Promises Prevail (The Promise Series) (34 page)

“All your woman’s time means is that you’ll be hotter, wetter, and be able to take me easier.” His thumb brushed her lips. “And Sunshine?”

The tap on her lips was an order. She met his gaze, mortification burning her from the inside out.

“You couldn’t be dirty if you spent three days in a wallow.”

Whore. Filthy bitch.
The words swarmed out of the past, striking her like blows. She pulled her chin free and ducked her head. Strong hands on her arms lifted her and tossed her up and back as a low masculine laugh surrounded her like a hug. It happened so fast she didn’t have time to scream. The mattress cushioned her landing. She clutched the front of her gown closed as she glared at Clint.

He stood at the foot of the bed, two hands on the edge of the mattress. One knee firmly planted to the right of her foot. He leaned forward. His long black hair swung forward, giving his already handsome face a primitive cast as he looked up at her from under his brows. Laughter and lust shimmered about him in a seductive combination. His shoulder muscles flexed in an intimidating display of power as he rested his hands on the mattress on either side of her knees.

“Tell me again, Sunshine.”

She propped herself up on her elbows and crept back. He placed his knee on the hem of her nightgown, holding her there as he put his other knee on the bed, looming over her—dark and threatening.

“Tell me,” he ordered, his drawl as intent as his expression. Holding her gaze, he lowered his head, smiling slightly as he nipped her thigh just at her knee. It didn’t hurt, but caused all sorts of alarming sensations to streak through her. She swallowed hard and tugged at the edge of her gown while keeping one hand firmly clamped on the bodice. He smiled a purely predatory smile and continued to advance.

Fear fought with a foreign skitter of excitement as the mattress dipped by her hip and his head lowered again, this time letting her feel his teeth high on the inside of her thigh.

“Let go of the gown, Sunshine.”

She stopped tugging at the hem. She felt his smile against her thigh, a brief relief from the pressure and then his teeth touched just to the inside of her hipbone.

“Let go with the other hand.”

She did, reluctantly. As if he sensed she didn’t know what to do with her hands when they weren’t protecting her modesty, he drawled, “Put them over your head.”

She did, instinctively putting one inside the other. He moved again, enfolding her wrists in his hand, pinning her arms to the mattress.

He held her captive, his big body trapping hers, his dark gaze holding hers. He was above her. Around her. Every breath she took drew his familiar smoky scent into her lungs, binding them further together until there wasn’t any distance between them. Emotional or physical. She was his. In the eyes of God. In the eyes of the law. In the depths of her soul.

“Clint?”

She wasn’t surprised when he ignored the quavery question, but when he dipped his head and nuzzled aside the lapels of her nightgown, she found her voice.

“What are you doing?”

“Clearing the way.”

The sin they preached against in church wasn’t as wicked as his expression.

“We agreed—”

“I agreed that I wouldn’t make love to you if you didn’t want it during your woman’s time,” he finished for her.

“Than what are you doing?”

He kissed the valley between her breasts. His lips were firm and dry, his breath moist, his evening whiskers a delicious rasp on the inside of her breasts. Her nipples drew taut as he used his chin to fully expose her left breast.

“Making you want it.”

She should have seen that coming, but the man addled her brain to the point of no return.

She closed her eyes against the rampage of sensation swarming over her. She was the slut her father accused her of being. And she was beginning not to care.

Moist heat engulfed her nipple, followed by a gentle suction. Tiny trickles of pleasure wove out through her torso pulling invisible wires of need taut. She squirmed and pushed up. Clint’s deep chuckle buffeted her sensitive nipple with deep throbs of pleasure. He rubbed the rough base of his chin over her nipple, using his beard to lightly abrade her sensitive tip. Each short pass making her gasp at the fire that streaked straight to her womb.

“Tell me again, Sunshine.”

She arched into his mouth needing more.

“Tell you what?”

She couldn’t remember anything beyond the ache in her nipple and the anticipation of his mouth.

“Tell me again what a
nice
man I am.”

He nipped her with his lips. Sparks flashed behind her eyelids as he did it again, not giving her time to react, demanding a response from her, laughing when she cried out, sucking harder when she pushed up.

He released her breast with a soft pop. Cool air washed over her damp skin, making her shiver.

“You’re going to have to be quiet, Sunshine.”

“What?”

The next brush if his chin had her crying out again. She couldn’t catch a full breath. Her nipple ached. Her pussy throbbed. His lips came down on hers just in time to catch her moan.

“We don’t want to wake Button,” he whispered against her lips.

No. She didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want anything to interfere with this. Clint made her feel so wild, and yet somehow, so incredibly safe. As though there was nothing she could do or say, that he would hold against her. As though she could trust him.

His lips parted hers. His breath mingled with hers a heartbeat before he slid his tongue into her mouth, his taste flooding her senses. He tasted clean, this man who’d pulled her from the flames, away from the death that had looked so enticing, and made her live. This man who could make her feel when she was numb, live when she wanted to die, and hope when common sense said to give up. He tasted of power and fantasy and she couldn’t resist.

She touched his tongue with hers. He moaned and levered himself over her. The scars on his chest teased her swollen nipples. His hand tightened on her wrists and he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving deep. Demanding. Receiving. She gave him everything that he asked for, matching him thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke.

He broke the kiss. Her gasping breath was loud in the room. She closed her eyes. The kiss he pressed to the corner of her mouth was incredibly gentle, in sharp contrast to the violent passion she could feel humming beneath his skin.

“Tell me, Jenna.”

The nip he placed under her chin was not as tender as the others. Some of that tension in him was anger, she realized. She tugged on her hands. He let her go. She gave him what he wanted.

“You’re a nice man, Clint McKinnely.”

The tension surged in his body again and that cold look broke over his face.

She cupped his cheeks in her hands, smoothing the tension in his jaw with her thumbs. “I know you’ve told me not to see you as nice, but I can’t help it. You’re nice to me, to Brianna, and you make me feel like I’ve never felt before.”

He turned his mouth into her palm and tickled the center with his tongue.

“How’s that?”

She skirted his gaze. “Special.”

He found her mouth with his, mating their lips in the way with which she was becoming familiar, speaking softly so each word breathed new life into her soul.

“You are special, Sunshine.”

Tears welled. “Only to you.”

“To anyone with half a brain,” he growled deep in his throat.

“Why can’t I feel the same way about you?”

“Because it’s not the same.”

“You keep saying I’m yours.”

“You are.”

“Then that makes you mine, too.”

It was the boldest statement she’d ever made. Women just didn’t contradict men, let alone lay claim to them. She closed her eyes against her own temerity. Clint’s teeth tested the pad of her thumb in a sharp nip. She kept her eyes closed.

“Look at me, baby.”

“Are you mad again?” She wasn’t going to open her eyes if he was mad.

His hair slid over her cheeks on a smooth caress as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“No.”

She cracked her eyes and checked. He didn’t look mad, just fierce and…amused.

“Maybe if you were mean to me I could see you differently,” she suggested, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He touched her cheek with his finger. He was so gentle with her.

“I’ll work on it.”

She pulled him down to her. “And I’ll work on thinking less of you.”

He buried his face in the curve of her neck. His shoulders shook under her hands.

“Sunshine, you are something.”

The amusement in his voice soothed her worry.

“I’m glad you think so.”

And she was. More than glad. She opened her palms on his back, enjoying the flex of muscle beneath her hands as he kissed his way down her chest until he got to her breasts. There he lingered, running his lips over every inch, lifting her breasts so he could kiss the underside. Shards of fire shot out from everywhere his mouth touched. Her nails dug into his back. Her gasp as he curled his tongue around her nipple drew another laugh from his lips.

“Want that again?”

She nodded. He gave it to her and then some, pushing her breasts together, drawing her nipples into his mouth, sucking them gently and then harder and harder with drawing motions of his mouth, keeping pace with the clenching of her fingers. When she whimpered, he lashed them with his tongue until she writhed on the bed.

She felt bereft when he drew back, withdrawing his heat but not his passion. That simmered between them, arcing across the distance. She clung to his shoulders as he stood.

He stared at her, a smile ghosting his lips as he towered above her. She moved to draw the comforter over her. He shook his head.

“Let me look at you.”

She did, feeling foolish lying there with her hands reaching for him and her body clamoring for his attention. He stared for so long that she couldn’t bear it. She needed to move, to do something. She remembered what he’d asked her before. As his hands went to his waistband, hers went to her breasts.

At first she just held them, but when he swore and his hands froze on his fly, power rushed through her. She might be a mere woman, no match for Clint in muscle, but she had some control here. She ran her fingertips up and down her breasts, tracing patterns on the smooth surface. The darts of pleasure caught her by surprise. She hadn’t expected that, biting her lip as tingles shot out from her hands, experimenting with what felt good.

“Son of a bitch, Jenna. You’re going to make me come.”

“What’s wrong with that?” she asked, some demon possessing her voice and drawing the words past her caution.

His mouth thinned to a straight line. Desire chiseled his features.

“Not a goddamned thing.”

He shoved his pants down. They caught on the swell of his cock and he swore again, drawing his cock out before kicking them aside.