She thrashed as he gathered her close, pulling her free of the tangle of covers to carry her out of the room. “Shh,” he said again, his mouth against the damp hair at her temple. “It’s me. You’re safe. Let’s not wake London. Shh.”
Halfway to his room, her struggles abated, replaced by silent tears. “You’re okay,” he whispered to her. “I’m here. You’re safe. It was just a bad dream.”
Crossing the threshold, he kicked the door shut with his foot. Then he sat with her on his bed. Still shaking, she curled in his lap, her face pressed to his chest. Murmuring nonsense, he stroked her hair, her shoulder, whatever parts of her he could reach.
His day to stanch tears, he thought, as the wetness from her cheeks turned into a damp patch on his T-shirt. Eventually, her body quieted, but he continued with the soothing strokes. When her head tipped back, he looked down at her.
“Better?” he asked, smiling a little.
She nodded and made to move off of him, but he tightened his arms around her. “A little longer,” he said. “For me. I was worried about you for a while there.”
“It’s a terrible dream,” she said, her voice raspy from crying.
He cupped the back of her head with his palm and pressed his lips to one downy brow and then the other. “I could see that. Want to talk about it?”
She hesitated.
He found himself almost annoyed by her reluctance. She was holding back again and they didn’t have secrets from each other! He’d been so smug about how she’d opened up to him, and now she was resurrecting her barriers. Still, if she told him it was none of his damn business, he couldn’t very well protest.
Really, why should she share with a short-timer in her life?
But then her voice echoed in his head. Girls can go inward. They might become quiet, and be shy about speaking of their dreams and their desires. Sue him, he was going to press her again.
He rubbed at her damp cheek with his thumb. “Maybe the nightmare will go away if you tell me about it.”
“I’ve never told anyone...not in detail.”
“Turns out I’m becoming a good listener.” At least better than he had ever expected of himself.
She glanced up at him. “You are,” she said, her voice low.
“Let’s get more comfortable.” Before she could change her mind, he drew both of them toward the pillows, and arranged them so he was sitting up and she was curled into his side. With a gentle hand, he drew her head into the cup of his shoulder. “Look how perfectly you fit,” he whispered against her hair.
Her hand rested over his heart and she curled her fingers into her palm. He placed his own over that small fist, insinuating his thumb into its center to unfurl her digits once again. She sighed.
“How does it start?” he prompted.
“The fire at the resort,” she began.
It was a recurring dream that she’d had since childhood, she explained. She was again in the woods at the base of the ski mountain, exploring alone while her father took care of some routine tasks up at the lodge. She’d been there many times before.
“But I wandered far that day, even though Dell had told me to stay close to where he was working. I was daydreaming, lost in my own twelve-year-old little world when I smelled the fire.”
It was something all the mountain people grew up knowing to fear, she said.
“In the dream I freeze, just like I did that day. I knew I should get back to the truck, but I couldn’t figure out which direction to take.”
Jace stroked her hair, and when he felt her shiver, he pulled the covers over them. “Then I could hear the flames,” she whispered. “Greedy. Burning the forest.”
The ghostly tone of her voice triggered a chill along his spine. He hitched her closer. “How close did they come to you?”
She shrugged. “At the sound, I began to run. In real life and in the dream. It’s a monster at my back, chasing me, and I tear through branches and over rocks and I’m sure it’s going to catch me, consume me...”
“You’re safe now.” His hand returned to stroking her hair.
“In the dream I think I’m in hell, and not only is there the fiery monster at my back, but a dark demon rushing toward me, covered in ash. I can’t retreat because I’ll be burned. I can’t avoid the demon’s claws, either. Just as it grabs hold, I scream, and over that sound, the creature speaks.” Rolling away from him, she sat up. “Then I awaken.”
Shay forked her hands through her hair, and glanced over at him, clearly embarrassed. “Maybe that helped. Because it sounds pretty garden variety on the retelling.”
Having heard and seen her reaction to it, the nightmare didn’t seem garden variety to Jace in the least. “How often does it occur?”
She shrugged.
“Do you have any idea what triggers it?”
She shrugged again.
Jace rubbed his palm over his jaw, the nighttime bristles making a scratchy sound. “What does the creature say, Shay, when you scream?”
Her head turned toward the bank of windows as if seeing more than the blackness of the night beyond the glass. “In real life, it wasn’t a creature at all, of course. It was Dell, who’d seen the fire and was out looking for me. He’d been working on some machinery and he’d gotten grease on his hands and on his face. The fire had rained ash on his clothes.”
“Okay.” Jace shifted on the mattress and touched her shoulder. “What did Dell say to you?”
“He said...” Clearing her throat, Shay’s fingers clutched the sheets that were pooled at her waist. “He said, ‘Girl, you’ll be the death of me.’”
Then she looked at Jace. “And I was, you know. I was.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“If I’d stayed near like he told me to, we would have been able to get help sooner. The resort would have been saved. The stress of losing it is what killed him.”
“Shay...” He had to think of how to put this. “The words that were spoken, you have to know he was just expressing his worry. It was an utterance of the moment.”
“It’s what I remember. And relive in my dreams.”
“You were a blameless little girl. Surely you can see that? Nobody holds you responsible for what happened at the resort.”
She stared down at her lap. “Part of me understands that, I suppose. Then I remember... There are no adoption papers.”
Ah, he thought. That was the crux of the matter.
“Words have power,” Shay murmured.
And the lack of them had power, too.
She lifted her hands to her face, scrubbed. “I’ll go back to my room now. I appreciate you pulling me out of that.”
What else could he do but watch her climb from the bed? In a sleeveless, light cotton gown that floated about her knees as she walked toward the door, she appeared fragile and beautiful and he wanted to shelter her forever. But if he held her again he might not ever let her go and she deserved someone who could give her all she needed.
The security of family and belonging that was a hole in her that needed filling.
A man who had the temperament and experience to provide both.
She paused, her hand on the doorknob, and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Thanks, again. I owe you one.”
“Shay,” he said, before she could leave him.
“Yes?”
“Your parents? Did they tell you they loved you?”
“My mother—”
“Remember those words. Treasure them.”
She frowned. “I—”
“They’re special. I know, because no one’s ever said them to me.”
Shay’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened. She started to speak, then apparently decided against it. With a tight nod, she was gone.
<
br /> Jace had yet to move when he saw the door swing open again. Shay stood in the entry and he could sense emotions waving off of her: uncertainty, determination and something else he couldn’t name.
He sat up straighter. “Shay?”
“You should know...” She shook her head, began again. “I need to tell you something. There’s something you need to hear.”
“What?”
On slow feet she came toward the bed. In the light-colored gown, she looked like a ghost—no, an angel. She halted at his bedside and he could see she was trembling.
“Shay,” he said, worried. He caught her hand. It was icy.
“What I’m going to say...I know it won’t change anything.”
He nodded, though he couldn’t guess what she was talking about.
“My last day with you and London...it’s tomorrow.”
“That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
“No, it’s something different.”
Frowning, he tightened his hold on her fingers. “Well, tomorrow’s too soon. I’m not taking her to school until next week.”
“Nonetheless, I’ve decided tomorrow’s my final day. I have a last assignment to go over with London in the morning. Then—”
“We had plans to return to the cabins in the afternoon. I need another hour or so to finish repairing that mudroom roof. And I’ll need your help.”
She hesitated. “Okay, the cabins. Then I’ll be moving out.”
“There’s no need—”
“In a minute, you’ll know it’s the right decision.” She slipped her hand from his and perched on the edge of the mattress. Her shoulders rose on a deep breath.
“You’re scaring me,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Is this where you confess—”
“I’m in love with you.”
He’d heard wrong. “What?”
“I fell in love with you,” she said quickly. “Sometime between my birthday and watching you beginning to bond with your daughter, I fell in love.”
“Shay—”
“I love you, Jace. I wanted you to hear that. I wanted you to know it.”
Dumbfounded, he stared at her. I fell in love with you. I love you.
A wild feeling surged from his toes, through his heart, all the way to the top of his head. It was...triumph. With something else beneath it, that felt like the push of powerful wings. Awe.
I love you.
He reached for her, but she scooted away and rose to her feet. “It’s a goodbye gift. Now that it’s given, I’ll go.”
Go? She thought she could share that with him and then go?
He had her in his arms before she made the door. With his foot, he kicked it closed once again even as he bent his head and took her mouth in a searing kiss. Her hands pushed against his chest and he thought he might have to let her leave, after all, but then she slid them up to wind her arms around his neck. She opened her mouth, welcomed his tongue, pressed her nubile body against his.
His cock was already hard, his balls drawing tight.
He strode for the bed.
Desperate to have her, he dropped her to the mattress. The hem of her gown was drawn up nearly to her hips, exposing a tiny triangle of lace panties. He stared at it, sucking in deep breaths, trying to find a modicum of control.
Every other time, he’d worked hard to be gentle with her. His conscience urged that again. But it was losing the war with this carnal need to hold her, have her, possess her in every way he’d restrained himself from before.
I love you.
He tossed off his clothes. Maybe she saw the raw intent on his face, because she cast him a wary glance and rose up on her elbows. “Too late,” he rasped, putting one knee on the bed. Then his hands grasped the neckline of her gown and he tore the garment in two.
She gasped, her breasts moving up and down in shocked, unsteady breaths.
His gaze traveled her body, clad in panties and tattered fabric. His heartbeat hammered against his ribs and the erotic charge of what he’d just done fired up his blood. Curling his fingers in the elastic top of the tiny bikinis, he tore them off her, too.
Lust crawled over his skin, maddening him.
He came down on top of her, his mouth finding her nipple. As he sucked with strong pulls, his hand found the other breast, and he shaped it, fondled it, tweaked and pinched the other nipple.
She writhed under his weight, moaning and arching into him. Her hands found his hair and her nails scratched his scalp. His tongue laved the other nipple and then he bit her there. She cried out again, her hips jerking high.
I love you.
The words echoed in his head as he ran his mouth along her smooth skin, over her ribs, to her navel, then to the succulent flesh between her legs. They fell open for him and he pressed his palms to the hot, soft skin of her inner thighs as he tasted the pleated layers of wet flesh.
He trailed the tip of his tongue to her clit, circled it, circled it, his gaze going to her face as he felt her tense and tighten. Release broke over her in a strong, sharp wave and he watched the beauty of it, of her, as her head dropped back and her thighs quivered in his grasp.
“Go again,” he said against her and continued lapping.
“No, I can’t...I won’t...”
“You will.” He slid two fingers inside her hot channel and licked her again, nudging her clit with his nose. She was protesting, but her voice was nearly inaudible and her body was already lifting to his mouth. Her inner muscles clenched and unclenched and clenched again on his invading fingers.
He felt the next orgasm begin to coil inside of her.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. “You shouldn’t...I’m afraid...”
“Not of me,” he said against her. “Go over.”
“No.” She thrashed in his hold, the movements weak. “Not like this. Not just me.”
“Go over.”
“No.”
Her refusal broke his restraint. He became a man possessed and possessive. Crawling up her body, he ran heavy hands over her delicate lines, making a blueprint in his mind of every curve and every hollow. He buried his face in her neck and opened his mouth to taste the skin of her shoulder.
He moved down again, blind with desire, his mouth finding her nipple so he could suck there again. His fingers drove between her legs, spearing her softness. His thumb flicked at the hard nub at the top of her sex.
She jolted once more, cried out, but then her fingers circled his wrist. “I’m too close,” she said, trying to pull him away. “Not without you. Please.”
At that last word, he lost the last of his control.
Lurching up, he flipped her over on the bed. The remnants of her gown were still clinging to her and he ripped at the cotton again, tossing the pieces from her body. Then he exposed the nape of her neck, and pressed a hot, hard kiss there, the same place he’d put his mouth that morning when he’d said his first goodbye.
His hand slid under her hips and he lifted, canting her body so he could wrap himself around her. His knees edged between hers to open her for him. She moaned, her cheek against the sheet and he knelt over her to run his hands along her shoulders, down either side of her spine, over the round curves of her ass.
Breath was heaving in and out of his lungs as he took in the primitive sight of her, positioned for his penetration. Ready for his thrust.
Donning the condom made him suck in air between his teeth, the sensation of the latex sheathing him almost unbearable, he was so aroused. He ran his hand down her spine again, trailing it along the cleft until she jerked into his touch and her wetness bathed the ends of his fingers.
I love you.
The memory of her saying the words struck his heart like a hammer hitting a gong. His body quivered and he dropped over
her, covering her tender and delicate loveliness with his harder, tougher muscle and bone. He grasped his cock and fit it to her opening.
“Shay,” he said, and thrust to the hilt.
They both went still, then she made a sound, plaintive, beautiful, and backed into him, offering every inch of herself. He pushed forward into the wet and clasping heat and his mind spun away as instinct and want took over. Desire made a beast of him and he gripped her hair in one tight fist while the other hand crept around her hip to find her again, that scrap of flesh that was standing hard and ready.
He toyed with it even as he continued to drive himself inside her. She’d be sore, he’d probably already left bruises, but those thoughts were pounded to dust by the primal imperative of making his mark.
On a gasp, she surged back into the cradle of his hips, taking him to the root. She writhed there and he held fast, letting her muscles milk the climax from him. He strained under the power of it, quivering like an animal covering its mate.
Then he emptied...and for the first time in his entire life he felt filled.
When he could move, he rolled away from her and fell to his back. Glancing over at her still form, worry rushed in. “Are you all right?”
“As long as I never have to walk again,” she said, sounding drowsy.
Her spent voice motivated him to make for the bathroom. He returned with a warm, wet washcloth and a soft towel that he worked over her body with all the gentleness he hadn’t used before. Then he pulled one of his T-shirts over her head and pushed her arms through the sleeves.
“I need to go back to my room,” she murmured.
“Anything you want.”
He carried her there and tucked her into bed with great care. He kissed her forehead and then her mouth and he knew she was already half-gone. As he watched from the doorway, she turned to her side and curled up. He stayed a few minutes, watching her sleep, her hair spread out on the white pillow. She looked like a fairy taking a nap in a snowdrop.
“If I was a different man,” he whispered, repeating the words he’d said to her before, “I’d do just about anything to capture and keep you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Make Me Lose Control Page 27