by Jaycee Clark
She angled her head and deepened the kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, demanding he kiss her back. The black strands of his hair were silken tresses between her fingers. His arms slid around her and wrapped around her back, pulling her hard against him.
Christian’s heart thundered, roaring blood through her veins, but it had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the feelings Brayden coaxed her to feel.
One hand moved from her back, along her ribs, his thumb grazing the side and underneath her breast.
Christian gasped and jerked back.
His eyes stared deep into hers, and the expression in the dark blue was one she’d never seen before.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean.... God, Christian, I’m sorry," he said on a ragged whisper, pulling back from her.
He straightened and licked his lips.
And the truth suddenly slammed into her. Brayden Kinncaid was as nervous and scared as she was.
Christian wasn’t stupid, she knew and felt what was between them. It was the same intense feelings she’d carried for the man for the last several years, feelings that had only intensified since they’d finally made love months ago. But now ... now, the other stood between them, dark and ugly. He was afraid he was reminding her of it, she could see that now.
Clearing her throat, she reached up and touched his cheek. The muscle in his jaw bunched under her hand. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and she had to turn his head to her. "Brayden, look at me."
Muttering under his breath, he complied, both brows arched.
"Stop it," she said.
"What?"
How could she explain this to this man? The Kinncaids were a different breed of men in her opinion.
They often seemed they should be in another time, when men protected and gave all for what was theirs.
When nothing and no one stood in the way of what was considered important.
Swallowing, she tried, "Stop it-this. You didn’t scare me. You just took me by surprise, that’s all."
Wondering if this night would now be laced with tension, she dropped her hand and looked across the water. It was a foggy night.
Finally, she said, "I’ll let you know if something you do bothers me." She looked back at him. "Okay?"
With one long, blunt tipped finger, he scratched the corner of his mouth. "That’s just it. I don’t want anything to bother you."
"Well, that makes two of us. But I don’t want to spoil this between us because we’re both worried I might react a certain way." She took a deep breath and confessed. "You keep him away."
"What?"
She realized her dress was slipping and pulled it up. She felt ridiculous, but she needed him to understand. Licking her lips, she tried again. "You keep him away."
He didn’t say anything, didn’t move. Finally, she chanced a look up at him.
Brayden’s head was cocked to the side, studying her in that intense way of his.
Hurrying, trying to make him understand, she rushed through the rest of it. "When I’m with you, talking, laughing, or...." She smiled at him. "Or kissing. It’s you. Just you. You drive everything else away."
His grin grew. "I guess that’s nice to know."
"You guess?"
He pulled her gently back into his arms. The warmth from his sigh tickled the hair at her temple.
"Yeah," he said, "I guess."
"Hmmm." She reached up with one hand and kissed him, ran her hand down the front of his tuxedo.
Words she was scared to say hovered on the end of her tongue. She took a deep breath. "I want you to keep him away."
He straightened under her hand. "What are you saying?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Christian took another deep breath. Was she ready? Only one way to find out. She hadn’t lied to Brayden. When she was with him, things were just them. "Do you know," she said, "I’ve never seen your room."
She stopped, pulled her hand back and walked toward his door. Was this foolish? It didn’t feel like it, but she was scared. And she didn’t want to be scared.
She wanted her life back.
Turning, she looked at him. Brayden stood staring at her, his tux jacket caught behind his wrists, his hands shoved in his pockets and the most confused expression she’d ever seen on his face.
Still he didn’t move.
Christian sighed and walked back to him. Maybe she should just let the dress fall. But then another thought slammed into her. What if Brayden didn’t want.... What if when he looked at her....
Stop it.
She stood in front of him, looked into his eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. A breath away, she murmured, "After the hotel, I would lay awake at night cursing you because I remembered how wonderful it was between us, how precious, how special. I want happy memories again, Brayden. I want to go to sleep tonight and know you’re the last man that has touched me." Then, she kissed him. Poured all the love, heartache and hope she could into that one kiss.
He tried to pull back. "This isn’t.... Might not be.... I don’t know.... You’ve had a lot of champagne tonight."
"I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re worried about. You are so stuck on this drunk thing, Brayden. You need to work on that," she told him, grabbing his head and kissing him again.
Their tongues danced and melded, sighs mingled breaths, and their bodies fit, moved, and asked for more.
Brayden jerked back. "Christian, don’t."
He held her at arms length and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
She cupped his face, not caring what he saw in her eyes. "I want you, Brayden. I have for a long time.
When I moved out, before I moved out, I would wake up thinking you were beside me, feeling your hands on me." She dropped her gaze to his lips. "Remembering what you tasted like, what it felt like to be with you. It was wonderful and beautiful."
One quiet moment stretched, then he whispered, "It’s supposed to be."
She ran her thumb over his bottom lip, which was larger and fuller than the top, though not plump by any means. Finally, she looked back into his eyes.
"Now I’m afraid to sleep. I’m tired of him, Brayden. I’m tired of being scared. I want to remember what it’s meant to be like." She kissed him again and whispered in his ear, "Help me forget the nightmare.
Make me remember the love."
He pulled her back, his hands hard and strong on either side of her face. "I don’t know if this is such a good idea. What if...."
"Oh...." He didn’t want to. Why hadn’t she thought of him? "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean. If you don’t want...."
God this was like before.
"Not want what? What were you going to say?" he coaxed.
"I just didn’t think about how this would affect you. If you’d want.... That is...." She couldn’t get the words out.
"Christian. Look at me."
Her gaze rose and locked on his and she couldn’t define what she saw in his eyes. "I’m scared of hurting you."
"I’m not scared of you, Brayden. Please? Make him go away. I wake up feeling dirty and I want to wake up remembering sunshine, the warmth of your hands on me, the heat of loving kisses." She felt her lip tremble. "I want my life back. With you."
His eyes burned in their intensity. "You don’t ask much, do you?"
She held her breath, afraid he’d tell her no, not sure if she really wanted him to agree.
Slowly, he lowered his face to hers, still clasped between his hands. Against her lips, he swore, "I’ll make you remember. It’ll only be you. Only be me. I swear it."
Brayden pulled her close to him and lost his fingers in her hair as he deepened the kiss.
Some sane part of him warned him this was a disastrous path, but the echo of her words pleaded through him.
Make me forget. Make me remember....
He had never wanted a woman so badly in his life, and never been so terrified he’d muck it up. Her lips were soft under his. H
e wanted to dive, to taste, to claim and wash away.
But he wouldn’t. Slowly, he had to go slowly.
The kiss went on and on, a slow wave rolling to a shore, only to join and become another. Since they had all the time in the world, he didn’t hurry, didn’t rush. He skimmed his lips over hers, teased hers with his tongue, ran his along the roof of her mouth and felt her smile and shiver.
Her skin was so soft under his fingers. He trailed a path from her jaw, down over the pulse in her neck, to the prominent collarbone.
She shivered against him.
Christian couldn’t think. The kiss robbed her of thought, tossed her into a sea of nothing but feelings.
Brayden coaxed a fire deep within her to burn, embers buried under the ash of fear. But now, now they were glowing bright.
Her stomach tilted when Brayden swooped her up in his arms, the silk of her dress rustling. The kiss never broke and she scraped her nails along the back of his neck, felt him shiver slightly. She broke the kiss as he carefully set her down by the bed.
Her stomach tightened. A bed. She swallowed.
"We don’t have to do this," Brayden said, his hands on her shoulders, gently kneading.
He pulled back and looked down at her, brushing her hair from her forehead.
The darkened curls looked right on her. This was his Christian. His.
He studied her, saw the skin jump over the blue vein in her neck. On a smile, he traced the telling sign of her excitement. But what if it wasn’t? What if she was really scared and forcing this.
"What are you frowning about?" she asked, smiling, rubbing her forefinger between his brows.
He held her chin between his fingers. "I want this to be right."
For a long moment, her smoky eyes looked into his. "I know."
"I don’t want to rush you. You shouldn’t force this. When you’re ready--"
Her cool fingers against his lips stopped him.
"I’m not forcing this, Brayden. Are we rushing it?" She thought about it for a moment. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"We should wait," he told her.
Her eyes widened. "On?"
Brayden shook his head. "I don’t know."
Her hands cupped his face. "Brayden, I want this. I want you. You make me feel safe and special and beautiful."
"Promise me if anywhere, at anytime, you change your mind, you’ll tell me."
For a long minute she didn’t say a word, her thoughts shuttered from him by the sweep of her lashes. "I promise. I know you’d never hurt me."
He didn’t know about that. He would never intentionally hurt her, it was the unintentional that worried him.
"You’re thinking again," she said on a grin, lying back and pulling him with her.
And he was.
When she reached up and kissed him, wrapped her arms around his neck, he did nothing to stop her.
He let her take the lead. Brayden would only do what she asked.
One kiss turned into another and yet another.
Her hands pushed at his jacket, and he quickly obliged her in taking it off and tossing it to the side. Next to go was his tie. The shirt gave them both hell until a giggle danced out of her at his curse. That one sound relaxed him as nothing else could in this situation. She wanted this. She really, really wanted this.
Them. Love.
This night would be one they would both remember with smiles, he vowed.
Christian felt him ease as he kissed her, his mouth gentle and coaxing on hers. She wasn’t sure why. Part of her was scared, but the rest of her wanted this, wanted it so badly she could cry. Her hands raced over his wide sculpted shoulders, the muscles in them corded and tight.
Brayden was her strength and rock, her physical fortress, the shoulder to cry on. He left his pants where they were and pulled her to him on a deep kiss, sweeping her mouth, filling her with his breath.
He was hers.
She felt his fingers at her back, slowly drawing the ribbon through all the loops as he tried to completely unlace it. At one point, he growled, clearly frustrated. Grinning, she broke away and turned, sitting on the bed with her back to him. Her heart fluttered.
She wasn’t certain she could do this here. In the bed.
He must have sense something because he sighed and stood. "Perhaps we should..."
"No," she said. "I just. I should have already started sleeping in the bed."
For a long minute, he looked at her, then he grinned and held up a finger. "Wait right here, I’ll be back."
Christian waited, the air cooling her. She stood and paced. What was her deal? It was just a bed. A stupid bed, but there it was. She wanted and needed, but mostly just wanted to make love to Brayden.
Just not in a bed. Not yet.
In minutes, he strode back into his room. In his hands were all the blankets, quilts and the large fur rug from her room, she’d used as a pallet for weeks before she started sleeping on the couch.
In silence, she watched as he layered them on the floor in front of the fire. He threw the silk duvet from her bed onto the top and then turned, stroking the fire into a blaze. She loved the way his muscles bunched and rippled in the low light.
"Is this better?" he asked.
She only smiled and walked to him, sitting down in front of him. He’d understood. Slowly, she nodded and looked back at him over her shoulder.
Brayden sat up on his knees behind her, gently kneading her shoulders. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
"You still want to do this?" His breath was hot against her ear and she shivered.
Turning slightly, she leaned up and kissed him. "Yes," she whispered against his mouth.
His fingers played along her neck as he kissed her, those slow gentle kisses that made her stomach flip and the passion in her awaken.
Finally, he pulled back, still kissing her ear as his hands pushed the dress apart, and slowly, so damn slowly she could have screamed he unlaced the dress all the way down to the small of her back. Warm knuckles brushed her backbone from her nape to the dent in her lower back. Goose bumps tingled along her skin, and a tremble pooled at the base of her spine.
When the material sagged, she caught it against her. For a moment, she looked at the flames of the fire, and then let the dress fall, pooling at her waist.
Brayden’s fingers were warm as they caressed her nape. His hair tickled her ear when he leaned forward and kissed the curve of her neck, his thumbs kneading the muscles of her shoulders.
He mumbled something in Italian. Bella? She wasn’t sure. Didn’t want to ask.
His mouth continued around to her backbone.
She lay back on the blanket, the silk cool against her bare skin.
Her eyes locked with Brayden’s and her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were so intense. The blue so strong, she was sure it would burn her.
His hands cherished and loved even as he pushed the rest of her clothing aside and off. Her stockings and garters he removed so slow and torturously, she started to reach down and help him, but he only swatted her hands away, giving her that charming wicked grin of his before the man used his mouth and fingers to completely undress her. His teeth grazed her thighs as he unhooked the garters, then his mouth followed her stockings all the way down to her toes. His tongue rolled along her ankle and she gasped.
Even with the fireplace, the room was chilly. She shivered, her nipples tightening.
"Cold?" he asked, reaching down and grabbing another soft cover, tossing it over her.
She only nodded.
"Not for long." His lips were on hers, kissing gently, not demanding, slow and languid.
The longer their tongues danced, lips met and breaths shared, the hotter she became.
His mouth trailed from hers, kissing down her neck, to her chest. The feelings he brought to life within her were sweet and warm, wrapping her in bliss.
He muttered something against her breasts, but she had no idea what it was, his voice was too low. She just
felt the deep vibration against her. His breath teased her chilled skin just before he bent his head. The heat from his mouth, from his tongue, from his fingers as he caressed, tasted, and kissed her breasts built a fire within her--deep within her heart. One finger grazed the undersides of her breasts, as his tongue danced wickedly across her nipples before he pulled them into his mouth.
Christian couldn’t hold the moan in and speared her fingers into his dark hair, holding him to her.
When he leaned up, he pressed into her, letting his chest connect with hers. She gasped as his crisp hair crinkled against her. Brayden’s ebony hair flickered in the lamplight as he bent his head to her again.
Against her lips he whispered, "Mia bella, Christian. Mia bella."
God she loved it when he spoke Italian.
His tongue teased, tasted, dove, made her want more.
Long warm fingers blazed a hot trail over her breasts, feather light, just the barest of touches, and still she responded, moaning into his mouth. This felt so ... right. As though she were coming home after a long journey.
She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as his hand continued to meander down her ribs, her hip, her thigh, back up to circle around her navel.
He was being so calm, so gentle, so careful.
When his touch traveled its path again, she arched into him and closed her eyes, relishing what he made her feel. Warm hands, warm touches, loving touches. She smiled.
His fingers circled her breasts again, slow and teasing.
"God, you’re beautiful," he told her, pulling back. The blue in his eyes shifted, the heat storming in them.
"Tonight is about you."
So sweet.
She cupped his face and leaned up for a kiss. "No, tonight is about us."
About us.
He heard the words, knew what she meant, but didn’t argue. No, tonight was about her.