by Rachel Lee
Melinda giggled. “That would really confuse him, don’t you think?”
Jon grinned. “He’s already confused. He thinks this storm is fun.”
“It is. As long as we don’t have to go out in it.”
“He kinda makes that point moot, don’t you think?”
His eyes were sparkling, lively, inviting. So different from the way he had looked when she’d first seen him at Mahoney’s. He’d shed the so-called thousand-yard stare and was truly in the here and now.
And that made him so attractive she ached. Frightened by her own feelings, she started to turn away, but he stopped her. His grip on her arm was gentle, nonthreatening. Hands that could kill touched her as kindly as a lover. Slowly, she looked at him again.
“You feel it, too,” he said huskily.
She studied his face, trying to read his meaning, while her heart hammered in her chest. “Feel what?” she stalled, although she was pretty sure she knew what he meant.
“This…thing pulling us together. It’s been there ever since you walked up to me at the bar.” He nodded, as if feeling the rightness of his own words. “You felt it then. You wouldn’t have spoken to me otherwise.”
She couldn’t deny it. Their meeting had been entirely out of character for her. Sometimes when she went into town she stopped at Mahoney’s for a drink. Always one drink. Always a draft. And never, ever, did she speak to anyone except Mahoney himself or one of the deputies she knew. She certainly never approached anyone.
Slowly she nodded. Her heart was beating so hard now that she could hardly breathe.
“I wouldn’t have talked to you, or gone to the diner with you, if I hadn’t felt the same pull.”
Now she held her breath, as if the day had suddenly been transformed into finely spun crystal that might break at a whisper.
“I came home because I had to come home,” he continued, his voice huskier and quieter still. The wind outside seemed louder. “And I’m going back because I have to go back. I have to take care of my men.”
She nodded, just a tiny movement.
“But…” He inched closer. “I want you.”
He dropped his hand from her arm, as if to let her know she was free, completely free, to decide however she wished. But the instant his touch was gone, she missed it. A whole tide of feelings rushed in, things she hadn’t been allowing herself to think about, things she had put away for years, things she had refused to acknowledge in herself since she saw Jon at Mahoney’s.
All those things were there, vibrant and alive, but hidden behind fear.
She couldn’t speak now. Her heart was in her throat, and she felt as if she were paralyzed in a moment of expectation so heavy it filled her every cell. She wanted him. It had been so long since she had felt any such thing. It had been so long since she had been near a man other than Nate Tate without feeling at least a frisson of fear.
She wanted to raise her hand and reach for him. Wanted him to reach out and gather her close. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t stir. A web of past and present wrapped her and confined her.
He gave a small nod and started to turn away. It was that movement that set her free.
“Jon,” she said hoarsely.
He looked at her again and apparently saw all he needed to know. He reached out with his powerful arms and gathered her to his chest, holding her. Just holding her. Snugly. Making a safe place for her within his strength.
Something let go, a terror so old it had become part of the very fabric of her soul. The instant it eased, she felt utter relaxation fill her, and with it came new seeds of confidence.
“You’re a brave woman,” he said softly, still holding her snugly, yet not moving. His breath stirred her hair, its warmth welcome. “Not many people could have done what you did to survive. Not many would have survived.”
Lots of people had said that to her after she was rescued, but this was the first time she believed it. Maybe because it came from someone who had survived his own ordeal: war. Someone who was willing to face it again.
If he could be so brave, why couldn’t she?
Slowly she lifted her arms and hugged him back, certain that nothing in her life had ever felt so right. She was able to melt against him and revel in the splendor of the moment. In the warmth of human contact, something she hadn’t known since her parents had died.
But this was even stronger, elemental in a different way. Almost by instinct, she rubbed her cheek against his flannel shirt, loving its softness even as she loved the hardness of his chest beneath. Hard, soft, exquisite beyond words.
Then she tilted her head up and looked deep into his eyes.
And knew that, for this moment at least, everything was all right.
Chapter 9
The thick curtains in her bedroom were drawn to keep warmth in. The heat from the woodstove still reached the back of the house, but the wind blowing across the glass sucked it out rapidly.
In the darkness, they moved hesitantly, both filled with caution. It was as if they both sensed they were about to cross a dangerous barrier and had better be very careful about how they did it. The hunger and need were tamped down for now, giving way to gentleness and concern.
The thought flitted across Melinda’s mind that they were like two wounded animals approaching cautiously, then dancing away on the strange, welcome sparkle of being wanted.
They lay side by side on the bed and embraced, fully clothed. The safety net was still in place. In an instant, either of them could pull back from the precipice.
But the warmth of holding and being held began to thaw the frozen places in both of them. Slowly, surely, they relaxed more and more into one another.
When Melinda felt soft from head to toe, languorous in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling, he moved his hand and began to stroke her hair gently. It felt so good that she instinctively murmured and pressed even closer.
But he didn’t take that as an invitation to rush ahead. Instead he kept stroking her hair, occasionally drawing his hand down her back, which only made her feel better and more relaxed.
Time had lost meaning for them. They had all the time in the world, or so it seemed. And it felt so right.
Surprise filled Melinda as she realized she was smiling into his chest. This was something she had never believed would be possible, to feel this comfortable and good with a man again. Raising her arms, she looped them around his neck, just enjoying being held by someone who wanted to hold her.
But of course they could not stay suspended there forever. They had come here because of a deep and basic need. If Melinda had allowed herself to think about what to do, she probably would have panicked.
He didn’t give her the option. His hand slid down her back, then up under her shirt, and oh, it felt so good. His hand was warm, rough with calluses, gentle and slow, asking for nothing more, demanding nothing.
His touch nearly hypnotized her. She began to feel as if she would sink into the mattress. Into him. And that was exactly where she wanted to be.
When he unclasped her bra and she felt her breasts fall free, she sucked in air with astonishment. He froze, but she had just passed the point of her last inhibition, or so it seemed at that moment, because she squirmed closer and whispered, “Oh, Jon…Jon…”
He let go the whisper of a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath, then cupped her breast in his warm hand.
Instantly electric sensations she had never imagined darted along her nerve endings, directly to her center, making her feel heavy and hungry all at once. A small moan escaped her as his thumb found her hardening nipple and began to brush it to even greater excitement.
Too much…too much…Needs and hungers ignored for a decade swamped her, causing her to writhe against him, lifting her higher and higher. Her hips began to move almost desperately as a tightening ache pulled her closer and closer and…
The most amazing thing happened. One instant she was climbing, unsure if she would reach the crest, a
nd the next she exploded into a cataclysm of release.
As if he knew it, he slipped his thigh up between her legs and pressed his hand to her bottom, pulling her tight and close, encouraging her to ride the rhythmic waves of satisfaction.
Slowly her paroxysms eased. She felt exhausted, wonderful and, for an instant, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She had acted like an animal, with no thought for him.
“Don’t ever be sorry for that,” he murmured roughly. “Never, ever.”
“But—”
He covered her lips with a finger. “Shh,” he said gently. “You’ll see.”
He held her tightly and stroked her back, sprinkling the occasional kiss on her face until she once again relaxed. Then his hand renewed its journey, finding her breast, reawakening the electric sparkles that danced through her. Somehow the shirt vanished and her bra with it, and he lowered his head, taking her nipple into his mouth.
An exclamation escaped her as the novel sensation restoked her hunger and filled her with amazement. He sucked hard, then gently, then nibbled a little and catapulted her back to the heights.
Impatience filled her, and this time she was determined not to take the trip alone.
She pulled at the buttons of his shirt. A little laugh escaped him, a pleased sound, and he drew away long enough to help her.
Then came the magic of skin on skin, her breasts to his muscled chest, soft to hard, exquisite beyond description. Sinuously as a cat, she twisted against him, wanting whatever came next, but unsure where they were heading.
He moved a little and pressed her face to his chest, guiding her, until she took his small nipple in her mouth and mimicked what he had done to her. The groan that escaped him gave her a feeling of power and pleasure, a heady combination that encouraged her to want more, to do more.
When he pulled at her sweatpants, she was more than ready to wiggle out of both them and her panties. Then she reached for the snap of his jeans, wanting to remove the last barrier.
He obliged swiftly, sending clothes flying across the room. Then they came together with nothing between them any longer and she felt the hardness of him pressed to her abdomen. The sensation both astonished her and made everything within her sizzle.
She couldn’t seem to breathe. There wasn’t enough air in the room. Her heart thudded heavily as she began to move her hands over him, wanting to know every inch of him, wanting to discover his every mystery.
He groaned at her touch. Occasionally she felt a scar and her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t stop. That was for later. For now there were only these moments in Eden while she discovered what it meant to be a woman.
It meant power and joy and a sense of fierce protectiveness, and a hunger that knew no bounds. She pulled back just a little to drink him in with her eyes in the dim light.
Before she could do much more than scan him, he took her breath away by the simple expedient of slipping his hand between her legs.
For an instant she clamped her legs around him; then a delicious weakness filled her, and she parted her legs, offering herself to him.
His fingers were wicked, finding the most sensitive knot of nerves. A cry escaped her, and she tried to press herself harder against his hand. He teased her to near madness.
All of a sudden, without conscious thought, she rose over him and straddled him. She looked down at his face, finding his eyes closed but his lips parted in a faint smile.
Then he was entering her. Never had she felt anything like that before. There was an instant of sharp pain, but it was gone before she could do anything except gasp. Then she enveloped him and knew that she had been born for this moment, these sensations.
Gently he drew her down on his chest, so that they were close. Their bodies were slick, and this new position minimized their movements in the most tantalizing way.
Just a little, just a little…
“Oh, Mel,” she heard him whisper hoarsely. “Oh, Mel…”
The sound of his voice thrilled her. Everything thrilled her, and then her body took over, carrying her to places where thought had no meaning.
She heard him cry out sharply, then heard her own keening as she tumbled once more over that magical, wonderful precipice of climax.
Nothing could be more beautiful.
Chapter 10
Something tickled her leg. She moved, not wanting to wake up from the delicious half sleep that held her in thrall. She thought she had known peace in her life, but this was beyond her wildest dreams. She didn’t want to move until the world ended.
The tickle came again, and suddenly Jon’s laugh rumbled into her ear through his chest wall.
“What?” she asked drowsily, collapsed on him as if he were the best bed in the world.
“We have a visitor.”
She turned her head, peeling her eyelids open a bit, and saw a certain white and gray husky standing on his hind legs nosing at them. It had been his nuzzling she had felt.
Jon patted the bed, and the dog jumped up. He had his own ideas about the proper protocol for these moments, and before either of them could move, an eager little tongue was lapping at their arms and faces. Jon burst out laughing and rolled carefully, depositing Melinda on the bed beside him. Then he reached for the pup with one hand and brought the dog to lie between them.
Noel seemed to think that was good, because at once he curled into a tight little ball and closed his eyes.
“That,” Jon said, “was not exactly my idea of a romantic moment.”
Melinda looked at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “No?”
“Little imp.” He looked from the dog to her, then touched her cheek. “No,” he said. “This is where I want to tell you just how beautiful you are. What a wonderful lover you are.”
The blush that had never managed to emerge before now suffused her face. She could feel its heat and was grateful the room was dim. “Thank you.”
He smiled and pulled the coverlet up over them, then held her as close as he could with the dog between them. Surprisingly, Noel remained right where he was, undisturbed by being completely covered.
Slowly they drifted off to sleep. Outside, the raging world began to quiet.
For now at least.
A soft tongue licking her cheek awoke Melinda sometime in the afternoon. She opened her eyes and looked straight into Noel’s beautiful blue ones. When he saw her eyes open, he hopped to his feet, and cold air rushed under the blanket.
“Cruel,” she said to him. “That was cruel.”
He simply took another swipe at her with his tongue. A giggle escape her, and she pushed him gently away, realizing she was alone in the bed.
Her heart stopped; then a wave of panic set in. Had Jon left her? After all, why should he stay? She could hear that the wind had settled down, and now that they’d had sex, maybe he wanted nothing more to do with her.
But before she could completely freak, she heard the sound of his voice from elsewhere in the cabin. He was singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” in a pleasant baritone, punctuated by clattering from the kitchen.
Panic turned into a smile, and she clambered out of bed, reaching for the warmest clothes she could find.
The kitchen was warmer than the bedroom, but Jon was nowhere in sight. She found him in the front room, cooking something on the stove that smelled absolutely delicious, perking a pot of coffee and putting up a garland over the door.
He saw her and grinned. “I hope that’s where you wanted this.”
“It’s perfect.”
Warmth filled her from the top of her head down to her toes, which were stuffed into thick socks. She wiggled them happily and settled on the couch. “It was getting cold back there.”
“I noticed. That’s why I got up. The heat drew me like a moth to a flame.” He tapped in a small nail and draped the artificial garland over it. “I hope I didn’t leave you freezing.”
“I wasn’t that cold until I got out of bed.”
Curious, she went to the window. “Forty below?” Astonishment made her look a second time. “That’s not real.”
“Unfortunately, it is. I turned on the radio, and your friend Larry called a little while ago to warn you not even to walk the dog.”
She looked at Noel, who was nosing at the lower limbs of the Christmas tree as if he liked watching the ornaments swing. “What are we going to do about that?”
“He and I came to an agreement. I let him use paper in the bathroom and cleaned it up.”
“Oh.” She experienced an irrational spurt of resentment at the way he seemed to be taking over, then dismissed it. This, she told herself, is what comes from living like a hermit for so long. Inability to make room for another person.
The thought depressed her, and she folded her arms as she returned to her seat on the couch. She ought to be enjoying this rare time of hominess. She’d had little enough of it since…then.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Startled from her thoughts, she looked at him. “Sure. Just…ghosts, I guess.”
He nodded and draped the garland over one last nail. “We all have them. Some more than others.”
“Do you have a lot of them?”
“What do you think?” His smile became crooked. “I’ve got them by the bucketload.”
“That must be terrible.”
He shrugged. “There’s a price for everything. Sometimes it’s pretty high.”
She bit her lower lip then blurted, “How do you stay sane?”
He froze for a good fifteen seconds. Then he came to sit on the couch, looking away from her. “Sometimes I’m not sure I am. Sometimes I’m not sure I want to be. Over there…well, you have to lop off parts of yourself. Not feel things. It’s necessary. The question is whether I’ll get those parts back once I’m done.”
She nodded, resisting the urge to take his hand. “Do you think you will?”
He looked at her then. “I think I already have.”