Her Mountainside Haven

by Jo McNally

  “Okay,” she whispered, staring up into his deepening blue eyes. “Anything else?”

  He blurted out all of his fears. “Tell me what I should do if something does go wrong. I don’t want to be left helpless. I need to know what to expect.”

  How could he make love to her if he had to watch her every move for a sign of a panic attack? That would be a mood killer, and he didn’t want anything interfering with this moment.

  Chapter Ten

  “I stand before you tonight to tell you that it is time!” Monica slapped her sword against her shield, then held it high. The resistance army did the same, sending thunder echoing across the mountains.

  How could Jillie reassure him without spoiling the moment any more than she already had? She’d considered leading him up here all week—even had the bed ready each night, but it wasn’t until tonight that she’d found the courage to do it. What she hadn’t anticipated was that his courage would be the problem. Matt was a caregiver, and it was tripping him up to face a situation he might not be able to fix.

  “If the worst happens and I panic...” She put her hand over his against her cheek. “And I don’t think it will. I wouldn’t have brought you up here if I wasn’t ready. But if it does happen...” She patted his hand, knowing he was going to hate her answer. “There’s not much you can do, other than stay calm yourself and let me work through it. Maybe call Sophie up. She knows to cuddle into my lap and distract me. She makes eye contact, and it helps keep me in the present. Worst-case scenario, I end up rocking in the corner trying to breathe.” He started to pull back, but she gripped his hand and stopped him. “That’s the worst case, Matt. You wanted honesty, and I’m giving it. It’s not fatal. Even if I pass out, I won’t die.”

  They stood in silence, the bed beckoning next to them. She’d made the move to get them up here. She’d answered his questions. It was up to him now. His hands dropped to her hips, drawing her up against him. She didn’t react, waiting for the turmoil in his eyes to clear. This internal battle was his to fight. Another moment passed, then his mouth curved into the softest of smiles.

  “I want you.” He kissed her. “I want you in that bed and naked against me. As long as you promise not to die.” He kissed her again, with more intensity. His arms went around her, his fingers moving against her skin, setting it on fire. His kisses traced a path to her ear, his next words barely a breath. “If you’re brave enough to stand here and take all this time reassuring me, then I’m sure as hell brave enough to do this...”

  His hands slid up her back, still holding her tight against him. He deftly unhooked her bra, then slid the straps off her shoulders. He leaned back and watched as the bra fell from her breasts. A sharp breath—almost a hiss—escaped his lips. His hands moved to cup her breasts, and now it was her turn to hiss. It felt so good.

  Her head fell back, eyes closed. She concentrated on the feel of his thumbs brushing her peaks gently, then pinching. It sent a sharp jolt of electrical current straight to her lower abdomen. He held her completely. Her breasts. Her heart. Her soul. His head dropped and he took her breast into his mouth, groaning as he tugged and nipped at her. Her knees trembled, but he caught her with one arm around her back, lowering her slowly to the bed without lifting his mouth from her.

  He knelt on the mattress, holding her steady, pulling her farther onto the bed. She felt secure in his arms. And confident enough to do her own exploring. Her fingers went under his shirt, splaying against his skin and flexing against the hard muscles of his chest.

  “Not fair,” she murmured. “You still have too many clothes on.”

  “That’s easy enough to fix.” He straightened, tearing his shirt off with one hard motion. It landed on the floor near her sweater. He stared down at her with ice and fire in his eyes.

  “You’re so damn beautiful.” His voice was thick with emotion. With desire. For her. It was a heady feeling to know that he wanted her. She grinned, sliding her hands up his chest and watching him shudder at his touch.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He reached down and cupped her breasts again, gripping them, kneading them, pinching them until she started writhing under him. He stared into her eyes, his smile deepening as she moved. He was straddling her, and she arched her back, desperate for more contact. He raised an eyebrow at her, still holding himself up, knowing full well he was stoking her need with his magic fingers.

  Fine. She had fingers, too. They found his belt buckle and went to work, freeing first the belt and then his jeans. She slid them down over his hips. Her fingers pried under the waistband of his black boxer briefs, and soon they were down around his hard thighs, too.

  And speaking of hard...she gripped him. His entire body jerked at her touch. His eyes were closed, and he was lost in sensation. No problem, because she was lost, too. Lost in the feel of him. In the power she had over him. In the desire rising up like a phoenix inside her—a fire she’d thought was gone forever.

  “Wait...” Matt mumbled, sliding off the bed to finish shedding the rest of his clothing. He also grabbed a couple of foil packets from his pocket, one brow arching high when he saw her eyeing them. “Don’t condemn me for having hope, babe.”

  She stretched on the bed, then lifted her hips so she could shimmy out of her jeans, nodding toward the nightstand.

  “I wonder what they thought at the grocery store when I added condoms to my weekly shopping list for the first time in four years.”

  He laughed out loud at that. “So you were prepared, too?” She nodded with a playful grin, and he was still chuckling. “Hope springs eternal, eh?” He crawled back onto the bed, straddling her, grabbing a packet, and ripping it open. His smile fell slightly. “You okay with this?”

  “I’m very okay with it.”

  And she was. She didn’t want to examine that too much, for fear of ruining the moment. She reached up for him, and he obliged, lowering himself into her embrace. They lay like that, holding each other, feeling skin against skin, hearts racing in perfect rhythm.

  He kissed her, hard and urgent, and his hips moved against her. She felt him settle between her legs and press. He stopped, as if waiting for permission. She granted it by rising up to meet him, and then...he filled her with one smooth motion. They froze, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

  She wasn’t sure who started to move first. It just happened. The only sound was their breathing, heavy and hard, quickening as their bodies quickened. She said his name. He said hers. Again. And again...louder now. The pace was intensifying. He grunted in her ear, groaning in what sounded like agony, but she totally understood. Because she felt it, too.

  Something was building. Passion. Raw physical demand. She wanted the thrill of release as much as he did, but neither of them wanted this to end. It was a perfect agony. Fall, or try to hang on as long as they could. Her fingernails dug in harder. Behind her tightly closed eyelids, colors exploded like fireworks. Just a little bit longer...

  “Jillie...I can’t...are you...?”

  She ran her lips down his neck, salty with sweat.

  “I’m ready...”

  They exploded together. Jillie got lost in her head for a second, doing that writer thing where she puzzled about word choices. Explosion may be too mild a word for what just happened. Yes, a white-hot light seemed to fill the room for an instant. They’d both cried out. They’d both spiraled back to earth clasping each other. Kissing whatever skin was available—neck, shoulder, ear, jawline. Her insides felt like jelly, and her whole body trembled like a freshly struck bell. No simple explosion could do all that, right? Maybe the force of neutrons colliding in a controlled environment...no, there was nothing controlled about where they’d just gone in her bed. Explosion was inadequate. But she had no other word that came close. She shuddered, and Matt let out a long, low groan.

  “Holy... What the... Baby, I...” Clearly, h
e was having the same problem with words that she was. His head dropped to her shoulder, his weight covering her like a warm, weighted blanket. Her own personal ThunderShirt. His lips moved against the skin at the base of her neck. “All I can say is...wow.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, sweeping it off his forehead and looking deep into his eyes. “Excellent word choice.”

  He huffed a laugh against her. “I know I’m crushing you, but...give me a minute, okay? I seriously don’t think I can move right now. I think you turned me into one of your stone monsters, rooted straight into the mountain.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured, still stroking his hair. “Maybe this is how my heroine Monica should defeat them...just sex them into submission.”

  “That would definitely be a book I’d read, but the rest of your fans might be a bit shocked.”

  She was tracing her fingers up and down his back now. They were both covered with a thin sheen of sweat. From exertion. From adrenaline. He kissed her shoulder and started to move to one side.

  “I’d be happier if we kept this magic trick to ourselves, though. Just because I’m falling for a writer doesn’t mean I want to show up in your books.” He’d managed—with one more groan—to slide off her. But one arm and one leg still draped across her, weighing her down. Maybe he knew she needed to be held down or she’d float away like a dandelion ball of feathery seeds.

  He propped his head on one arm, looking down into her face. “You haven’t answered me.”

  She frowned, trying to remember what question he’d asked. Then she realized it wasn’t exactly a question, but a statement he’d wanted her to reassure him about. Her smile returned.

  “It’s an occupational hazard of dating a writer, Matt. We are always looking for fresh material and plot bunnies.” He hadn’t used the word dating, though. He’d said he was falling for a writer. Falling for her. Her heart did a quiet little somersault in her chest. She stuck with the safer subject of writing. “I was given a T-shirt once that said ‘I’m a writer—anything you do or say could end up in my book.’”

  He nodded, unfazed. “Fair enough. Will you at least be generous in your descriptions of me? You know...best sex you ever had in your entire life and all that...” Matt’s face fell, and Jillie knew her past had just reentered the relationship. She raised her head to kiss him, long, soft and sweet.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t pre-edit your words around me. If I don’t like something you say, I’ll tell you. I won’t hold it against you. I’m not looking for ways to bring my trauma front and center all the time. I’m not.” She stared straight into his eyes, wanting him to feel the truth of what she was saying, even as she tried to lighten the moment. “I’ve paid therapists a whole lot of money to make sure that one tragedy doesn’t define me.”

  He flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling and muttering to himself. “I’m blowing this, aren’t I? All night I’ve been the one acting like an anxious victim, anticipating...whatever. I’m the one who keeps inviting this damn conversation about stuff you don’t want to talk about...”

  “Whoa. Easy there, big guy.” She patted his shoulder. “This is new for you. But it’s just another day in the life for me.”

  He opened one eye and slid his gaze her way. “Well, so much for my ego.” He put his hand over his heart in a show of despair. “Just another day. And here I thought we had some stellar, lifetime-goals sort of sex tonight. But sure...just another day...”

  Giggling, she scrambled to lie on top of him, staring down at his face as he held her there.

  “I was most definitely not referring to the sex, and you know it. The sex was...” She paused, then shook her head. “As a writer, I am rarely unable to describe something, but what we did defies description, Matt. It was even better than I’d dreamed, and I dreamed about it, believe me.” She tapped his nose playfully. “How’s that for your manly ego? I dreamed about making love with you.”

  He chuckled. “That definitely helps the ego, thanks.” His hand stroked her back, holding her above him. “And that sparkle in your eyes helps, too. You look like a satisfied woman.”

  She pretended to think for a moment, staring up into the air. “Hmm...yeah, I guess you could say I’m satisfied.” She buried her face against his neck. Emotions were coming at her fast and furious, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. Even good stress was still...stress. And she wasn’t sure how to deal with the fact that she already wanted to do it all over again. “And a tired one.”

  He hesitated. “Do you want me to go?”

  “No.” Her quick answer surprised them both. She thought about it, then repeated herself. “No, I don’t want you to go, Matt.”

  “Good.” He rolled over so she was under him again. He kissed her hard and long. “Are you too tired to...?”

  As much as she thought she needed time to process, she answered the question before he finished asking.

  “I’m not too tired for that. In fact, I was worried you might not ask.”

  “Cut me some slack, Jillie. Men don’t bounce back quite as fast as women do. But you’ve worked some magic on me, because there’s nothing I’d rather do right now than make love to you again.”

  * * *

  Matt watched as the soft light of morning slid into the loft and across Jillie’s sleeping face. Despite the peaceful silence, he knew his life had just been riotously upended. Making love to Jillie Coleman for one single night had changed...everything.

  He reached out to sweep a strand of dark hair from over her eyes. She murmured something and wrinkled her nose before sighing back into a deep and contented sleep. How could she be anything but contented after the night they’d just had? That wasn’t just his ego talking—although, the soft smile on those kiss-swollen lips made him feel damn proud. They’d laughed and loved for hours on end. Whispering sweet words, then crying out. Tracing fingers gently across sweaty skin, then holding tight to keep from falling into a whirl of sensation that seemed both dangerous and oh, so tempting. Exploring...constantly exploring. And wanting to do it all over again, just in case they’d missed some tantalizing spot.

  A soft quilt covered her lower body, but his eyes were able to leisurely take in her breasts, her ivory skin, her cocoa-colored hair and lips of dusty rose. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, without question. His forehead gathered. But what now?

  Sure, he’d been fascinated by his bossy, uptight neighbor from the start. She was clever and fun to talk to, even when they were arguing. They liked the same books and movies and stuff, for the most part. They were...compatible. She was a lot of fun to kiss. His fingers brushed her lips, making her flinch and sigh again in her sleep. The sound shot through him like electricity. Damn, he wanted her again. Before now, he’d have said he wasn’t physically capable of this many repeats in one night. Jillie was turning a lot of his assumptions upside down.

  Like the one where he thought his life had a predetermined path. Raise Bryce. Protect Bryce. Manage Bryce’s career. Move every few years in order to do that properly. No entanglements. He huffed a soft laugh at that one, looking down at Jillie. She had him tangled up so tight he could barely see that plan anymore. He couldn’t see his future...at least not a future without her in it.

  It’s not like he ever made a conscious decision to be a lifelong bachelor back when he’d vowed to be his brother’s parent, adviser, chaperone and bodyguard. That was just the way it happened. And he’d been doing it for so long now. Would Jillie join them on the ski tour? Highly unlikely, with her phobias. Could Bryce behave himself out there without Matt nearby? Unlikely, but...maybe. Nah. The kid had always had a wild streak. More than a stranger like Shane Brannigan could be expected to handle.

  A soft touch to his cheek snapped him out of his musing with a start. Jillie’s fingers traced along his bottom lip. She was smiling up at him.

  “You look very serious for som
eone who...well, you know.”

  “For someone who just had the best night of his life?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I was enjoying watching you sleep.”

  “Try again. You were a million miles away. What were you thinking about?”

  He stared at her, then sighed. “Life. The world. Random big thoughts like that.” He kissed her forehead. “That’s what rockin’ sex does, you know. Makes you examine your place in the universe.”

  She pressed her lips together, holding back a smile. “Wow. All it does for me is make me sleepy.” She looked around the room, which was brightening as the sun began sliding up over the mountain on the far side of the lake. “And hungry.”

  His eyes slid across her bare chest again, and he pulled her closer, speaking against her lips.

  “Yeah, I’m hungry, too.”

  Her laugh was husky and downright erotic in his ears.

  “Again? Are you a superhuman who doesn’t need sleep?”

  “Who needs sleep when I can reenergize just by looking at you?”

  Her eyes went soft, then closed as he kissed her hard and deep. Their bodies came together this time as if they’d been lovers for years. No surprises. Knowing what the other needed. Natural. Sexy as hell. And ultimately, both explosive and satisfying.

  Two things dragged them out of bed an hour later. Hunger and Sophie. The dog had begrudgingly stayed on her bed downstairs as ordered, but her persistent whine told them she’d run out of patience and bladder strength.

  Jillie cooked French toast for breakfast, sprinkling it with sugar before turning it, like they did in Europe. When he asked about it, she told him she’d spent a summer traveling around Europe with college friends. His eyebrow rose, and she shook her head at him as she refilled their coffee mugs, then sat back down.

  “I told you I was a completely different person back then, Matt. My coping mechanism was to drown my issues in booze, parties and...random sex. The easy girl is the popular girl.” She lifted her shoulder. “That’s what I told myself, anyway.”