe, which had fallen halfway open, and a jarring whoosh of air slammed against her skin. His tongue swirled along her collarbone, branding her flesh with slick, wet shapes. Her heart hammered, and she clutched at the bedsheet as his mouth ventured lower … lower … skirting across the V-line of her plush pajama top. Then his fingers were working the buttons, quickly undoing them and sweeping the soft material aside. Cold air tightened her naked breasts, causing gooseflesh to prickle her skin.

  “Stop me if I’m going too fast,” he breathed against her.

  Yes, she should stop him. This was wrong. Totally wrong. Instead, all rational thought eluded her and she found herself arching against his mouth and tongue. She wanted more—not less. And she wanted him to go faster—not slower.

  He took the movement as an invitation to delve deeper, to suck harder, and to send her mind spinning. David Drake was practically a stranger—and it was far out of character for her to hop into bed with someone she barely knew. Yet, he did know her.

  Only days ago, she’d disclosed the darkest, most secretive part of her soul while he’d held her in his arms. She’d fallen asleep against the security of his chest, his breath in her ear and his fingers entwined within her own. And she craved this—her soul hungered for the warmth he offered, his hypnotizing touches, his reassuring words … more than anything else. There was a healing power in his touch—one she couldn’t fully understand nor intended to.

  Hot, wet lips seized her right breast. Chords of pleasure thrummed through her body as his tongue glided over the taut peak in mesmerizing circular motions. The uneven texture of his hands created a unique tickling sensation. They eased underneath the flannel pajamas and caressed her stomach.

  Strong fingertips worked the tie, loosening the bow into two dangling strands. Jeseca sucked in a breath as they wedged beneath the waistline and skimmed her damp panties. All the while, his lips and tongue worked in flawless synchronization and worshiped both aching breasts straight through the material. Then his mouth moved lower, lower … tracing a hot, wet line to the place where the pajama top met the waistline.

  David eased her panties and pajama bottoms down her legs. Fissions of awareness spiraled down her spine as his mouth closed in—and the molten heat of his breath wafted against her sopping core.

  Conflicting sensations crashed together. Hot and cold. Desire and uncertainty.

  Then only sensation remained. His capable, scarred hands cupped her bottom and elevated her body from the mattress. He parted her wet folds and circled the bundle of nerves with repetitive, expertly placed strokes. His touch sent her wits reeling and summoned broken cries from her throat. She throbbed. She ached. She burned.

  Thick, nimble fingertips worked the tingling bud ... slid in and out, in and out of her elevated body … pulsed deep, deep within, caressing her inner walls … driving her wild and head first into the precipice of a mind-blowing orgasm.

  Then the world shattered around her as he drew the taut bud between his lips. He suckled, caused her insides to unravel and lose control. My God. His tongue lashed out ... whipped across the drenched, throbbing flesh ... dove inside and swirled within.

  Hard, guttural moans shook her core. He steadied her hips while he suckled, drinking her completely, consuming her in a violent blaze …

  “Oh, my God … David … Yes …”

  Jeseca fought to catch her breath as intense shocks of pleasure cascaded through her mind and body.

  Minutes later, she felt David align his torso with her back, wrap his arms around her heaving midsection, and pull her close. His breath fanned against her nape, filling her insides with a soothing warmth. She felt safe, content and unafraid to fall sleep. Tonight, the nightmares would stay away. For both of them.

  Dazed with emotion, she descended into the lush fabric of a dream world.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Christmas Day

  Hours later, Jeseca lay awake in David’s embrace as shafts of sunlight caressed her skin. In his sedated state, he looked wondrously peaceful and
content, all the horrors he’d endured the previous night hidden behind a mask of sleep. Overwhelmed with the exquisite feeling of belonging and oneness, she smiled down at him, caressed his stubbled cheek, then tentatively pushed the forelock from his brow. Tenderness swelled her heart and caused her chest to grow heavy.

  A blush spread down her body as she recalled the mind-bending orgasm he’d given her the night before. It had been out of this world—far beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

  Struggling not to wake him, she wriggled free of his arm and slipped out of bed. As expected, Brody was waiting nearby, his entire butt waggling back and forth. The collar rang out, tinkling like a sleigh bell.

  “Hey there, Brody, boy,” she whispered. His jowls stretched into something that resembled a goofy smile—and Jeseca couldn’t help but think he was laughing. Twirling in a full circle, he bellowed a talkative bark then leapt onto his lanky hind legs. Jeseca gently grasped onto his jaws and held them shut. “Shh. Quiet down. You don’t wanna wake your papa, now do you?”

  Jeseca leaned against the doorjamb and observed David’s sleeping expression for several weightless moments. Her heart burned as she recalled his anguish from the night before. No. I need you … I need you to stay with me. The heartfelt plea had been more than she could endure.

  No one deserved to suffer so profoundly—most of all David. How she ached to see him happy again … to resurrect that cheerful spirit she’d witnessed in the Christmas video. He deserved so much more than a life of solitude and infinite despair.

  Why can’t he see that?