Forbidden Dreams (11 page)

She leaned her head back. His hand was warm on her throat, his thumb hard under her chin. “Ah, Shell …”

“Shell!”

She stiffened at Ned’s barking tone, then jerked away from Jase. To her dismay, her voice shook when she spoke. “H-hi, Ned. I … um, I thought you’d have been home in bed long ago.” She cringed. Damn. She sounded guilty!

“It’s late,” Ned said. “I should be in bed. So should you.” His flashlight bobbed as he came down the ramp from her door to join them on the path. “I’ve brought in enough wood to last the night. The stove’s packed, and the fire’s banked down. Should burn all right for a while.”

“Th-thank you.” Shell mentally cursed herself for sounding timid and embarrassed. She had been doing nothing wrong. Squaring her shoulders, she tipped her chin an inch higher. Dammit, she refused to act like a thirteen-year-old caught in a forbidden clinch by an oppressive father. Ned had no right to make her feel that way.

“I figured you’d be pretty cold,” Ned said, “what with standing outside so long … talking.” His tone suggested that he suspected talk had played little part in their activities.

He slid a disapproving glance at Jase. “Ain’t California here, you know. People shouldn’t hang around outside in the cold and damp at night.”

He switched his gaze to Shell’s face, half-illuminated by the twin beams of their flashlights reflecting off the white shell path. “You off to bed now, or do you want me to come in and light some lamps for you?”

“No, thanks, Ned.” She managed a cool smile. Her mother was right. Ned took himself too seriously, although she knew he meant well. “I’m sure Jase and I can light a couple of lamps between us. You’ve spent enough time looking after me. You go on home now. I know you must be tired.”

“The crick’s gone down another foot or two,” he said, addressing Jase. “I’ll have your Jeep out by noon tomorrow. It looks like a write-off to me, but you can hike out to town and get a tow truck.”

“Jase has an injured leg,” Shell said. “He won’t be hiking anywhere. Your truck’s on the other side of the washout. Can’t you at least be civil enough to offer him a ride?”

Ned sniffed. “That leg didn’t stop him hiking over to Lil’s house.” Before Shell could retort that the distances were much different, he turned away. His boots pounded heavily as he stomped along the path without so much as a “good night.”

“See?” Jase said, staring after the older man. “I told you he had a personal dislike for me.”

Shell sighed, shaking her head regretfully, then led the way up the wheelchair ramp to the back porch. As she reached for the doorknob, Jase caught her hand.

“No,” he said. “Wait. Shell, I know this is none of my business, but I need to know. Does Ned have any … uh, right to his attitude?”

She stared at him. “What does that mean?” He let her hand go and grasped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I think you know what it means.”

“I … Jase.” She drew in a deep, tremulous breath. “No. No, of course not.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it. He’s a man. You’re a very lovely woman.”

Her laugh came out sounding strained and metallic. “He’s more than twenty years older than I am.” Dammit, she thought, she didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. Why were they having it? Why was she standing there listening to him?

He smiled. “An age difference has never been a problem before to my knowledge.”

“He’s also married!” she yelled.

Jase touched her cheek, unable to prevent himself, drawing a callused finger down her face from her eyebrow to her chin. “That doesn’t always matter, either, Shell.”

He felt the shiver that ran through her. “It would matter to me,” she said quietly.

For a long moment he studied her in the faint moonlight. “Yes,” he said finally. “Integrity is part of your soul, isn’t it?”

“I hope so,” she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper, then she ducked away from him and slipped inside.

Jase followed, inhaling deeply, appreciating the scents that greeted him. Entering Shell’s house was like walking into a wall of aromatic heat. The scent of the Christmas tree hung gently in the air, along with a tinge of alder smoke and some indefinable perfume that he suspected would always be where Shell was.

A strange sensation of homecoming struck him with throat-tightening intensity, though he had never before come home to the warmth of a wood fire and couldn’t recall ever having a real tree for Christmas. Still, something primitive in him reveled in the welcome he felt in Shell’s snug little home.

In silence they took off their jackets and shoes, then followed the beam of Shell’s flashlight into the living room, where the two oil lamps waited. She handed him the flash so she could light a match, and he watched as the flame flickered, caught, and held, sparking a silver glitter of tinsel and reflecting in red, silver, green, and gold tree ornaments. And in Shell’s eyes.

Fascinated, he stared at her, at her slender hands as she lit the other lamp. He felt the warmth of her body close to his, and controlled himself with difficulty. Damn, but he felt cheated out of a kiss that he needed. Each time he held her, he found it harder to let her go. In only twenty-four hours Shell Landry had got under his skin.

“Your hair looks pretty in lamplight.” He heard the words before the thought had fully formed. She turned to him, startled.

Their gazes collided and locked. The dead match fell to the table, rolled across it, and hit the floor with a noise far out of proportion to its size. “Thank you.” She looked away and fiddled unnecessarily with the height of the wick. The glow increased, and Jase watched the shadows leap and waver, as did too many emotions within him. “Does anyone else have the right to object to my being here?” he asked.

She glanced warily at him. “You mean, like a man?”

He had to smile. “No, Shell. Not ‘like’ a man. A man, dammit.” He wished he’d been able to temper the intensity in his voice, but it reflected the growing, grinding need in him.

Her breasts rose high under her red sweater as she drew in a deep breath. “No.”

“That’s good.”

“Jase …” Shell felt a protest rising up inside her, but it was negated by a surge of pure, hot desire as his hand moved over her hair, stroking down its length and pulling away the scarf with which she’d tied it.

“It was curly before,” he said, sliding his hand over it again. “When you were a little girl.”

She nodded jerkily, unable to tear her gaze away from his face. “As—as Lil said, she grew up admiring Shirley Temple. If I was ever a disappointment to her, it was because of my completely straight hair. She started having it permed even before I can remember. I didn’t stop until I was in high school and wanted to grow it long and …”

Oh, Lord, she was talking too fast, too much. Why didn’t she move away from him? Distance would surely alleviate this fast-growing, coiled-spring tension inside her. Her breath caught in her constricted chest. Her wobbly knees threatened to collapse, and her heavy eyelids wanted to drop down as he trailed his hand over her hair again. Through it. Fingers against her scalp, her neck, her shoulder …

The desire to run, to hide, dwindled. As she gazed at him, it seemed the two of them were cocooned in a small, sensual world with boundaries of darkness around which a thousand tempting dangers lurked.

“Shell,” he murmured. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, confirming her belief that it was perilous to stand so close to him. She shuddered but still couldn’t look away.

Oh Christ! Jase wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or a curse. He must have been out of his mind, thinking that coming indoors would make it easier not to give in to the temptations this woman presented. It was worse, far worse, inside, with the soft warmth of the wood stove wrapping around them, the gentle glow of the oil lamps casting mysterious shadows across her face and playing like liquid gold over her hair … her beautiful sleek, silky hair.

“I like it better this way,” he said, lifting her hair and letting it fall as he turned her face toward his. “It’s thick and rich-looking, and hangs like a heavy satin curtain around your shoulders when you leave it loose.”

Shell could say nothing. She was trembling deep inside and knew that from this moment on the scent of wood fires, of Christmas trees, even the aroma of oil lamps, would evoke Jason O’Keefe for her. She sighed in response to the touch of his fingers in her hair, on the back of her neck. It reminded her of their kiss that morning, the stolen one in the night, and made her want it all over again. The feel of his lips, the hardness of his body, the strength of his arms … His scent.
His
taste.

Him.

He
outlined her left ear with one finger. “Shell,” he said. “The name fits.”

She gripped the corner of the table in both hands and stared down at the box of matches, the silver-and-black tube of the flashlight, the sprigs of leaves Nola had embroidered on the tablecloth. She tried to find a sense of normalcy in those things, tried to keep her mind under control when it insisted on winging off into a fantasy world peopled only by two humans who ached to be one.

One callused, masculine finger stroked down the side of her face, as it had outside. But here, in the intimacy of the house, the effect was even more entrancing. “Your skin is the same delicate shade as the inside of a shell.” He slowly slid that finger under her chin, lifting it, turning her face back toward him. “And as smooth.”

She breathed in the scent of him, heard the soft sound of his breathing, and felt the warmth of his body close to hers. His other hand slid around her waist, and he turned her to face him fully.

“Last night,” he murmured, “one of the first things I noticed was your hair, how glossy it is, how smooth. I wanted to touch it then and see if it felt as silky as it looks.”

She tried to speak. Her lips parted, but no sound issued. He lifted several strands of hair and let them trickle out of his fingers, watching as they caught the light. She saw the shimmering movement reflected in his dark eyes. She saw herself there, saw her own uncertainty … and her own need, and knew he must see it too. Now, when she wanted to close her eyes to hide from him, they refused to obey her command. She stood there, caught in the web of his gaze.

His hand encircled her nape, drawing her closer until the tips of her breasts rested on his chest, softness against hardness, and their breaths mingled.

“Shell?” His voice was a dusky whisper, filled with intent.

“Jase …” Hers was a soft plea, but whether a plea for him to let her go or to continue, she couldn’t tell. His other hand rested lightly on the small of her back, exerting no pressure. A deeper shudder ran through her. As if in answer, his fingers curled, pressing against her spine. He smiled down at her, then his thumb traced over her cheek. She trembled, feeling her will grow weaker and weaker, and stepped forward into the fullness of his embrace.

Jase closed his eyes as he lowered his head to hers, his heart hammering hard, loud, in his chest. His entire body vibrated as her breasts brushed his chest. Viscerally, he felt the tremulous breath she drew, and he pulsated from head to toe as she curved her hand around his jaw. The rasp of his whiskers was loud against her hand. The sound sent a shaft of regret through him, for his beard might mar her skin, but even that couldn’t stop what was about to happen.

He was going to kiss her, taste her, feel her instant responses to him again. He had to kiss her. Nothing was going to stop him from doing what he needed to do, had needed to do all day.

Slowly, prolonging the pleasure, he slid his arms around her, drawing her into him. He reveled in the softness of her body, the scent of her, the sound of her quickly indrawn breath. Her instinctive quiver fed his desire, and he moaned softly. His palms flattened against the small of her back, fingers curving down and around over her firm buttocks. As his mouth brushed hers, he felt her lips part, and he took what she offered.

It was sweet and deep and so powerful, he groaned aloud, pulling her in tight to his hardness, moving against her. She softened, whimpered, slid her hands through his hair, and held him close. Lifting his head, he gazed down at her. Her eyes fluttered open. He smiled, then kissed them shut again before accepting the silent plea of her damp, parted lips.

T
HEY BROKE THEIR KISS
, their breathing hot and hard. They stared at each other, as if searching for the truth of what had swept—continued to sweep—through them in waves of awesome intensity.

“Jase …” Shell said, her voice choked, muted. She shook her head.

“I know. I know.” He rested his forehead against hers, then as if he couldn’t stop himself, snatched her into a hug so tight, she thought she might break in half. She didn’t. She molded herself to him and pulled his head down, this time taking, not giving. He held nothing back from her. He was willing to let her have all she wanted of him, which was more, more, and yet more …

Jase tore his mouth free and trailed it over her face, loving the satin of her skin, the scent of her hair, the small cries she made to tell him of her pleasure. She arched toward his hand as he found a full, firm breast. He cradled it, enjoying its warmth, its weight, even through the barrier of her clothing.

She shifted, wordlessly telling him what she wanted, what she needed. It was what he needed too. He stroked his hand down her side to her waist and slipped it under her sweater, feeling her abdomen ripple in response. Her skin was so soft it tempted him to seek more of it and he eagerly unhooked her bra and pushed it aside. She moaned, her body surging into his at the touch of his hand on her bare breast.

He caught her sound of delight in his kiss, and rolled an exquisitely taut nipple under his palm and between his fingers, then flicked it with his thumb until she shuddered. Her hips thrust forward, pressing against his in a rhythm that took his breath away. He gasped as desire burned through him, growing, aching, demanding release. He needed her. Had to have her. Couldn’t live unless he had her under him, naked, open, taking …

He lifted his head and caught a handful of her hair, tilting her face up to his. He saw the dazed glow in her eyes, the need that so closely approached his. “I want you,” he whispered, tugging her sweater up. He pulled it off over her head, then slid her bra down her arms. He wanted to see her naked in the lamplight and needed to take her breasts in his mouth. Needed her.