Promises Prevail (The Promise Series) (24 page)

The words hit her like blows until she looked into his face. His face was like stone, not an emotion showing. In her experience the only time a man hid his emotions was when he felt vulnerable. Of course, her experience was limited, and if she called this wrong, she would be paying for it for the rest of her life, but she touched his chest. She didn’t think she was calling this wrong.

“Clint.” He didn’t let her go, but he did frown.

“What?”

“I want to be your wife.”

“You already are.”

“Your real wife.”

“Because you think handing over your body is going to make up for a few scars?”

The derision in his tone flicked her like a whip.

“No.” She was no reward for anything. She took a step back. He didn’t let her go. Just held her with an ease that sent flickers of panic racing up her spine. He wanted his pound of flesh. She could understand that.

“I don’t have anything else to give you.” She took a steadying breath. “I can never thank you enough for what you did.” She tightened her grip on the throw and squared her shoulders. It took everything she had to meet his gaze. “You can have anything you want of me.”

“Anything?”

His face, his voice, his grip—all three were as implacable as the man himself. Her stomach sank. There was no end to the demands he could make, but she’d given her word. “Yes.”

“Then I want your trust.”

She couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

“I want your trust.”

“But I’ve done everything…”

But she hadn’t. She’d refused him last night.

His finger under her chin brought her gaze to his.

“I don’t want your obedience, Jenna.”

She didn’t believe that for a minute. “I don’t understand.”

His thumb stroked cross her lower lip. It was a strangely possessive, yet soothing caress.

“I want you to trust me to take care of you.” He tugged the throw from around her. “Starting now.”

Chapter Ten

“I don’t have anything else to give.”

He’d been pissed right up until she’d whispered that truth. She’d held his gaze and offered him everything she had, leaving herself vulnerable in a way that he couldn’t conceive of ever making himself vulnerable to anyone. And he’d been bastard enough to throw her offer back in her face, attacking her where he knew it would hurt the most.

She believed herself worthless. It was like an open wound on her soul, and he’d gone for it right off, getting his own back with his usual efficiency. And she’d stood there, taking it like she deserved it. Like any of that nonsense was the truth. He’d never hated himself more than when he’d seen that flicker of acceptance in her blue eyes. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forgive himself. If he lived to be two hundred, no one would ever put that look in her eyes again.

“Sunshine?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to catch that throw?”

“What?”

“Either you catch it or it’s going to hit the floor.”

She didn’t move. “I don’t know what you want.”

“Do you want to be naked in front of me?”

She shifted and avoided his gaze before finally admitting, “I want to please you.”

He caught the throw from behind. As long as she stayed pressed against him, she was covered.

“And do you think your body pleases me?”

“No.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. “I wouldn’t have guessed from the way you’re always taking your clothes off.”

The glance she cut him was purely defensive. “Men like that.”

“That’s the truth.”

“It makes them feel powerful.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, that was a shot, though it was delivered in the softest, gentlest, most inoffensive tone possible.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong.” He snuggled his fingers into her hair, shaping his palm to her skull, supporting her head when she tilted it back to look at him. “The sight of you naked would drop any man to his knees.”

“Not you.”

“Especially me.” She made him weak in all kinds of ways.

“Not last night.”

That was an accusation. “Last night was different.”

“How?”

“You weren’t ready.”

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest. “Please tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

She took a step back and released the throw. He caught it and tossed it across the settee. She stood before him, hands folded in front of her, a blush rising from her chest. She hadn’t blushed last night, which meant she was feeling vulnerable now. Which meant she wasn’t hiding behind a shield of docility. He was seeing the real Jenna. He dropped his shirt to the floor. She stared, her eyes going to his scars, following them down, dipping below the waistband of his pants, widening before flashing back up to measure the width of his shoulders. He imagined he must look pretty intimidating to someone like her.

He held out his hand. “Trust me, Jenna.”

She placed her small hand in his larger one, her skin fair and delicate against his, her magnificent breasts jiggling with each step she took as he backed to the settee.

He sat while she stood, her weight balanced carefully on her feet, poised for flight. With a tug he pulled her into his lap. Her hip cuddled his cock. Her shoulder nestled under his and the soft scent of roses teased his nostrils. She turned her torso into his, put her arms around his neck and raised her mouth. He shook his head.

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you giving me what you think I need.”

She frowned. “You want me to just sit here?”

“I only want you to give me what you feel.”

“But I don’t feel anything.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

“Now that’s a damned shame.”

“Am I supposed to?”

He brushed the damp fall of hair from her forehead. “If I do my job right, you should feel a whole hell of a lot.”

She shifted, weighing his words. “But you’ll let me use my cream.”

He couldn’t blame her for not taking chances. “If you want the cream when the time comes, I’ll use it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She relaxed against him. “What do I do now?”

He let her slide back on his arm, his hand on her head controlling her descent until the deep green fabric of the settee cushioned her back. “You just lie there and let me play.”

“And that will make you happy?”

He propped himself over her, closing his eyes briefly as the tips of her breasts pressed against his scarred chest. “Very happy.”

The bright sun reflecting off the new snow outside lit her skin with a pure white light, highlighting that inner glow that always enthralled him. Her breath was coming in little pants that caused her breasts to shiver as she watched him warily.

He shifted his hips, sliding his knee between her legs. She tensed immediately.

“Easy, Sunshine.”

She took a breath and stilled.

“That’s it,” he whispered against her cheek. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You just trust me to make you feel good.”

It didn’t escape his notice that she ducked his gaze on that statement. He kissed her cheek. Her hands gripped his forearm. She had a lot to learn about him. He wasn’t a man who rushed his fences. He could take as long as she needed. He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling when her eyes crossed as she watched, kissed her forehead, and then closed those big blue eyes with a brush of his lips across her dark tipped lashes. They tickled his lips as they fluttered a response, but they closed. He kissed the blue veined lids softly.

“There you go. Just focus on how I make you feel.”

He made her feel small, feminine, vulnerable. Jenna gasped as his lips brushed her ears. Very vulnerable. He was so big, so strong, The muscles of his chest bulging as he supported himself above her, and though he obviously intended to do his best to make this not hurt, she didn’t see how he could avoid it. Jack wasn’t anywhere near as big as Clint and he could make her scream. Another of those butterfly kisses on her neck and she shivered.

“Did you like that, Sunshine?”

It was a rhetorical question because Clint didn’t wait for an answer, just did it again, lingering a little longer on the spot just beneath her ear. Another dart of sensation raced down her spine. He laved the area with his tongue and then sucked the flesh between his teeth. The tingle of sensation exploded into something more, something hot and demanding. Something that made her breasts swell and peak. Something that scared her. She pushed against his forearms.

He didn’t pull back, but rather tucked her closer into his chest, his mouth. Tucked her into that out-of-control feeling, and nurtured it with hot whispers of approval as she shivered and arched.

“That’s my girl. Go with it.”

Go where? She had no idea what he was doing, where he was taking her, what he expected her to do along the way. She’d hoped for a lack of pain, but this lack of control was something altogether different. Before she had a chance to study it, contain it, he was moving again, his lips brushing her cheek in a light series of caresses on the way to her mouth.

It was with a feeling of relief that she felt him kiss the corner of her mouth. She knew what to do here. He’d taught her last night. As soon as he kissed the other corner of her mouth, she opened hers, sliding her hands up the hard bulge of his biceps to the unrelenting firmness of his shoulders. His nose brushed hers as he shook his head. A strand of his hair slipped its tie and slid along her cheek.

“Don’t rush it, baby.”

Rush what? As a married woman, an intelligent woman, she’d thought she knew everything about relations between a man and a woman, and how to survive them. She didn’t know a thing about this. About the way that the he could make her lip tingle with the brush of his tongue, the way he could make her breath catch and her body twist just by sucking her lower lip into his mouth.

His laugh mingled with her gasp. A low masculine sound of pleasure as his hand eased under her torso and held her chest to his. She braced herself for the bruising to come, but instead he just held her, letting her get used to the feel of him as he got used to the taste of her.

Gradually, her muscles relaxed, letting him bear her weight, letting him take responsibility for their position. Her reward was another of those approving murmurs before he slanted his mouth across hers, and his tongue pushed past her parted lips in a slow, easy thrust that rode her breath and her anticipation before culminating in a lazy curl around her own.

He didn’t appear to be in any rush, or working toward any particular goal. His mouth on hers was gentle, his hand on her back supportive, the fingers on her cheek coaxing. She was surrounded by his smoky scent, his strength, and his gentleness. Her fingers caught in his hair tie and when she tugged, his hair sprang free, sliding around her face, blocking out the sun, locking her into the sensual world of his creation where nothing else existed except the fragile new feelings he was coaxing from her body and the diminishing of her resistance. She dropped the leather hair tie on his back as, through the shock hazing her brain, the reality pushed forth.