Jillian Hart (12 page)

"It's my pleasure."

"You're still an injured man, Jack." Honest concern textured her voice, and he liked it. He liked knowing he mattered to a woman as fine as her.

"I'm on the mend, Lissa. In fact, I'm as fine as ever. And as strong. With strong appetites." He couldn't take his eyes off her, even when all he could see was her silver-limned form, all slender grace and feminine curves. Sharp, physical need speared through him, pumped in his blood, heated his veins. "I want to consummate our marriage."

"Tonight?" she squeaked.

"If you're ready."

She bent to light the lamp. He could not see her face enough to read what emotions resided there, but he knew what he wanted—and hoped she wanted the same.

"I don't know if I will ever be ready, if I can ever have time enough." Gentleness softened her face, shadowed with regret. "If I make love with you—" She stopped, fell silent.

He felt her sorrow ripple through the darkness like shimmers across a deep pond, and he understood. "Then I've replaced Michael completely."

"Yes."

"I didn't come here to replace anyone. All I want is you to look at me and see me—the man who has kept his promises to you, who has made a commitment to you." Truth ached in his throat, raw and honest. "You are everything to me, Lissa. You and Chad are all I have."

His words brushed over her like first light, gentle and stark all at once, changing everything. How could she say no to him? How could she say yes?

He closed the distance between them, laid both hands on either side of her jaw. His big fingers framed her face. She looked up and saw desire color his eyes, intent shape his mouth.

His kiss was hard and exciting. Not tentative, not timid, but as powerful as the man. His lips were commanding, and he seemed to breathe her in until she was without air, without wits, without anything but need—burning, growing need.

She laid her hands flat on the solid wall of his chest He made her dizzy and hungry and confused. He made her feel so much more. A light heat drifted through her, bright as a rising moon, as enchanting as midnight.

She tilted her head, and he deepened the kiss. Of their own volition, her lips molded to his. She shouldn't want a kiss this much. Yet, as he brushed his big hands down over her jaw and caressed the length of her throat, her pulse stopped. All conscious thought ceased. There was nothing, only the hot, velvety caress of his tongue against hers and the brush of his thumbs at the hollow where her collarbones met.

"I can feel your heartbeat" He spoke with her breath, never breaking their kiss. It felt as if his words were hers. "You want me."

"Yes." It wasn't a lie. She was torn, and yet he was right. She did want. Her pulse snapped light and fast in her veins, beat in her chest with the rhythm of such sweet wanting.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her safe and tight to his chest. She pressed her face into the hollow of his throat, breathless, her lips tingling from the remembered sensation of his kiss. She felt the iron band of his forearms against her back and his steely chest against hers, the solid length of his torso, the muscled strength of thighs.

He was so much man. She tipped her head back. His gaze fastened on hers. He drew in breath, and she knew he wanted her but he wasn't going to push her. The next move was hers, and hers alone. She thought of all he had done for her, all she wanted to give him. He wanted this. She had felt so alone—but not since he'd come into her life, not now, in his presence.

She loosened the delicate button at her throat The gingham fabric parted. Warm air teased her exposed skin as she freed one button, then another. Jack's hand closed over hers. His fingers spread tingling heat across her sensitive fingertips.

"Let me." How low, those words, how heady, that request.

Lissa took her hands away, lifted her chin to watch his face change. She saw shadowed light caress his cheekbones, saw desire shade his eyes. She felt butterfly tugs at her placket, felt the dress loosen. Fabric slid over her shoulders, catching at the crook of her elbows.

In this heat, she had worn nothing but a chemise. She felt her nipples bud tight against the nearly sheer muslin, saw appreciation quirk in the corner of Jack's mouth—his kissable, beautiful mouth.

He loosened one final button and her dress slid down her hips. Cotton puddled around her ankles, and she shivered—not from cold, for the night was warm. His fingers hooked around the straps of her chemise. Her hand caught his.

"The lamp is on." She blushed.

"I know." His eyes darkened. He wanted to see her, wanted to see everything.

She dipped her chin. "I don't think—"

"Whatever you want." He reached past her to turn down the wick. The sharp scent of kerosene tickled his nose. Shadowed darkness crept back into the room, dominating it.

She was nothing but shade and form. Then, when he touched her, she was flesh and blood woman, silken skin and curves. Desire thudded in his veins. He reached this time and wrapped two fingers around the cotton straps. Fabric slid away, whispering to the floor.

"Jack?"

He wished he could see her. The tremor in her voice told him this wasn't easy for her. "Do you want to change your mind?"

"No." Her hand found his. "I want to do this for you, Jack."

"Not for you?"

He heard her quick intake of breath and sensed she was blushing. "Haven't you missed this?" He ran his finger across her collarbone, felt her shiver.

"Yyes. I miss the comfort." Her confession whispered across his skin, low and sweet "My friends have advised me I shouldn't waste any time. After all, I suppose we aren't truly wed until we consummate our marriage."

"Wise friends." He couldn't hold back his grin, especially seeing Lissa's. "Before we make love, I want you to know I'm not doing this for the pleasure. It's my sworn duty as your husband."

"Yes, duty." A smirk lightened her voice. "You are required to give me more children."

"It's a tough job, but I'm ready for the challenge."

She laughed, their breaths mingling. How could she not like this man of strength and humor? "I'm glad you take your work so seriously."

"Very seriously." He gave into the urge to brush those tantalizing curls from her twinkling, shadowed eyes.

He'd come here to replace another man. Looking at Lissa made him want to erase all traces, all memories, all remembrance. He wanted Lissa as his own, all to himself—if not tonight, then in time. In time.

There was not enough light in the room, not enough shadow and shade for him to see her with. His skin prickled with awareness. Except for her muslin drawers, she was naked. Judging by the sharp intake of her breath, she was a little nervous about it.

Hell, he was nervous, too. She was placing her trust in him not to hurt her, not to use her. He would not let her down. He gave a little gasp when he first touched her, felt her body tense slightly at just his fingers on her wrist. He could feel her fast pulse, feel the heat of her.

"Your touch feels nice." Her confession came low, like a caress, soft as the darkness.

"I'm glad you think so." He laid a hand along her jaw, felt the silk of her hair whisper across his knuckles. "I intend to touch you a lot."

She lifted her chin, inviting his touch, inviting his kiss. The world stood still, silenced as his lips descended on hers. She was no longer shy. Her mouth slanted open, ready for the brush of his tongue across the top edge of her bottom teeth. She moaned, a sound of desire low in her throat. Unlike the other times they'd kissed, she opened more to him, inviting him in.

How could he resist? Jack cupped her head with both hands, deepening the kiss, searching out her mouth with his. She tasted like apple, cinnamon and passion, a combination that made his heart thunder, that drove a greater desire through his veins. He found the tip of her tongue with his and sucked gently.

"Undress me," he whispered against her mouth, speaking with her breath.

"I've never—" She laughed, maybe nervous, maybe embarrassed, and leaned her forehead against his throat, just beneath his chin. Her hair tickled his jaw, caught on the stubble of his day's growth. "I've never undressed a man."

"Well, it's time you learned."

That made her laugh again. "Michael and I just—" She twisted half away from him, turning in the direction of the bed, only a few feet away, soft and comfortable and waiting for them.

"I'm not Michael." He caught her chin, drew her gaze to his. Even in the darkness, he could feel the touch of her gaze, felt her shiver.

"I know."

"And I'm not trying to be. I want you to remember that tonight every time I touch you, make love to you. I'm your husband now."

Possessive.
He didn't know he could feel this way, towering over her in the darkness with no way to see her, to read the emotion in her eyes, coloring her face. But he
felt
her, felt her heart, her being, without pretense. She was gentle and kind, loving and giving. He liked all that—more than he ever could have guessed when he first decided to marry her, to honor his promise to her.

In answer, he felt the brush of her hand at his throat. Felt the button at his collar release, then one after another until his shirt slipped open with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

Yes, her touch was all the answer he needed. His shirt fell to the floor, and he reached for her, took her hand, and led her the few steps to the bed.

Soft cotton quilt met his fingers as he pulled back the covers. Darkness enfolded them. His pulse thrummed as Lissa settled onto those line-dried sheets, which smelled of sunshine and morning fresh air. He wished he could see her. He wished there was enough starlight to cast faint shadows to see her by.

Then her hand caught his, velvet soft and as hot as fire. He didn't need to see her. He just wanted her touch, wanted to touch her.

"Where are you?" He felt like boiling liquid, ready to explode. She tugged. The strength in her hand pulled him onto the bed.

"I'm on your pillow." Her voice came thin and low, a mix of nervousness and need. "Yours is thicker, because it's new. I think I should have kept it and given you my old one."

"You'll have to fight me for it." He knelt over her. He threaded his fingers through hers.

"No fair. You're holding me down."

"I know."

Her fingers curled against his. He leaned over her, met her kiss, open and wet, full of desire. He nibbled her lips, then her jaw, savoring the flavor of her skin—slightly salty, sweet like angel food cake. He felt the tension in the tight muscles of her neck and caressed that tightness with his tongue.

Relax.
He willed the word to her, too breathless to speak. He sensed her body prone beneath his, tensed and waiting, though he still had not touched her. He balanced his weight on hands and knees, giving her time to get used to him. Already he was hot and hard, wanting her so much he hurt, but he had all night. All that mattered was Lissa— only Lissa.

He pressed his mouth and tongue to the hollow at the base of her throat, felt the fast rat-tat-tat of her heart, felt her sharp intake of breath. She was willing. That was all he wanted to know.

He ran his tongue down the length of her breastbone. The soft slopes of her breasts brushed against his whispered jaw. Her fingers slipped away from his. When he caught one peaked nipple with his tongue, her fingers curled around the back of his head, holding him at her breast, asking for more.

She was all hot velvet skin and passion, just as he'd known she would be. He drew her into his mouth, then rolled his tongue around the puckered bud. Another low moan, so soft it was almost a sigh, encouraged him. He sucked softly at first, then harder when he felt pleasure ripple through her.

It wasn't enough. He wanted to touch her, too. He eased his weight down onto her. His erection nudged the silken curve of her stomach. She was all creamy, smooth skin and mysterious curves. And hot, hot need he could feel when he closed one hand over her other breast. As he laved and sucked, caressed and kneaded, she relaxed bit by bit beneath him. Her thighs parted, letting him know she was ready.

She wasn't, though. She couldn't be. Something told him that his cousin Michael hadn't known a whole lot about pleasuring women. Lissa shivered beneath him when he ran both hands across her ribs. He felt smooth skin, rippling muscle. She caught her breath. He heard the smile in her moan, and her thigh brushed his shaft. Red-hot sensation shot down his spine, thundered in his blood, but he wasn't through with her, not by a long shot.

He pressed her thighs apart and knelt between them. His fingers brushed flesh silken and warm, intimate and secret, especially in the dark.

"Jack!" She came off his pillow as if she'd been struck by lightning.

He moved his fingers against her. "You don't like this?"

Her breath caught. "I didn't say that."

His fingers kept caressing, spreading heat and dew. "I could stop."

"No."

He chuckled. She was like the darkness, yet he could hear the quick rhythm of her breathing, the little sounds of contentment she made in her throat, the heat of her skin. He kept caressing her, discovering more wetness. She opened to his fingers, her hips lifting into his touch. Her fingers wrapped around his forearms, tight and hard. She lay back onto the pillow, moaning softly.

"Jack?" she breathed.

He liked the sound of his name when she said it like that—needy and broken and so dreamy. "Yes?"

"I think—" She couldn't catch her breath.

"You can think while I'm doing this?" His lips grazed hers, hot, enticing. "Then I'm not doing this right."

"Trust me, you are." He was going to make her beg. Fire crackled through her body, arching and jolting until only darkness remained. She couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't do anything but try to resist his touch.

How could she? Pleasure sizzled beneath his fingertips, snapping through her body, twisting her muscles tight The sensation grew sharper, brighter, then excruciating, "Jack-"

Then he eased over her, all strong steely hardness everywhere his skin touched hers. Darkness framed him, but she could sense his smile. Her lips buzzed right before his mouth descended on hers. She eased back onto the pillows again, thighs clasped around his, breathless and dizzy and wanting—
how
she wanted.