Falling Hard (Colorado High Country #3)

by Pamela Clare

  “How did your family take that?”

  “My mom yelled and cried and threatened to shoot me in the knee cap. Her son was not going to go overseas and die in some stupid war. My father took it as a rejection. He and I have never been close.” The truth was darker than that, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood. “I haven’t talked to him since my mother died. That was five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. Why did your mom die? She can’t have been that old.”

  “Heart attack. It runs in her family.”

  “Sorry.” Then Ellie smiled and shook her head, giving a tipsy little giggle.

  “What?”

  “You wanted to escape from your small town—and you ended up in Scarlet.” That made her laugh.

  He could see the humor. “Except that Scarlet is the gateway to the mountains, and there’s nothing small about them.”

  She took another sip of wine. “What brought you to Colorado in the first place?”

  “After I left the Rangers, I went to New Orleans to live near my sister, but I had a hard time getting back into the swing of civilian life.”

  That was an understatement. He’d come back with a head full of death and rage and started drinking. He’d tried to get help from the VA, but the wait times had lasted longer than his sister’s patience. She’d given up on him.

  Well, they’d never been close anyway.

  “I’d seen pictures of the Rockies and came out to Colorado to try to get Afghanistan and Iraq out of my head. I fell in love with the mountains at first sight.”

  He could still remember that moment when he’d caught his first glimpse of the high peaks with their glittering white summits. “I got my first climbing lesson a couple of days after seeing climbers in Eldorado Canyon State Park, and I was hooked.”

  Climbing cleared his mind, cut through the wall that seemed to have grown up around his emotions, made him feel whole and human again.

  Ellie stared wide-eyed at him. “You’ve only been climbing for a couple of years—and you made the Team?”

  He nodded. “It was hard work. I climbed every day, no matter the weather. When I realized I needed a job if I wanted to stay, I took a spot on the trails crew at Scarlet Mountain Resort and then learned to ski that fall, hoping to land a spot on ski patrol.”

  She was still staring. “You must be a natural athlete.”

  “I guess we all have to be good at something.” Jesse was tired of talking about himself. “Why did you become a nurse?”

  She shrugged. “Growing up with a father who was a doctor gave me an interest in the medical field. I wanted to be more directly involved with patient care, so I decided to be a nurse. I worked as a surgical nurse until …”

  A shadow passed over her face.

  “It’s okay, Ellie. You can talk about him.”

  “I was a surgical nurse until Dan was killed. I had just learned that I was carrying twins. He was so excited. I was happy and a little scared. We talked about names over Skype. He liked Otis Henry for a boy’s name and Daisy Mae for a girl. I told him no way could I name a child Otis.” She laughed at this. “The Internet connection was lousy, but he had to go anyway. And then a few days later ... he was gone.”

  Jesse knew the crushing weight of grief, knew how deeply it cut. Then he remembered that this was why he’d kept his distance from her all this time. He’d had his own grief to bear and had been certain he couldn’t shoulder any part of hers.

  But now, sitting close to her like this and seeing the pain on her sweet face, it seemed as simple as reaching out and taking her hand.

  “It must have been hard.” Jesse’s voice was soothing, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of her hand. “What about Dan’s parents? Did they help?”

  Ellie shook her head. “They never liked me. They’re still angry at me for following his wishes and not putting a cross on his headstone.”

  “They got angry at you for following his last wishes?”

  She nodded. “They wanted me to bury him in Florida, where they live now, but I refused. I rarely hear from them.”

  “Lame.”

  Ellie twined her fingers with his and held on. “Claire came out to stay with me. If it hadn’t been for her …”

  She hadn’t meant to talk about this. She didn’t want to dump this on Jesse. But now that she had started, she couldn’t stop. “I had him buried at Arlington. I felt he deserved that honor. My sister helped me sell our house and move back to Scarlet. I knew I would need help during my pregnancy and after the twins were born. But nothing felt real to me, not even my babies. I would go to my prenatal appointments, listen to their heartbeats, and it all felt…”

  “Like it was happening to someone else,” Jesse finished for her.

  Her gaze snapped to his. “Exactly.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he was empathetic for a man, but even with the two glasses of wine she’d had, she knew that sounded patronizing.

  “When I reached thirty-six weeks, I started having contractions. I chose a C-section. I was so afraid something might go wrong. I couldn’t lose them, too. One minute I had a huge belly, and the next there were two crying babies. Daniel looked so much like his father. I wish Dan had lived to see them.” Her throat went tight, and she blinked back tears. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  Jesse leaned forward, wiped a tear from her cheek. “Hey, don’t apologize.”

  She looked up, saw the concern in his eyes—and slid into his embrace.

  For a time, he just held her, his strong body a refuge, one big hand caressing her hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was his scent. Maybe it was the feel of him. Ellie couldn’t say. It had been so long since a man had held her like this, so long since she’d taken comfort from a man.

  Slowly her grief faded, replaced by an altogether different emotion, her blood warming, awareness spreading through her body as she remembered the way he’d kissed her today and how it had felt. She sat back, looked up at him, ran her thumb over the fullness of his lower lip. From there it was so easy.

  She leaned forward and lifted her lips to his.

  He sucked in a quick breath, but he didn’t pull away. “Ellie. You said talk only.”

  “I changed my mind. Kiss me.”

  He drew back, and for a moment she thought he was leaving. Instead, he took the wine glass from her hand and set it beside his on the coffee table. Then he was back, his eyes looking into hers, so serious. He cupped her cheek. “Are you sure?”

  Hell, yes, she was sure. “Kiss me.”

  Before she could draw another breath, his lips claimed hers, the fingers of one big hand sliding into her hair, his other arm hauling her against his chest.

  Oh. God!

  At first contact, her senses reeled, arousal jolting through her. She was overwhelmed by Jesse—the burn of his lips on hers, the hard feel of his body, the spice of his skin. This is what it felt like to be held by a man.

  It had been so long, so long.

  He caught her lower lip between his, teased it with his tongue, then released it, his mouth covering hers again. When his tongue sought entry, she yielded, his tongue teasing hers with slick strokes she felt all the way to her womb. She stole control of the kiss from him, nipping first his upper and then his lower lip. He moaned, reclaiming his dominance, kissing her deeper and harder, the fingers in her hair clenching into a fist. Then, the kiss grew gentler, until he broke contact and pulled away.

  She caught his face between her palms, her words a whispered plea. “Please don’t stop … unless… unless you want to.”

  “Are you kidding?” In a blink, he had her on her back, his weight pinning her to the sofa. “I could kiss you all night.”

  Jesse knew Ellie hadn’t planned this, but damned if he could walk away.

  Kissing Ellie was like nothing else. She kissed with her entire body, arching against him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her hips moving beneath
him.

  Jesus!

  She turned her head to the side, exposing the delicate skin of her throat. He accepted her gift, licking and nipping the skin just beneath her ear, pressing his lips to the rapid thrum of her pulse. She moaned, the sound sending a jolt of lust straight to his erect cock, the heat between them driving him out of his mind.

  One of her hands slid beneath his T-shirt. “I want to feel you.”

  He sat up, tore off his flannel shirt, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Then he pressed her palms to his chest. “Be my guest.”

  He saw her pupils darken, felt her shiver, heard her little sigh of pleasure as she explored his pecs, teased his nipples with her thumbs, traced his scars and the tats on his arms with her fingers, then slid her hands over his abs. It turned him on to watch her enjoying the feel of him. Her hands spread sparks over his skin, making his muscles clench. But now it was his turn.

  He stretched himself out above her once more, nuzzled her throat, kissing his way down the V-neck of her sweater to that sweet cleavage that had teased him all evening. “I want to touch you, too.”

  “Yes.” She wriggled beneath him, trying to get out of her sweater.

  He took over, drawing it over her head and dropping it on the floor next to his T-shirt, only to find himself staring at a barrier of white lace that gave him glimpses of the soft, creamy flesh and silky, white bra beneath. Impatient now, he helped her peel off the camisole, but rather than rushing to take off her bra, he bent down and kissed the soft swells of her breasts, tasting her, teasing her, licking that line where soft skin met satin.

  Her fingers slid into his hair, her breathing uneven. “Jesse.”

  He slid a hand beneath her, found her bra clasp and undid it, then peeled the satin cups away. His cocked jerked at the sight of her breasts—full and round with pale nipples that puckered under his gaze. He took each breast in his hand, squeezed lightly, teasing her areolas with his thumbs. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  She shivered. “Do you think so?”

  “God, yes.” He lowered his mouth to one pebbled tip.

  She gasped, then moaned as he sucked and licked first one nipple and then the other, teasing her with his tongue, tugging on her with his lips. “Oh, God, Jesse, you’re driving me crazy!”

  She was writhing beneath him now, her fingers fisting in his hair, the intensity of her response making him even hornier—if that was possible.

  “Fuck me, Jesse. Please.”

  His heart slammed against his breastbone, lust thrumming through his veins. He felt one moment of pure elation—and then it vanished.

  He couldn’t do this. It didn’t matter how much he wanted her. It didn’t matter that the condom was burning a hole in his pocket. She’d had two glasses of wine, and she was still mourning her husband, Crash, a good man.

  A man you knew. A man who probably saved your life.

  She still wore his ring on her finger for God’s sake.

  “Ellie, I don’t think we—”

  Her fingers on his fly cut his words short as she made quick work of his zipper, pushed past the waistband of his underwear, and closed her hand around him, gripping him, stroking him.

  Oh, hell, it felt good. Damn.

  “I can’t do this, Ellie.” What the hell had he just said?

  “Wh-what?” Green eyes went wide.

  He ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek, tried to explain. “You didn’t invite me over for sex, remember? I can’t do this if it’s going to end up hurting you. I don’t want to be the thing you regret in the morning.”

  Chapter 8

  Ellie couldn’t sleep, arousal buzzing through every fiber of her body, her mind filled with the taste, feel, and scent of Jesse. Every word he’d said, every touch, every kiss replayed through her mind again and again. Oh, he knew how to kiss, knew how to use his lips and tongue. And his hands…

  He’d touched her, and she’d gone nuts. She’d run her hands over him, drinking in the feel of him, the sight of him—chest hair, muscles, tats, scars. She’d forgotten how wonderful it was to be strung out on desire, to burn for a man, to ache for him.

  I could kiss you all night.

  God, she wished he had! She’d wanted him so badly. Instead, he’d stopped.

  I can’t do this if it’s going to end up hurting you.

  He’d stopped for her sake. He’d stopped because he’d been afraid it wasn’t what she truly wanted. He’d stopped despite the fact that he’d brought a condom. She’d seen the outline of it in the back pocket of his jeans not long after he’d arrived.

  His thoughtfulness had left a warm glow inside her. A man who put a woman’s well-being ahead of his penis—she liked that.

  She liked even more what he’d said on his way out the door.

  When you’re ready, Ellie, I’ll be here.

  She drifted off at some point because when her eyes opened again, daylight was streaming through the cracks in the blinds. Daniel was sitting at the foot of her bed with his blanket playing with a handful of magnetic blocks, while Daisy lay beside her, sucking her thumb and cuddling her stuffed kitten.

  Who needed an alarm clock when you had small children?

  Rather than wishing the kids would just give her another hour of sleep as she did most mornings, she felt energized, awake, alive.

  She sat up and drew them both to her, hugging them and kissing their chubby cheeks. “Good morning, my sweeties. Would you like waffles for breakfast?”

  Daisy, as it turned out, had shed her overnight diaper and was running around half-naked, while Daniel was soaked. Ellie took off his diaper, put him in a pair of disposable training pants, and dressed him. Then she dressed Daisy, who was already potty trained for daytime, and put her hair into little pigtails.

  “Okay, let’s make waffles.”

  The kids stood together on a chair, “helping,” while she made the batter from scratch and poured it into the waffle iron, their happy chatter making her smile. In the breaks between waffles, she scrambled some eggs and started a pot of coffee.

  “Hot.” Daniel pointed to the waffle iron.

  “Yes, it’s very hot. Don’t touch it, or it will burn you.”

  Ellen scooped more batter—just as Daisy put her palm on the hot iron.

  Daisy screamed.

  Ellie dropped the batter back into the bowl, scooped her daughter up, and stuck her hand under a stream of cool water. “Daisy Mae! Why did you do that? I told you not to touch it. See? It was hot, wasn’t it?”

  Daisy nodded, crying her little heart out, while Daniel watched wide-eyed.

  “Hot!” He pointed to the waffle iron again, looking like he might cry, too.

  “Daisy is okay,” Ellie reassured him. “You’re okay, Daisy.”

  There were no blisters, just redness.

  Thank God.

  Ellie sat them in their booster seats at the table, then went back to making waffles without their help. When the waffles were done and the coffee brewed, she cut up a waffle for each of them and served them with real maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and a sippy cup of milk.

  It was the perfect breakfast for a snowy winter morning. The kids ate contentedly, quiet now, their focus entirely on getting each piece of syrupy waffle into their mouths.

  As Ellie ate, she glanced out the back window—and saw a trail in the snow leading from her back porch up the mountain to Jesse’s cabin.

  I don’t want to be the thing you regret in the morning.

  Would she have regretted it?

  She looked down at the ring on her finger, twisted it. She couldn’t be sure how she’d have felt because it hadn’t happened. But wasn’t that why he’d stopped? He’d wanted to give her time to think, to decide whether she truly wanted to have sex with him or whether last night was just about wine and loneliness.

  And, God, she was lonely. She’d known that, but until he’d kissed her, she hadn’t realized exactly how lonely she was.

  She glanced up at the little photo
of Dan she kept on the fridge. She hadn’t thought of him once while she and Jesse had been kissing.

  But Dan had wanted her to be happy. He’d made her promise—

  It was Wednesday. Playgroup!

  Damn! She was running late.

  “Okay, kids, let’s get you cleaned up. It’s time to go play.”

  Jesse dragged his ass out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to take a leak. His gaze fell on the clock. How could it be ten already?

  Shit.

  He hadn’t meant to sleep that long. Then again, he hadn’t slept much at all, sexual frustration keeping him awake, his mind filled with Ellie—the taste of her skin, the feel of her breasts in his hands, the soft sound of her sighs. He’d finally taken matters into his own hands, imagining that his fist was her sweet body. He’d come—hard. But that hadn’t been enough to get her out of his mind.

  It’s your own fault, idiot.

  Yes, okay, maybe it was. But whatever Jesse’s faults—and his father had a list that was probably a mile long—he wasn’t the kind of man who could take advantage of a woman’s grief and loneliness just to scratch a sexual itch. The last thing he wanted was to look into Ellie’s eyes and see that he had added to her troubles.

  She’s not for you, anyway, remember?

  Somehow, that didn’t make him feel better.

  He walked into the kitchen, grabbed the milk out of the fridge, and drank straight from the carton, leaning against the wall with one hand. That hand just happened to land on the button beneath the fucking fish Herrera had given him for his birthday.

  Tinny music spilled out, making Jesse jump.

  The fish’s tail and mouth began to wiggle.

  “Take me to the river/Wash me in the water.”

  Fuck this day anyway.

  He put the milk away, took out a carton of eggs, and made himself an omelet with five egg whites, beating the eggs a bit too hard and tossing in whatever shit he could find—scallions, tomatoes, a leftover boiled potato, shredded Mexican cheese.