Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  “God, Jaye.” All the air whooshed out of him, and he gripped her waist with a ferocious squeeze. “I fucking adore you.”

  He spoke not in a roar, or a growl, but a soft, coarse whisper. A peek inside his soul. Joy burst over her, warm as sunshine on her skin.

  He kissed her, a hard, brief, possessive touch of his mouth, and rested the bridge of his nose against hers. “I need you so much, it fucking terrifies me.”

  “I know, because the only time you curse is when you’re coming apart.” She smoothed her hands down his strong neck, loving the freshly-shaved feel of his skin and the passionate clench of his grip. “I need you, too.”

  “I can’t wait anymore.” His mouth took hers, an all-out invasion that ended as abruptly as it began. He pulled the sweater over her head. “I want you. Now.”

  Her slender abdomen touched his taut belly, skin-to-skin, and their next kiss got messy.

  Teeth bumped.

  Breath panted.

  Tongues twined.

  Needing more, Jaye unhooked her bra, let it fall to the floor, and hugged him tight so her soft breasts flattened against his hard chest.

  “Good God.” Mitch took a stumbling step, righted himself, and breathed like a sprinter after a race, long gusts of air pummeling her neck.

  Jaye closed her eyes, willing to hold him like this forever.

  He pulled back and cold air whooshed up her bare torso. A hard tug freed the button at the waistline of her jeans and Mitch pushed the clothes off her lower half with a brusque, efficient swipe of his hands then ripped the covers off his bed.

  He reminded her of the big shadow she’d seen in the woods when she’d first arrived so many weeks ago. Back then, she was frightened by the shadow’s ferocious silence.

  This time, she wasn’t afraid.

  Discarding his towel, he pulled her into the bed and pinned her arms over her head, trapping her beneath him.

  Not liking being held down, she tried to wriggle out of his resolute grip.

  Sexual urgency and maybe even something more intense carved resolute lines beside his mouth. “I want everything, Jaye. I want your love and your trust. I promise, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you. Let me be the only man you give in to.”

  His gruff request couldn’t be more clear. From now on, Mitch wanted to be the only man in her life—not David, not her father, just him. She nodded, ready to tell him what she’d known all along. “You’re the only man I’ll run to.”

  “You’re the only one I want. The only one I need.” He lay beside her, keeping a firm hold on her wrists, and skimmed blunt fingers down the center of her abdomen to the vee of her legs.

  A deep throb ignited in her core. She glanced at the lamp, knowing the light spilling over their bed allowed Mitch to see everything—the hot blush of arousal across her chest, her nipples standing up in rigid attention, the wet cream seeping from her sex. More vulnerable than she’d ever been in her life, she angled away her face. “Can we turn off the lamp?”

  “No. The dark is where secrets are kept. I don’t want any secrets between us. I’m taking you in the light.”

  She tensed, not sure she could open up after hiding what she really thought, what she really wanted, for so long.

  The way Mitch looked eased some of her fears. He stared as though she was the only one who’d save him from the years of loneliness he’d endured.

  “You’re the only one…” He bent his head and kissed her breast with slow, lingering pulls that started on the outer curve and worked closer to her straining nipple.

  No matter how much she tried to hide from this man, he possessed a singular ability to recognize who she really was—a woman aching for love. His love. Jaye felt as though she were stretched across a soft cloud. Her angel trapped her wrists in one of his big hands, pinning her to the soft pillow while his decadent mouth burned a slow path across her breast and took her nipple into his mouth, his hot tongue swirling across the tip with slow, deliberate licks.

  “Oh.” The center of her nipple felt like a hard button covered in thousands of exposed nerve endings, raw and sensitive. Every pass of his tongue sent tiny quivers into her chest, down the center of her abdomen, loosening her knees so they parted, making way for Mitch’s fingers to caress the tender inner flesh of her sex.

  Those skilled fingers of his drifted down her swollen folds with a deliberate stroke and reversed direction in a whisper of movement, barely touching her. The compelling downstrokes and barely-there upstrokes turned her into a mindless animal, arching her hips for more. His caress was incredible. This man, who’d only been with one other woman over the past five years, knew how to touch her better than David, who’d racked up too many conquests to count.

  The light spilling onto the bed no longer mattered. She slid her leg over his hip to give him total access to her most intimate parts.

  “Yes, open up for me.” His words came out in a rough whisper. “What a gift.”

  Recognizing the gruff gratitude in his voice, she gripped the big hand imprisoning her, tightening her fingers around him so she was the one who trapped him, not the other way around. She would never let this man go. Even though she hadn’t taken long to fall in love, she’d love him forever.

  A hot, shimmering vibration pooled deep inside her. Jaye whimpered deep in her throat. Pleasure built with every stroke of Mitch’s fingers along her flesh and in the space of one breath, the muscles along her vagina pulled up in a long pulse, bursting into a deep, narcotic orgasm that made her gasp his name.

  The tight grip around her wrists disappeared.

  Mitch rolled away.

  She lay, loose and mindless, still quivering, and frowned. Sounds leaked into her haze—a drawer opening, the rip of cardboard, a sharp crinkle of foil.

  The mattress dipped and Mitch’s body warmth returned. He urged her toward him, pulling her leg over his hip so they lay facing one another.

  Trusting him, she went willingly, curling her body around him. The expression on his face was one she’d never seen before, almost a vicious agony that intensified the moment his erection touched the slick heat of her center.

  She saw the question in his gaze, tightened her leg around his hip, and drove him inside.

  Goose bumps rose over his back, hundreds of little hills beneath her stroking fingertips.

  “I love you.” He pushed himself deeper, groaning against her ear. “God, Jaye. I love you.”

  Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes. She’d told herself she didn’t need to hear those words. After all, he’d never said them to anyone—not to his stepbrothers, not to his father, not to any other woman—but he said them now and everything changed. The shadows of her past vanished. She finally loved someone who loved her back. Who loved her so profoundly, he was willing to walk away from his roots to be with her.

  She’d never ask him to leave everyone who needed him.

  His hand clamped on her ass and he got up on one elbow, his gaze blazing into hers. “Marry me, Jaye.”

  She managed a nod but she couldn’t smile, not with him inside her, stretching her, making room for all the love he’d pour inside. For a brittle instant, she didn’t feel worthy of such a man, but she quelled the poisonous thought with a lunge and rolled on top of him.

  With that move, she sank deep onto his erection, determined to keep him. “I’ll marry you, Mitchell Blake.” Running her hands over the muscles knitted across his midsection, she rocked her hips against him, making love with slow, steady movements. “I’ll love you so much, you’ll get tired of smiling.”

  “Never,” he pledged, palming her breasts.

  “I’ll love you so often, you’ll get tired of having so much sex.”

  “Not likely,” he grinned, pulling himself into a sitting position to kiss her mouth.

  “I’ll love you so deeply, you’ll never feel alone.”

  With a huff of a groan, he rolled her beneath him, bearing down on her with powerful thrusts of his hips.

  Lam
plight poured over the muscles cording along his shoulders and a deep flush crept into his face. Veins stood out against his neck and he closed his eyes, balling his hands on the mattress. Pushing deep inside her, he went rigid when his orgasm struck. A tremor shivered down his body and he rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.

  She felt a tender grin touch her mouth and remembered what he’d said the first time she’d brought him to orgasm. “Did your head explode?”

  “Mm.” Unfurling one hand, he touched her jaw with an awkward brush of his finger. “You feel…better than…anything.”

  “You, too.” She wrapped her legs around his hips, keeping him wedged inside her. “Does making love make up for all the times I’ve hit you in the groin?”

  “No.” He let out a breath and brushed a hand through her hair. “Only one thing will make up for that pain. Marry me next Saturday. The pastor said he’s available. Sarah and Veronica want to help pull together the reception. And I’ve already told Dad I’m taking a week off for our honeymoon. Someplace warm, where all you’ll need is a bikini. And me.”

  “Next weekend?” She grabbed his wrist, pressing a kiss against his palm so she wouldn’t be tempted to squeal like a kid on her way to the carnival.

  “I’d rather marry you tomorrow, but everyone at the factory said I needed to give you time to find a dress.”

  Happiness rose inside her, light and shiny as a silver balloon. “You told everyone at the factory?”

  “Well, yeah. Yesterday, I made the mistake of telling Freddie I was leaving work early to buy you a ring and within twenty minutes everyone knew.” He bowed his head, touching his nose to hers. “Even my mom knows. Been talking to her since you left. You showed me what an idiot I’ve been, not listening to what people needed to tell me. She can’t wait to meet you, pixie. Hell, Jaye. I’ve got my family back, because of you.” His lips grazed hers in a reverent kiss. “When I can claim you as my wife, I’ll have everything I need.”

  One look at the love in his gaze made anything seem possible. “One week is plenty of time to find a wedding dress.” She burst into a giddy smile. “And a bikini.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Halfway through rinsing a plate, Jaye felt a big arm coil around her waist. She turned her head and smiled against Mitch’s cheek. “Hi, love.”

  “Quit working.” He gently pulled her hands out of the sink and stuffed a dishtowel into her hands. “Watch the news with me. We can clean up later.”

  “If you insist.” She dried off and flicked the dishtowel against his lean stomach with a playful snap.

  Mitch caught the towel and pulled her toward him, kissing her on the mouth. “Mm. You taste like cupcakes, Mrs. Blake.”

  “So do you, Mr. Blake.”

  “Come on.” With a possessive grip on her hand, he led her into the living room. He sank onto the couch and glowered at the young man snoring in the armchair. “Even though we’ve been married for six weeks, I’m never alone with you.”

  She cuddled up next to her husband and shifted her gaze to Freddie. He reminded her of a lanky hound, always following them around. At least, she didn’t have to walk him. “I like the company. You glassblowers are sweet.”

  “Thanks, but my glassblowers are becoming a problem. They won’t let me have you to myself.” Mitch slid his palm onto her thigh, stroking his thumb across the denim covering her leg.

  Pulling up the sleeve of her sweater to increase the amount of skin pressed against his, she traced the faded scar on the hard band of his forearm.

  He turned his hand palm up to expose his inner arm.

  “My ticklish husband,” she murmured, gliding her fingertips along his skin. Despite his protestations to the contrary when they first met, Mitch loved to be tickled. Loving the way his big body relaxed under her touch, she was happy to comply. Tonight was no different. The soft trail of her fingertips produced goose bumps across his skin and his muscular leg thumped against hers. “Feel good?”

  “Feels really good. I’ll return the favor later when I rub your feet.” He slanted a devilish grin her way. “I’ll start at your toes and work my way up.”

  “To where?” Her body tingled at the possibilities.

  The good-humored lines creasing the corners of his eyes softened to a solemn pinch. “Your heart.”

  “You’re already there.” When she’d married Mitch right before Thanksgiving, she knew he loved her—but she was unprepared for how often he’d show his affection. Every day, he’d do something sweet or romantic, and even though a January wind now pushed against the windows, Jaye felt blissfully warm.

  They watched the last few minutes of the news in happy silence, ignoring the dishes covering their coffee table from the glassblowers’ weekly football gathering—one of many rituals Jaye loved about living in Shinglehouse. During the past six weeks, she’d gotten more hugs and kisses than she’d had in her entire lifetime.

  A loud commercial flooded the room with sound. Freddie snorted, stretched, and blinked at them. “Sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep. Guess I’d better head home.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Mitch let go of Jaye to shake Freddie’s hand.

  “Thanks for feeding me. Again.” Freddie pressed a grateful kiss on Jaye’s cheek. “I practically live here on weekends. Being with you guys is much nicer than staying alone in my apartment.”

  “You’re always welcome.” Jaye meant it. Not only did she have a husband, she felt like she’d gained a number of brothers.

  Freddie plucked the last brownie off a plate and walked out with a cheery wave.

  Mitch put his arm around Jaye. “You do realize he’d move in with us if given half the chance, don’t you?”

  “Is that why you suggested moving my bedroom furniture into the guest room? So, we have a place for Freddie?”

  The corner of Mitch’s mouth back in a rueful grin. “No, not Freddie.”

  The doorbell rang.

  Jaye glanced at her watch. “It’s after ten. Whoever is at the door will be upset the game is over.”

  “I’ll see who’s here.” Mitch got off the couch and tucked his shirt into his jeans.

  Not giving their visitors a second thought, she carried some plates into the kitchen. When she returned for the empty glasses, Mitch stood beside two people.

  Her parents.

  Both of them stood stiff as wooden marionettes.

  “I’m sorry to stop by so late. We were driving home from Baltimore and thought your house would be on the way back to Syracuse.” Her mother offered a wavering smile. “We got lost.”

  Mitch turned off the TV. “You’re family. You can drop by any time.”

  Jaye gave him a panicked squint. Her parents never stopped by to chat. Ever.

  Something must be wrong.

  Her breath catching, she surveyed their appearance in search of clues. Her mother wore gray slacks and a pink silk blouse—classy as ever. Heightened color touched Cecelia’s cheeks, but nothing looking amiss. Her father’s beige slacks and striped oxford were a stark departure from his dark suits, but his black hair was combed back from his arresting face.

  The sharp angle of his cheekbones looked more pronounced and a dark smudge rimmed his eyes as though he’d been working harder than ever. His gaze met hers. Not a hint of a smile touched his mouth.

  Nothing had changed.

  Mitch waved an arm toward the furniture. “Have a seat.”

  Her parents settled on the couch. Jaye expected them to pull out their smart phones and start working, but they looked around in quiet curiosity.

  A quick visual check of the room found nothing lacking. Granted, Jaye was extremely biased, but Mitch’s home was large for a one-story ranch. The living room looked terrific—they’d given away Mitch’s old couch and filled the space with Jaye’s sofa and chairs. The warm neutral color on the walls turned a cinnamon hue in the evening. She had purchased a couple of lighted pedestals to display some of Mitch’s glass sculptures and he insisted on hangi
ng her photographs on the wall. The room flickered with firelight from the hearth.

  “You have a beautiful home,” her mother said, her dark eyes drawn to the built-in shelving flanking the fireplace. She pointed to a clay sculpture. “Did you make that, Mitch?”

  “Yes. I wanted to remember what Jaye looked like asleep on my couch. The night I found her that way, she had no idea I was crazy about her.”

  In open-mouthed amazement Jaye stared, baffled he would talk to her parents after they’d rejected him so cruelly. He acted like he wanted them around, which was the polar opposite of how she felt. She itched to walk out of the room but didn’t dare leave Mitch alone with the two people who’d made their disapproval of him so obvious.

  A warm hand clasped hers, and Mitch led her to the love seat perpendicular to the couch. Jaye sat beside him and released the warm, reassuring weight of his palm.

  Her mother engaged in small talk, a skill honed to perfection after years of hosting fundraisers and cocktail parties. “How long have you lived here?”

  “About ten years. The house needed a lot of work, but the property stretches for thirty acres toward the base of the mountain. We see fox, deer, and small game in our back yard.” He nudged Jaye. “Remember the bear?”

  She wished the bear would amble into the room right now so she’d have the perfect excuse to run away screaming.

  “I can’t believe your home needed much work.” Her mother’s discerning eye admired the crown molding around the room. “Everything looks brand new.”

  “I’ve remodeled most of the interior. Now I’m waiting to see what Jaye wants to add so this place feels like hers, too.” Mitch turned to her father. “Too bad you didn’t get here for the last quarter of the game. The Bills scored three touchdowns in the space of seven minutes.”

  Jaye couldn’t believe Mitch’s staggering generosity. He was willing to make amends even after her father rejected him so heartlessly.

  Her father’s stoic face transformed into a curious frown. “Who won?”

  “The Bears. Thirty-one to twenty-eight.”