by Sandra Brown
There was one piece of furniture in the room—a brass bed. Jade had admired it during her first visit to the house, although it had appeared hopelessly tarnished. Now, it shone in the beam of Dillon’s flashlight. In the Victorian style, the tall headboard was elaborate with swirls and curls. Pillows in fresh white linens were piled against it. There were fresh sheets and a comforter covering the mattress. Mosquito netting had been suspended from the ceiling to drape the bed.
Dumbfounded, Jade stood gazing at it all while Dillon moved to the marble fireplace and lit the candles that had been arranged on the hearth. Then he went around the room lighting dozens of other candles, until the pale moiré walls shimmered in the soft light and the brass bed beneath the gauze gleamed incandescently. When the last candle had been lit, he blew out the match and tossed it into the fireplace, then turned to face Jade. He looked sheepish and apprehensive.
“Well, what do you think?”
She raised her hands at her sides and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“I don’t have a lot to do most nights,” he said. “Ever since you swung the deal on this house, I’ve been coming here after hours, doing odd jobs.”
He directed an uneasy glance toward the bed. “It might seem presumptuous, I know. But I knew how much you liked this place. So I thought that if you ever… that if we… Hell.” He ran his hand around the back of his neck and shoved the other one into the waistband of his jeans.
“Look, I couldn’t take you to that damned trailer, okay? That’s about the least romantic setting imaginable and… and I thought you needed, deserved, to be romanced.” He muttered a string of curses. “I sound like a jerk, right? Well, I feel like a goddamn fool. The most romantic thing I’ve done for any woman, since Debra died, is ask her her name first.” He blew out a breath of pure disgust. “This probably wasn’t a good idea after all. You can back out if you want to.”
Mutely Jade shook her head.
“I won’t be mad, I swear,” he said. “Say you want to call it quits, and we’ll call it quits.”
She approached him. “I’m beginning to think you’re the one who’s scared, Dillon.”
“I am. I’m scared you might back out.” Gruffly he added, “I don’t want you to.”
“I’ll probably be a miserable flop.”
Candlelight was reflected in his intense stare. “That’s not possible.”
Self-consciously, she averted her gaze to the bed. “The room is lovely. Really. It was a thoughtful—and romantic—gesture.”
“Thanks.”
She brought her head back around and smiled shyly. “I’m glad it’s going to be with you, Dillon.”
He reached for her hand and clasped it. His thumb followed the bumpy ridge of her knuckles. “So am I. But why is it me?”
Her lashes swept down to obscure her eyes. “I’m still not sure I can go through with it, but… you’re the first man that ever made me wish I could. For the first time, I think it’s worth taking the risk.”
Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it. “At any point along the way, all you have to say is stop, and I’ll stop. I’ll probably curse. I might even cry,” he said with a half-smile. “But I’ll stop.”
She didn’t want him to stop what he was doing with her hand. He held it against his lips as he spoke, his breath leaving moist patches on her skin. He turned it slightly and, as he opened her fingers, sank his teeth into the plump base of her thumb.
Closing his eyes, he kissed the center of her palm, burying his mouth in the heart of it. His lips were warm and earnest, his tongue playful and erotic. He guided her index finger up to his mustache. He explored it from one curving end to the other with her fingertip, riding the rim of his upper lip.
Lightly, he scraped his teeth against her index finger. It tickled—on her finger and in her lower belly. He took turns with each of her fingers, nibbling the flesh, stroking the skin with his tongue.
Jade derived almost as much pleasure watching him as she did from feeling what he was doing. Candlelight picked up the lighter strands of his hair. Dark, stubby eyelashes lay against his cheekbones, which were faintly traced with squint lines. His mouth, with his fuller lower lip beneath the wide mustache, looked unmitigatedly sexy. Looking at it made her tummy feel like a cat, stretching with animalistic pleasure after a long sleep.
He kissed the inside of her wrist, then worked his way up to the bend of her elbow. She felt the damp sweep of his tongue and the slick surface of his teeth as he drew her skin against them. The side of his head bumped against her breast, and Jade feared the dreaded panic had returned. But slowly, from the center of her breast, her body told her this was good and right.
“They’re supposed to get hard.”
She didn’t realize she had breathed the words aloud until Dillon’s head came up. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you say?”
“I said… said that they’re supposed to get hard.”
“What are?”
“My nipples.”
He lowered his eyes to them. “Are they?”
She nodded. “When you rubbed your head against me.”
“Did it feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Have I done anything so far that you didn’t like?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“You stopped to chat.”
He chuckled softly. “See? I’m slipping back into my old ways. I’m expecting something to go wrong when I want like hell for everything to go right.”
As though this were a slow routine that they enacted every night, he raised her arms and laid them on his shoulders. Clasping her loosely around the waist, he drew her closer, until their bodies made contact. As he adjusted them together, Jade couldn’t conceal her astonishment.
“Your nipples aren’t all that get hard, Jade,” he reminded her in a rough whisper. Pressing his forehead against hers, he continued in the same, urgent tone. “It’s only flesh. It’s me, and you’re not afraid of me, are you?”
He waited for her to answer. She finally shook her head, rolling her forehead from side to side against his.
“Please don’t be afraid of me.”
“I’m not.”
“Then kiss me.” He angled his head back and looked down at her. “Kiss me, Jade.”
“I have.”
“No, I’ve kissed you. There’s a difference.”
She wanted to prove to him that she wouldn’t chicken out. More important, she needed to prove it to herself. She slid her fingers up through his hair, drawing his head down as she simultaneously went up on tiptoe. She pressed her mouth against his.
His response was lukewarm at best, and that piqued her. “It would help if you kissed back.”
“You’re not kissing me. We’re touching lips. That doesn’t count.”
Her fear of intimacy warred with her determination to defeat it. On tiptoes again, she tested the line between his firm lips with the tip of her tongue. It gave way, and suddenly she was skimming the inner lining of his mouth with her tongue, rubbing against his, tasting Dillon. She drew his head down farther. His mouth closed upon hers.
Something wonderfully sexy happened. They both felt it. Making a hungry sound, he crossed his arms at the small of her back, bending her against his middle. Because Jade still felt that she was in control, she allowed it. In fact, she welcomed the solid heat of his body.
For the first time in fifteen years, she let her senses run wildly ungoverned. She relished the feel and taste of his mouth. The texture of his hair and skin were new and exciting pleasures to her fingertips. Her ears enjoyed the yearning sounds that issued from his throat with a sexy vibration. His strength didn’t frighten her. It felt good where her softness cushioned and complemented it. Explosive sensations erupted at every point where they touched.
The kisses continued. As her desire mounted, she thrust her tongue deeper into his mouth. He responded in kind un
til each kiss was an act of love, a carnal exchange.
Finally, out of breath, Jade tore her mouth free and leaned against him weakly. “Dillon, can we please sit down?”
“Let’s lie down.”
She pushed away from him.
His eyes were lambent, intent, but his voice was reassuringly low. “Okay?”
The thought of lying down with him made her heart strike loud and hard against her ribs. Apprehensively, she glanced toward the bed.
He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers and drew her head back around. “Side by side, Jade. I won’t lie on top of you.”
She moistened her lips. They tasted like Dillon—wonderfully like Dillon. “All right. Side by side.” Nodding in agreement, he stepped away from her and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m not ready to take off my clothes yet,” she said quickly.
“That’s fine.”
Apparently her choice didn’t alter his. He peeled off his shirt and dropped it to the floor. He wasn’t wearing a belt. The waistband of his old jeans was so bleached out, the threads were almost completely white. It curled outward, away from his body, creating a tantalizing gap between it and his flat, hair-spattered abdomen. Parting the mosquito netting, he dropped to the side of the bed and tugged off his boots one at a time, then removed his socks.
He stretched out on his back, his tanned skin looking dark against the white sheets and mound of pillows. He extended his hand to her through the part in the netting. With trepidation, she lowered herself to his side. She slipped out of her sandals, but that was the only concession she made before closing the mosquito net.
Without his shirt, he seemed more threateningly male, and his raw masculinity began to overwhelm her. The dizzy euphoria that their kisses had created began to dissipate. The giddy sparks twinkled out one by one, like the embers from a dying firework. She felt the blackness of fear descending on her. Apparently Dillon sensed it, too.
He said softly, “I’m made out of the same tissue as you are, Jade. It’s just shaped differently.”
She glanced at his wide, hairy chest, the drastic dip that his abdomen took beneath his ribcage, the mystery of his navel, and the evident bulge in his crotch. “Quite.”
With his index fingertip, he touched one corner of her anxious frown. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
“It’s not bad at all,” she replied huskily. “I like the way you look. I have since I first saw you through the binoculars.”
He frowned with puzzlement. “Binoculars?” From the tip of his thumb to the tip of his little finger, he could almost span the width of her back. He rubbed his hand up and down her spine.
“Remember in L.A., when I recruited you, I told you I had been watching your work for several days. I watched you through binoculars from my hotel room across the street. Several times I thought you sensed me watching you. You seemed to look right at me.” Her blue eyes found his and held. “You took my breath.”
His hand stopped moving on her back and burned like a brand through the thin cloth of her blouse.
“I didn’t know how to respond to the way you made me feel,” she confessed in a throaty voice.
“What about now?”
“I still don’t know how to respond.”
“Find out.”
“How?”
“Touch me. The promise still holds,” he added. “I won’t touch back. Not if you don’t want me to.”
Warily she regarded his bare chest. “I would rather just kiss some more, if that’s all right.”
His smile was only a little strained. “I can stand that, I think.” He reached to pull her down to his level, but she bristled. His hands relaxed on her arms. “If we’re going to kiss, we’ve got to get our mouths on the same level. Lie down, Jade.”
After several tense moments, she stiffly lay down. He cupped her face between his hands and drew it toward his. Their mouths came together in another deep, wet kiss. It was soft, sensual, sexy. Provocatively, his tongue moved in and out of her mouth. Before long, the kiss wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
It was easier to touch him when she wasn’t looking him in the eye. Timidly, she laid her hand on his chest. He grunted with surprise and pleasure, but didn’t release her mouth from his thorough kiss.
His skin was warm. His chest hair felt springy and alive against her palm. His nipple was raised and firm. She could feel it in the center of her hand. For several minutes she couldn’t bring herself to move. But his kisses were potent, pulling from her all her anxiety and imbuing her with a restless curiosity and desire.
She moved her fingertips a fraction. More hard muscle. More hair. Her thumb glanced his nipple. He sucked in a quick breath and held it. Jade’s hand froze where it was.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he rasped. “Don’t stop.”
“I didn’t expect you to feel so—”
“So what, Jade?”
“So… nice.”
Laughing softly, he buried his face in her hair and hugged her close. He rolled her on top of him. The shift in positions was so sudden and unexpected that Jade didn’t have time to prepare for the shock of lying between his thighs. Frozen, she stared down into his face.
“If you don’t like it, we can change it,” he said solemnly.
After analyzing it, she realized that she was experiencing arousal, not fear. It had been years since she had necked with Gary Parker. Because it had been so long since she had felt like this, she almost hadn’t recognized it for what it was.
Yet the adolescent petting they had done couldn’t compare to this. Gary had been a boy. Dillon was unquestionably a man and she was no longer a girl. She had been a woman for years, but Dillon was the first man to make her aware of her womanliness. It was a heady, exhilarating awakening.
His erection nestled in the vee of her thighs. Warmth radiated from that point of contact to every other part of her body. Her femininity felt feverish. It pulsed with the sweet swelling of arousal. She was aching, and it was delicious.
“I like it, but I don’t know what to do,” she said on an anguished whisper.
“Do whatever you want to, Jade. This isn’t a test. I’m not grading you. You can’t pass or fail. Anything you do is right.”
She lowered her lips to his for another kiss. He held her head steady between his hands while his mouth engaged hers in an orgy of kissing that left them gasping. She threw back her head to draw a breath; he seized the moment and nuzzled her throat. He raised one hand to the first button on her blouse.
“What…? No.”
Keeping his hand where it was, he said, “This is part of it, Jade.”
“I know, but—”
“I want to see you. Let me touch you.” Their eyes remained locked. Finally he said, “Okay. If you don’t want me to.”
“No, wait.” She hesitated only a moment longer before walking her hands backward over his chest and stomach. Sitting back on her heels between his thighs, she drew Dillon into a sitting position and guided his hand toward her chest. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Never. I never would. I want to show you how good it can feel to be touched.”
She nodded assent and released his hand. He undid the first button and moved to the second. His movements were unhurried. When he was finished with the buttons, he eased the hem of her blouse from the waistband of her skirt. Then, reaching inside the loose blouse, he bracketed her ribcage.
“Can I touch your breast, Jade?”
His hands felt cool against her skin. They were callused and rough, but his touch was gentle.
“Yes.”
He cupped her left breast. “Tell me if I hurt you. Tell me when to stop.”
“I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me. I’m afraid I’ll be unable to stand it. I’m afraid it’ll make me remember, and the memory will ruin it.”
“Don’t think about anything but now. Concentrate on the sensations.” He kneaded her gently through her brassiere. He lightly rubbed his knuckles across her nipple. It
drew taut. Involuntarily, she made a small purring sound.
“I’d like to unfasten your bra.”
She nodded.
Reaching behind her, he undid the hook, then slipped his hand into the loose cup and took her breast in his hand. She gasped his name.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Soundlessly, she shook her head.
His hand moved over her breast experimentally. It defined and reshaped. She bit her lip when his caress finally focused on her nipple. It was hard and distended even before he began fondling it. “Jesus, you’re perfect, Jade.” He continued to sweep his thumb across the rigid tip, barely touching it, eliciting chills and heat waves.
Jade, made weak by his caresses, bowed her head forward and rested it on his shoulder. She put her arms around him. Her nails sank into the supple flesh of his back.
“Jade, I want to put my mouth on you. Here.” He pressed her nipple. “Can I do that?”
She gave her consent with a small movement of her head against his shoulder.
He parted her blouse and worked down the cups of her bra. She felt the night air from the open window on her exposed skin. It felt cool against her flushed breasts. His first kiss was soft, tender, affectionate. His lips flirted with her skin. His tongue teased. He brushed the raised tip of her breast with his mustache until she thought she would go mad from the unbearable pleasure.
Then his lips drew her in and surrounded her with the hot, sweet, sucking motions of his mouth. Each gentle tug plucked corresponding chords of response deep within her womb. They were glorious, mind-boggling, compelling. Reflexively, she came up to a kneeling position, making herself more accessible. Dillon cradled her breast between his hands as though he drank from a life-giving chalice. When he withdrew his mouth, he nuzzled her with his nose and rubbed his hard cheek against her, before taking her into his mouth again.
Her clothing kept getting in his way, and it aggravated her as much as it did him. “If I slide your blouse off your shoulders, will you pull your arms out of the sleeves?” he asked hoarsely. “Please, Jade.”