Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Ella pulled on her nightshirt and peered at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser in Jesse’s guest room. Yesterday, he’d declared she was going to stay with him—for her own safety, of course. He’d acted like they were evacuating a disaster zone, forcing her to stuff clothes into a bag as fast as possible, so she’d just grabbed things without much thought. But of all the nightshirts, what were the chances she’d pick up this one?
“Cowgirls Do It Better” written in pink cursive on the front of a black tee. It was the very same shirt she’d had on that first night in New York three years ago. Well, it hadn’t been on long before she’d boldly chucked it.
A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of the hungry look in his eyes when she’d stood before him in nothing but her red panties that night.
Did he still remember her curves? Her body’s response to his touch? She knew he remembered the fact she’d told him she usually slept in only a tank top and underwear.
Ella lifted her shirt and eyed the red panties. The lust in Jesse’s eyes when he saw them earlier that day had her thighs squeezing together. Maybe the passion they’d had in New York had never burned out? Maybe he still felt the same way? His body, at least, seemed to respond to hers.
When he’d caught up to her on horseback yesterday, and they’d taken a tumble in the field, it didn’t take but a second for his dick to get hard after she fell on top of him. And when she’d asked him to kiss her, right before her mom showed up, he’d been stiff, unable to hide his erection.
Ella slipped a hand under the hem of her panties and found her sex soaked. Just thinking about that infuriating man managed to turn her on.
How many times had she gone out of her way to avoid him over the past three years, not always because of anger, but because the sexual tension was so great she’d worried she’d lose her control? And after every one of those encounters, she’d needed to get herself off or risk losing her ever-loving mind.
Even now, thinking about him had her crooking a finger over her sensitive spot, watching herself in the mirror and wishing it was his hand touching her. She drummed up one of her many fantasies, a particular favorite that began with angry-sex and quickly turned into a full-on passionate inferno.
“What am I doing?” She pulled her hand from her panties and straightened her nightshirt. I’m losing my mind.
She grabbed a pair of sweats and decided to face Jesse. Maybe get the kiss over with? The idea of his mouth touching hers had her heart beating faster as she opened the bedroom door.
Muffled voices trickled out from the kitchen down the hall, but the door to Jesse’s bedroom across from hers was closed, so she hoped he was in his room and not working with his team.
They both ought to get some shut-eye since it was now two in the morning, and they were getting hitched later that day. But she doubted he was able to sleep, same as her, though their reasons for being wide-awake and wired were most likely very different.
After lightly tapping on the door and getting no response, she turned the knob and found it unlocked. Letting go of a long exhale, she quietly entered the room. The bed was still made, and a glance out the open French door showed he was outside on his private patio, his back to her as he stood beyond the overhang in the rain.
He looked drenched, and he had to be freezing. It was barely forty degrees out. What in the hell was he thinking? Was he losing his mind like she was?
Ella quickly shut the door and locked it to prevent them from being interrupted, then walked with slow, steady steps across the room. Chills spread over her arms as she neared the open door and was hit by the cold, along with a few raindrops that blew in with the wind.
“Jesse,” she whispered. She barely heard her own voice over the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
His shoulders fell, indicating he was aware of her presence. But when he pivoted to face her, she startled at the sight of him—soaking wet and miserable. He moved onto the patio for cover, and the small porch light illuminated his face in more detail.
“What are you . . .” His words faded into the cold air as his gaze roamed over her nightshirt. “Did you wear that to fuck with me?” he growled. “Not that you don’t have every right to screw with my head, but?—”
“I didn’t plan to fuck you.” Ella blinked. “ With you,” she quickly amended as she massaged away the goose bumps from her arms. “Can you come inside? It’s cold with the door open, and you’re going to freeze to death out there.”
“I’ve been in much worse conditions,” he said, not moving an inch, still a good six feet away as his eyes slowly moved up to her face.
It wasn’t raining all that hard now, but the damage was already done, and his shirt was molded to his muscular frame. Threading both hands through his wet locks, he slicked the hair away from his face, and she stilled at the way those blue eyes beheld hers.
“So, you remember this shirt?” she asked, tugging at the hemline. “This time, I wore pants.”
“I can see that,” Jesse answered as he cocked his head. “And obviously, I remember. Did you think I’d be able to forget any details from that weekend?”
She set her palms on the frame of the door, surrendering to the cold because the searing look in his eyes warmed her enough to keep her teeth from chattering. “Well, considering you haven’t talked about it in three years, I wasn’t so sure.”
“We had a deal.” His tone was low and cutting, but knowing Jesse, his anger wasn’t directed at her. It reflected an internal struggle, an “it’s not you, it’s me” thing.
“Um.” She’d come into his room intending to talk about something, right? Aside from just the kiss. But with this man dripping wet and watching her like he was about to pounce, she’d lost hold of all thoughts that didn’t result in him stripping free from those wet clothes and using her body to warm them both beneath his covers.
“What is it?” Jesse took two hesitant steps across the patio, bringing him just within arm’s reach.
Would he react if she extended some type of olive branch? Let him know this wasn’t easy on either of them, but they’d have to make it work somehow?
“I knew you wouldn’t ask A.J. or anyone to be your groomsmen,” Ella sputtered, remembering why else she’d gone to his room. “But my mom took care of it. She basically told A.J. he’s your best man. And she chose Chris and Griffin as the groomsmen.” Her stomach still squeezed from the jumble of hellish feelings that’d been trapped inside her all evening while her mom dragged her every which way to plan the wedding. “Rory, Ana, and Savanna will be at my side.” She gulped when he took another slow step. “McKenna is kind of old to be a flower girl, but she volunteered even though Beckett originally said no. And, um, Ana thought it’d be cute for baby Marcus to carry the pillow with rings and?—”
“Rings,” Jesse said with a wince, obviously having forgotten that slight detail. “I’ll need to drive into the city and find some.”
“Oh.”
And why did he frown at her “oh?”
“Did A.J. refuse to be the best man?” he asked a moment later. Ella couldn’t help but notice that he’d said “the best man” rather than “my best man,” which, once again, drove home the point that this wedding wasn’t real. But then why the sad look?
“No, but I mean, you know how he feels about this whole situation. As it is, our mom is already suspicious, so if he said no to being in the wedding, Mom would, well, you know, know this is fake.”
“Right.” Jesse scratched his neck, his gaze lost to the pavers beneath his boots.
“Would you please come inside and get out of those wet clothes?” she pleaded.
Surprisingly, he followed her request, so she cleared the way for him to enter and shut the door. He stood before her for a few seconds, quietly studying her, then removed his boots and headed for the en suite.
He didn’t bother to shut the door as he stripped, and she didn’t exactly look away.
His taut back muscles flexed as he peeled off his shirt, and his strong legs appeared more muscular once his jeans were gone. He’d dimmed the lights in the bathroom, but there was enough light for her to work with—enough to provide the perfect view of strong glutes in black boxer briefs.
And then he disappeared into the closet that connected to the en suite, returning a moment later wearing a white tee and gray cotton shorts.
She resisted palming her red-hot cheeks and wondered if he noticed she hadn’t moved a single muscle during her own private Magic Mike show (minus the dancing).
“You change with the door open to screw with me?” she asked, unable to bite her tongue.
Jesse stilled in the doorway between his bathroom and bedroom and lifted both palms over his head to rest at the top of the doorframe, scrutinizing her.
In that position, the short sleeves of his tee were stretched to capacity by his biceps. She nervously waited for him to say something. Or do something. But his “grr factor” was front and center, and that damn alpha man was staring at her like he might actually toss her over his shoulder and swat her ass in the process.
She squeezed her thighs together, and Jesse’s focus lowered between her legs as if he’d noticed.
“Maybe we should just have our first kiss at the wedding. At least something will be real. You know, since it’ll be our first and last,” she decided at that moment because she was now far too nervous to have this man’s lips touch her anywhere but in public. No, if he kissed her in private, when they were alone, she’d beg him to kiss every inch of her body. And she had too much self-respect to beg him not to reject her again. Plus, if she’d learned anything from that weekend in New York, sex without commitment from Jesse hurt far too much.
“Last, huh?” He pushed back a little from the door without letting his arms fall, but his forearms and biceps flexed.
Why did that have her swallowing? She’d seen his muscles before. She’d seen him naked. Memorized the sexy V. The soft smattering of chest hair. His hard pectoral muscles. The strong quads that’d trapped her thighs so she couldn’t squirm while he made her come.
“Last,” she said again, hating that her lower lip was trembling.
He dropped his arms and walked into the bedroom, dragging his hands through his wet hair again. Those gray shorts left little to the imagination, especially after he wiped his wet palms on them. Oh, and there—there it is. She could pretty much make out every detail of his dick, and it was . . . hard.
He’d have to guess how wet she was, though, because she had no intention of letting him find out.
Jesse closed the space between them and reached around to gently tug her braid before she had a chance to realize what he was doing. The man really was fast.
He was also tall. Ella was five-six, which wasn’t short, but Jesse towered over her. He tugged her braid a bit harder to urge her chin up so her eyes would find his.
“You will kiss me before the wedding. Privately.”
“You can’t make me,” she challenged, hating her body for betraying her right now. Nipples? Harder than she’d known possible. Her sex? Hello, Niagara Falls. No need to visit there after all.
Jesse dipped in closer, drawing his face a hair’s breadth away from hers. Their eyes remained locked as he rasped, “Oh, I won’t have to make you.”
“No? How so?” Her traitorous voice barely squeaked out the words, letting him know the effect he was having on her. Every part of her.
“There’s one thing you and I have never lacked, despite every other issue . . . and that’s chemistry, darling.” His last sentiment floated on a breath, and that breath was like a preview of the kiss to come. “You want it as much as I do.” Another light pull of her braid had her mouth practically touching his, and she wasn’t sure why she was fighting so desperately to resist. “Go to bed, Ella.”
“What?” she gasped, the intoxicating moment shattering when he released her braid and stepped back, taking her by surprise.
He tipped his head to the side and stared at her. “I need you to go, because I won’t be able to stop at just kissing you. Not with you in that shirt. In my bedroom. With those fuck-me lips poised and wet.”
Oh, God.
You’re right.
If he kissed her, she’d lose her sanity and control within the space of a heartbeat.
“So, no before-the-wedding kiss, then?”
Jesse closed his eyes as if he couldn’t handle the sight of her. Well, judging by the erection in his shorts, he was struggling to not go savage mode and throw her on the bed.
“Jury is out now. I don’t know.”
“You changed your mind fast,” she whispered, now strangely disappointed.
“Go, please. Before I do a lot more than kiss you. And I don’t have condoms, so the pregnancy won’t be fake like the marriage,” he murmured darkly, lifting his lids to show his blue eyes almost hazy from the intensity of whatever he was feeling and thinking.
“Oh.”
Jesse shook his head. “Please don’t use that sound around me.” He didn’t elaborate why, but he added, “Go get yourself off. I know you need to.”
“Excuse me?” She smoothed her palms up and down her arms at his words, another insane comment coming from him that had her heart fixed in her throat.
“Go. I need to do the same before I . . .” Head angled. Eyes working over her body.
Holy shit. She was going to combust.
“Jesse,” she softly said, forgetting what his name from her mouth had done to him back in New York.
Before she had a chance to react, Jesse cupped her chin, and his piercing eyes cut straight through her as he hissed, “Ask me for it.” He angled his head, bringing his mouth close to hers. “Ask me,” he growled out, already forgetting his command for her to leave.
She was breathing hard and fast, utterly confused, but “Kiss me” still left her lips, and his mouth crushed hers with such intensity she had to walk backward to not lose her balance. But he moved right along with her, keeping her upright with a hand to her back.
He held her flush to his body, imprisoning her in his embrace. His other palm slipped from chin to cheek as his tongue pushed open her lips, and she gave in without hesitation.
The prior rigidness in her body vanished, and she wilted as he kissed her.
Kissed her hard. Then softly.
Tongue. No tongue.
Slow and sensual.
Were they floating? Were her feet on the ground?
Her head was in the clouds, that’s all she knew as she grew disoriented from the erotic sweep of his tongue in her mouth, alternating with the light pull of her lower lip gently between his teeth.
Her eyes were closed, and yet, she could see clearly. Every moment they’d spent together skipped through her mind in HD. With his lips on hers, it was as if she were walking through their lives together frame by frame.
Memories of their weekend in New York poured through her mind. And those memories remained tight and focused before her.
The horse-drawn-carriage ride in the snow that Saturday when he’d laced their fingers together beneath the blanket and held both her hands and eyes had been . . . intimate. Even if that word was supposed to have been stripped from their vocabulary that weekend.
And when they’d finally stumbled upon carolers, and Ella had joined them in singing Silent Night , with the smell of gingerbread and cinnamon in the air from a nearby street vendor, Jesse had watched her as if she were his everything.
Ella returned to the present with Jesse, choosing to skip over the last three years that’d nearly broken her.
She’d rather focus on how his hand slid farther down her back and to her ass as he kissed her.
But as if sensing she was “back,” he lifted his mouth from hers, and her hand went to her heart at the loss of his lips and hands on her body.
She wanted to catch hold of those memories again, knowing they were better than the sad and lonely feelings that would settle into the pit of her stomach any moment when reality took over.
“Go,” he said without opening his eyes, and he walked two steps back. “This will be a shotgun wedding if you don’t leave here in the next ten seconds, Ella Mae.” His tone hovered somewhere between angry and explosive with desire. “You. Need. To. Go.”
She stared at him, not sure what to do. She didn’t want to leave, but he kept breaking her heart. Giving her hope only to steal it back in the last three years. And if she gave in to him again, she’d never recover when he took that hope away one more time.
“Goodnight,” she whispered, hating her decision. But she’d hate herself more for staying.
Eyes still closed, he softly returned, “Goodnight.”
She started for the door and set her hand on the knob when a stupid thought hit her that managed to escape her lips. “Why don’t you have condoms?” What the hell am I saying? “I—I thought a man like you would be prepared for anything.”
“Why would I . . .”
“How many women have you been with since New York?” she asked before he found his voice to finish his words. “I—I need to know.”
She felt him closing in on her but couldn’t turn around to meet his gaze. She cursed herself for asking the question because she knew. His silence said it all, and she held back the tears that threatened to fall. Had she actually thought that he hadn’t been with another woman since her? That she’d been his last, same as he’d been for her?
“You were engaged,” he quietly said, her eyes welling up again at the finality in his tone.
“I know,” she replied, setting her forehead against the smooth wood of the door. “But that engagement was your fault.”
“I’m . . . sorry.”
Her chest tightened as she struggled to find her breath. An overwhelming sense of sadness washed over her as a single tear made its way down her cheek.
After that kiss, the kiss she now regretted because it’d been one of the most amazing kisses and moments in her life, maybe he really did belong at the top of her hate list. She’d need to convince herself he belonged there so she wouldn’t slip up and cling to the possibility of hope that there would ever be a real “them” someday.