“One step at a time.” He slid his other arm around her waist and drew her to him. “This will get the press and this bastard off your back for now. We take the rest a day at a time. With the pressure off, you can make a better decision, and I’ll support and defend whatever that decision is.”
Unbelievable.
Sandy kissed him, trying to reproduce that whopper she’d given him in the truck. Clint cupped her face, deepening it. She crawled astride his lap, edging close enough to feel his erection against her crotch. God, she needed him, wanted him—and feared it all so much. This time she’d do it. Fight through the panic and be with him.
She waited for him to slip his hands under her shirt and around her breasts. For him to sweep her down to the cushions and take charge. Instead, he broke the kiss and butted his forehead to hers. The invisible wall between them nearly killed her. Everything was ruined. Tears again, damn it. She closed her eyes to will them away. The sons of bitches still trickled down her cheeks.
“You need to know that I’m scared,” he said. “I want you so much, but I’m afraid of scaring you.”
What a mess.
“But”—he dropped a kiss to her lips—“now that I know, we’ll get there. We’ll figure it out. I’ve wanted you from day one. Nothing’s going to change that. We’ll make a list of dos and don’ts if we have to. What I’m saying is…you lead, and I’ll follow.”
Sandy opened her eyes to his. “I swear you are a dream come true.”
He smirked and shrugged. “Yet there are some who swear I’m their worst nightmare.”
Sandy snickered. “Probably the people who work for you.” Clint was a perfectionist. It was what made his business successful. When someone wanted furniture restoration, he was the go-to guy.
“At least.” He gave her bottom a love pat and hoisted her from his lap. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
She couldn’t eat now if someone offered her a million bucks. Sandy knelt beside him. “My stomach’s in knots right now. I don’t want to eat.”
“You need a little something. Anything else you’ve been craving?”
“Craving?” Sandy had been too sick to pay too much attention to what she wanted, only what she couldn’t stand.
“Yeah, in my experience, expectant mothers are always craving something.”
Oh God, she was going to be a mother.
“You’re putting up shutters. Talk to me,” he said. “We’re not gonna work if you keep shutting me out.”
What? “You want us to work?” Sandy felt stupid for saying that. He’d offered to claim the child as his own.
He blew out a breath and dragged his fingers through his hair. “I want us to at least have a shot. There’s something here, Sandy. There must be. Otherwise, why are we still doing this?” He motioned with his finger between them.
He had a point. “You said I was an expectant mother.” She caught his wince, subtle but there. “I’ve thought of myself as being pregnant, never as being a mother. I’m going to be a mother. A child is going to depend on me to do the right thing.”
Clint rested his hand on her thigh. “And you will.”
Sandy hoped so. It certainly put things in perspective. A tiny person depended on her to do what was best for it. Her cell phone beckoned, its muffled ring calling from the depths of her tote.
“Want me to get that?” he asked.
“Yes and no. Please.”
He retrieved it for her but not in time to catch the call. She took the phone from him as he sat beside her. Braced against him, Sandy played the voice mail from her mother. It was another frantic check-in.
“My family is going to drive me insane. I can’t deal with this right now.” She turned off the phone and slid it onto the side table.
“I hear you on that one.” Clint draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Family dynamics, battle lines drawn, the drama. Mine drive me nuts.”
Sandy snuggled into his warmth. “Well, you know what they say. ‘You can pick your friends but not your family.’ There are times…”
“I know.” He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “So, about that cheeseburger, or anything else. Tell me what you don’t want. We want to avoid your triggers and focus on nontriggers. I already know nothing greasy.”
“The thought alone makes me want to puke.”
“Should I move?”
“Smart-ass.” She pinched his nipple.
“Ow!” He laced his fingers through hers and dragged her hands to his neck.
Smiling, she pressed her cheek to his chest. Clint stretched out, taking her with him.
“No breakfast stuff either. Or pizza. Or—”
“What about the cheeseburger without any trimmings? Maybe some fresh tomato on the side?”
Sandy pulled her head up. “That sounds pretty good.”
“Okay, then. But as good as it tastes, try to eat a smaller portion. In fact, small frequent meals throughout the day that are high in protein might help the morning sickness. You want to avoid lying down after you eat too. Keep crackers by the bed, and nibble a few about thirty minutes before you get up. Ease out of bed rather than launch into your day.”
“You really paid attention when your sister-in-law was pregnant.”
Muscles that cushioned her body tensed. Sandy pushed farther up to stare down at him. “Do you have children from your first marriage?” He had to. How else would he know all this? How could he not tell her?
“No.” A straightforward answer simply given, devoid of emotion, except for a darkness lingering in his eyes.
Sandy touched the point of his chin. “Now who’s putting up walls?”
“Fair enough.”
Clint slid one hand to her lower back. With the other he traced the curve of her hip. Emotions waged a war on his face. Sandy braced herself for horrible news.
“I told you I was married before.”
“Yes.” More time ticked away while she waited for his next words.
“She was eight months pregnant when she…vanished.”
Pain hit her square in the chest. Pain for his loss and for his obfuscating the truth. “That’s a far cry from your marriage not having worked out.” Sandy managed to keep her tone calm and nonconfrontational. It wasn’t easy.
“I’m sorry.” He combed his fingers through her short hair. “I’ve had women all over me in the past, wanting me because they felt sorry for me. I’m ashamed to admit I played the sympathy card a lot to get sex in the last five years. I was sick of being that person. I wanted a fresh slate. A relationship not haunted by her loss. Then I met you. I would have told you, but considering how things were going, I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. I wanted you to be with me for me, not because of that. How would I know you weren’t with me because you felt sorry for me?”
“For the record, I wouldn’t. That’s not me. If anything, it would have made me more hesitant to go out with you. I’m not big on having sex with a ghost in the room.”
The hint of a smile teased his lips. “Good to know.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“She had two kids from her previous marriage. Their dad picked them up for spring-break vacation, and after that, she was going to spend the day exploring and photographing the desert. Danny and the kids were the last to see her alive. She was never found. Yeah, the world is a pretty cruel place. I lost my entire family that day—my wife, my baby, and her two kids. Even the dog. Because I sure as hell couldn’t keep Cocoa from them when they moved back in with their father. They’d lost their mom. I couldn’t take their dog away from them too.”
“Oh, Clint.” More tears, this time for him. She flicked them away. “I am never going to stop crying. Ever!”
“Yeah, you will. I did.” The words seemed to weigh him down. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t how I’d planned to tell you.”
“Doesn’t seem like anything’s turning out how either of us planned.”
So many obstacles thrown in their way. Yet here they were, together, still drawn to each other.
“We both have our baggage to deal with, don’t we?” She rested her chin on his shoulder. “Why don’t we help each other unpack?”
“I’d like that very much.”
They sealed the bargain with a slow, deep kiss. She imagined his touch bringing her to orgasm, his cock deep inside her. Enough was enough. It was time to move forward.
Tell that to the fear shadowing her fantasies.
Sandy sat astride his lap, determined to exorcise the demon who’d ruined her life.
Chapter Three
With each swipe of her tongue over his, another piece of Clint’s brain shut down. She scooted closer, smooshing her breasts into his chest, locking her tight thighs around his. His body screamed at him to go for it. His mind couldn’t string together two coherent thoughts beyond how good, how right she felt. He deepened the kiss, cupping one hand on her ass to anchor her to his crotch while he slipped his other hand under her shirt and right to her breast.
A simultaneous gasp froze them when their groins connected—his from sheer pleasure. Hers? The delicious kiss ended. Awkwardness settled between them. He racked his brain, wondering if he’d been too rough or his grip too tight and he’d frightened her as a result. Yet she stayed pressed against him, her heat surrounding his erection. Sandy needed patience, gentleness. All he wanted to do was dry hump them both to orgasm. Nothing remotely gentle about that.
“I want this, Clint,” she said softly. Her but was left unsaid. It hovered over them, underscoring how very important it was that he get this right.
“I do too.” God, did he want it.
“Now,” she added. “I’m tired of being afraid, of putting my life on hold.”
“Then now it is. We’ll take our time. Nice and slow.” No matter how crazy he was to have her.
“Not here,” she said. “In my bed.”
“All naked and everything?” he teased.
“Duh.” Sandy giggled. “That means I’ll have to move from your lap.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “And it feels so good to be so close.”
He could write a book about how good it felt. “You’re killing me. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The sadness in her voice broke his heart. “But when you hold me, I feel like…” She pulled upright. “I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t have to.” He felt it too—the need to simply be with her. Telling her that sounded too much like a pickup line. “And if you change your mind once we get in the bedroom, I’m onboard with that.”
Sandy tilted her head a bit. “Really?”
“Really. But I still want to do the naked thing,” he said with a smile.
An outright laugh this time. “Of course. What was I thinking?” She crawled from his lap and held out her hand.
Clint grabbed her fingers. “Oh good. We’re walking. I was starting to panic, thinking I’d have to carry you.” More honest-to-gosh laughter sank into his blood like sun-warmed honey. She wrapped her arms around his waist when he stood with her.
“If you can hoist around all the furniture you upholster, you can carry little ole me.”
“Do I hear an ‘I dare you’ in there? A test of my manliness?”
“I have every faith and confidence. You’re the one who seems in doubt.”
“What if I drop you?”
A smirk teased the corner of her mouth. “At least I’ll have someone squishy to break my fall.”
“I am not squishy.”
Another giggle. “Far from it. So…”
“All right. Be prepared to be swept off your feet.”
Sandy slipped one arm around his neck when he bent to pick her up. “Go for it, big guy.”
Clint scooped one arm under her knees, the other under her shoulders, and lifted. “Good God, you weigh a ton.”
“You silver-tongued devil. And they say flowers and dinner out are the way to a woman’s heart.”
Smiling, he rolled her securely into his arms. “Yeah, they don’t know shit.”
“They really don’t, do they?” Sandy brushed the backs of her fingers over his whiskers. “Hmm, I think we might have a problem.”
“Whisker burn not on your top-ten list of things you’d love to have?” Nor was it on his. Her skin was perfect as it was. Seeing it reddened because of him? Not gonna happen. “Got a razor I can use? A fresh one. Not one you’ve used to shave your legs or other things.”
“You can take it out of the package yourself. And FYI, other things aren’t shaven. Don’t worry. It’s not a jungle down there, but I feel that if you want the prize badly enough, you can find it.”
“I think my brain shut down.”
She wrinkled her nose. “So not good when you’re getting ready to shave.”
“I’ll manage.” He set her on her feet and stripped off his shirt. “Lead me to the supplies.”
“Can I watch?” she asked.
“Only if you do so adoringly.”
“When you take off your shirt, how could I not?” Sandy tickled her fingers down his torso, following the smattering of hair right down to his navel. His cock jerked, praying for her touch.
Clint caught her wrist, his thumb over her racing pulse. “Now I know the real reason you have me do the heavy lifting around here. It’s an excuse to ogle me.”
“I think of it more as an extra benefit.” She closed the minuscule distance between them and pressed her stomach into his erection.
“And I think it’s time for you to return the favor.”
“Agreed.” Sandy took a giant step back, grabbed the hem of her tank top, and pulled it over her head. Only her white cotton bra remained. Her hard nipples dotted the center of each cup. In seconds it was gone too, and he got the full, glorious view. One he couldn’t resist. He curled his fingers around one of her breasts and thumbed the dark nipple.
“Your hand is shaking,” she said softly.
“Do you blame me? You have some beautiful…breasts.”
“Don’t censor yourself with me, Clint.” She pressed her hand over his, firming his grip. “Say what you really want to say.”
Okay. “Tits. You have some damn fine tits.”
“Thank you.” Sandy smiled. “Apparently fine enough to make you quiver with want.”
Laughing, he cupped her other breast. “That might have something to do with the fact I haven’t had sex in almost a year.”
She jerked her head back a little. “Really?”
“When I said I was sick of the man I’d become, I meant it. I wanted something real and was determined to wait for it.”
“So you went cold turkey.”
Clint slipped one hand to her ass and dragged her to him. “I have never been with animals, turkeys or otherwise.”
“Stop it.” She landed a smack against his ass.
“Couldn’t resist.” He leaned in to kiss her but stopped short of her lips. “This isn’t getting me shaved.”
“Well, your hands are shaking. I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.”
“But yours aren’t.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her into the tiny bathroom—another work in progress, though all it lacked at this point was new floor tile. They’d worked on this together over the course of one week, installing various colors of blue ceramic tile throughout on the walls, then adding a matching vanity around the sink.
“Whoa. I’m not going to shave you.” She halfheartedly and unsuccessfully tried to pull him to a stop.
“Why not? I trust you. You’d never hurt me.” And he’d never hurt her. Clint released her hand and sat on the toilet seat.
“You’re crazy.” Sandy parked her hands on her hips.
“I prefer to think I’m more adventurous.”
“Hmph. Where’s an electric razor when you need one?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do you have one?”
Sandy laughed. “Not so brave after all, are y
ou? All right, hot shot, you asked for it. What do I do?”
He shrugged. “What do you do when you shave?”
“I shave in the shower or, if I’m feeling decadent, at the end of a long, hot bath.”
“I can do decadent.”
“I’ll bet you can, but let’s not spoil you too much.”
Sandy filled the sink with hot water, retrieved a fresh razor from one of the vanity drawers, and grabbed the can of shaving cream from the corner shelf in the bathtub.
“That better not be fruity or perfumy,” he said.
“Beggars can’t be choosers. Relax. It’s baby-powder fresh.” She twirled her finger. “Turn around. Face the wall. You might want to keep your cell phone in hand with your thumb poised to hit 911.”
“You’re a firefighter. I expect you can handle it.” Her breath wafted over his ear, sending chills down his spine.
“You bet your socks I can,” she whispered.
The slosh of water drew his attention to the sink. Steam curled upward, fogging the mirror. Sandy wet a washcloth, wrung it semidry, then pressed it over his whiskers.
“You’ve done this before?” he asked.
“Never. You?”
“Nope. Considering how nice it feels so far, I’m beginning to wonder why.”
“You might want to reserve judgment. Let’s see if we can do this without drawing blood first.” She dabbed the cloth over his face once more.
“Nicks happen.”
“Nicks are one thing. Cutting your jugular quite another.” She drew back a little. “Are you sure about this? Because your carotid pulse is pounding a mile a minute.”
“Because you’re so close to me.” His grin mirrored hers.
“Flattery will get you anywhere,” she told him. “Now, no talking.” She squirted shaving cream onto her fingers.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Clint sighed with the first touch of her fingers to his face, closed his eyes, and let himself sink into the moment and all the sensations surrounding it. The feel of her fingers swirling shaving cream over his face and neck. The delicate scent of baby-soft freshness drifting into his nose. The kiss of her breasts whenever she leaned close to him. The slow rasp of the razor she gently raked over his skin. A swish of water when she’d clean the razor. The way she cradled his head against her to get those tricky spots.
Flames from Ashes Page 3
