by LuAnn McLane
“I wanted you someplace warm,” he explained as if guessing her thoughts.
An easel was set up a few feet away and Claire noticed a coffee can full of various-sized pencils and erasers. Despite a sudden wave of nerves she was curious about Jesse Marshall the artist.After taking a sip of her wine, she asked,“So you do more than just the Santa carvings?”
He nodded. “My father taught me wood carving at an early age. I developed a deep appreciation of art from my parents. It’s something that’s in my blood,” he added, and Claire hoped he would elaborate, but he frowned for a second and then seemed to shake off whatever was bothering him. “The statues are my bread and butter, but I enjoy many forms of art, from watercolor to pottery, but charcoal has always been a favorite medium.” He grinned. “I might not look like it, but I have a master’s degree.”
“Now, why would you say that?”
“Be honest, Claire.” He angled his head at her. “When I walked into the train station, did I look as if I should be painting landscapes or chopping down trees?”
“Chopping down trees,” she answered, and took another sip of the red wine. “What did I look like?”
“High maintenance. Haughty.”
“Haughty?” She snorted. “I’m anything but …”
“I know that now.”With a roll of masking tape in his hand, he walked over to where she sat on the rug.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“Tape you down so you can’t run away.”
“Right …”
“After I position you, I’ll mark it off, so if you have to take a break, we know just where you were sitting.”
“Oh, makes sense,” Claire commented, and tried to ignore the tingle she felt when he took her ankle and put it where he wanted. His hands were warm … strong. She wanted to reach out and touch him … run her fingers through his hair.
“Charcoal is all about lighting and shading, so I want you to face the fireplace at an angle and sort of look over your shoulder.It’s overcast outside, so there will be some amazing shadows to work with.” He took her chin in his hand and, after turning her head at an angle, pushed her mass of curls over her shoulder. He seemed so serious that Claire allowed him to position her the way he wanted without any more questions. He walked over to the easel, looked at her for a moment, and then came back and marked her feet off with the masking tape. She was so very glad that she had just had a pedicure and that her toenails were a glossy red against the off-white rug.“Can you hold that pose for a while?”
“Yes,” she replied, but was careful to remain still.
“Good, but it’s more difficult than it seems, so just let me know if you need a break.”
“Okay,” she replied, and then watched him go to work. He seemed so intense and the heat in his eyes when he studied her made her suddenly wonder what it would have been like to be posing nude.
He sketched broad strokes with a fat pencil and then came over and slightly repositioned her chin, her shoulders, and then her ankle. “You holding up okay?” he asked, and then gave her a drink of her wine. “Warm enough?” When Claire nodded, the robe slipped from one shoulder, but when she reached up to put it back, he said, “Will you leave it? The slope of your shoulder is incredibly graceful.”
Claire nodded, and with a frown on his handsome face, Jesse drew, put his thumb forward with one eye open as if measuring, and then went back to big, sweeping strokes. Claire watched, mesmerized, not realizing that she was barely breathing. When she took a deep breath, the robe slid from her other shoulder, leaving her back and the curve of her left breast exposed. Her heart pounded, but when he continued to sketch, she didn’t want to disturb his concentration and left the robe pooled at her waist. A few moments later he came over to her, tilted her head a fraction, and then while holding her gaze reached down and loosened the belt on the robe. Neither of them spoke, but when his fingers barely grazed her body, she felt a jolt of sexual heat and didn’t protest when he parted the terry cloth and pushed it from her body.
As Jesse sketched, his sweeping strokes became more refined and he reached for different pencils. He angled his head, studied her with a quiet intensity that felt like a physical touch. At one point he picked up a rag and swiped it back and forth across the paper and then began sketching once more. His hands became blackened from the charcoal and he smudged a bit on his nose and cheek but didn’t seem to notice or care. The passion in Jesse’s eyes felt hot and caused Claire’s nipples to tighten and heat to pool between her thighs.
Jesse chewed on the inside of his lip and shoved his fingers through his hair. He had sketched plenty of nudes in college but never a woman whom he had made love to; this was an amazingly sensual experience. He was literally putting passion on the page. Every stroke of the pencil on the velvety surface felt as if he were caressing her curves, and he become more and more aroused. Claire’s over-the-shoulder pose was almost coy, and yet the heat in her eyes told a much different story. She was sweet, smoky heat, and he wanted to kiss her, touch her, lick her all over … everywhere, and then make love to her until she cried out his name again and again, and by the time he was finished with the drawing, he was crazy with wanting her.
Jesse looked at the drawing, angled his head at Claire, and had to steady his trembling fingers before adding a few details. He stepped back and smiled slowly. He had done it … captured her natural beauty, her sensuality, and yet her eyes held a sense of humor and her mouth a touch of vulnerability.
Claire Collins.
Through his eyes she was sheer perfection, and his Christmas gift to her was for her to know that she was a gorgeous, sexy woman.
“May I see it?” Her voice was husky, sexy, and her eyes were full of passion.
“Yes,” Jesse answered. “Come here.” When she reached for the robe, he shook his head. “Leave it.”
She licked her lips and hesitated but then stood up and walked over to the easel. She stood in front of Jesse, and his heart pounded while she gazed at the drawing. “Oh, my … ,” she said breathily, and put a hand to her chest. “Oh, Jesse, it’s stunning. Perfect!” She tilted her head and studied the sketch. “But … that’s not … I’m not …That can’t be … me.”
Jesse put his hands on her shoulders and looked at the sketch with her. “Oh, yes it is,” he whispered in her ear.“And this is what I see when I look at you.” He let her drink that in, then added, “You are beautiful. Alluring.” He slid his hands up and sank his fingers into her silky curls. “You’re sensual, but you somehow maintain an air of innocence … honesty. Claire, you’re gorgeous from the inside out.” He slid his hands down and squeezed her shoulders.“Don’t ever doubt yourself, okay?”
She stood there for a minute looking at the sketch, and when she reached up and swiped at her cheek, Jesse felt as if the hard ball of anger that he had been carrying inside since the death of his parents was finally starting to melt. After years of cutting himself off from soft emotion, she was making him feel again, laugh again….
Live again.
Claire turned and cupped his cheeks between her palms and then kissed him tenderly. “Thank you, Jesse.”
Emotion clogged Jesse’s throat and he had to pause before he said,“You’re welcome.” And then, without warning, he bent down and scooped Claire up into his arms.
After a little squeal she asked, “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to my bed.”
“Ah, I guess it’s time for an afternoon nap… .”
“Guess again.”
Chapter Nine
Jesse zigzagged and spun in circles, making Claire hang on for dear life but laugh with delight. She felt carefree and light as air in his strong arms, but when he entered his bedroom, she sucked in a breath. “Oh, Jesse, this room is magnificent.”
“Thank you.”
High beamed cathedral ceilings allowed room for the massive four-poster king-sized bed against the back wall.The rustic furniture appeared strong and sturdy
but again managed to have a smooth artsy elegance that invited touch. Deep maroon covered the bed and accented the windows, and a lovely Oriental rug added a splash of additional color against the hardwood floor. Light spilled in from the A-framed exit leading to a back deck with a lovely view of the woods. A stone fireplace was tucked in the far corner with a leather chaise lounge that called for a good book and a mug of hot chocolate.
But instead of placing Claire on the bed, Jesse walked through double doors leading to a master bath.“I have charcoal all over my hands and I managed to get it all over you. Mind if we wash off?”
Claire shook her head. “Of course not,” she answered, and as he put her gently on her feet, she tried to avoid looking at her naked reflection. She thought about reaching for a white fluffy towel but didn’t want to get charcoal on it, so she stood there while he started soaping up his hands. But when she started to turn the faucet on her sink, he shook his head. “What?”
“Come closer,” he requested while he washed his hands. He chuckled when he removed the smudges from his face, but after tugging off his shirt, he turned to Claire. “Since I’m the one who did this to you, it’s only fair that I clean you up. Don’t you agree?” he asked, but without waiting for her reply, he started soaping her breasts.
“There wasn’t any charcoal there.”
“Really?” he asked innocently, and then turned her so that he stood behind her and she faced the mirror.“My bad …” He soaked a washcloth in warm water and took his sweet time wiping the soap from her nipples. There was heat in his eyes but something playful that wasn’t there before, and she loved seeing this side of him.When she felt that the time was right, she was going to find out what had happened that took away his Christmas joy.
“There’s some,” he said, and slowly washed a dark streak away from her ribs.The warm rough material felt amazing on her sensitive skin, and he continued dipping the cloth in the water and washing her long after the charcoal was gone. Her skin glowed, tingled. With a moan he suddenly dropped the cloth and caressed her with his bare hands.When he dipped his dark head and kissed her shoulder, she leaned back against his chest and watched. Claire sucked in a breath when he cupped her breasts, lifting, toying, while he rubbed the pads of his thumbs over her nipples.While he began a trail of warm kisses up her neck, his hands traveled lower, and when he slid a finger lightly over her mound, her breath hitched, caught. He parted her folds while kissing her neck and then touched her clit just as he nibbled on her earlobe.
Claire felt as if she were heavy and yet floating at the same time, and when he sucked her earlobe into his hot mouth, he rubbed her intimately, dipping and then swirling. Her heart pounded and she fought the urge to close her eyes as she watched his hands work magic.When her breath became shallow, gasping, he raised his head and met her eyes in the mirror just before she climaxed. She pressed her shoulders against his chest and thrust her breasts forward when the sharp, exquisite feeling climbed higher … reaching … and then burst open with pleasure. “Jesse!”
He wrapped one strong arm around her waist for support when she sank limply against him. His other hand remained between her thighs, and when she closed her eyes, Jesse said, “No, baby, look.”
And so she did.
Her hair curled wildly over her shoulders and her eyes were dilated with passion. Her lips were wet and her cheeks were flushed a deep rose. Looking down, she gazed at her full breasts, the curve of her hips, and the flare of her thighs.
“Tell me—what do you see?”
Beauty.
“Say it.”
“I can’t.”
“You can,” he urged, and when her gaze locked with his in the mirror, she saw it in his eyes.
“I’m beautiful,” she said barely above a whisper.
“Don’t forget it,” he reiterated, and she was hit with a touch of sadness. He wanted her to say it and believe it after she left here. Left him.
Jesse looked at her and smiled, but his eyes seemed to echo her thoughts. But not wanting to waste a minute of their borrowed time, she said, “The charcoal is gone. Take me to your bed.” When he scooped her up again, she whooped and then laughed. “Show-off!”
“Is it working?”
“Absolutely.”
For the rest of the afternoon they used every square foot of the bed and explored every square inch of skin. Out of sheer necessity they paused to eat, but Jesse’s tray of finger foods and flutes of mimosa led to their feeding each other.
“Mmmm,” Claire moaned when Jesse sank a plump strawberry into chocolate dip and then slipped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, then arched up off the bed when she felt a cold sensation on her nipple quickly followed by the moist heat of his tongue. “Um … Jesse, that chocolate dip is for the fruit.”
“Okay,” he replied, and then swiped a thick streak of chocolate down her torso.
“Jesse …” Claire rose to her elbows, but her protest died on her lips when he took a juicy piece of pineapple and slid it slowly through the chocolate on her skin and then fed it to her. He did the same thing near her navel and then painted a happy face on the inside of her thigh before licking it off. Claire giggled, but then sucked in a breath when his chocolate-dipped finger moved to her mound. He took a cool, smooth slice of apple through the chocolate and then dipped lower, parting her folds.The apple felt even colder next to her moist heat, and when he slipped it over her swollen bud, Claire gasped. She was sensitive and almost sore from the day before, but when he rubbed it back and forth, the ache was painfully sweet. She fisted her hands in the sheet, thinking that he couldn’t make her come yet again. Her heart thudded. Her chest rose and fell. She leaned back on her elbows and closed her eyes and tried to protest when the cool apple was suddenly gone….
But was replaced by his warm, silky mouth.
He licked her with soothing strokes as if savoring her taste, her scent … her body. She bent her knees and then threaded her fingers through his hair while he gently made love to her with his mouth. When she climaxed, it felt suspended, blossoming slowly but lasting forever. She opened her mouth but failed to utter a sound, then fell back against the pillows.
Claire felt the heat of his body above her, and when he threaded his fingers with hers and kissed her with a lingering sweetness, she knew that she was falling hard and fast for Jesse Marshall.
He rolled over, pulled her against him, and then tugged the covers up over their bodies. Claire sighed and snuggled into his embrace. She couldn’t begin to recall when she’d felt so satisfied, so relaxed, or this content. She smiled when he kissed her shoulder and then the back of her head, and within seconds they were both sound asleep.
Chapter Ten
When Jesse woke up, the sun was beginning to set. Claire was still sleeping soundly, and he considered staying beneath the covers, but his stomach rumbled in protest. He grinned while shaking his head. He had worked up quite an appetite. As silently as possible, he crept from the bed, slipped on his sweatpants, and headed to the kitchen to throw together a pot of chili and some corn bread. After so many meals alone, it felt good to have someone to eat with.
After the chili was simmering on the stove, Jesse made two mugs of herbal tea and headed back to the bedroom. He set Claire’s mug on the nightstand and then stood there and looked down at her sleeping form. The flickering light from the fireplace coupled with the wedge of light from the hallway cast a warm glow in the otherwise dark room. Claire stirred slightly, causing the cover to slip and expose one creamy shoulder. He was amazed that after making love to her all day long, he was already getting aroused. He could reason that it was because he hadn’t been with a woman for such a long time or the emotion of the holiday season or the snowbound circumstances. He could tell himself the amazing lovemaking was due to the erotic aftermath of sketching her nude, but he would be fooling himself. In spite of his resolve not to, he was already falling for Claire Collins.
I could get used to this, he thought wi
th a smile, but then cold hard reality reared its ugly head and brought his thoughts back out of the clouds. Claire would be leaving in just a few days, and he would more than likely never see her again. Jesse ground his teeth together and swallowed hard.This was the last thing he wanted to happen. He should have kept his distance. The idea of her leaving already tore at his gut—a hurt that was different from losing his parents but pain nonetheless, and something he had vowed to avoid until now.
With an angry intake of breath he turned away and managed to slosh hot tea on his bare chest. “Damn!” he growled.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asked in a sleepy voice that sounded like crushed velvet.
“Yeah, I just splashed some tea on my chest. No big deal. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He knew he sounded terse but turned to leave anyway.
“Then why did you bring me some tea?” she asked in a confused tone.
“I thought you might be awake, but when you weren’t, I decided to let you sleep.”
“Oh.” When he remained silent, she said, “Something sure smells good.”
“Chili,” he responded, and took a few steps toward the door. He knew he was being an ass and confusing the hell out of her, but he was suddenly so pissed at himself that he couldn’t see straight.What in the hell had he been thinking?
“What’s wrong, Jesse?” The hurt in her voice stopped him in his tracks and he slowly turned around. She looked up at him with those big vulnerable eyes and angled her head at him. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured her while feeling even more like an ass. After a brief hesitation he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Christmas is a tough time for me.” He cradled the warm mug in his hands and stared down at the brown liquid. “My parents were killed in a car wreck five years ago just a week before Christmas.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He nodded but didn’t look up. “My parents, especially my mother, loved the holidays. Every inch of this cabin would be decorated, and it was an excuse to have the place packed with people. My mother always wanted a large family, and after several miscarriages she finally had me.” He smiled softly. “My parents were both small people and always marveled at how they could have produced a big dude like me. Anyway, I was born on Christmas Eve and that made the holidays even more of a celebration for my mother. She always said that I was her best Christmas gift ever.” He shook his head slowly.