Her Hero in Hiding

by Rachel Lee

  So far everything was okay. But he would have to check again later. Much later, when Kevin would presume the cabin’s occupants were soundly asleep.

  He returned both pairs of binoculars to the pegs in the garage and made his way back to the front of the house. As he did so, he looked up. The new moon had almost arrived. That would make it a lot harder to see Kevin’s approach with regular vision. But it would also daunt Kevin, just a bit, even though the starshine would provide enough light as it magnified itself by bouncing off the snow.

  Yeah, Kevin might wait for the cover of the new moon. It would fit, and it would occur about the time Kevin would be getting most anxious to take care of his little mess.

  And Clint, despite several years of trying to rein in his impulses toward violence, actually felt a bitter pleasure that the confrontation could not be far off.

  Chapter 10

  Kay waited for Clint, a morass of emotions. Everything from embarrassment to hope to a new kind of budding fear filled her. She felt so vulnerable right now, and the feeling made her uneasy. Kevin had taught her what it meant to be physically and emotionally vulnerable. Since she had sent him to jail, she’d been busy building protective walls of every kind so that she couldn’t be hurt again.

  But Clint had slipped past those walls with a delicate touch. She had opened herself to him in a way she had sworn never to do again. If anything, she had opened herself more than ever before, simply because Kevin’s approach to sex had always been rough and impatient enough to keep some of her innate barriers in place.

  But Clint had slipped past even those. She couldn’t help feeling both frightened and exhilarated. Experience and instinct warred inside her, the first warning her not to trust, the second telling her she needed to trust. Needed to trust Clint. Needed it for her own survival as a person.

  She jumped up when she heard Clint knock on the door. “Clint?” she called when she reached it.

  “Just me,” he answered.

  She opened the door, letting him in with the cold, and watched as he locked it behind him.

  “Everything’s okay out there,” he said immediately. “No sign of him.”

  Only then did she realize she hadn’t been getting wound up only about what had happened between her and Clint. Always, at the back of her mind, no matter how far away he might be, Kevin hovered like a shadow, ever ready to pounce.

  “You look cold,” she said finally. “Should I make some coffee?”

  He paused in the process of kicking off his boots to search her face. For once she could see past the stony facade to the thoughts behind it as clearly as she could look into her own mind. He wondered if she was regretting what they had done.

  Was she? Certainty settled in her heart. No. Unable to find another way to respond, she stepped close and hugged him. There was no hesitation in his answering hug. None at all. She was a little amazed, all of a sudden, not just at the barriers she had leaped, but at the barriers he had apparently leaped, as well. When she had met this man, he’d clearly been determined not to let anyone into his life. Yet here she was, if only for a brief time.

  He brushed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll take you up on that coffee,” he said huskily.

  Slow. He’d said they had to take it slow. Appreciation for him wrapped around her heart. “Okay.”

  He followed her into the kitchen and helped to make the coffee. While they waited for it to finish, he drew her against his side and held her as he leaned against the counter. Forgetting everything else, even if only for now, she wrapped her arms around his narrow waist and leaned into him. A traitorous thought slipped through her mind; if only she could stay like this forever.

  But life didn’t offer any forevers, and she knew it. That didn’t, however, mean she couldn’t pretend for just a few hours or days, whatever time life gave her with him.

  They carried their mugs into the living room. This time he didn’t take his easy chair but instead sat right beside her on the couch, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders.

  Letting her know he was open to her, to being touched, to being hugged. That she didn’t have to hide herself or her needs. All at once she felt a glorious sense of freedom unlike anything she had ever felt before. She felt free to be herself without expectation of disapproval.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, tears of happiness.

  But Clint saw only the tears, not the feeling behind them. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately. “Did I do something?”

  “No, no.” How could she possibly explain this? “You make me feel…as if it’s okay to be me.”

  A quiet oath escaped him. “Of course it’s okay to be you.”

  “But don’t you see?” She looked up at him, tears still hanging on her lashes. “I can’t remember ever feeling that way before.”

  “My God.” He whispered the words. “Never?”

  “Never. But what about you?” she demanded. “Do you feel it’s okay to be you? Have you ever?”

  “I used to,” he answered after a moment of hesitation. “Maybe I’m working my way back to it. I don’t know.”

  She reached up and palmed his cheek. “It’s okay to be you,” she said fiercely. “You’re a lot more okay than most people.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “You keep saying that, like I can’t see what’s right in front of my eyes. You’re a born protector. You’re kind, generous, thoughtful. Whatever you were before, what you are now is the man who’s been taking care of a stranger since he found her by the roadside. A man who probably would have been a lot happier not to have his bastion invaded. But you never hesitated. That’s the man you are now, Clint, and he’s a good man.”

  His mouth framed a crooked smile. “Maybe.”

  “No maybe about it.” Then she took her newfound courage into her hands and tugged his head a little, just enough to bring him close for a kiss.

  She felt him tense, and for an instant she felt a flutter of fear that he would reject her for her forwardness. But when his mouth settled gently onto hers, she realized his tension was because he was controlling himself, trying not to frighten her or bring back bad memories.

  “Oh, Clint,” she whispered against his mouth. “Oh, Clint.” In that instant she would have given anything to heal him the way he was helping her to heal. He didn’t deserve the ghosts that haunted him, the demons that he believed lurked within him.

  No more, she realized, than she did.

  “Easy,” he murmured, when she tried to deepen the kiss.

  Easy? She was ready to attack him and leap every last wall in one bound. But even as she realized that, she knew he was right. Neither of them knew what might trigger one of the land mines Kevin had planted in her, and she would hate herself if she pulled away again. Because if she did that, he might justifiably never let her this close again.

  Patience, she told herself. Patience.

  “Are you ready?” he asked huskily.

  “Ready?” She pulled back a little, looking at him from heavy-lidded eyes that didn’t want to stay open.

  “Are you ready to be with me?”

  Her heart skipped several beats. For a moment the ugly memories tried to rise, but she beat them down and answered honestly, because he deserved it. “I want to try.”

  “Then let’s explore the rocket ship a little more.”

  She nodded, waiting, wondering where he would begin.

  He began by rising, then lifting her into his arms. “I’ve never,” he said, “been one for making love on a sofa.”

  Somehow that comment made her want to giggle. “Why not?”

  He carried her toward the back of the house. “Something about getting so preoccupied that I’d probably knock us both to the floor.”

  The giggle escaped her then, and she was glad to see him smile. His gaze met and held hers.

  “Do you have any idea,” he asked, “just how beautiful and sexy you are?”

  She felt her cheeks grow hot and pressed her fa
ce to his shoulder. “No,” she mumbled.

  “Then let me put it this way. I’m having to fight an almost overwhelming urge to behave like an animal in rut. It’s been a helluva long time since anyone made me feel this way. You make me hotter than a blacksmith’s forge.”

  “Oh.” She liked that. She liked that a lot.

  She opened her eyes when he started to lower her feet to the floor.

  They were in his bedroom now, dark with night, curtains drawn against the world. The only light came from the hallway behind them.

  He had a king-size bed. Well, of course. He was a big man. She only vaguely noticed a dresser, a chair and a doorless closet. The bed gripped her attention, and once again she felt the merest shudder of anticipatory fear.

  “We can stop right here,” he said, as if he read the fear on her face.

  She looked at him. “Right now all I’m afraid of is disappointing you.”

  “That’s impossible,” he said flatly.

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because the only thing that would disappoint me right now is myself, if I do something stupid and scare you.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” Well, only a little. Realizing he wouldn’t carry her any farther because he needed to know this was her own choice, she walked over to the bed on rubbery knees and lay down.

  A moment later he joined her, reaching out for her hand and clasping it. Minutes ticked by as they remained like that, looking up at the ceiling.

  “When is launch time?” she asked finally.

  A chuckle escaped him. “That’s up to you.”

  “Hmm. What if I said I don’t know how to…launch?” It embarrassed her to admit it, but she sensed that truthfulness was the only thing that would serve both of them right now.

  “Do you want me to lead?” he asked.

  She rolled onto her side and looked at him. “I never had a choice,” she said. “I might as well have been a plastic doll with Kevin, and there’s never been anyone else.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he said, though his tone was mild enough.

  “Yeah, he was.”

  “Not supposed to be that way.” Now he rolled onto his own side to face her, leaving only a few inches between them. He propped his head on his hand so he looked down at her. “Wanna play a game?”

  “What kind of game?”

  “Let’s pretend you’ve never done this before. Any of it. This is your very first time.”

  She swallowed and nodded. That might be hard. But the idea held a certain appeal. “Okay.”

  “And let’s pretend I’m the big bad seducer of young maidens who have no experience.”

  “I don’t know about the bad part.”

  He shrugged a little. “Most people might think a seducer is bad.”

  “But what if I need one?”

  “Then maybe it’s not bad at all.” He reached out to brush her cheek gently, to push her hair back. Then he traced the outline of her ear with his finger, and a shiver of longing ran through her.

  “Just make me one promise,” he said.

  “If I can.”

  “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like for any reason at all. You don’t have to explain a thing. Just say no, okay?”

  She nodded and swallowed again. Her heart had begun to beat heavily and her breathing accelerated. “I promise.”

  “Good.” He smiled a little and ran his finger around the shell of her ear once more, before letting it trail down to the pulse in her neck. A soft gasp of pleasure escaped her, as sparks seemed to run from his fingertip to her center.

  “See?” he murmured. “This can be a fun game.”

  “Have you played it before?”

  “I never needed to before. But I think I’m going to like it a whole lot.”

  She thought she would, too.

  “Close your eyes, darlin’,” he said quietly. “Just feel.”

  And oh, he made it so easy to do exactly that. She lay there, her breathing growing quicker as he continued to stroke her face and throat. Deep inside a different kind of pounding began, a pounding that wanted answers.

  Answers he didn’t give. He continued to stroke her ear and throat until she found her whole body willing him to touch her elsewhere, anywhere, because instinct and need demanded more.

  But he was patient, maybe too patient. Even so, she was afraid to rush him as he slowly and surely carried her into a whole new world of hunger and beauty.

  “Easy now,” he murmured, almost a warning, and then his hand left her throat. Slowly it swept downward, along her side to her hip, then back up again. He repeated the movement until a long shaky sigh escaped her and her body, of its own accord, tried to move closer.

  “Easy,” he said again. “Just enjoy the feelings. We have plenty of time.”

  But it was so hard. He’d barely touched her, really, yet he’d awakened so many feelings that she had thought were lost to her forever. Never had she imagined that passivity could be so difficult. With Kevin she had frozen inside, allowing herself to feel nothing at all as she did exactly as he asked.

  This man was asking nothing, and he was unfreezing her. Fast.

  “Clint,” she whispered.

  “A little more?” He obliged before she could answer. His hand stopped wandering her side and brushed over one breast. The electric shock was so sudden and unexpected that she arched and gasped.

  “Oh, that’s nice, isn’t it?” he said, his voice throaty. “Very nice. You have beautiful breasts, you know.”

  Did she? Hazily she remembered Kevin thinking they were too small and complaining about it. But Kevin wasn’t here. Not in this place. And Clint seemed to think something else entirely.

  “See,” he murmured, closing his hand around her. “You fit perfectly in my hand.” Then his thumb rubbed over her nipple through the fabric, and a moan escaped her. “Perfect,” he murmured. “So perfect I want to kiss it.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.” Oh, please, yes.

  His hand dipped down, sliding across her belly, striking more fire, and as it moved upward again it slipped under the sweatshirt. She gasped, loving the feel of his callused palm against the soft skin of her midriff. Loving how it scratched ever so slightly as it moved tantalizingly upward. Slowly upward. Giving her ample time to object.

  But objection was the last thing on her mind.

  Now his hand cupped her breast without the fabric barrier, and without a thought she pressed herself harder into his palm. This was what she wanted. This was what she had never known.

  His thumb brushed back and forth, teasing, taunting, satisfying and dissatisfying all at once. And then she felt the merest breath of cool air before his tongue replaced his thumb. He flicked her nipple, cool and swollen, with wet heat until a small groan escaped her and she tried to reach for him.

  “Shh,” he said. “I’m nowhere near done seducing you.”

  At that moment she would have said she didn’t need any more seduction. Already she was getting close to the stars he’d shown her for the first time just a short while ago.

  Then she jerked in astonishment and relief as his mouth closed over her nipple. He sucked gently on her at first, then more strongly, until it seemed there was a direct line between his mouth and the point of sensation between her legs. Her whole body throbbed in time with his mouth, and her legs loosened, then tightened, as she tried to find relief.

  “You are so sweet,” he whispered. Then his mouth moved to her other breast, giving her attention she had barely realized she needed.

  “Clint,” she moaned, getting more impatient by the second. Yet he would not hurry, not even when she grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him closer.

  “Not yet,” he said softly. “I want you over the moon with me.”

  He was going over the moon? Something in her healed over in an instant. Another wordless moan escaped her as her body took over, rocking her hips, seeking more and still more.

  A little laugh e
scaped him, as if he were pleased. Then, as he continued to tongue her nipple and suck her breast, his hand slipped down along her hip and back to the place it had touched before. Still outside the fabric, shielding her from intimacies that might come too soon. And again he stroked her as if she were the most delicate flower.

  She was caught, strung on a wire of fire running from her breast to her core. Her body shivered and struggled toward the stars, but he wouldn’t quite let her go there.

  Almost, but not quite. Who would have thought torture could be so wonderful? “Clint…”

  “Are you really ready, darlin’?”

  Her eyes flew open and looked straight into his. “I’ve never been this ready in my life.”

  He chuckled softly. “Be sure. Very sure.”

  She had no doubts, not even when she felt him begin to tug the sweatpants down. She even lifted her hips to help, glad to be rid of them.

  Then his fingers found her petals, and the pleasure-pain sensation was so exquisite that a cry escaped her.

  He stopped at once. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, please, don’t stop!” Past all thought and reason, she knew what she wanted. She reached for his shirt with one hand, his belt with the other. “Clint…”

  “Easy.” He rolled away briefly, and when he came back to her, he was nude. In the dark she could see very little, but at last she could touch him, learn him, try to make him half as crazy as he had made her.

  He pulled the sweatshirt over her head, the sweatpants from around her ankles, then tugged her close so they met, skin on skin from breast to thigh. She felt his hardness against her and threw her leg over his hip, wanting that hardness inside her as she’d never wanted anything in her life.

  She felt him press against her, an answer but not enough. Instead his hands and mouth continued to roam her body, as if he wanted to memorize every silky inch.

  “Anything you want,” he murmured just before he kissed her mouth. “Anything. Just let me know.”

  She wrapped her arms as tightly around his neck as she could and thrust her hips against his. “I want you.”