Promises Prevail

by Sarah McCarty

  “You’re very vulnerable right now.”

  She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. The thought of making love right now with the memories so strong made her cringe, but the thought of disappointing Clint when he needed her was worse.

  “Maybe I need you like that, too. Maybe I need to know you still want me.”

  “I’ll always want you.” His hand curved around the back of her skull, cradling her head. She slid her hands over his shoulders, skimming her fingers up the side of his neck, stroking his jaw with her thumbs before cupping his cheeks and pulling his mouth to hers. She focused on Clint. He was the only one who mattered right now.

  “Then kiss me.” She needed him to make the demons go away. To remind her of how things were now.

  He did, his mouth gentle as it touched hers, a mere brushing of lips when she expected possession. The easy ebb and flow of his mouth on hers gave her time to adjust fully to the moment. To push away the last remnants of the past. She gave herself to his kiss, the strength in it, the comfort. Beneath her hands she felt the finest of tremors hit him before his kiss changed, became harder, deeper, more passionate, as if he needed to stake his claim.

  She opened her mouth to the thrust of his tongue, taking him into her, holding him, understanding his need as she shared it. She needed to know he was real, too. That he would be there for her when she reached out. That he was hers. No matter what.

  His hand slipped down to the back of her neck, tilting her head for a better angle. Deepening the thrust, taking control away from her, leaving her helpless to do anything but receive his desire.

  His hand dipped to the hollow of her back as he mated his mouth to hers, arching her over his arm. Pain stabbed up from her leg as the pressure increased. She moaned and pushed at his broad shoulders. There was only the minimal give of his shearling coat before she hit rock-hard muscle. His mouth parted a breath from hers.

  “It’s okay, baby. Just give me a little more.”

  She pressed harder. “My leg.”

  The words were lost in his mouth as her breath swirled with his. For the space of a heartbeat, she didn’t think he’d heard, but then he was in motion, lifting her off his lap as if she weighed nothing. Holding her so that none of her weight was on her legs as he pushed off the wall. She grabbed for his neck as he stood.

  He swung her up in his arms, his chest shuddering against her as he drew in a deep breath. She tightened her grip around his neck as he cradled her close.

  “I’m sorry, Sunshine.”

  She didn’t want him sorry. She tilted her head back to see his face. “It was just the position.”

  He was shaking his head before she finished the sentence, his long hair brushing her cheek in a soft caress. “I should be horsewhipped for going at you like that after what you’ve been through.” He headed into the parlor.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  He paused in the parlor door. His eyes were knowing, his expression hard. “Close enough in your mind that I almost lost you because of it.”

  She couldn’t argue that. She rested her cheek on his shoulder as he carried her into the comfortable room. He laid her on the soft cushions of the settee, the worry in his eyes telling her that he wasn’t going to pick up where they had left off.

  “I won’t slip like that again.”

  “I know.”

  He didn’t sound like he believed her. “I won’t, Clint.”

  In the aftermath of that hysterical moment, she felt free. For the first time in her life—free. As if everything that had been too confusing for understanding was now suddenly clear and firmly in place, where it belonged. As if it really was possible to start over. One step at a time. Away from the past, into her future.

  “Good.” He cupped her face in his hands as he knelt beside her. “I want you to rest now.”

  “I don’t need to rest.”

  He traced the line of her cheekbones with his thumbs. “I want you to try.” He reached for the throw and covered her up.

  “What about you?” She caught his hand as he would have pulled back.

  “I’m going to work the edge off on that damned horse.”

  She almost felt sorry for the horse. Clint practically vibrated with tension.

  She sighed. “I wish you’d work it off on me.”

  His eyes flared with heat before it was quickly banked. She knew what the answer was before he shook his head. “I’m too raw for careful, and you’re too raw for wild.”

  He was right. Darn it. She moved his hair behind his shoulder, guilt gnawing at her. He needed her, and once again she was falling short of giving him what he wanted. “But later?”

  “You can count on later.” He kissed the inside of her arm. The abrupt move was a poor imitation of his normal smoothness, telling her more than words about how on edge he really was beneath his control. His hair fell forward again, as stubborn as he about doing what it wanted.

  “What about Bri?”

  He smiled and tucked the comforter around her shoulders. “I think the three of us can handle one sweet little girl for a couple of hours.”

  “You said she was a hellion,” she reminded him with a faint smile.

  “I like that in her.”

  Yes, he did. He seemed to enjoy everything about the little girl, from her good moods to her bad. Delighting in her temper and her smiles with equal fervor. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met before.

  The cushion dipped as he pushed to his feet. “I’ll stoke the stove before I go. You relax and take a nap.”

  “I’m not sick.”

  “No, but you’ve been up with Bri the last few nights and you’re still tired.” He crossed to the small stove. The door creaked as he opened it. “And that leg could use a rest,” he added as he stuffed a few logs onto the glowing embers.

  Would he always see her as a cripple? “You promise you’ll come back?”

  His right eyebrow arched as he reminded her, “You’re my wife. This is my home.”

  And he was a good man who’d made a promise to honor both. Her fingers twisted in the throw. She wanted to be more to him than a duty.

  His boots made soft thumps as he crossed the wide planked floor. His hand was heavy on hers as he unknotted her fingers.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Jenna.” He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. His brow creased with worry and strain as his eyes met hers. “I’ll be outside. If you need me, just ring the bell.”

  She pushed up on her elbows, determined that he know this one thing. “And I’ll be in here if you need me.”

  He nodded, but his expression didn’t relax. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He didn’t believe she meant it.

  Inside of her, something shifted, and guilt and fear died beneath a surge of determination as she watched him leave the room. She was going to have to do something about that.

  * * * * *

  “Wake up, Jenna.”

  The low drawl wove into her dreams. She turned toward the voice and opened her eyes. Clint knelt before her, his expression unreadable.

  “I fell asleep?” She pushed her hair off her face. Clint’s eyes followed the movement and a smile softened the hard line of his mouth.

  “Looks like it.”

  “Where’s Bri?”

  “She just went down for her nap.”

  Which meant that they had a couple of hours free. She waited for the nervousness to come, but instead, all she felt was the same determination that she’d experienced earlier. And anticipation. She touched the edge of his smile.

  “Does this mean it’s later?”

  “Do you want it to be?” She loved the way his eyebrow rose when he was amused. She slid her finger into his mouth, jumping at the bolt of sensation that shot down her arm when he sucked it. The hitch in her “Yes” would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t had such a profound effect on Clint.

  His expression went hard in an instant while his eyes burned with an intensity sh
e’d grown to appreciate. His voice, however, was calm. Too calm. The way it was when he was hiding how he really felt. Did he still feel that she wouldn’t be able to handle his desire for her? He had a lot to learn about her.

  She slid her arms over his shoulders. “Help me up, please.”

  The ease with which he lifted her sent a quiver of excitement down her spine.

  “Can you stand?” he asked, supporting her as she reached her feet.

  She tested her leg. “I’m fine.”

  He steadied her with one hand. The little balls made their presence known with a vengeance. Her knees buckled on the sharp surge of pleasure. Clint caught her and swore.

  “Your leg?”

  The blush burned up from her toes, leaving her slightly lightheaded as she confessed, “It’s not my leg.”

  Clint frowned. “You said you weren’t hurt.” As he talked, his big hands were running over her body, searching for wounds.

  Oh heavens. This couldn’t get more embarrassing. “I’m not hurt.”

  One beat. Two beats. She could see his mind working. When understanding hit, his smile was pure male satisfaction, and his eyes flared with sensual heat. He closed the distance between them with one step.

  “Those toys giving you a bit of trouble?”

  “Yes.” Not only were they giving her trouble, but it felt like every nerve ending in her body had joined the fray.

  He pulled her against his body. The hard length of his cock leapt against her, as if straining to reach her through her skirts. She had an incredible urge to yank the cumbersome material out of the way. Her pussy wept with an equal need. He pushed a strand of hair off of her cheek, that ghost of a smile touching his mouth.

  “Can you feel the balls now?”

  She shook her head. “Only when I move.”

  “And you’re sure your leg’s not hurting?” His hand slipped behind her neck.

  “Yes.” She knew better than to ask, but she did anyway. “Why?”

  A genuine smile formed as he pulled her forward and lowered his head. “’Cause I think it’s time you moved.”

  She closed her eyes as his firm lips eased hers open. She curved her arms around to grip his forearms with her hands. She loved the way he kissed, all heat and patience and yet so completely carnal that she felt it all the way to her womb, which clenched in delight, triggering a shift of those torturous balls.

  “Can’t we just take them out?” she gasped as the spike of desire eased.

  “Yes.”

  She sighed in relief. He turned her around. With his hands on her shoulders he urged her toward the door.

  “As soon as we get upstairs.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “You can’t mean to…”

  “I can’t?” He raised his dark brow and laughter blended with the lust in his gaze.

  “Brianna?”

  “Will be asleep for at least two hours.”

  His hand in the middle of her back propelled her forward, the balls shifted, bumped together, sending shards of sensation splintering outward. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun,” Clint murmured.

  For him maybe, but it was going to be pure torture for her. She took a step. The balls shifted, and she bit her lip on the moan that snuck past. Clint’s laughter followed her as she took another. There was the sound of something hitting the chair. A quick glance revealed his coat. The next step got her as far as the bottom of the stairs. She grabbed the rail for support. A board creaked, and then she felt him against her back. His heat and scent seeped into her senses like an insidious drug, making her weaker, more susceptible to the sensations racing out from her core. This time there was no suppressing the moan as she swayed.

  “Problems, Sunshine?” His arm came around her waist.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “But I want it.” His fingers rested on her stomach, just above her pubic bone. “I want you hot and aching, that sweet pussy open for my cock.”

  She was already there. “It’s not fair.”

  “What’s not?”

  “I want you aching, too.”

  His lips brushed the side of her neck. “Do you think I can hear your moans, know you’re hurting for my touch, and remain unmoved?” His teeth nipped her ear. “That’s some damned image you have of me.” He pressed with his fingers, massaging the ache deep inside to a more urgent pulse, at the same time letting her feel the rock-hard length of his cock through her skirts.

  “I want you baby. I’m just enjoying the anticipation.”

  She couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent to say than “Oh.”

  “So why don’t you get this luscious ass moving up those stairs so I can get onto playing?”

  Luscious? He thought her ass was luscious? The compliment almost made the thought of moving bearable. She put one foot on the stairs. The balls pressed against her inner walls. Hot licks of fire radiated out. She glanced up. There were fourteen stairs to go. She licked her lip and took another step. Clint was right behind her, his hand on her stomach measuring every hitch in her breath. Her pussy swelled and ached. Her skin beneath his fingers became ultra-sensitive, straining for his touch through her clothing. She paused, gripping the post for strength. Clint eased her back against him.

  “Don’t fight it,” he murmured in her ear. “Just let it flow over you. Let yourself feel good. It’s not a sin baby, but a gift.”

  A gift? It was torture, pure and simple. Her head found the hollow of his shoulder. His lips brushed her ear.

  “Climb the stairs, Jenna.”

  Why did he have to say it just that way, in that voice? She took one step, and then another. The fire rose up from her groin, raging over her senses, burning out her ability to do anything but feel. She fell back against him. “I can’t.”

  “What if I say I want you to?” Still that seductive voice that coated her need with honeyed promise. Her pussy clenched and wept as the inherent promise slid down her spine.

  “Please don’t.”

  She shivered as his lips found the side of her neck. “Do you ache for me, Sunshine?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed and pushed her forward. She caught herself with her hands on the stair, her back curved, taking most of her weight on her good leg. He came down over her, surrounding her with his body, his hips aligned against her buttocks with blatant intent.

  “I like you like this, all bent over.” His hands drooped down to her knees. He started gathering her skirt.

  “Accessible.” He piled layer after layer of material into the small of her back. His big hand slipped between her thighs, catching on her moist pantaloons. “Ah Jenna, you get so wet for me.”

  “I can’t help it.” She shifted her legs apart to accommodate the width of his hand as he cupped her pussy.

  “That wasn’t a complaint.” His fingers dipped inside the slit of her pantaloons, the callused tips scraping the hungry flesh. She pushed back against him. He leaned in, his cock grinding into her ass. “That’s it. Show me what you want.”

  “You.” The embarrassing confession whispered into the quiet of the house. “I want you.”

  “You’ve always had me, Sunshine.” His teeth scraped the back of her neck.

  Not like she wanted. She’d never have him that way. The stray thought whisked away as his tongue lapped at the spot. Her knees buckled. How could her neck be connected to her pussy?

  He laughed and did it again. The sharp spark joined the others, building the internal fire. She twisted against him. His fingers brushed her swollen clit in a searing caress.

  “Oh God!” Her knees buckled.

  “Hold yourself up.” He gave her pussy a soft pat.

  She couldn’t if he kept doing things like that.

  “Do it, Jenna.” The order rode the heels of the last shuddering sensation. She braced her knees and tried. She swayed as he removed his heat and support, but she didn’t fall. She considered that a huge
success. His hands slid over her hips. “Good.”

  There was a tug and a ripping sound and then a wash of cool air on her buttocks as the remnants of her pantaloons slid down her thighs.

  “Clint…”

  “Who else?”

  No one else. No one else could make her feel like this. No one else could make her burn with fire as she bent over, exposed and vulnerable. Only Clint. She only trusted Clint this much.

  “Damn, you have a fantastic ass.” His palms curved around each cheek, his fingers braced on her hip bones, the thumbs dipping into the shallow creases at the top.

  Her skin throbbed beneath his touch with the same pulse as her pussy.

  “You don’t think…” She bit back the rest of what she was going to say. Only a weak woman would ask if he though her ass was too big when the truth was in his caress, the way his fingers kneaded in sensual bliss. The way his thumbs glided down the sensitive crease between. The soft hum of appreciation he made in his throat as she involuntarily pushed back into his caress, her body knowing what her mind fought to accept. Clint McKinnely loved the way she looked. She—fat, worthless, almost invisible Jenna Hennesey—could make big strong Clint McKinnely moan from just the sight of her butt.

  As an experiment, feeling awkward and terribly exposed, she wiggled her hips.

  “Oh yeah.” His hands left her. “Do that again.”

  It was harder without his touch, but she focused on him and measured her success in the harshness of his quickly drawn breath as she did as he ordered.

  The sound of leather sliding through metal pulled her up short. She knew that sound intimately. He was taking off his belt.

  The little voice inside that had kept her alive for years told her to freeze. To be passive so as not to risk provoking him. She was so tired of listening to that voice.

  Another, newer voice rose out of the confusion, insidious in its message. It whispered for her to move, to tempt him, to test her power, to see how far she could drive this powerful man.

  She wiggled her rear again, slowing the move, listening to the inner rhythm, withdrawing when she heard his breath catch, pushing back when he released it in a tormented curse.