Marrying Jake

by Beverly Bird

  That was the precise moment when Jake felt her begin to tremble under his hands. It was the moment he forgot finesse. He forgot what it was to enjoy himself and give pleasure in return with happy nonchalance, that one part of himself always holding back, almost seeming to watch on. He craved. He ached. And he did it from the bottom of his soul.

  He pulled her tights down a little too roughly and felt her gasp into his mouth. He was on a wild, desperate search for skin now, to feel the real heat of her, because maybe, just maybe, it might be the thing that would finally warm him. But she wore panties beneath the tights. There were a million barriers. Her dress kept trying to spill back down her hips unless he held it.

  He finally let it fall. His hand fought with her apron. He found the tie at the back of her waist and he yanked at it. He was going to scare her and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

  He wasn’t scaring her. What Katya felt was a sweeping, incredible euphoria as she felt him unraveling, losing control. His mouth was hot and wet at her throat now. It slid to her jaw, then back again. She bent down and unlaced her shoes and when she stood again she felt the apron pool at her feet. Then his fingers were at the buttons on her back. He popped the first one easily, expertly, fumbled with the second, then he swore.

  She reached to help him, but he was over the edge. She gasped again as he took the fabric in his hand and pulled. Buttons popped, scattering, and she felt the cool air kiss her back.

  More barriers, he thought helplessly, as his fingers found her bra strap. Never in his life had he encountered a woman with so damned many clothes. The man he had been only an hour before would have laughed, would have enjoyed it. Now he was frenzied.

  She was trying to help him. Their hands collided. She pulled out of the long, demure sleeves. His fingers caught the front of her collar and dragged the top of her dress down to her waist.

  She thought she felt him make a sound in his throat. It was almost inaudible, a murmur against her mouth. Something shot through her, something liquid and almost debilitating, because his hand came back to skim the side of her breast. No, she decided, no. It didn’t skim. It searched. And she wanted more. She wanted to feel his hand there fully.

  But his hand stopped moving. Only his thumb moved along the ridges of her ribs. It felt better, warmer, made things squirm inside her, but...

  More, she thought. More.

  He finally found the hook at the back of her bra and tore it free. He flung it in the general direction of his coat, then bent to lift her in his arms. He carried her to the bed and remembered at the last moment to lay her upon it gently. Her eyes were wide and wondering as they flew over his face. What was she looking for? he asked himself. Would she find it? He found himself praying that she would, then he bent over her and claimed her mouth again.

  Her hands were flung against the pillows, the quilt trapped beneath her, forgotten now. She used only her mouth to kiss him back. Something about that made him realize that he wasn’t the one giving at all. It was her. She was giving herself to him, and all the sweet and pure simplicity that was her heart.

  That made him all that much more determined to give something back.

  He was kneeling over her. He eased down against her side, afraid to lay his full weight upon her, afraid to hurt her. His mouth followed her hairline, though she kept turning her face into his, searching for his lips with her own. His hand moved up her ribs to her breast. She gave a little cry.

  It died in her throat as the most incredible sensation shot through her. This, yes, this was what she had wanted. She wanted his palms on her skin, on her sensitive skin, not just her ribs. She wanted his hand right where it was, cupping her, a delicious feeling, so intimate, so astounding and powerful. He had calluses on his fingers, and her skin felt a little chafed by them, but in the most incredible way. When he moved his thumb over her nipple, circling it, teasing it, it was more than she could bear. She held herself very still and concentrated on it, anticipating its next full circuit, waiting until his thumb came around again...right there.

  She shuddered. Then it struck her that she was naked from the waist up, while he was still dressed. She waited for embarrassment, almost managed to stiffen herself against it, because for a heartbeat, maybe longer, she remembered that she was too thin, flat-chested, and Frank had always said that she was about as alluring as a fence post. Then that fled from her mind because Jacob’s mouth followed his hands and he did things to her that Frank had never done.

  His mouth slid. His tongue stroked. It was delightful, so good, but then he did something even better. She felt his teeth close gently over her nipple, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed as though some wanton, hidden woman inside her had come alive for the first time. And somehow her hands were in his hair, holding him against her. She felt his tongue and cried out again, mindless. His mouth left her breast abruptly and he returned for another kiss.

  “Shhh,” he whispered against her lips.

  He did it with his last moment of clarity, of sense, the last remnant of his control. They had to be quiet. There were other people upstairs. Then she was wriggling against him, and he was lost.

  He dragged at her dress again, trying to get it down over her hips. Then his mouth went back to her body, but not where she wanted it. She wanted him at her breast again, but this time his tongue touched her nipple only briefly, enough to make it spring up and ache for more. Then his mouth trailed down her ribs, warm and wet. His hands held her hips. His tongue slid along the elastic waist of her panties, then it touched her abdomen through the fabric.

  This time she couldn’t have stopped herself from crying out if lightning had come down from heaven and struck her into silence. His mouth closed over her through the cotton and the heat of his kiss flashed through her from that intimate point of contact. His mouth stayed, gentle, sweet, coaxing something from her.

  No, not from her, she realized. In her. Urgency throbbed inside her now, and she found her hands in his hair again, holding him. She heard her own voice—was it her saying those things?—pleading, whispering, begging for more.

  He had to draw a line, he thought again, had to fix on some point beyond which he would not go. Instead, he slid a finger beneath the elastic at her leg, sliding it along, down, down, savoring every tremor that rocked visibly through her with the anticipation. He looked up and saw that her eyes were huge, but she made no move to stop him.

  Her reactions rained fire through his blood. Her soft cry filled his head, his soul. Her need weakened him and all his resolve.

  His finger encountered the edge of soft curls, and her body bucked off the bed almost with a will of its own with just that hint of promise. He looked up into her face, her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed now.

  “Okay?” he rasped and wondered what he would do if she said no.

  “Please,” she whispered huskily. “Again. More.”

  He let his fingers slide farther beneath the nylon. It would be okay, he told himself, perfectly okay, as long as he didn’t take her panties off. He found the center of her and slid into heat. She cried out again and moved her hips against him instinctively. He stroked and watched her unravel. Her hands were back in his hair, clutching, then somehow he was using his mouth again, though he hadn’t intended to, his tongue sliding along the edge of the nylon this time. He made a sound of frustration and eased the fabric aside. She groaned a little and opened to him without even seeming to realize she did it. He touched his mouth to her over and over and felt her unravel even more beneath his touch.

  His hand dragged at the nylon, pulling it down. He slid her panties as far as her thighs, and he told himself that was okay, too, because he could pull them right back up again. He combed his fingers through blond curls and found he needed to taste her, needed it as much as he had ever needed anything else in his life. So he used his tongue once more—gently, he’d be gentle—but then he found himself using more pressure because her responses were without guile, without sham
e.

  She began pulling at his shirt.

  “Lie back,” he said roughly. “Just lie back and let me touch you.” But it was as though she hadn’t heard him.

  Katya chose not to hear him. She would not be told what to do. Not now, not in this most priceless moment. She found the buttons of his shirt, freed one, then another. She gave a smile of pure feminine triumph when he groaned and stopped fighting her, stopped trying to push her hands away. And finally she got his shirt off his shoulders, finding skin. He shrugged the rest of the way out of it and let it fall off the side of the bed to the floor.

  She had loved his body from the first time she had crept in on him while he was sleeping. Had she wanted this even then? Perhaps, but she had not ever dared to believe it might happen. She skimmed her palms over his chest almost fervishly. And his skin was smooth and warm. She let her thumbs find his nipples as he had done to her and gave a husky sigh of pleasure when they sprang up, too.

  She wanted more. She found his belt, tugged, and his hand came down almost hard on hers again.

  “No, baby, no,” he murmured. “Leave well enough alone.”

  Was he saying they should stop?

  She rooted for his mouth again, found it, pleaded with him silently. Don’t take this away. Don’t make this be over. His hand fell away from her wrist. She pulled at his belt again and this time he didn’t stop her.

  There had to be a line, he thought again, desperately, and he struggled to find one, a point beyond which he definitely would not go. He felt as though he were sinking in quicksand, but warmth surrounded him and it was too seductive. When she began struggling to get his jeans off, he let her. As long as he kept his briefs on, that was okay. But he wanted to feel her against him, wanted skin to skin. So he finally pushed her panties the rest of the way down and gathered her to him even as she kicked them off.

  She thought that perhaps this was what heaven would be like. The heat of his skin was everywhere, his arousal hard against her, and she was able to not think of anything at all in that moment except sensation. She did not think of Sam, of the little ones she’d been forced to send away. She did not think of Frank or Adam or Mariah. She had never believed that peace could be so volatile, that respite could ignite.

  If she thought at all, it was of the ordnung she would defy, of taking something back for herself from the religion that would destroy her, and she was so very, very glad she had.

  She wrapped her legs around him, holding him, and he murmured something against her neck, some kind of protest, but it wasn’t clear anymore, even to him. He tried to remember why he had needed lines. He hadn’t come in here to seduce her. He wasn’t prepared. He didn’t want to hurt her. And he wanted her too much.

  He peeled his briefs away. Her skin tasted like honey and salvation. Her mouth was hope. Before he could start reminding himself of all the reasons he wouldn’t, all the reasons he shouldn’t, he heard himself murmur, “Please.”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  “I can’t—”

  “We must.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  So he let himself sink into her heat. It was too easy, too necessary. She sighed and melted around him. And he never wanted to go.

  He hadn’t come in here to seduce her. She had captivated him. He wasn’t prepared. He was much less worried about protecting himself than protecting her.

  He didn’t want to hurt her. But she moved against him, with him, and finally, this once, there was no pain for either of them.

  He moved inside her, slowly at first, then harder and faster, still watching her face, watching a beautiful light build and dawn in her eyes. He felt heaven erupt. It was a place of raining stars. He stiffened against the urgent need to fall into them, into utter release. He needed to wait, needed to make it good for her, too. Then he felt the delicate spasm of her body, and he let himself go.

  Chapter 15

  There was no panic afterward, and that surprised him. There was no urgent necessity to get away fast now that ardor had faded. Probably because it hadn’t, not entirely. His mouth still felt warm where it had touched her. His head was still filled with her scent. His blood still rushed, his heart still pounded.

  He needed to talk about it. He was a man who had always avoided feeling too much. Now that it was happening, that he was feeling long after he should no longer be, he needed to tame it with words. Maybe lazy words, maybe cocky words, just...something. But in that moment, a fist began pounding on the door like a jackhammer.

  “Damn it, Jake, open the door,” Adam grated quietly. “Before I wake Mariah.”

  Panic was followed by fury, then resignation. Jake finally rolled to face Katya. “He gave us longer than I thought he would.”

  Her eyes were still luminous. Her skin was still dewy and flushed. She met his eyes evenly, as if she knew and understood everything in his soul.

  The room got warmer. His blood rushed harder. His head hurt.

  She did not look embarrassed. If it appalled her that his brother had virtually caught them in the act, it didn’t show. There was a fierce frown between her eyes, but it was one of...anger, he realized.

  She always surprised him.

  “How dare he?” She sat up quick and fast. She was about to shout something in the direction of the door. Jake realized it just in time and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Want me to punch him?” he asked in an undertone.

  She looked at him over his hand and nodded. He took his hand away. And in spite of everything, he laughed quietly.

  “Okay. I owe him one.” He remembered the scene at the pond and corrected himself. “Make that two.”

  He got to his feet. Katya had one more precious moment to savor. She watched him scoop his jeans off the floor where they had fallen and step into them. There was something so masculine and titillating about the way he zipped, buckled, moved shirtless to the door. He raked his hair back with his fingers as he moved. She shivered in a needy way, as though she had never felt replete just moments ago. Then she briefly closed her eyes.

  Oh, it was going to be hard this time. It was going to be so hard to let this little bit of heaven go.

  Jake only cracked the door. She scurried quickly off the foot of the bed, out of view, at the last possible moment, taking the quilt with her. She wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she realized what she had done, looked down at it and gasped.

  Jake looked back at her, and his heart did something odd. It felt almost as though it rolled over. “What?” he demanded. “What the hell is it about that thing?”

  She seemed to go pale. “I don’t believe you want to know.”

  “Try me.” He closed the door again, and Adam started pounding on it harder. “Just a minute!” he shouted at him.

  “The circles,” she whispered. “They’re...wedding rings.”

  “Okay.” His voice was even, but his heart skipped a beat. “Wait a minute. I read something about that pattern somewhere.”

  “It’s magic. Oh, Jacob, I’m so sorry. I told you to put it somewhere else!”

  He stared at her a moment, then his heart steadied. Magic. He laughed a little, surprising both of them. “It’s okay, Katie.”

  “No. No, it’s not. You don’t understand!”

  “I don’t have to. I don’t believe in magic.”

  “But there’s a spell on it! A powerful one. Oh, Jacob, it’s centuries old, and it’s always been used for bundling—”

  “For what?” Impossibly, in spite of everything, he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. One look at hers told him he had to.

  “Bundling,” she whispered. “It’s an old Amish custom. It just means sleeping together—only sleeping together—before two people marry.”

  He was beginning to understand. And he thought of a way to put her fears to rest. “Katie,” he said quietly, “we didn’t only sleep together. Honestly, we didn’t sleep at all.”

  “But...�
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  Then the reason for her obvious fear hit him. He felt overwhelmed, touched in a place he had closed off from the world so long ago. She wasn’t afraid for herself. She was afraid for him. She was afraid that that silly quilt was somehow going to take away his choices, force him into loving her, staying with her. And that was so purely selfless, it rocked him. But then, she was like that.

  “Mariah had it,” she went on, her voice breaking. “She and Adam—”

  “I’m not Adam,” he said gruffly, even as the pounding on the door started again. “Katie,” he said carefully, “I can’t marry you. That’s not...my kind of thing.”

  If he feared he would hurt her with the words, he realized then that he should have known better. She rushed on without seeming to hear him.

  “Mariah gave it to me to use because I didn’t...I hardly brought anything when I ran from Frank. And we both thought it would be safe with me. Because I certainly wouldn’t be bundling in it—”

  “Katie,” he broke in again, “we didn’t bundle.” It was just a damned quilt, he told himself. It was just fabric. He finally turned back for the door, not sure why it left him feeling so unsettled.

  Katya watched him, feeling helpless and breathless, then she looked down again at the quilt around her shoulders. For a moment, she thought it entirely possible she might faint.

  “She thinks I should hit you,” she heard Jake say flatly. “I’m willing to oblige. Where the hell do you get off thinking this is any of your business?”

  Then she heard Adam’s voice come back, and everything inside her went painfully still. She forgot about the magic wedding-ring pattern.

  “Sam’s my business,” Adam snapped. His voice was wire tight with control. “This settlement and what’s happening to it are my business. There’s a local cop downstairs at the door. He says a senior detective from the Atlantic County barracks in New Jersey is trying to get through to you. They’ve picked up Devon Mills. Letting you know that is my business.”