She believed herself worthless. It was like an open wound on her soul, and he’d gone for it right off, getting his own back with his usual efficiency. And she’d stood there, taking it like she deserved it. Like any of that nonsense was the truth. He’d never hated himself more than when he’d seen that flicker of acceptance in her blue eyes. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forgive himself. If he lived to be two hundred, no one would ever put that look in her eyes again.
“Sunshine?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to catch that throw?”
“What?”
“Either you catch it or it’s going to hit the floor.”
She didn’t move. “I don’t know what you want.”
“Do you want to be naked in front of me?”
She shifted and avoided his gaze before finally admitting, “I want to please you.”
“And do you think your body pleases me?” He caught the throw from behind. As long as she stayed pressed against him, she was covered.
“No.”
He hadn’t been expecting that. “I wouldn’t have guessed from the way you’re always taking your clothes off.”
The glance she cut him was purely defensive. “Men like that.”
“That’s the truth.”
“It makes them feel powerful.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, that was a shot, though it was delivered in the softest, gentlest, most inoffensive tone possible.
“Now that’s where you’re wrong.” He snuggled his fingers into her hair, shaping his palm to her skull, supporting her head when she tilted it back to look at him. “The sight of you naked would drop any man to his knees.”
“Not you.”
“Especially me.” She made him weak in all kinds of ways.
“Not last night.”
That was an accusation. “Last night was different.”
“How?”
“You weren’t ready.”
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest. “Please tell me what you want.”
“I want you.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
She took a step back and released the throw. He caught it and tossed it across the settee. She stood before him, hands folded in front of her, a blush rising from her chest. She hadn’t blushed last night, which meant she was feeling vulnerable now. Which meant she wasn’t hiding behind a shield of docility. He was seeing the real Jenna. He dropped his shirt to the floor. She stared, her eyes going to his scars, following them down, dipping below the waistband of his pants, widening before flashing back up to measure the width of his shoulders. He imagined he must look pretty intimidating to someone like her.
He held out his hand. “Trust me, Jenna.”
She placed her small hand in his larger one, her skin fair and delicate against his, her magnificent breasts jiggling with each step she took as he backed to the settee.
He sat while she stood, her weight balanced carefully on her feet, poised for flight. With a tug he pulled her into his lap. Her hip cuddled his cock. Her shoulder nestled under his and the soft scent of roses teased his nostrils. She turned her torso into his, put her arms around his neck and raised her mouth. He shook his head. “No.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you giving me what you think I need.”
She frowned. “You want me to just sit here?”
“I only want you to give me what you feel.”
“But I don’t feel anything.”
“Ever?”
“No.”
“Now that’s a damned shame.”
“Am I supposed to?”
He brushed the damp fall of hair from her forehead. “If I do my job right, you should feel a whole hell of a lot.”
She shifted, weighing his words. “But you’ll let me use my cream.”
He couldn’t blame her for not taking chances. “If you want the cream when the time comes, I’ll use it.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She relaxed against him. “What do I do now?”
He let her slide back on his arm, his hand on her head controlling her descent until the deep green fabric of the settee cushioned her back. “You just lie there and let me play.”
“And that will make you happy?”
He propped himself over her, closing his eyes briefly as the tips of her breasts pressed against his scarred chest. “Very happy.”
The bright sun reflecting off the new snow outside lit her skin with a pure white light, highlighting that inner glow that always enthralled him. Her breath was coming in little pants that caused her breasts to shiver as she watched him warily. He shifted his hips, sliding his knee between her legs. She tensed immediately.
“Easy, Sunshine.”
She took a breath and stilled.
“That’s it,” he whispered against her cheek. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You just trust me to make you feel good.”
It didn’t escape his notice that she ducked his gaze on that statement. He kissed her cheek. Her hands gripped his forearm. She had a lot to learn about him. He wasn’t a man who rushed his fences. He could take as long as she needed. He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling when her eyes crossed as she watched, kissed her forehead, and then closed those big blue eyes with a brush of his lips across her dark tipped lashes. They tickled his lips as they fluttered a response, but they closed. He kissed the blue veined lids softly.
“There you go. Just focus on how I make you feel.”
He made her feel small, feminine, vulnerable. Jenna gasped as his lips brushed her ears. Very vulnerable. He was so big, so strong, The muscles of his chest bulged as he supported himself above her, and though he obviously intended to do his best to make this not hurt, she didn’t see how he could avoid it. Jack wasn’t anywhere near as big as Clint and he could make her scream. Another of those butterfly kisses on her neck and she shivered.
“Did you like that, Sunshine?”
It was a rhetorical question because Clint didn’t wait for an answer, just did it again, lingering a little longer on the spot just beneath her ear. Another dart of sensation raced down her spine. He laved the area with his tongue and then sucked the flesh between his teeth. The tingle of sensation exploded into something more, something hot and demanding. Something that made her breasts swell and peak. Something that scared her. She pushed against his forearms.
He didn’t pull back, but rather tucked her closer into his chest, his mouth. Tucked her into that out-of-control feeling, and nurtured it with hot whispers of approval as she shivered and arched.
“That’s my girl. Go with it.”
Go where? She had no idea what he was doing, where he was taking her, what he expected her to do along the way. She’d hoped for a lack of pain, but this lack of control was something altogether different. Before she had a chance to study it, contain it, he was moving again, his lips brushing her cheek in a light series of caresses on the way to her mouth.
It was with a feeling of relief that she felt him kiss the corner of her mouth. She knew what to do here. He’d taught her last night. As soon as he kissed the other corner, she opened her mouth, sliding her hands up the hard bulge of his biceps to the unrelenting firmness of his shoulders. His nose brushed hers as he shook his head. A strand of his hair slipped its tie and slid along her cheek.
“Don’t rush it, baby.”
Rush what? As a married woman, an intelligent woman, she’d thought she knew everything about relations between a man and a woman, and how to survive them. She didn’t know a thing about this. About the way that the he could make her lip tingle with the brush of his tongue, the way he could make her breath catch and her body twist just by sucking her lower lip into his mouth.
His laugh mingled with her gasp. A low masculine sound of pleasure as his hand eased under her torso and held her chest to his. She braced herself for the bruising to come, but instead he just held her, letting
her get used to the feel of him as he got used to the taste of her.
Gradually, her muscles relaxed, letting him bear her weight, letting him take responsibility for their position. Her reward was another of those approving murmurs before he slanted his mouth across hers, and his tongue pushed past her parted lips in a slow, easy thrust that rode her breath and her anticipation before culminating in a lazy curl around her own.
He didn’t appear to be in any rush, or working toward any particular goal. His mouth on hers was gentle, his hand on her back supportive, the fingers on her cheek coaxing. She was surrounded by his smoky scent, his strength, and his gentleness. Her fingers caught in his hair tie and when she tugged, his hair sprang free, sliding around her face, blocking out the sun, locking her into the sensual world of his creation where nothing else existed except the fragile new feelings he was coaxing from her body and the diminishing of her resistance. She dropped the leather hair tie on his back as, through the shock hazing her brain, the reality pushed forth.
“You’re seducing me!”
It was a breathless accusation that lacked any real strength. Clint met it with the truth. His “Yes” was strong in contrast, his amusement somehow kind instead of mocking. “Is that a problem?”
She shook her head, feeling foolish.
He brushed her nose with his. “Must be I’m doing it right then.”
He smiled. Another real smile that took his face from handsome to devastating, and more of the shield she’d put up around her heart dissolved. She’d always wanted to see him smile, never dreaming she’d actually get to be the one to make it happen. And here she’d done it twice in one morning. She touched the corner of his lips.
“You’re actually smiling.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You never smile.”
“I’ve never had you in my arms before.”
She blushed. She could feel it starting in her toes and burning its way up over her chest. She couldn’t help it. The way he looked at her made everything seem more intimate. More personal. He looked at her as if she were something special, which only made her more aware of all the ways she wasn’t.
“You must say that to all the ladies.”
“No. I don’t.” He wouldn’t let her look away. His smile was gone and in its place was the man she was used to seeing. The one who asked no quarter and gave none. The one who gave the truth with no apologies or acknowledgment to decorum. Another spurt of hope shot past her defenses. Maybe she really was pretty to him. She quashed it immediately as foolishness.
“Thank you.” His focus intensified. She shifted uneasily. Sometimes she swore he could see so deep inside of her that she had no secrets left. His nose brushed hers again.
“Sunshine, someone sure put some strange notions in your head.”
“I’m sorry.” She so wanted to give him what he wanted, to react the way he was used to. His hand worked up her back until he was cupping her head, her shoulders supported by his forearm.
“Nothing to be sorry for. Just means we have a few things to get straight.”
“Just a few?” He smiled at her stab at humor. Just a quirk of his lips, but it made her so hungry for more. He nodded.
“The main one being that I think you’re so beautiful I’m about to come in my pants just from looking at you.”
“Really?” The starkness of his words shocked her. The possibility of them intrigued her. He dropped his forehead against hers. This close she only had a vague sense of his expression, but there was no denying the harshness of his breathing or the pounding of his heart.
“Really.”
“But we’ve only kissed.” She felt his shrug all along her torso, especially on her breasts where his chest hair dragged on her nipples.
“You’re one hell of a kisser.”
The compliment warmed another spot deep inside that she’d thought forever frozen. She stroked his shoulder and back, enjoying the ladder of muscle flexing beneath her touch.
“I can go get my cream.”
His “No” was so abrupt it made her jump.
“There’s no need to wait.”
He kissed her hard. “It’ll be sweeter for the waiting.”
She didn’t know how that would be possible, but he was the man, and he certainly knew what he liked.
“Fine.” Then because she was curious and because his lips on her neck had her heart fluttering and racing she asked, “Is it allowed, I mean would you like…” He rose up and eased his body down hers as she searched for the correct way to ask. The settee creaked as he pulled his arm from under her and propped himself over her with his arm beside her chest.
“Spit it out, Sunshine.”
Because she hadn’t come up with any better approach she did. “Can I touch you?”
It seemed as if the question hung between them unanswered for an eternity as he studied her expression, and then he relaxed and the smile began. It started in his eyes, warming their flat dark depths with light as it spread outwards over his full lips with pure carnal anticipation.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” Another blush surged up from her toes but she held her ground.
“My pleasure.” His hands brushed up over her ribs to the side of her breasts.
She couldn’t help her involuntary stiffening. His gaze sharpened and his eyes left hers and dropped to her chest, searching for the cause of her unease. In the bright light he couldn’t help but notice and she didn’t want him to see her that way. Didn’t want him to know. She tugged at his hair.
“I thought I was going to get to touch you.” She was rather proud of the seductive quality of her complaint.
“In a minute.”
He had incredible hands. With a touch he could both soothe and coax. It was no wonder he was the best horse trainer around. But she didn’t need soothing, she needed a distraction. His breath hissed in and she knew it was too late. She closed her eyes against the pity she’d see in his. The curiosity. The disgust.
“Tell me who, Sunshine.” The rough tip of his finger lightly touched her breast just to the left of her nipple.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” She looked down. All she could see was the dark width of his shoulder spreading across her line of vision, and the black spill of his hair over the stark whiteness of her skin.
“It matters.” He cradled the fullness of her breast protectively in the width of his palm. The coldness of his gaze when he looked up made her shiver.
“You’re scaring me.” She could feel him withdrawing from her, back into that place she couldn’t go, where no one could reach.
“You’re not the one who needs to be scared.” In contrast to the lethal growl in his voice, his lips on her breast were infinitely gentle—hot soothing kisses of…apology? “Tell me, Jenna.”
“It’s not important.”
“Was it that son of a bitch your father forced you to marry?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m with you now. No one can hurt me.” She couldn’t bring herself to lie. She petted his shoulders. The muscles tensed to rock-hard under her hands. The fingers of his left hand bit painfully into her soft flesh.
“I’ll kill the son of a bitch who so much as thinks about trying.” The calmness with which he stated that fact had her shivering again.
Clint felt the shiver all along his body. He turned on his side, squeezing them both onto the settee, taking her unease into himself while he tried to quell the murderous rage swelling under his skin, breaking out of his control, threatening to explode him from within.
His Jenna, his sweet, gentle Jenna had been whipped. On her breasts. Hard enough to leave scars. Son of a bitch, no wonder she’d been so obedient, blindly doing what he’d asked without a murmur. She had to be in terror of that happening again. And she didn’t think it mattered?
He dropped his forehead to hers and eased his grip on her breast. Damn! He’d been squeezing hard enough to leave a mark. Which had to make him little better than the bastard who had released such savage
ry on her. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“It’s all right.” She was always telling him that but he didn’t believe it.
“Do you want to call a halt?”
His cock jerked in protest, but he fought back the selfish urge to push on, to force her to acknowledge him as different. He felt the heat of her blush before he saw it.
“I…”
“It’s okay.” He tucked her into his torso, needing to shelter her as much as he needed to claim her. She tore him up with her vulnerability combined with that inner strength that she relied on to keep going. “This doesn’t have to happen all at once.”
She swallowed so hard her head butted his chin. “I don’t want to stop.”
“What?” He couldn’t have heard her right.
“It’s never felt good before. I know it’s a sin, but I just want…” The rest of the sentence faded off into nothingness.
“You just want what?” Her hands clenched on one of his.
“I just want to know what it would be like with you.”
“Shit!” He was in no condition to take her gently. He was too raw, his anger simmering too close to the surface, blending with his lust in a volatile, unpredictable mix.
“I’m sorry.” She cringed away.
“Damn it, come here.” She did immediately, lying stiffly against him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. “Jesus, you should never have married me.”
“I told you I wasn’t perfect.”
He grabbed her chin and jerked it up. “There isn’t a goddamned thing about you that isn’t perfect, but there’s a hell of a lot about me that should send you screaming for cover. Number one being that right now I’m in no condition to take you gently. Like you should be. Like you need to be.”
Instead of flinching away, her chin came up. “Who says?”
“Who says what?”
“Who says I need to be taken gently?”
“I do. You should have soft words, gentle touches, and all the patience a man can muster.”
“And you can’t give me that?” She propped herself over him.
“Not this time. Not now.”
Promises Prevail Page 15