A Season for Hope (Sarra Cannon) (12 page)

He smiles and my heart races. His eyes dip to my lips and desire flashes across his features. He stops beside the passenger door to his car and turns me around so that my back is pressed against the cold frame.

He doesn’t say a word. He just places his warm hands on either side of my face and draws me toward him, our breath mingling as our lips meet, our mouths opening and closing in hurried need. I want him in a way I never expected. There are no walls between us right now. He’s seen more of me in the past week than I’ve ever let any guy see my whole life.

The fact that I don’t have to put on pretenses around him or play games to try to get him to notice me is one of the sexiest things about him.

He likes me for me.

And, oh God, I like everything about him, too.

I slide my hands beneath his jacket, drawing his shirt into my fists, pulling him closer.

He moans and buries his hands deep in my hair. Our lips separate and I kiss a pattern along his jaw and down his neck, wishing we weren’t standing on a public street where anyone could see.

“Please tell me you don’t have to work tomorrow,” he says.

My body reacts to the implication with a warm sensation deep down.

“Not until noon,” I say.

He moans again and draws my mouth back to his. He grinds his hips against me and I can feel him growing hard. I press into him, grabbing at his belt loops.

“I’m really trying to be a gentleman, here,” he says, breathless between kisses. “But I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it up.”

I smile and kiss the hard line of his jaw. “Then don’t,” I whisper.

He shivers and looks down, his hazel eyes lit with desire. “I don’t want to rush you,” he says. “I know it’s only been a week, but—”

“If you’re not ready—”

“I didn’t say that.” A corner of his mouth lifts in a sly smile. He still has his hands firmly cradling my neck and face. “I just want to make sure it’s what you want. I don’t want anything to mess this up, Bailey.”

I breathe in, my heart racing. I want him so badly, but I’m also scared. If I’m already liking him this much, what is sleeping with him going to do? If he breaks my heart now, I don’t know if I’ll recover. One heartbreak is bad enough. Two in short succession would kill me.

And I’m honestly not sure I’m really over the first one yet.

Which complicates things.

“I’ll take you home,” he says, his voice catching on the words. He lowers his hand to mine and squeezes once, then moves to open my door for me.

I push the door closed and grab his jacket with both hands, pulling him toward me. “I don’t want to go home.”

He swallows. His eyes explore my face. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I say. My knees grow weak and my adrenaline is pumping. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by trusting him with my heart, but I’m tired of always being careful and plotting these things out. I thought I had the rest of my life planned out with Preston and look where that got me.

This time, I’m not going to follow some master plan, figuring out each step before I’ve even given a single thought to what I really want.

This time, I’m going to follow my heart.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I can’t keep my hands off of him as he throws open the door to his apartment and ushers me inside.

My arms go up and around his neck and he pulls his jacket off and tosses it to the floor. He reaches both hands up to cup my cheeks, his lips exploring mine in a torrid rush of heat.

He pushes my back against the wall of the front hallway, then moves his hand down to help me out of my coat. His fingertips explore the soft curves of my sweater, caressing me and touching me in a way that builds a swelling need between my thighs.

There’s entirely too much fabric between us still, and I want it off so I can touch his hard body and his warm skin. In all our making out so far, we’ve stayed completely above clothes and mainly just spent hours kissing.

But I want so much more tonight.

All I can think about is exploring him, tasting him, feeling his hands all over me.

I grab his shirt into my fist and kneed his back, pulling him closer. I pull the shirt up and slide my other hand under, moaning at the warmth of his skin on my palm. He mirrors my movements, slipping his hand beneath the edge of my sweater and running his hands up and down across my back.

It’s nowhere near enough.

I push him away and cross my arms over my body, reaching for the bottom of my sweater. In one swift motion, I pull the sweater over my head, our eyes locked the entire time. Slowly, hungrily, he lets his eyes travel downward. His breath is fast and shallow as he takes in my barely-covered breasts.

I step forward and tug at the edge of his shirt, pulling it upward. He finishes the task, in a crossing and uncrossing of his arms, his face disappearing only for a brief moment as his shirt disappears, revealing the rock solid cut of muscles underneath.

His stomach and chest move with the force of his breath and when I reach out to run my finger along the trail of fine blond hair leading downward, his breath hitches and his stomach trembles.

He grips my hand tightly and pulls me toward the bedroom. We leave a trail of clothing as we kiss our way down the hall. My skirt. His jeans. Boots. Shoes. Socks.

By the time we are standing beside the bed, we’re down to nothing more than underwear.

I reach for the light switch, but he shakes his head.

“I want to see you,” he says.

I bite my lower lip. I definitely want to see him, too, but I’m nervous about feeling so vulnerable in front of him. Now that we’ve reached the point where the more intimate touching naturally begins, I’m drawing back, scared of these feelings swelling within me.

My legs tremble and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to draw in a complete breath.

He approaches me slowly, tenderly. He pushes my hair back from my face and with a touch as soft as a whisper, he runs his fingertips down my cheeks, my neck, and over the swell of my breasts. He navigates to my back and unhooks my bra, then brings his hands to my shoulders, slowly pushing the straps down and off until my chest is bare.

My nipples harden as his eyes flash with desire.

He continues his soft exploration, moving his hands up and around my breasts, then over the top of my nipples. I moan and let my lips fall apart. My chest thumps with every beat of my pounding heart.

I stand there, still on the outside but pulsing with need on the inside, as he moves his hands lower. My head falls back as he drags his fingers across my hips and down my thighs.

He pulls my underwear down and my body shivers.

He steps closer and the warmth of his body radiates toward me. Parts of him touch me, but he doesn’t press. He leaves enough space for his hands to continue caressing me.

I can’t keep mine still any longer, so I lift them up to his body, touching him with the same tenderness he’s shown me.

Desire grows between us, swelling like a giant wave headed toward the shore.

And when his fingers finally, mercifully, slide between my thighs and slip into the wetness there, the wave breaks over us and we are lost to it.

His mouth finds mine and as he presses his body against me, I’m overwhelmed with a thousand beautiful sensations. His hands rubbing me. My breasts pressing against his chest. Our lips tasting each other. The length of him expanding against me, growing harder with every touch.

I have lost control and inhibition. I am reduced to want and need and the beautiful ache between my legs. I slip my fingers inside the waist of his boxers and tug them downward.

I bring my trembling hand up to stroke him and he breaths in, his body tensing. A low sound forms deep in his chest and he drives his fingers inside of me.

When he lays me down across the bed, I swallow hard, my eyes drinking in the sight of his body as he stands there naked in front of me.

He reaches into the top drawer of the nightstand beside the bed and pulls out a condom. My breath is heavy and my legs writhe against the sheets as I watch him stretch it over the length of him. He looks up and our eyes meet. There’s a thrilling charge in the air between us. A magnetic pull that draws us together.

He moves onto the bed, his hands resting on my knees, then slowly spreading my thighs to give him access. His eyes devour me and I lift my hand to my face, embarrassed and aroused at the same time.

He opens me wider, then positions himself above me. He takes my hand in his and moves it away from my face. Up and over my head.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says. His voice is gruff and I realize this is the first we’ve talked since we walked in the door of his apartment.

He takes my mouth with his, passion surging with each new kiss.

I hook my legs around his hips and lift up toward him, wanting him more than I ever knew was possible.

I feel the tip of him at the edge of my wetness and I moan. I bury my hands in his hair and pull him closer, filled with something beyond need. Something more. As if my survival depended on it.

When he enters me, he moves slowly. I open my mouth against his, inhaling as my body stretches to accommodate him. He teases me, moving in and out at the edge of my sex, never quite giving me his entire length until I cry out and bite his shoulder, my mind spinning.

Finally, he reaches the end of his restraint and thrusts deeper, our bodies becoming one. We move in unison, finding a rhythm that quickens and becomes more desperate with each push.

Pleasure builds within me as he enters me and I dig my fingers into his back. I feel him tense and together, we tumble over the edge in a moment of complete surrender and release.

We hold each other long after we’ve climaxed, letting our breathing slow and our heartbeats pulse against each other’s skin. He showers me with soft kisses and I trace lazy circles along his glistening skin.

We fall asleep in each other’s arms, our bodies spent and trembling.

Our hearts completely open.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I wake and stretch, elongating my body until the tips of my toes curl and a yawn begins. Then I open my eyes and remember where I am.

My body tingles as I remember last night’s love making. I’ve never had sex like that before. It was so beautiful. A true give and take. I wasn’t worried about whether I would please him or if he wanted me. I knew it without him having to say a word.

I pull the covers close against my body and study the empty spot beside me in the bed. I sit up and listen. I smell coffee brewing and in the kitchen, I can hear Judd stirring things and…humming?

I smile and search the floor for my clothes. I wish I’d anticipated spending the night with him. I would have at least thrown a change of clothes and some basic makeup into my bag. My purse must be somewhere in the living room, but I think the only thing I have in there is lipgloss anyway.

I breathe into my hand and sniff. Ugh. Morning breath. And my hair is probably atrocious. I can’t let him see me like this.

I briefly consider trying to sneak out the front door, but I know that’s ridiculous. I close my eyes and collapse back onto the pillows.

God, I had such an amazing time last night. It almost doesn’t seem real. I keep waiting for the bad news. No one’s this perfect.

I snuggle into the covers and catch a whiff of his cologne. I bring his pillow to my face and bury my head in it, my legs shaking at the familiar scent that is now closely tied to the memory of an earth-shattering orgasm.

Judd’s laughter carries across the room and I practically throw his pillow.

“Were you just smelling my pillow?” he asks.

I cut my eyes over to him and nearly have the breath knocked out of me. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of pj bottoms that hang low on his waist. A trail of blond hair runs down his chest and I follow it down to his waistband, my mouth going dry at the sight of his perfect, hard body in the light of day.

He pushes his hair back behind his ear on one side and smiles. “Totally busted,” he says. He walks to the end of the bed and climbs up toward me.

I giggle and hide myself inside the covers.

He yanks them from me and lays down on top of me. I’m completely naked except for my panties. I have almost zero makeup on and my long hair is knotted to hell.

But the way he looks at me takes my breath away.

There is no judgment in his eyes. No criticism. Only adoration.

“How is it possible you look even more beautiful this morning than ever?” he says, running his finger along my jawline.

I turn my head, wanting to hide under something. But there’s nowhere to hide. I’m completely exposed. “I look gross and my breath stinks,” I say.

He shakes his head. “You’re stunning.”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding against his arm draped across my chest.

He lowers his lips to mine. I pull away, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than ever. There’s something stirring between us that’s deeper than just a fling or a casual relationship. This is way more. My stomach twists, and I’m not sure I’m ready for this.