Promises Prevail (The Promise Series) (49 page)

She put her hand over his, curling her fingers around two of his.

“What’s wrong?”

“Believe it or not,” he admitted in a tight voice, “I’m afraid to touch you.”

“Because of what I told you?”

He brought her hand to his lips, his eyes hot and sad.

“Baby, I don’t know how you survived.”

“But I did.”

He pressed a kiss into her palm.

“Yes.” His tongue touched the center of her palm in a flickering caress. “How the hell can you stand for anyone to touch you?”

“I can’t.” She shrugged, comfortable with this truth. “Just you.”

He pushed the hair off her face.

“Remind me to start taking up church going again.”

She touched his jaw. “I’m glad I listened to the voice inside that wouldn’t let me give up.”

His jaw clenched and a muscle twitched under her finger.

“If you had told me what he was doing there would have been no need for listening.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. I was married.”

His eyes narrowed and under her left palm, his pectorals bunched with tension.

“Like hell.”

She rasped her finger over the shadow of stubble on his jaw. She knew that look. That promise of retribution. It used to terrify her. Now it just made her feel safe.

“If you’d killed him, you’d be in jail. And I wouldn’t have you. This way is better.”

He was shaking his head before she was done, catching her finger between his strong teeth, nipping it gently before saying, “Sunshine, we are never going to see eye to eye on that, and if you don’t think I know how to kill a man without leaving evidence, you need another think.”

Maybe she did, but it didn’t change the truth.

“It’s better for me, Clint.”

His hand touched the side of her breast. It wasn’t a caress so much as a reaffirmation of a memory. She held her breath, afraid he was going to press her for the one piece of her past that she hadn’t revealed. But he didn’t. Just shook his head and stroked her gently with hands that always pleasured, and said, “You are an amazingly stubborn woman.”

She smiled. This was her man. The one person in this world who saw her for what she was.

“But you like me.”

“Yes.” Just one word, but it was said with a hunger that made her burn.

She waited for the smile that curved his lips to reach his eyes before she asked, “And you’re going to let me play tonight?”

This time his “yes” was slower, deeper, as if his mind was already going down the path where she wanted to lead him. The hand on her breast clenched with carnal hunger. The other brought her palm back to his mouth. He nipped the base of her thumb. Her knees buckled as her womb clenched.

“Good,” she breathed, letting her own hunger burgeon and flow. “Because I’m asking favors this time.”

Clint froze, his lips on her palm, his melting black eyes locked with hers. She pulled her hand free and stepped back. She licked her dry lips and pressed on.

“I’ve been punished many times for tempting a man, but I’ve never actually done it. I’d like to try…” Oh God, she was going to die if he said no. She licked her lips again. “To tempt you.”

For a split second he did nothing. Said nothing. Then his eyes seemed to burn from within and a smile—a real smile—spread across his face.

“Come here.”

That drawl, low and deep, slid along her desire, stoking inner fires to flickering life. He caught her hands in his big ones and pulled her to her feet with an ease that still amazed her. He placed her palms on his chest on either side of the button placket, holding her for a second while she steadied. He was always taking care of her.

“So you want to play with me?” he asked in that same deep, need-spiking baritone.

She slid her hands up to thread her fingers through the blue-black strands of his hair.

“Yes.”

The left corner of his sensual mouth lifted higher than the right.

“Then come play.”

Such an invitation, given in that raspy tone, backed by that sexy smile and that challenging look encouraged a woman to boldness. And for once, Jenna didn’t back away from the dare. This was her man. Her house. Her marriage, and she wanted joy in all three. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, feeling the increase in his heart rate shaking her palms.

“You like me like this,” she said as she undid the second button.

“No lie, Sunshine, this is about my favorite fantasy.” He settled his hands on her shoulders.

“You’ve had fantasies about me?”

“For as long as I’ve known you.”

She’d known him for three years. “Even when I was married?”

“Yeah.” He nudged the edge of her nightdress so that it slid off her shoulder. She left it there. “But those tended to end as a nightmare.”

The rules preached into her from childhood chose that moment to pop forward. “It’s a sin to covet another man’s wife.”

“You were never meant to be anyone’s wife but mine.”

She touched the scars over his breastbone.

“No. I wasn’t.”

She might have been imagining it, but he seemed to relax slightly with her agreement. She tugged his shirt free of his pants. His heat and scent surrounded her in a potent embrace. She leaned into it, and traced the edge of one of his scars with her tongue. His big body shook. The smile started way down deep inside.

“I like that,” she whispered, after tracing the scar to the end, just below his nipple.

“What?” His thumb edged her night rail off her other shoulder. Goose bumps chased the soft slither of material over her skin.

“The way you react to my touch.”

“Sunshine, you make me burn just by being in the room.”

“Good.”

She slipped her arms out of the nightdress, leaving the top caught on the hard peaks of her breasts.

“I’d be obliged if you could just wiggle the slightest bit,” he hinted.

She knew why. She could feel his eyes like a touch, heavy on her breasts, making them swell and the nipples bead harder.

“I bet you would,” she said as she pushed his shirt off his broad shoulders. It didn’t slide off his arms like hers did. There was too much muscle on the man for that. She had to stand on tiptoe to nudge the fabric off his biceps, trailing her fingers along the crease in his upper arm, dipping her finger into the dent of an old bullet wound. So many scars on his hard body. So many times he might have been killed.

When she settled back down, her nightdress fell to the floor. She was naked before him. There was a heartbeat when she wanted to cover up, but then she looked into his face, drawn tight with desire for her, his nostrils flaring as if he were scenting her arousal, and she did the opposite. She stepped back and squared her shoulders.

His response was immediate. “Son of a bitch.”

She’d never heard a curse said with such reverence. The blush she couldn’t control seared her skin. His dark gaze followed the path from her stomach, over her breasts up to her cheeks and then back down to her breasts, where it lingered. His tongue dampened his lower lip.

“Come here, Sunshine, and let me ease some of that heat.”

She shook her head, feeling very daring, very feminine.

“No. This is my time to play and if I come over there, you’ll take over.”

“No I won’t, but I can see how hard your nipples are. Wouldn’t you like me to take them in my mouth? Suck them a little? Tease them?”

Her knees almost buckled at the thought.

He pressed his advantage. “I can make them feel so good. Bring them here, baby, and let me nibble.”

Need arced out from the hard tips, shooting through her body before rebounding to her breasts, flaring outward at the tips, creating a searing ache that only he could soothe.

She cupped her breasts in her hands to contain the demand. His curse echoed through the room. Surprise had her attention flying to his face. His gaze was locked on her hands. His fingers were on the fly of his denims, working the buttons over the bulge of his cock, the shirtsleeves caught on his wrist hampering the effort.

“Do you like it when I touch myself, Clint?”

His “yes” was a guttural expression of hunger.

“How?” She slid her fingers along the underside of her breasts towards the tips. Her hands weren’t as big as his and didn’t give the satisfaction of his, but his open sensuality and the heat coming from his heavy-lidded gaze fueled her passion.

He kicked off his boots.

“Touch those pretty nipples, baby.”

She did, pinching them lightly, watching his tongue flick over his lips as she did and his lids drop lower over his eyes.

With a simple flex of his arm the shirt ripped up the back. He tore his arms free, before shoving his pants impatiently down over his hips. The material caught on the thrust of his shaft. He swore as she pinched her nipples again, harder this time, moaning a little as the shot of pleasure took her by surprise.

His smile grew broader. His gaze hotter.

“Did that feel good?”

She nodded, her breath coming in short bursts as she watched him lever the long thick length of his cock free of his pants. Even from here she could see that he was full to bursting, his heavy balls drawn tight to his body, the broad head of his cock dark and glistening with his seed.

She forgot to move, to breathe as he cupped his shaft in his hand, dragging his palm up the heavily veined length, lifting it to her gaze, letting her see how it jerked beneath his touch.

Her palms itched to touch him, to hold all that power in her hands. She took a step toward him, he kicked free of his pants, standing before her, unselfconscious in his nudity. The shadows from the lamp highlighted the dense cuts of muscle across his big frame, the power inherent in his touch and the sexuality he radiated so effortlessly. With his hair swinging freely around his face, shadowing his eyes and emphasizing his cheekbones, he looked every inch the dangerous, sexual man that he was.

Everything inside of her thrilled to the knowledge that he was hers. She pinched her nipples again, holding them the way he did, drawing them away from her body, lifting them towards his mouth.

His cock leapt at the sight. His tongue ran over those delicious lips and he moaned. For her. Juices flooded her pussy along with the knowledge that she did this to him. He saw her as something he couldn’t resist. She took a step closer, lifting her breasts higher.

He frowned. “Gently, baby.”

She didn’t want gentle. “I like this.”

His fingers twitched on his cock. He stared at her mouth, her breasts, her pussy, like a man starved. Clear fluid spilled over the tip of his cock, dribbling down the wide shaft.

“Damn it, come here.”

For the first time in her life, she refused an order from a man. She stood where she was and pinched harder, lifted higher.

He gritted his teeth and shuttled his cock though his fist, fluid coming in a steady stream, easing his way as he watched her.