Promises Prevail

by Sarah McCarty

  He ended the caress with the barest brush of her nipples. He retreated before she could finish her breath. He did it again, sliding his hands outward, pressing a little harder, smiling as she pretended not to notice what he was doing, but was clearly intent on every nuance as witnessed by how still she held herself. And the way she held her breath every time he got near her nipples.

  Like now. They were hard and swollen—eager for his touch. He gave it to her, a little harder, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers before working his way back to the plump base.

  “Sometimes,” he explained, squeezing gently as he had as much of her breast in his hands as he could gather, “when a woman is nervous and her milk won’t come down, her husband can help her by stimulating her.” Her breath shuddered out of her lungs as he massaged the resilient flesh in his hands. “Finding the right stroke and pressure to make her relax.” He tweaked her nipples smiling at her halting intake of breath. “A woman’s milk flows better when she’s relaxed.”

  “But I don’t have any milk.”

  “But you’re my wife, and this is the first time we’re feeding our daughter together, and I want you to have the full experience.”

  He centered her nipples in his palms and pressed. The succulent flesh bloomed in his hands. She sighed and her head dropped back against his shoulder. She was giving him more than her permission. She was giving him her trust. He let his fingers cup the sides of her breasts, controlling the expansion as he controlled the moment.

  “That’s it, Sunshine. Lean back and let me take care of you.”

  “I’m feeding the baby.”

  “And I’m taking care of you.”

  He rolled her nipples in his palms, tilting his hand so that her breasts sprang back into his palms. They were heavy and full and if the baby wasn’t in her lap, he would have turned her and tasted them. He resumed the milking motion, increasing the strength of each stroke, taking his cue from her increased respiration until, with the fourth pass, he captured her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed, increasing the pressure until she moaned and pressed back against him.

  “Ah, that’s it then,” he murmured, tucking her shoulders under his arms, keeping her still for the pleasure he wanted to give her. “Right there?”

  It was a rhetorical question. He didn’t need verbal proof of her pleasure. The involuntary shifting of her body against his, and her breathless moan told him all he needed to know.

  He did it again, hungry for her response, her whimpers of pleasure, holding the pressure for a heartbeat more, reveling in her openness to him. Needing it.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brianna turn away from the bottle.

  “I think Brianna needs to be burped.” He let the words drift down her neck, the goose bumps that sprang up equally pleasing.

  Her head snapped up. “Oh.”

  He relaxed his grip, sliding his hands back until they were once again just supporting her heavy breasts. He felt her blush in his hands before he saw it on her cheeks. She carefully sat Brianna up, supporting her with a hand on her chest. Brianna sat there, her big blue eyes full of surprise as if she wasn’t sure how she got there, and then they filled with intelligent curiosity as she viewed her world from this new position. Clint couldn’t suppress a smile. She was such a little dickens.

  Three taps on her little back had the child burping loud enough to have Danny lifting his head off the floor. As soon as the noise abated, Brianna’s head jerked and one corner of her mouth kicked up in an unmistakable expression.

  “She smiled!” Jenna exclaimed turning to him. “Did you see that? She smiled.”

  “She sure did,” Clint kissed the corner of Jenna’s mouth, watching Brianna bob in her blanket, her movements jerky, her pleasure at being able to do them contagious. “And over a belch no less. That child’s going to be a hellion for sure.”

  “She is not!” Jenna kissed Brianna on her beaming face as she bucked in her blanket and smiled again, this time getting both corners of her mouth into the action. “She’s perfect.”

  Clint looked at the square little face topped by all that spiky hair and shook his head. The girl had hellion written all over her.

  “Now that would be a darned shame.” He tickled Brianna’s cheek. She turned instinctively toward his finger her mouth open, looking like a little bird. “I always thought a little bit of hellion was an attractive quality in a woman.”

  Jenna stilled again in that way he was beginning to understand meant that she was thinking.

  “It’s a woman’s duty to submit to a man.” She threw that piece of wisdom out like a shield.

  His “hmmm” was noncommittal as he kissed the side of her neck.

  “In all things to follow his direction.” She was obviously quoting an oft-heard dictate.

  He pulled the pins from her hair, and the heavy mass fell in a silken waterfall between them, pooling where his chest met her back before sliding off to the side. Damn, he’d love to wrap himself in her hair.

  “What if the man’s wrong?”

  “What?” She sounded shocked.

  “What if the man’s wrong?”

  He hugged her simply because he’d never held anyone who sounded like she needed it more. “The son of a bitch didn’t deserve you.”

  He’d had a gut full of her defending that worthless piece of shit. “He was a drunk and a bully and a few straws short of a bale.”

  “He was my husband.”

  “And I for one am glad he’s dead.”

  She didn’t have an answer for that. Brianna screwed up her face, clearly ready to lay into her mother again. Clint gently flicked her cheek with his finger. He couldn’t allow that.

  “Brianna wants the rest of her bottle, Jenna.”

  She jumped and hurriedly propped Brianna up on her knee. As soon as the nipple touched her cheek the little girl turned and latched onto it, sucking strongly but without that desperate edge, as before.

  “She’s a strong eater,” Jenna said, pleasure in her voice.

  “Yes, she is.” It was probably the wrong time, but Clint couldn’t stomach the thought of Brianna growing up to be a shadow of the woman she was supposed to be. “She’s going to be a strong woman, Jenna. I don’t want her growing up thinking she has to kiss the ass of every man she meets.”

  “She’ll never find a husband if she’s willful.”

  “Then she won’t, but no one’s going to tell my daughter she’s worthless.”

  “You’re a man. You don’t understand what it’s like.” He tipped her head back with a finger under her chin until her head rested on his shoulder.

  “I’m getting a glimmer of what things have been like for you, but they’re not going to be like that for Brianna because we’re not going to let them be that way.”

  “We’re not?” Her eyes were huge as they met his.

  “No.” He cupped her jaw and turned her head so that her cheek pressed against his collarbone. “We’re going to raise her to be strong—to think—and we’ll protect her from any son of a bitch who tries to put her down.”

  “We may not always be available.”

  There was another of those long pauses. “A woman must trust and pray God will provide direction.”

  If that wasn’t the biggest load of bull he’d every heard. “Sunshine, I’ve met a lot men in my time, and some of them wouldn’t hear God’s guidance if he boomed it in their ears. What does a woman do then?”

  There was defeated pain in her voice as she said, “She prays and does the best she can.”

  “Is that what you did with your first husband, baby? Pray and endure?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not a very good wife.” “I was willful and disobedient.”

  “If we aren’t, then Cougar or Asa will be stepping up to kick ass. And trust me, you haven’t seen an ass-whupping until you’ve seen those two take someone to task.”

  “I’d forgotten…” Her voice drifted off on what might
have been a note of wonder. And hope.

  “Well. I haven’t. Brianna’s a McKinnely now and we take care of our own. If I’m not available when there’s a need, she’s got a family to watch out for her.” He kissed her lips, stroking her cheek, willing her to trust him. “And so do you.”

  “Thank you.” She ducked her head away from his gaze. There was no increase of confidence in her words. Clearly she didn’t think anyone would hit the ground running for her. He tipped her gaze back to his.

  “Sunshine, I’m very good at taking care of what’s mine, and you’re mine now.”

  “I know.” She didn’t blink or flinch.

  “I want you happy, baby.” He stroked her cheek beside her mouth. “I want to see these dimples at least twenty times a day.”

  Her eyes widened briefly. “You do?”

  “Yes, and not just because they get me hard.” While her mind wrapped around the knowledge that he found her dimples lust-provoking, he pressed on. “You can be as willful and as disobedient as you like as long as, at the end of the day, you’re smiling.”

  “Why?” She blinked twice.

  He rubbed his nose on hers. “Because I’ve waited a long time to have a wife to pamper and spoil, and as determined as you are to take the fun out of it, I’m just as determined to enjoy myself.”

  “You are?”

  “Yup.” He rested his forehead on her temple. “I’m not planning on settling for less than happy.”

  She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze left his and she stilled against him. When she looked back into his eyes, her answer almost ripped the heart from his chest. “I don’t know if I know how to be that.”

  He kissed her very, very gently on her lips. “Then maybe we’ll get to have some fun figuring that out together.”

  “Do you know how to be happy?”

  The question hung between them in the quiet room, and as much as he wanted to be glib and smooth, he found he couldn’t be. Not with her, so he gave her the truth. “Not anymore.”

  This time when he touched his lips to hers, she was ready for him, kissing him back, tenderly, leading with that generous heart of hers, whispering into his mouth, “I want to make you happy.”

  The words went through his system like a flame. He shifted her higher, held her closer, welcoming her softness even while he felt driven to protect her from herself. “I’ll be happy as long as you are.”

  She shook her head, her mouth set in a mutinous line, checked Brianna, and then tentatively laid her head on his chest again. “I want more.”

  “You’re just going to have to accept that I’m past redemption in some ways.”

  “No. I’m not accepting that.”

  “You might not have a choice.” He slid his hands up over her arms. Her muscles were tight under his fingers. She was scared of bucking him, even on something as sweet as her determination to make him happy. She was so soft inside and out, and yet so damned incredibly strong in ways he couldn’t be. He massaged the tense muscles, keeping his touch light.

  “There’s always a choice.” How she could believe that after all that had happened to her was one of the mysteries of what made her who she was.

  “Not in this.”

  “I won’t be happy unless you are.” Stubborn laced her husky voice and fought the purpose of his massage. He sighed and set his thumbs on either side of her spine, just inside her shoulder blades and worked at the tension there.

  “Okay, baby. How about we agree that we’ll both try to get acquainted with happy, but neither will expect too much.”

  “Okay.”

  She really thought he meant that. He kissed the top of her head, breathing the scents of roses and woman. There was no way he was going to be content until she smiled from dawn to dusk. He looked down at little Bri. Her eyes were closed and her lips slack around the nipple. A trickle of milk dribbled down her chin.

  “She’s asleep,” he whispered.

  “Oh. Good.” Jenna made as if to get up. He kept her still with a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ll put her to bed.”

  He slid around her, bracing himself above her as he eased his feet to the floor. His hair swung down around her face. To his surprise she smiled, tentatively touching the dark strands. Her “I like your hair” was as shy as her touch on his chest. Lust ricocheted through his body like a bullet shot off in a barrel. He couldn’t move. His cock ached and throbbed. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. It seared him to his toes. He took a breath. It didn’t help. His drawl was a hoarse parody of its normal tones.

  “What brought that on?”

  Her gaze fell from his as she whispered, “You’re a nice man, Clint McKinnely.”

  “I’d probably believe that if you looked me in the eye when you said it.”

  “You’re a nice man.” She met and held his gaze, but with effort.

  She had a lot to learn about him. He slid his hands under Brianna, lifted her up, and smiled at Jenna.

  “Tell me that again after I get Button here settled and see what it gets you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tell me again and see what it gets you.

  Jenna bit her lip and followed Clint’s progress across the room. He paused when the floorboard squeaked under his weight, jostling Brianna slightly to keep her asleep. She’d never seen a man holding a baby before. Never dreamed a man would want to, but Clint seemed to actually enjoy it. Brianna was so tiny in his massive arms, a speck against his chest. He held her close, not too tight, but with an instinctive protectiveness that screamed “Mine.”

  She had no doubt he’d die for Brianna.

  As much as every instinct told her not to take Clint up on his dare—and that’s what it was, a dare—she was going to. Dry-mouthed and shaking in her nightgown, she was going to repeat her statement. Just as soon as he got back to her. Which hopefully wouldn’t be before she got some spit in her mouth, because right now she wouldn’t be able to yell “fire” if the room were ablaze.

  He scared her so much. Not because he was big and could hurt her. She’d been hurt so many times another scar wasn’t even going to make a dent, but Clint could hurt her way down deep where the last of her dreams hid out. Part of her wanted to give him those dreams, but she couldn’t because there were things that he couldn’t know about her if she wanted him to respect her.

  Clint turned from depositing Bri in the drawer that was functioning as a makeshift bed until her brand-new crib came in. He grabbed a clean towel off the stack on the dresser and tossed it onto the bed beside Jenna. His black eyes smoldered, and the way the corner of his mouth kicked up set her heart to racing. Clint’s lean, dark fingers went to the buttons on his white shirt.

  “Tell me again, Jenna.”

  The first button slipped its hole. His gaze dropped to her chest. The set of his mouth went from serious to sensuous in the blink of an eye. She looked down. Dear God, her breasts were exposed to the nipples! The heat started in her chest and rose to her cheeks. Clint’s chuckle drifted through the quiet room.

  When she looked back up, he was standing only two feet away, his legs slightly spread, wide shoulders set in a clear challenge. The last button on his shirt slipped free of its mooring. He hooked the shirttails behind his wrists and put his hands on his lean hips, exposing the hard, muscled expanse of his torso, and the thick bulge of his cock as it stretched down his thigh beneath the worn material of his denims.

  “Tell me again, Sunshine.” His drawl was deep, hoarse, persuasive.

  Jenna licked her dry lips and sought the courage to take him up on his dare. She dawdled, looking up, her gaze slowly climbing the rock-hard muscles slabbing his stomach, riding the hills and valleys of his abdomen until she reached the solid wall of his chest. The deep scars from where he was burned only accentuated the power inherent in all of that dense muscle. She forced her gaze higher, lingering at the hollow of his throat where the force of his pulse belied his easygoing drawl. And ran out of
courage.

  “If I do, will you think me forward?”

  “Tell me and find out.” He shrugged out of his shirt. It fell to the floor with a soft click of buttons striking wood.

  “You’re not Jack.” She clenched her fingers in her gown, wrestling with the need to do as he wished, and the rules she’d been raised with.

  “No.”

  “You won’t trick me.”

  He cocked his head as if considering that before admitting, “Only on April Fool’s day, and only if you let me catch you napping.”

  His hands went to the fastening of the denims riding low on his hips. He undid the top two buttons, revealing the dark line of hair arrowing down from his navel. Her mouth went dry even as the outrageous urge to run her tongue down the groove of muscle slanting inward from his hipbone swept over her. To sink her teeth into that red-brown flesh, to see if he tasted as good as she remembered. The bite of pain in her palms alerted her to the fact that she was pulling her gown so hard it was in danger of ripping. She gentled her hold and groped for reality.

  “It’s my woman’s time.”

  “I know.”

  “We can’t.”

  “So you said.” He shrugged, and the slightest hint of a smile touched his mouth. The last button on his pants gave way. The thin line of hair broadened to a thick patch as he spread the heavy material.

  “I’m dirty.” Embarrassment choked her voice to a whisper. His finger under her chin lifted her face. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—meet his eyes. His thumb brushed her lips.

  “All your woman’s time means is that you’ll be hotter, wetter, and be able to take me easier.” His thumb brushed her lips. “And Sunshine…” The tap on her lips was an order. She met his gaze, mortification burning her from the inside out. “You couldn’t be dirty if you spent three days in a wallow.”

  Whore. Filthy bitch. The words swarmed out of the past, striking her like blows. She pulled her chin free and ducked her head. Strong hands on her arms lifted her and tossed her up and back as a low masculine laugh surrounded her like a hug. It happened so fast she didn’t have time to scream. The mattress cushioned her landing. She clutched the front of her gown closed as she glared at Clint.