Almost a Bravo

by Christine Rimmer

  “Jaxon...” She cradled his head. “Keep doing that. Never stop...”

  “Too many damn clothes.” He sucked her other nipple as he reached behind her and undid the clasp. A moment later, he was tossing the bra over his head. “Everything else,” he commanded. “Off.”

  She got right to it, those dusky-tipped breasts bouncing as she wiggled out of her jeans and took her panties down with them. When she had them off, she kicked them over the side of the bed. “You, too.” She leaned his way and poked his chest with her finger. “Stop fooling around.”

  He could take an order. Especially one that meant he’d end up naked with her, skin to skin. He stripped fast.

  And then he reached for her.

  She came to him, so willing, wrapping her soft, slim body around him, pulling him down to the mattress with a happy little moan. They rolled together, kissing, hands roaming everywhere. He buried his face in the dark, silky cloud of her hair, caught her earlobe between his teeth and worried it as she pulled him closer and let out a hungry, throaty sound.

  There weren’t enough kisses to do her justice. But he tried anyway—starting with her breasts, and not only the nipples. He kissed every inch of them: the soft upper slopes, the tender sides, the round curves beneath. He kissed them and he took them in his hands, pressed them together, kissed them some more. When she giggled and rolled over to her stomach, that didn’t even give him pause.

  He kissed the points of her shoulder blades, the sweet trail of bumps all down her spine. He dipped his tongue into each of those twin dimples where her backbone met her hips.

  She let out soft, sweet little mewling sounds as he kissed the perfect swells of her bottom, right side first. On the left, he kept going, moving on down to the tender crease where her thigh began and lower. He lingered at the back of her knee, licking and nipping the taut, pale skin there.

  About then, she grew impatient and rolled to her back again. If she hadn’t been so quick about it, he would have grabbed her and held her in place to continue downward—to her calves, her ankles, the vulnerable soles of her feet, each and every pretty toe.

  But she gave him a direct order. “Come up here. Kiss me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He moved up her body and fused his mouth with hers. Her kiss lit him up like a five-alarm fire. It was deep and so right.

  As she kissed him, she reached down between them to wrap her fingers around his aching erection. He was the one moaning then, the one begging her name as she stroked him, her grip nice and tight, each pull just right—firm. A little bit rough.

  Too soon, he had to catch her wrist and stop her or he would have finished without her.

  For their first time, that wouldn’t do.

  Pushing her back onto the pillows, he kissed his way down the center of her to the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair at her mound. He pressed his lips to that tender crease where her thigh met her torso. She wriggled and sighed, clutching at his shoulders to pull him back up again.

  No. Not yet.

  He needed to taste her, there at the musky-sweet center of her. He nipped at her, gently guiding her thighs to part.

  And then, at last, he kissed her, opening her with his fingers, delving in with his tongue.

  She said his name some more then, so sweetly, pleading with him. “Jaxon. Oh, yes. Jax. Oh, please...”

  He played her, using his fingers and his eager tongue. She reached down and clutched his head as he worked her. And she whispered husky, hungry encouragements, her hips rocking into him as he coaxed her higher.

  And then, with the sweetest cry of triumph and abandon, she came. He drank her up, so wet and musky, tasting just right on his tongue.

  And then she was clutching him again, pulling him up, urging him to cover her. “Jax. Come here. I need...” The words became a moan.

  He couldn’t wait to give her just what she needed—and his eagerness almost got the best of him. He surged up over her.

  And pulled back with a groan in the precise second before he buried himself in her welcoming heat.

  “What?” She looked up at him, stricken.

  “Condom.” He growled the word.

  Those big black eyes widened farther as she gasped. “I forgot, too—oh, hurry, please! I can’t wait...”

  He’d never agreed with anyone more. He lifted away enough to tear a condom off the strip, get it out of the pouch and rolled down over himself.

  “Jax.” She reached for him, flattening her hands on his chest, sliding them down to brush the base of his erection. “You’re so big, so beautiful...”

  He was gone over her, done for. So much so that he didn’t even bother to tease her that a man should not be called beautiful. Instead, he concentrated on the moment, which was just about as perfect as a moment could get. He settled between her open thighs and she lifted her hips, reached with her arms, tried to wrap herself all around him.

  He braced up on his elbows to get a little control, hissing a breath through gritted teeth at the incomparable feel of her. She was tight. It must have been a while for her, too.

  Tight, but so warm and wet. He took it slow, though he almost had a heart attack holding himself back.

  Her soft hands were all over him, stroking his shoulders, digging into his sides, grabbing his butt and holding on like she couldn’t get enough of him, like she would never let go.

  She whispered, “Yes,” and, “Like that,” and, “Oh! Oh, my!” the words punctuated by sharp gasps of pleasure along with little moans of discomfort as her body slowly opened for him.

  Finally, he was all the way in, surrounded by her. She yanked him down, close and hard. He groaned when she did that. He didn’t want to crush her, but she was insistent. In the end, he gave in and buried his head against her throat.

  “Jax.” Her breath across his cheek, her soft lips against his ear. “Oh, yes, Jax...”

  That did it. Something broke loose in him. He couldn’t wait anymore. He had to move.

  He slid out to the tip and back in again. She gave him a soft, eager “Yes!” so he did it a second time.

  And then she was moving, too, matching her rhythm to his. Everything got gloriously fuzzy, perfect and hot, frantic and so fine. She was on top and then they were on their sides, facing each other, moving more slowly, together, just right. Her eyes were all pupil, so dark and wide, miles deep.

  He felt her rising to her peak. Somehow, he held off, managed not to lose it until she went over, clutching him so tightly, with a tender, wordless cry.

  That did it for him. The end came searing along his backbone and the pulsing began. He wrapped his arms around her and let the pleasure take him down.

  * * *

  It was dark in the bedroom when Aislinn opened her eyes. The clock on the nightstand gave off a soft glow. 2:22 in the morning. The lamp had been on earlier. Jax must have switched it off.

  Jax...

  He was all wrapped around her, his warm breath stirring her hair, his big arm resting in the curve of her waist, his hard, hairy thigh caught between her smooth ones. She could close her eyes and stay here forever, satisfied and protected in the shelter of his embrace.

  But all at once, out of nowhere, her heart was racing, knocking against her rib cage, urging her to go. Her mouth tasted of copper, sharp and all wrong.

  They shouldn’t have done this.

  Yes, it had been glorious. But she wasn’t ready for this.

  She hardly even knew who she was anymore. She couldn’t just fall into some hopeless love affair with Jax, no matter how great a guy he was. They were here because the father who had turned his back on her and changed the course of her life on the day of her birth had forced them into it. She needed to remember that.

  What had she been thinking last night? This wasn’t real. She had no idea what was real. Not anymore.

  And she nee
ded out of this bed. Now.

  Panic clutched at her, urging her to hurry, get up, get out of here.

  But she didn’t want to wake him, so she tried her best to take it slow, easing out from under the weight of his arm, scooting an inch away at a time, toward the edge of the bed.

  She slipped over the side, rolling out from under the blankets and down to the rug. And then she darted around in the dark snatching up her clothes, managing to find her jeans, panties, shirt and one sandal, but not the other one, or her bra.

  Too bad. She could get them in the morning.

  She tiptoed to the door that led to her room and reached for the door handle.

  “Aislinn?” She heard the covers rustling. Jax switched on the lamp.

  She whirled to face him, her clothes clutched against her nakedness, feeling utterly foolish, blinking against the sudden brightness.

  “Aislinn.” He sat up, the covers falling away to reveal his broad chest, heavy with hard muscle, a gorgeous trail of hair across his pecs, and leading down...

  She gulped. “I’m just going to my own bed, that’s all. Go back to sleep.”

  “Stay here. Don’t go.” He raked a hand through his sleep-scrambled hair. “I want you here.” He looked at her so tenderly, like he couldn’t stand it if she left.

  Oh, God. He really seemed to mean it—and she wanted to stay.

  But she couldn’t. She simply couldn’t. “I just need to, um, go, okay?”

  He pushed the covers down and swung his feet to the floor. “Wait.”

  “I...can’t, I...”

  But then he was coming for her, completely naked, all man, so beautiful, so right, so...everything.

  She stared with her mouth open like some kind of hypnotized fool.

  When he reached her, he put his big, warm hands on her shoulders. She almost melted in a puddle of pure longing when he did that. Because oh, she did want him, to love him, to hold him and have him hold her. But she had to remember that this just...wasn’t real.

  “What is it?” His eyes searched her face. “What’s happened?”

  She didn’t know how to explain herself. “I just... It’s all too much, okay? Too fast. Tonight, I went overboard. And now I really need to go.”

  But he didn’t release her. “You’re shaking.”

  And she was. She was quivering all over. “Please, Jax...”

  That did it, somehow. His hands fell away from her. She whirled for the door again.

  “One thing,” he said, still right there behind her, where she could feel him, the size and heat of him, at her back.

  She froze. “What? Say it.” Make it fast. “Go ahead.”

  “I’m here. If you need me.” His hand came over her shoulder and pressed flat against the door. “I’ll be right here on the other side of this door.”

  “Um.” She clutched her wad of clothing and swallowed convulsively. At least the shaking seemed to have subsided. “Thank you. I, well, it was perfect, tonight. You and me. I loved every minute of it. But I have this little problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “See, um, I don’t really even know who I am anymore.”

  “Because of what Martin did? Is that it?”

  “Yeah. I guess so, essentially—but, Jax. I just can’t.”

  “Can’t?”

  “I can’t talk about it now.”

  “You’re still the same person you always were—a person I am finding I want to know better.”

  His quietly spoken words helped. But not enough. “I like you, too. I do. But I’m kind of confused now and I really have to go.”

  He was silent behind her. And then his powerful arm vanished back over her shoulder. “Good night, Aislinn.” He stepped away. She felt the loss of him, a coolness at her back.

  She grabbed the knob and turned it. The door swung open. She stepped through, closing it behind her.

  And engaging the lock.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time daylight came, Aislinn was nowhere near ready to deal with Jax again.

  Her heart felt scraped raw. Last night had been everything she’d ever dreamed it might be, if he could be hers.

  So how had it happened that the very rightness of it felt all wrong now, like some twisted, ugly joke? Her forbidden college-girl fantasy crush had come true. He wanted to be with her. He’d said it right out loud. He wanted them to go forward, together, as a couple.

  She wanted that, too. So very much.

  But right now, she couldn’t do it. She longed for him, but she couldn’t reach out for him. Not when she felt like an impostor in her own skin.

  Her solution to all this confusion: hide.

  Yes, hiding was childish and accomplished exactly nothing.

  She hid anyway, remaining in her room until she knew that he and Burt would have finished breakfast and left for the stables. Creeping downstairs on tiptoe, she found the house empty. Out the side window, she spotted Erma at work in her vegetable garden.

  Aislinn ate a bowl of cereal, spent some time with her rabbits and then wandered out to her workshop, where she attached colored glass beads and silver charms to silver filigree bookmarks for a standing order from Valentine Bay Books. It was mindless work, really. Perfect for a day like today when her concentration was pretty much shot. At eleven, when she ran back to the house to change for work at Sand & Sea, Erma was still in the garden.

  Upstairs, Aislinn found her white lace bra on the bed and her missing sandal at the foot of it.

  Jax had left a folded note beside the bra: Figured you might want these back.

  For the first time since she woke in a panic the night before, she almost smiled. She was acting like a crazy person and he was being so sweet and patient.

  That evening, at dinner, she shifted her glance away every time he tried to catch her eye.

  Really, she was starting to piss herself off. She needed to talk to him, to apologize for freaking out on him. Whatever did or didn’t happen next with them, she owed him some kind of explanation for running out on him last night.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t understand her own behavior, so her actions were going to be pretty difficult to explain.

  After dinner, the men went back out to bring in some colts they’d left to graze in a far pasture. She helped Erma clean up after the meal and then spent an hour with Luna and Bunbun.

  When she left the side porch, she felt restless and edgy. She returned to her studio until after midnight, losing herself in working out certain design issues in the new series of pieces she’d been planning.

  The house was quiet when she went inside. Upstairs, she showered and got ready for bed. When she turned off the light, she saw the glow beneath the interior door.

  He was awake.

  And she needed to make her apology. Now—if he even wanted to hear it. She considered changing into something other than her Snoopy Snooze-Time sleep shirt and cropped sweats, but that would only be an excuse to stall.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she turned the light back on and marched to the inner door. Her heart sounded like a wrecking ball to her ears, but she wasn’t about to chicken out now. She knocked.

  “It’s open,” came his deep, wonderful voice from the other room.

  She twisted the lock and pulled the door wide to find him propped up on a pile of pillows wearing a T-shirt, track pants and black-rimmed glasses, reading a paperback.

  He tossed the book aside and took off the glasses. “Hey.”

  She gave a ridiculous little cough because her throat had locked up tight. “Hey.”

  “Come in.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

  She padded on over there and sat down beside him.

  There was empty air. Several endless seconds of it.

  Finally, he asked, “So h
ow’re you doing?”

  Drawing a bare foot up and tucking it in against her other thigh, she turned to him. “I swear I’m not usually a nutjob after sex.”

  One side of his mouth twitched, an almost-smile. “You weren’t.”

  “Uh, yeah. I was. And I’m sorry. Did I tell you it wasn’t your fault? If I didn’t, well, it wasn’t. What happened with us in this bed was amazing and I loved it.”

  He did smile then. “It was so good, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough?”

  “No. Honestly. It wasn’t the fabulous sex that freaked me out. I think I’ve just been through one too many changes lately, that’s all.”

  Very slowly, giving her every chance in the world to duck away, he lifted his hand and guided a stray curl of her hair behind her ear. “I want to grab you and take off that Snoopy shirt, you know that? And those sweats and whatever else you’ve got on underneath there.”

  Little, happy shivers chased themselves along her arms, down the backs of her knees. “That sounds so good...”

  He must have heard her hesitation in her voice. “But?”

  “Well, it’s like this. I’m me, but I’m not me. I live here, but only for three months. You’re my husband, but we married for other reasons than love—oh, and in twelve weeks or so, we can get divorced and I get fifty thousand dollars. I wasn’t really born in the villa of a Montedoran count on the Riviera as my mother always told me. Instead, I was switched at birth with America’s darling. My mom wasn’t really my mom and my real mom is dead now. I’ll never get to meet her.” She waited for him to say something. Anything. When he just looked at her with panty-melting tenderness in his eyes, she demanded, “You hear what I’m saying? The craziness is extensive, you gotta admit. And last night...” Her throat clutched. Again.

  He gave her ten seconds before prompting, “Last night, what?”

  She sucked in a big breath to relax her voice box and made herself go on. “You still don’t know, do you, how much I wanted you five years ago? How bad I had it for you. You just don’t get it.”