Chapter 11
Eleven
“You—you can’t be serious.” No way could he be. Even though he didn’t feel overly warm, he must still be delirious with fever.
That was the only way Jane could justify the odd request, the downright romantic way he treated her. After their kiss and then her ultimate rejection that night at the movies, he’d essentially kept his distance. Always respectful, polite, more like a friend than a lover.
Right now, he was acting very much like a lover. And she liked it.
A lot.
“I’m dead serious.” He kissed the back of her hand again, his lips lingering, warm and damp on her skin. A shiver moved through her and her breasts grew heavy in reaction to his simple touch. He drifted his mouth over her hand, across her knuckles, and her lips parted on a sigh.
“Join me, Jane.” His sleepy voice was seductive, alluring, and she was tempted, so tempted. But what would happen if she did join him? Would he touch her, take this even further? Or would he recoil from her in disgust when he discovered her scars?
No way could she let him see her…but even in the dark he would feel the raised, puckered, scarred skin.
“Chris.” She tried to sound strong, firm. “I can’t. The children—”
“Are asleep,” he finished for her. His voice was low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down her spine. “They’ll never know. Lay with me, Jane, just for a few minutes.”
“I shouldn’t.” Again, with the firm voice and the not-so-firm resolve.
“You should. You know you want to.” He actually chuckled, the cocky man, and she felt him slide over to make more room for her. He released her hand and flipped back the blankets. “Come on. Before I get cold.”
She could not believe she was doing this…
but she wanted to. She was attracted to him.
Giving in to him seemed natural. Kicking off her slippers, she shifted under the covers, her bare toes nudging a knee, sliding down to brush against a hairy calf.
He was very warm, his body heat embracing her much like his strong arms when he drew her to him.
“Christian! You’re naked,” she said on a gasp, shock coursing through her when she realized he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.
He chuckled again, smoothing his hand up her back to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. “You’re very perceptive.”
“I think…I think you’re hallucinating or s-something,” she stammered, and she rested her hand against his chest. His very warm, very hard chest. She couldn’t resist streaking her thumb across his skin.
“Nope, no hallucinations. I’m feeling a lot better.” He dipped his head, his still damp hair brushing against her cheek, and his mouth moved against her neck in the softest of kisses. “Just wanted to show my thanks.”
“A simple thank you would’ve worked just fine.
” She arched her neck, giving him better access as she clutched his broad shoulders, holding onto him for dear life.
He was an anchor, something to cling to as the storm of emotions his mouth brought forth raged within her.
That mouth slid down her neck, kissing and nipping, and his tongue licked, making her squirm, making her sigh in anticipation.
Anticipation of what? Lovemaking? Oh, no. No, no, no. She wasn’t ready for that. She couldn’t be ready for that. She needed to get to know him better first.
Right. And she’d been saying that for weeks.
“I love the way you smell.” He lifted his head, his face in front of hers, his mouth so close she swore she felt his lips move when he spoke. “It drives me crazy.”
“It does not.” No man had ever said anything like that to her, not even her husband.
“It does.” He kissed her, his mouth connected with hers, and oh, she wanted more. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured against her lips. “All day. Every day.”
“Chris…”
“Do you think about me? At night, all alone in your bed, do you close your eyes and think about me, Jane? Because I think about you.” He kissed her again, this time his mouth lingering. His tongue touched the seam of her lips and she opened for him, let him in, wanted him in.
His words, his kisses, were like a drug. She needed to hear more, taste more, experience more. More, more, more.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she said the second he lifted his lips from hers. Though she could barely speak, she was so breathless, swept away by his seductive mouth and delicious tongue.
“What’s stopping us?” He kissed her cheeks, her chin, and nipped her there. He gripped her waist and his fingers slipped beneath her shirt.
“Me. I’m stopping us. Um, you could get me sick, you know.” What a weak excuse. She really should tell him she couldn’t risk the involvement, the idea of being with this man in beyond a friendly manner still scared her.
Yet it scared her more to think of him not being in her life at all.
Chris paused, his face nuzzling hers, his stubble-covered cheeks scratchy in the most pleasant way. “Sweetheart, if you’re worried about me getting you sick, it’s too late. I’ve already kissed you. Thoroughly.”
Yes, he had. And yes, he was right. But she wasn’t one to throw caution to the wind, let bygones be bygones, or any of those other silly, stupid clichés. She was boring. She was normal. She was a widow who didn’t have much of a social life and definitely didn’t have any kind of sex life.
It seemed the man who lay with her, his naked legs entwined with her clothed ones, was determined to change that.
“Please don’t tell me to stop.” His voice lowered another fraction, sexy and deep and rumbling from his chest. “You can’t deny what’s happening between us.”
“And what is that?” She wanted to hear him say it, but he kissed her again, his tongue sweeping the recesses of her mouth before he answered her.
“Chemistry. Attraction. I think I wanted you the second I saw you.”
“Really?” No way could she believe that, could she? She’d been so shy, so quiet, so nothing special. It was hard for her to think of herself as anything else.
But right now, being in Chris’s arms, his hands all over her, his mouth attached to hers, he made her feel like a woman. A wanted woman. And until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she needed that.
“You like to contradict me, don’t you?” Again, another chuckle, another nuzzle of his cheek against hers. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, curved around and up her front, until he cupped her naked right breast in his wide palm. “No bra. I thought so.”
“You were hoping I didn’t have a bra on?” She sounded like a complete idiot, asking these silly questions, but she couldn’t help it. It had been so long since another man expressed interest in her, it was almost as if she forgot what that was like.
“Oh, yeah. I thought about a lot of things. All of them good. All of them involving you. And me. Like this.”
There was no way she could deny him, not when he thumbed her nipple with such aching precision, not when he slipped his other hand beneath the waistband of her flannel pants to smooth over her bottom, his palm burning through the soft cotton of her panties.
His hands were magic, his mouth not allowing her the chance to protest, since he swallowed all of her words with one delicious, long kiss.
He devoured her, his lips soft and damp, his velvety tongue tangling with hers.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could only feel, and it all felt so, so right.
“Chris.” She stiffened, fear turning her spine to ice, and she shoved at his shoulders. “I—I can’t.”
“I know you’re scared.” He drew away so he could look at her. She hated that he could see her, that the light was on, and she wished they were in darkness. It wouldn’t be so bad, then, and she might’ve felt braver.
Right now, she didn’t feel brave at all. She wanted to run. She wished for her old body, her old confidence.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” she confessed, feeling like an insecure fool.
He didn’t stop touching her. Just traced her skin with gentle fingers, along her hairline, touching her scars. She tried to jerk away but he held tight. “I think you might be, honey. I have a feeling you are, but you’re just cautious. Afraid.”
“It’s been a long time.” She paused. “I’ve only been with, truly with, one man. And that was my husband.”
He was silent, absorbing her words, and probably getting ready to run.
“Then he was a lucky man, your husband.”
Oh, God. She absolutely melted. What could she say to that?
How was she supposed to react to something so sweet, so sincere?
The corners of her eyes pricked with tears and she shook her head, refusing to let them fall.
She’d cried enough to last a lifetime. No way did she want to break out in sobs while in bed with this sexy, thoughtful man.
“No one has seen me since—since the accident.” She nibbled on her lower lip, trying to tell him without actually saying it that she didn’t want to reveal the scars all over her body.
“I won’t push you into doing something you don’t want, Jane.” He traced his finger along the side of her face, touching her scars again, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t move.
“I know.” And she did know that. She believed it with all her heart.
“I’ll stop if you ask me to.”
“I know that, too.” She trusted him. She cared for him, even.
This was why she lay with him, why she wanted more but was too afraid to admit it.
“Turn off the light.” Her voice trembled, a breathy little whisper, and he did as she requested, reaching over and shutting off the lamp with a flick of his fingers.
He drew her close and she held onto him. She slid her hands down his chest and marveled at his smooth skin, the hard muscles beneath her palms. He was so big, so strong, and his slowly exhaled hiss of breath made her pause.
“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice tight. “Keep touching me.”
Jane continued her exploration, skimming her hands down his ribcage, along his stomach, tracing every dip and ridge, the soft hair that grew just below his belly button tickling her fingers. She couldn’t believe she’d taken it this far.
Without a word, he reached for the hem of her shirt and tugged, a silent request to continue. She surrendered, held her arms up, and slowly he pulled the shirt over her head, then tossed it onto the floor.
“You’re so soft.” He caressed her, a slow, soothing glide of his hands over her skin. She shut her eyes, let herself be carried away by the exquisite sensations his touch brought forth.
She couldn’t wrap her head around it, that he wanted to be with her. And so she wouldn’t frazzle her brain by thinking about it too much. This time she was the one who kissed him. Who snuck her tongue into his mouth and tasted him.
The kiss turned instantly hot. She clutched him close, slung her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his hair. His hands were everywhere, applying pressure where she wanted it. So gentle, so careful, and she needed that gentleness, appreciated it more than he would ever know.
He broke the kiss, his ragged moan so close to her ear it made her snap her eyes open. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart.
“God, Jane.” The desperate groan that escaped him matched the desperation rising in her body. “I can’t hold back much longer.”
This was it—this was the moment where she could tell him to stop or beg him to continue. She’d never done something like this before, taken a chance where usually she was so careful
For once, she was willing to risk her heart.
“Then don’t.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, savoring the heavy weight of him when he settled his body over hers.
Oh. Her eyes flew open and she stared blindly at the ceiling. She sunk her hands into the thick mass of his hair, holding him in place. His hair tickled her sensitive skin and tingles sparked all over her body.
And when he finished thoroughly making love to her, as he rolled onto his side and draped his arm over her, holding her so close she could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath her ear, she knew she’d never felt so content.