The Sweethearts’ Knitting Club (17 page)

He’s more to you than that and you know it.

Yes, but did Jesse know it? Was he toying with her, or did he want a real relationship? And if he wanted a real relationship, was she up to dealing with the fallout of loving an outlaw?

Love? Whoa there, Nellie. Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse?

She agonized over these thoughts as she pushed her grocery cart through Branson’s supermarket. It was after five and the store was crowded with working mothers in their office attire. She rounded the corner by a stacked display of Cheez Doodles, and there, standing beside the meat counter, inspecting a package of filet mignon with an upturned nose, was Kathryn Trainer.

Instantly Flynn braked, and then whipped her
cart around, intent on barreling away toward the dairy section as fast as possible.

“Flynn,” Kathryn’s voice rang out. “There you are.”

Oh God, kill me now. Just strike me dead. Go ahead, slam me with lightning. Put me out of my misery
.

“Flynn MacGregor.”

She halted her sprint for the sour cream, forced a smile on her face, and turned back around. “Kathryn, I didn’t see you there.”

Flynn suppressed the sudden urge to reach up and feel to see if her nose had just grown an inch. Cringing, she braced herself for whatever onslaught Kathryn was about to heap upon her.

“Listen dear,” her ex-future-mother-in-law said. She wore an expensive beige linen dress, June Cleaver pearls, and two-inch heels. “I’ve spoken to Father Geyette and he’s very excited about performing the ceremony, but with all his duties on Christmas Day, he won’t be able to officiate the wedding until late Christmas evening. Will that work for you?”

“Huh?”

Kathryn repeated herself and then added, “A young lady of substance doesn’t say, ‘Huh,’ she says, “Pardon.’”

“Pardon me.”

Kathryn beamed. “Very good. Now about the time of the wedding—”

“You haven’t spoken to Beau.” Young ladies of substance probably didn’t interrupt, but come on, let’s be honest, she might be young, but she was no lady, and as far as substance went, well, after the
expenses with the Yarn Barn, she had five hundred and sixty-seven dollars in her personal savings account. Not much substance there.

“He came to dinner last night, why?”

Oh, this was just great. Beau hadn’t told his mother she’d broken up with him. The coward. Now what was she supposed to do? Tell Kathryn in the middle of the grocery store between the filet mignon and the Cheez Doodles that she’d kicked her son to the curb for acting like a jealous, possessive bully?

“I think you need to talk to Beau about the wedding.”

“You’re letting him make all the decisions?”

Flynn’s throat tightened. She was his mother, let him tell her. “Just talk to Beau.”

Kathryn reached out and touched Flynn’s arm. “Is there something I need to know?”

The expression in her eyes was one of pure vulnerability, and it rattled Flynn. She’d never seen the formidable woman look anything but in total control. She opened her mouth to tell her, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. When it came down to it, Flynn hated hurting people. She’d rather hurt herself than someone else.

Now who’s the coward?

“Just talk to Beau,” she murmured, then abandoned her shopping cart and scurried for the door.

Flustered by what had happened at the supermarket, Flynn returned to the Yarn Barn more mixed up than ever. Things were definitely over between her and Beau. The milk was spilled on that score and she was ready to move forward in her life.

But what of her and Jesse? Where did they stand? Was she ready to take their relationship to the next level? Was she ready to make it official? The gossiping she’d heard in her head would be minor compared to the real gossip that would come pouring out when their coupling was confirmed.

She went up to the Yarn Barn through the outside stairs, assiduously avoiding Jesse. She hadn’t talked to him since she’d broken things off with Beau, and she wasn’t ready for that encounter just yet.

A large rolled-up rug lay in the middle of the floor. Apparently the delivery had arrived in her
absence and Jesse had brought it upstairs. She took from her purse the Swiss Army knife that Beau had given her for her birthday and cut away the plastic. She unfurled the oval braided rug and dragged it to the middle of the floor where she planned on positioning the rocking chairs she had on back order. Everything was coming together. She might not be able to keep her promise to her mother that she would marry Beau, but by gum, she was making Lynn’s Yarn Barn happen.

She got to her feet, admiring her handiwork. She’d made a good choice. The room felt more homey and welcoming, and the neutral colors of the rug enhanced the appeal of the parquet floor she had redone after her mess-up. Her mother would love it.

“Here it is, Mom.” She sat down tailor-style in the middle of the rug, closed her eyes, and let the moment sweep over her. She didn’t often relax and let go, but she was trying. No one was expecting her at home. Carrie would be at her night class, her father was at Froggy’s. She didn’t have to be anywhere but here. It was an unusual sensation.

Relax. Just breathe
.

The setting sun was slipping past the window when she felt the back of her neck prickle. She turned her head, and saw Jesse standing at the top of the stairs. His face was healing. The swelling was gone from his eye, but it was still a harsh color of purple, and the cut on his lip was almost closed.

She’d been so wrapped in savoring her accomplishment that she hadn’t heard him come up. His eyes were on her, his gaze sultry.

“I’ve locked up for the evening. I was just about to leave,” he said.

She got to her feet, caught his stare, inhaled it.

Those eyes.

They held the power of an electrical storm—sharp and hot. Ten years away had changed him. He’d always been intense, yes, but now there was a quiet wisdom in the back of those blistering eyes. And a sadness that tugged at something deep within her.

Jesse was her touchstone, she realized with a start. Why and how it came to be, she did not know, but when she looked into those eyes, she felt it.

He came across the room toward her, agile in his cowboy boots. The way he moved in his black Levi’s—loose-hipped, fluid, self-assured—jiggled her insides, stole her breath. He smiled that rakish grin.

The sight of him set her heart to singing, stoked her longing. She felt hot and sticky and achy.

“Flynn,” he said, “is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“I heard your broke your engagement to Trainer.”

“I did.”

He held his arms open then, just opened them wide. She ran to him unfettered, skipping across the parquet floor covered with the braided rug.

He swept her into his embrace and spun her around, and time seemed to slow to this one perfect moment when she had it all. The Yarn Barn was official, her father was off the sauce, Carrie was in school, and she was in Jesse’s arms again.

She heard her heart pounding, felt his beat a
corresponding rhythm when she splayed her palm over his chest. She spied a smattering of dark blue paint on his neck. He’d spent the morning painting the front of the building. She planted a kiss on his neck, traveled up to find his earlobe. His familiar scent filled her nostrils, reached down and caressed her lungs.

Jesse.

He’d been at the back of her mind for years, even when she thought she’d forgotten about him or had mistaken how she really felt about him, and he about her.

Be careful, go slow
.

She wasn’t sure how much of this feeling she could stand. It was too strong, too wild, too un-Flynn-like. She was accustomed to being confident and in charge and considerate of other people’s needs. Being with Jesse was like taking that five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle you’d spent every night working on for three months and heedlessly tossing it into the air.

But oh how she wanted him. And that was what scared her most of all. This desire—burning, raging, out of control. She knew for certain this feeling was what she’d been avoiding, why she’d stayed so long with Beau even when it wasn’t fair to him. Beau made her feel stable. Jesse made her feel—
real
. And she simply didn’t know what to do about it.

She wanted him, but there were walls between them. Prison walls, and not just the concrete kind. Intangible walls of loss and pain and nervous expectation. He could break her so easily. Split her heart clean in two.

At that thought, she pulled back, stepped from his embrace. She saw a shadow of something in his eyes.
Where do we go from here? Is it time? Is it right? Should we just take a leap of faith and jump? How do we start tearing down these walls? How do we keep from hurting each other?
The questions poured in on her, but she did not speak her doubts aloud.

Jesse was a man of action. Spur-of-the-moment, free as the wind. He didn’t have the restriction of community. The fear of being cast out. Belonging meant more to Flynn than anything in the world. If she gave in to her sexual needs, would the town she loved ostracize her? Would she lose everything?

Before she had time to reconsider her emotions, he grabbed her arm, pulled her back against his chest, then brought his mouth down on hers in a kiss so firm and hungry she just went limp.

Whoa. Slow down
. Her expectations were so high, she feared the plummet.

Jesse must have sensed her thoughts, because he cupped his palm under her chin and raised her face up so her eyes met his. “It’s been a very long time for me, Flynn. I’m not sure if I remember how to do this, the niceties, the tenderness. I’m not sure if I can give you the experience you need.”

“All I need is to be with you,” she murmured.

“I’ll try my best, but woman, you are so amazing.” He ran his hands over her body, came to a stop at her waist, and let loose with a deep-throated masculine groan of appreciation.

“You didn’t, after prison, find someone to be with?”

“I thought about it,” he admitted.

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I kept thinking no one could compare to you.”

“Now you’re putting me on a pedestal.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“What if I can’t live up to
your
expectations?”

“How about this? No expectations.”

“You mean, don’t have sex?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Let’s just kiss and cuddle and feel each other up like we did when we in high school.”

“You’d…be okay with that?”

“Would you?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Okay, so just to get this straight, no expectations, no sex unless we change our minds midway.”

Flynn licked her lips. “Right.”

“Things get too overwhelming, you just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“You can do that?” She put a hand on his abdomen just above his belt buckle.

He swallowed visibly. “I’ll try my damnedest.”

The dark desire in his eyes rocketed her libido into orbit. “Me too,” she whispered.

Slowly, Jesse pulled her up flush against his chest.

“Can you kiss,” she asked, “with your sore lip?”

“To hell with my sore lip.” He pushed her hair back off her shoulder and sank his mouth down on the side of her neck.

She felt the tingle all the way to her toes. He remembered her erogenous zone. His hair tickled her throat. His scent filled her nose, her soul. Musky
clean and a little painty. He made her feel exposed, raw. He was dangerous. She was vulnerable. She was afraid of it, this vulnerability. She was accustomed to being strong, in control, in charge. With one well-placed kiss, he took it all away.

His teeth lightly nipped her skin, and he tightened his grip on her waist as her knees completely gave way.

Even after all these years, after all their time apart, he knew her body better than she did. Beau had never found her secret trigger spot, Jesse zeroed right in.

“Do you still like this?”

She couldn’t answer, only whimper.

“Mmm, good to know. I love how you smell, like watermelon and little purple flowers. I love the way you taste, salty, yet sweet, like a PayDay candy bar. That’s the way of you, Flynn, tart-tongued at times, but it’s only to hide that tender, tender heart.”

He skimmed his hands up underneath her blouse, his palms slipping over skin. His fingers skated around to unhook her bra, and the next thing she knew it was off her, flung somewhere across the room.

Magic. The man was Copperfield with a bra. Some things never changed.

Jesse took her breath, and her wandering thoughts, when he ensnared her lips with his hot, wet mouth and sucked her skin. Radiant heat mushroomed outward, across her shoulders, headed pell-mell for her breasts.

Her pulse leaped, bounded. Her nipples tightened. She reveled in the luxury of his embrace and
took a deep breath. She inhaled, and his manly scent—motorcycle oil, fresh paint, pure essence of Jesse—filled her lungs.

They ripped at each other’s lips, tearing away the veil of the past, revealing themselves to each other as they were today, in this moment, aching and hungry and open to each other, crashing the boundaries that had separated them for so long.

He lowered his lids, sultry, half-mast. Lust for her burned in his eyes, stiffened the length of him pressed hard against her.

“Do you want me to stop now?” he whispered. “Have we gone too far? Are you out of your comfort zone?”

She opened her mouth to tell him yes, it was too much, but no words came out. Instead she leaned over and nipped at his shoulder.

He felt so good. She felt so good. What he was doing to her felt too good. Everything about this man, his lips, his fingers, his tongue, his arms, his gray-blue eyes, the heady fragrance of his skin, made her want to beg for more, more, more.

Take me, take what you want, take everything, leave me stripped raw and bare and savagely sated.

The viciousness of her thoughts stunned her. She’d never felt so unbridled, so free.

More, more, take more. Let me give you everything I have to give. Lips and teeth and tongues and hard, wet kisses.

She was overpowered, overwhelmed, overcome, over-everythinged. Jesse was a fighter jet and she was in freefall. Nothing to grab on to, nothing to stop herself from plummeting.

His thumbs brushed lazily against her nipples,
tightened the already stiff peaks, driving her crazy. Her breath hung up somewhere between her lungs and her throat. No air, just the smell of Jesse.

Stop. Stop this before I lose my mind
.

A throbbing ache pooled deep inside her womb. Reflexively she pressed her knees together, more to keep herself from falling down than anything else. If he wasn’t holding on to her, she would probably already be on the ground.

His fingers fumbled. Copperfield having magic trouble? Fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, trying to undo them, finally he just grabbed her shirt and pulled it open. Buttons popped, hit the floor with a little
spit-spat
noise. Material ripped.

Her hands were on the hem of his T-shirt, dragging it up and over his head.
Bye-bye, T-shirt. Hello, hard-muscled man
. She whistled in a breath, traced shaky fingers over his striated chest.

Skin to skin. Chest to breasts. They were naked from the waist up and breathing like labored engines chugging up a steep grade. His pelvis was pressed tight against hers, and he was hard and long and thick. Was he as big as it felt like he was? A raw, nagging twinge bloomed between her thighs. His calloused fingertips scratched rough against her tender nipples. Her hands were cold against his heated belly.

Simultaneously they inhaled the same excited sigh.

“Wanna stop?” he murmured.

She grabbed for his belt. Panting, he pulled at the snap of her jeans.

Now, now, gotta have him. Can’t wait, can’t stop, can’t think, can’t breathe.

Jesse.

Reality. More intense, more nerve-wracking than her dreams. What if she didn’t please him? What if he didn’t please her? What if after all this time, all this waiting, they were bad in bed together?

“Shh,” he said. “Stop thinking. You’re thinking too much.”

“How do you know?” she whispered.

“You’ve got the oddest little frown on your face like you’re mentally arguing with yourself. I know you, Flynn MacGregor, you have a hard time just being in the moment. Be here with me now, Flynn. Don’t think. Don’t live in the past. Don’t project into the future. Don’t stand on the sidelines any longer. Stop ignoring your own needs. Shut down that noisy little voice and listen to your body.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

“No trying. Do it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Here, let me help you.” He pulled off her shoes, tugged her jeans down over her hips. She kicked them aside.

Jesse knelt in front of her. He cupped her buttocks in his palms, looked up at her with complete and total awe. The light in his eyes shook her very soul.

“Beautiful,” he cooed. “So, so beautiful.”

The pleasure of his words, the expression of pure gratitude on his face toasted her skin, warmed her heart. He pressed his cheek against her belly, held her close to his head. She could hear her heartbeat pounding blood through her ears and felt hot tingles of delight race over her skin.

“Mmm,” he murmured, lightly nipping the skin
just below her navel with his teeth. “You taste so good. Tender. Juicy.”