A Christmas to Believe In (28 page)

of her chair and slid his strong arms around her waist. She

sank into him, closing her eyes to the musky scent of his

cologne.

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"You've done good, Jesse. Even on the receiving end of his

anger, I can see he's a good kid. I'm sure it will work out

okay."

If only she shared his optimistic outlook. But too many

years of knowing Ethan made it impossible to believe he'd

simply take it with an adult's logic. Thirteen he might be. At

heart, he was still much, much younger.

"Hey," Clint murmured as he nuzzled her hair. "Come back

to me. You're not allowed to worry tonight." His hands moved

across her back, slow sweeps that worked away the tension in

her muscles. He leaned back to look at her. "If I remember

right, I promised you a dance on prom, and my date wouldn't

let me."

"You did?"

"Gee, babe, glad I made such a great impression." He

rolled his eyes. "Yes. I did."

With a giggle, she backed up a step, luring him into the

front room. "Well, in that case, maybe I should collect. Think

you can remember how?"

He caught her hands. "I think I can wing it." His voice took

on a definite husky undertone as he pulled her in close.

Bing Crosby's rich timbre enveloped them. She laid her

head on his chest, her eyes closed, as they swayed to
Silver

Bells
. Surprisingly graceful, Clint kept her fastened against his

body, his slow shuffle-step a sensual rhythm that made the

wine go to her head. He was warm and comfortable. He held

her like a cherished treasure—not too tight, not too loose, but

possessive all the same. She reveled in his clean scent, the

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weight of his hand on the small of her back, and the tender

way he tucked his cheek against the top of her head.

"What's your Christmas wish?" he whispered.

You. Forever with you.
Yet the wish was as futile as asking

for Santa to shimmy down her chimney. She couldn't have

forever with Clint. Just now. A few unforgettable days.

Tonight.

"What's yours?" she returned quietly.

His embrace tightened, and he dropped his head to the

hollow of her shoulder. "I'm holding her in my arms." The

brush of his mouth followed his whisper.

Jesse's heart thumped. One heavy hopeful beat that

robbed her lungs of air. She tipped her head back, looked into

his expressive eyes.

He moved as she did, lowering his mouth as she rose to

her toes. Their lips met, clung together, eased apart.

Surrender passed over his face. With a throaty murmur, Clint

closed his eyes and hauled her against his chest. His mouth

captured hers, full of tender insistence, laden with fervent

need.

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Clint's lungs strained against the trembling of his chest.

The confession came too close to the truth that lurked in his

heart. The same truth he'd desperately tried to ignore all

afternoon. He loved her. Had come home for a family

Christmas he didn't want to attend and fell in love with Jesse

in a matter of days. So desperately in love he didn't know

which end was up, which faltering aspect of his life mattered

more, or which one would make the greatest impact if he

walked away.

All he knew was that in Jesse's arms, all the conflict of his

father's expectations, the troubles with his stables, and his

concerns about Angel's foal disappeared. She knew when to

pick him up. How to do it without even trying. She knew the

workings of his mind sometimes better than he did.

He fisted his hands into her hair, angled her head, and

deepened the kiss. The fruity flavor of wine lingered on her

mouth. It soaked into him, adding to the lightness in his

head. She was every bit as intoxicating as any expensive

champagne. More so when he stopped his thoughts and

yielded to sheer feeling.

Jesse slipped her hands beneath his sweater. His muscles

bunched beneath the exploration of her fingertips. How he

loved the feel of her hands on him. The touch of innocence in

her caress that blended with her woman's confidence. She

had no shame when it came to her desire for him. Made no

attempt to cloak her heart.

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In fact, she gave it freely, that heart of hers. At least to

him, and of all the things he remembered about Jesse, what

stood out the most was her detachment to her relationships.

He had never seen her crazy over a guy. Had never witnessed

girlhood giddiness. Had never experienced Jesse giving a man

the affection she showered upon him.

The nature of their dance changed, took on a far more

hedonistic rhythm. The sway of her hips enticed, the brush of

their bodies no longer innocent. He dropped his hands to her

delectable bottom and kneaded his fingers into firm buttocks.

His already full cock stirred in anticipation of the haven it

craved.

Clint used the suspended embrace to toe off his shoes.

Jesse followed suit. Her lips drifted down his chin, his neck.

Stopped at the base of his throat while her toes skimmed up

the inside of his pants' cuff. He stood unmoving. Afraid to

breathe. Torn between the desire to lay her down on the

couch or carry her upstairs.

Sensation washed through him as she worked her hands

up to his chest. She flicked a fingertip over his nipple, splayed

her fingers across his ribs. When she eased his sweater up,

the rush of cool air surprised him, but the warmth of her

breath, moments before her lips danced over his skin, erased

the uncomfortable chill. Her mouth created a trail of sheer

fire. The flick of her tongue, the nip of her teeth combined to

send his heartbeat into triple-time.

She pushed on his sweater again, silently asking for the

room to pull it off. Clint obliged by reaching behind his neck,

gathering it in his fist and tugging it over his head. Sweater

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and cotton t-shirt came off to land in a forgotten pile on the

couch.

Her mouth returned, and Clint sucked in a sharp breath as

she grazed her teeth across his chest. Her fingers spanned his

abdomen, dipped into the waistband of his pants. She

touched the tip of his swollen erection, and Clint's body

jerked. He backed up a step, the distance a necessary

torture. They had all night. If he allowed those tantalizing

fingers to manipulate him, he'd be useless in a mere matter

of seconds.

Instead, he swept her into his arms. At her giggle, he gave

her a grin. "I'm taking you to bed."

"I see that."

He lifted an eyebrow as he nipped the tip of her nose. "Any

arguments?"

Jesse snuggled in close and let out a contented sigh.

"None."

She weighed less than a feather, and he carried her up the

stairs with purposeful strides. In the hall, he stopped, unable

to ignore the call of her parted lips, and indulged in a lengthy

kiss. Still playing at her mouth, he nudged open the bedroom

he'd spent one too many rainy days in as a kid, and lowered

her into the bed. Her arms came around his neck, pulling him

down with her, and Clint eased his weight into her.

He gazed down into her indigo eyes. They reflected the

same love and desire that coursed through his veins, and for

a moment, he could do no more than stare. He didn't

understand it. Treasured it, indeed. But how he had earned so

much love, he couldn't comprehend.

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Her soft smile radiated warmth. "I'm so glad you came

home."

"Me too, sweetheart," he murmured against her cheek.

"Me too."

A lift of her hips asked him to help her out of her clothes.

He rocked back on his heels and peeled her jeans away. As

she sat up to pull off her shirt, he shimmied out of the rest of

his clothes. Kneeling on the bed, they came together in an

ardent embrace. Her knee slipped between his thighs, her

body pressed against his hard arousal. He framed her face in

his hands in a desperate attempt to control their feral kiss.

On a ragged breath, he tore his mouth from hers. "Damn it

woman, I can't think when you do that."

Nails scraped against his abdomen. They traversed down

quivering muscles, across his inner thigh. She cupped him in

her hand, and with a firm squeeze, she whispered, "I don't

want you to think."

Clint made the mistake of looking between them. The sight

of her dainty hand around his thick length almost pushed him

over the edge. He grabbed the blankets in a fist and shut his

eyes to hang on to his faltering control. She moved up and

down his shaft, her grip firm, the slide amazing. Trapped by

excruciating ecstasy, Clint let go and gave in to her wish.

Thoughts were useless anyway. He couldn't put more than

two together before her fingers savaged them. He moved

against the pleasant friction of her palm. Strained against his

mounting release.

"Jesse," he exhaled.

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Moist and hot, her breath skimmed over his chest. "Are

you feeling?"

On a hard swallow, he choked out, "God..."

The rest of whatever he'd intended to say drifted into the

netherland of sensation. His hips surged forward, and he

clenched the blankets tighter.

A push of her hand urged him onto his back. He tumbled

at her command, dragged in a relieved breath as her palm fell

away. But before he could put his mind in order enough to

recapture control of the situation, he opened his eyes to find

Jesse looming over him on all fours. She dragged her moist

feminine flesh over his throbbing cock, and Clint ground his

teeth together.

Desire coiled his gut into a hard knot. He lifted into her,

pushing against the entry to her warm sheath. She glided

over him, denying him what he longed for. Agonized, he

clamped his hands into her hips and held her still.

A smile crinkled the corners of her eyes as she complied.

She held his gaze. He read her desire for him behind her

silent stare. Mingling with it, however, lurked acquiescence.

She gave him the lead, and Clint willingly took it.

In a slow prolonged thrust, he guided himself inside her.

Her eyes glazed over, and she let out a ragged gasp. Lifting

her away, Clint retreated, then slipped deep inside again. Her

inner muscles clenched and released, accepting him inch by

inch. He rolled her hips into him; she closed her eyes. Her

features softened with pleasure. Through parted lips, she

breathed in short gasps.

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Guiding her in a steady pace, Clint made love to the

woman who awakened a portion of his soul he hadn't known

existed. She dropped forward, her breasts brushing against

his chest as her mouth searched for his. He gave it to her,

kissing her with every last drop of emotion he could find. As

their momentum increased, she broke their kiss. Her fingers

dug into his shoulders, her breath came between soft moans

of pleasure.

"Clint," she gasped as a shudder rolled through her body.

Around his cock, her flesh pulsed and gripped. He ground his

teeth together with a groan and pushed her hips down as he

surged into her one last time. He came in a whirlwind of

cyclonic sensation and jerked up into her as his body

spasmed. He let out a hoarse cry as the last of him spilled

into her, and Jesse collapsed into his arms.

With the strength he had remaining, he let go of his death

grip on her hips, and folded his arms around her. Spent and

boneless, he lay still, listening to the sound of their rapid

breathing. Like molten wax, she melded into his body. Her

head on his shoulder, her heart drummed against his. He

stroked the ends of her hair and let out a long breath.

The words came unbidden. They rose in his heart, worked

their way up his throat. He clamped his teeth down,

forbidding the thought to escape. She could give her love to

him, but he could not give the emotion life with words.
I love

you, Jesse,
meant futility. He could love her until the world

came to an end, but love had little to do with being the man

she needed. He would not trap her to a loyalty she'd never

break. She deserved so much more than that.

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Jesse slid off Clint's broad chest to lie in the crook of his

arm. She ran her fingertips over his chest, playing with the

light covering of hair there. Emotions warred within her heart.