Hitched by Christmas

by Jule McBride

  And Luke had bought it, secretly helping her fulfill her dream.

  Tears flooded her eyes as he slipped behind her again, his moccasined footsteps soundless as nightfall, soft as the legions of warriors from whom he was descended. His wide hands settled on her shoulders, suddenly seeming too strong for the gentle goodness he tried to hide, too callused for his tenderness. Slowly, he turned her to face him. Her heart aching, she stared defiantly into his eyes, no longer caring that he’d see her cry. “You feel for me,” she said, “I know it, Luke. You can’t hide it anymore.”

  “I do.” His blue eyes were dark as midnight, and suddenly his hands were thrusting up, stroking her neck and driving greedily under her hair, his long fingers raking possessively through the strands. “I fill my house with your art,” he said, his low voice almost hoarse. “I fill my house with you, Claire—” He released a long sigh. “And when you come here, looking like this—” He brushed hair from her forehead and stroked it back, smoothing it all the way down to her shoulders. “Looking so beautiful...” His voice trailed off. “Don’t you know how many times I’ve wished you’d come here?”

  A hot tear splashed down her cheek, and she shook her head. “Why did you never...?”

  Lifting a hand, he splayed it on her collarbone, stealing her breath and making her heart beat wildly. Her knees were suddenly too shaky and her breasts ached, tightening at the tips; something slid like warming honey from her core.

  “I used to think you deserved better, Claire,” Luke said simply, edging his body so close that his beginning arousal pressured her belly. “That’s what I thought for years.”

  She whispered, “And now?”

  “Clive’s missing.” Luke glanced away. “I figure he’ll be back. But under the circumstances, I...” His roving eyes turned smoky as they fixed on her lips. “I can’t take another man’s woman.”

  “Take me?” The murmured words caught in her throat. “You can’t take me. I don’t belong to anyone.”

  His eyes captured hers. “No?”

  She knew she’d lied. She belonged to him. Fresh tears blurred her vision, and her throat ached. “I painted Lost Springs because of you. That day we were in the woods together, I saw that boy. He was the image of what I felt, but it was you I was reaching for, Luke.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice barely audible. “You almost caught me, Claire.”

  Her breath hitched. “I did?”

  “I ran after you that day, but you were already in the car.” Leaning back a fraction, he brushed a thumb beneath her eye, as if expecting to catch the tear teetering on her eyelid that never fell. “Do you love him?”

  “Clive?” Her heart hammered. She was still absorbing the fact that Luke had run after her that day at Lost Springs. Slowly shaking her head, she was somehow sure her whole life would depend on Luke’s reaction to the next thing she said. “Clive’s a good man. I thought we could share a life. And I love him. But never in the way I’ve always loved you, Luke.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “YOU LOVE ME?” Luke whispered. Before Claire could even answer, his mouth covered hers, his strong hands plunging deeper into her hair. Suckling the warm length of her tongue, he nipped and widened his mouth to take even more. Wicked heat flooded his groin, making him swell with need, and his blood roared as her hands kneaded his bare shoulders, then slid down his arms.

  Pulling her against the doorway, Luke knew they were going to finish what they started all those years ago at Lost Springs. Dark as night, his hands fell down through the pale strands of her hair, flowing to her arms and molding her skirt. He squeezed her hips, his fingers tightening and digging into her flesh as their lower bodies connected. As he deepened the kiss, he ground himself gently against her, rubbing back and forth. He wanted her desperately, but just by being, Claire gave him so much, so he held back. He kissed her slower...then slower, his tongue moving with lapping strokes until she moaned from far back in her throat. Against his chest, he could feel the soft tease of firm breasts he couldn’t wait to taste, and as he sucked her lower lip between his teeth, he hoarsely said, “Claire, I’ve wanted to hold you like this for so long.” Curving his hands lower around her bottom, he drew her close again, urging her to arch against him and feel the muscular flex of his response, and she complied until the sweet pressure did him in.

  Her voice was ragged, clinging the way her body clung. “You never let me give to you. Let me love you, Luke.”

  The sincerity of her words tore at his heart. “You are loving me, darlin’,” he murmured, his lower body feeling thick with desire, his eyes drifting down to the mouth his kiss had left slick and swollen.

  “No, Luke,” she said. “I’m not.”

  It sure felt like it to him. “You’re not?” he returned huskily.

  “No, but I’m about to.” Tenderly, she pressed her lips to his cheek, the soft, feathery touch stealing his breath, making his mouth go dry and his heart pound out of control. He was powerless to move when her mouth didn’t stop but nibbled down his neck, then between his pecs. Her tongue circled a taut nipple, then the other, leaving him with a kiss that almost burned before she lowered her mouth to his ribs and belly. Her tongue felt strangely cool and warm flickering on his skin, and for a second, he closed his eyes, wishing this would never end. As she opened the snap of his jeans and dipped a hand inside the waistband of his underwear, he gazed down, drawing in a sharp breath as her fingertips brushed the tip of his rigid sex. Fighting the urge to press her hand there, he let her do what she wanted, not about to control this moment.

  Down the hallway, the CD stopped, and another of his inhalations sounded in tandem with the slow rake as Claire tugged down his zipper. As she slid it over the curve of his erection, Luke reached down and found a breast. He squeezed lightly, lovingly, palming from the side and fondling her through the sweater. Beneath the soft fabric of her top, he could feel a tightening nipple pressing through the lace of her bra, and he worked it, caressing with his thumb until she whimpered. He was desperate to make her whimper so much more. He wouldn’t finish, he thought, until she was completely his.

  “What?” Luke whispered in sudden raspy stupefaction, his dark hands threading through her loose hair. He urged her back to him when he realized she’d crouched lower before him, but she only stared up, looking defiant, her eyes full of fierce challenge that said she meant to claim him.

  Luke’s voice caught as her chin brushed his naked skin. “C’mon, Claire...” She didn’t have to prove herself to him. He’d never rejected her because he didn’t want her, never that. Did she really think so?

  He released a shuddering sigh as her determined lips seared his belly, feeling hot and tender, then thoroughly maddening as she tongued his navel. Something cried out—his heart or a word, he wasn’t sure which—and when his hands fisted, her hair teased the tender spaces between each finger. “Claire,” he gasped again as she pushed his jeans down onto the straining muscles of his thighs. His eyes glazed as he watched her; his hands trembled in her hair, the need to feel the liquid heaven of her lips making him shake. “Claire,” he whispered again roughly, not knowing what else to say as the point of her sweet tongue flickered, then butterflied around his aroused flesh. He groaned. The tendons in his neck pulled, and his heavily lidded eyes nearly drifted shut with the excruciating pleasure of it, and yet they stayed riveted on the beautiful swollen lips that slipped back and forth over him, feeling like velvet. Senselessly, he smoothed her hair until he was hanging on to the last vestiges of control. “Claire, stop,” he suddenly said. “Come here.”

  “Where?” He loved hearing the tremor in her voice, knowing their lovemaking did that to her.

  “Here.” Holding her hand, he drew her to the bed. “Where I can give you what I wanted to years ago.” He cupped her chin and offered a gentle kiss, just the soft, hot brush of his lips ac
ross hers. He’d never felt so worked up, but even as he throbbed with need, emotion welled within him. “Last summer,” he began huskily.

  “Last summer?” she echoed, swallowing hard and watching as he slipped out of his moccasins, stepped out of his pants and stood naked in front of her, luscious and fully ready to love her. “Since the bachelor auction,” he continued as he slid beside her, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind, Claire.”

  “Really...I mostly wanted to see you when I came to the mall,” she said, her voice low and tremulous as she laid back on the bed, her loose hair cascading onto her blue sweater, her skirt fanning on the covers. He moved closer beside her, nude and aching, and when her hungry, smoky-blue eyes lowered, he found her hand and brought it to where she’d kissed him, letting her feel the length and strength of him as his free hand labored to undo the small buttons of her sweater. Unclasping her bra from the back, he gently pushed up the cups and gazed at where her long tawny hair curled on her small breasts, framing the silken nipples.

  “Let me see you,” he whispered. “It’s been so long.”

  Her voice was almost a whisper. “I’m yours to see, Luke.”

  Feeling in the throes of agony, he edged a dark, hairy thigh over her lighter one, gliding a hand up her pale tummy before he cupped a breast. Gently, he pinched both stiffened nipples, his work-roughened fingertips thoroughly exploring them before his hungry mouth decidedly attached to one.

  “Finally,” Claire gasped, feeling unbrooked need course through her as he suckled. Luke’s intimate taste was still with her, and she cried out, arching and melting as she thought of how all his hard, dark heat would soon be inside her. “Luke...” Her raw throat made the name raspy while her heart ached with this victory. So many lonely nights, this was all she’d wanted. After all these years, Luke was loving her.

  His tongue, like his hands and every other inch of him, was so marvelously strong, and the touch of it sent dizzying need through her as he glided his hands over her hips again. Tossing away her skirt and panties, he whispered something unintelligible as his hand moved between her legs. With the rush of sensation, her mind filled with memories of his past kisses. As he began to probe and stroke, she remembered that hot summer night in Casper last year, and the illicit adolescent kisses stolen in the back of the feed store when she was still a schoolgirl, tossing her mane of hair and wearing too-tight jeans, playing with fire and not even understanding what she was doing.

  A whimper tore from her mouth as she twisted her hips, reaching for his finger, letting it fill her as the hot, slow suckle of his mouth took her breasts. Stupid, she thought senselessly. She’d been so stupid to think she was old and wise now and knew about love, when Luke’s every kiss was teaching her she could only belong to him.

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered. I didn’t know how much I needed you, Luke. Her chest heaved up to where his tongue coaxed a helplessly tight nipple once more. So many times Luke had left her aching this way—in the woods, in her dreams. Years ago, in the parking grounds, he’d left her damp with a womanhood she hadn’t even understood.

  But she understood now. Now, she welcomed the fiery exhilaration brought by his touch. Riding the feverish intensity of it, she shattered, wrapping her arms around his strong back, then sliding her hands down to mold his firm buttocks. When her thighs closed, his hand remained, and after a moment, he stroked again, soothing her as he smiled against her breast. Releasing another whimper, she rolled with him, so they were lying on their sides, face to face.

  “I always wondered,” Luke whispered simply, stretching his powerful body against her, his heated shaft pressuring her thigh, reminding her of his unsatisfied need and making her heart fill with the need to offer the gratification. Swallowing hard, resting her hands on his chest, she gazed from the noble lines of his face down to where he was so eager. Like his hands, he was so wonderfully big and strong there. Powerful as a stallion. Her eyes rose to where a strand of blue-black hair had fallen across an eye. “You wondered?”

  His voice was as silky as his flesh, just as seductive. “I wondered what you’d look like when you got off, Claire.”

  She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she felt lust again. “Was it what you expected, Luke?”

  He trailed a finger down her cheek. “More,” he whispered simply. “It was so much more, Claire. You looked so beautiful.”

  Their locked eyes brimmed with passion as Luke edged closer. Using his hand, he guided himself to her, and with a sigh of need, he pushed deep inside. Claire opened, one of her legs folding over his, her body heartbreakingly slack with acceptance. “I’ve always loved you, Luke,” she whispered, her arms closing around his neck, hugging him.

  Luke couldn’t even find his voice. Gliding a hand over her hip, he used it to pull her closer, to plunge deeper. Before tonight, nobody—man or woman—had ever said that to him. I love you. Both arms slid around her waist. Pulling out, he wordlessly filled her again—slow and deep, in a way so loving it promised a future.

  * * *

  HEARING THE PHONE, Luke quickly lifted the receiver before the ringing woke Claire. Squinting, he couldn’t believe they’d slept without turning out the lights. No good-nights, either. They’d simply sunk into the messy sheets and conked out, completely satisfied. After what she’d done to him, Luke could have slept standing up.

  “Yeah?” Luke whispered into the mouthpiece, his throat going dry as he gazed at Claire, his eyes drifting from the tangled hair obscuring her face, over her bare back, and then to where her long legs were hidden under the covers.

  “Luke?”

  “Yeah,” he whispered again, recognizing Wesley’s voice.

  Now Wesley whispered, too. “You got a woman in there, Luke?”

  “None of your business.”

  Welsely chuckled. “Sounds like a yes.”

  “A woman” didn’t begin to cover it. Luke’s chest swelled as he watched Claire snuggle her cheek against the pillow, then sleepily brush the hair from her face. Turning over, she yawned, surveying him with a dreamy gaze and a slow, sexy smile.

  Luke covered the phone. “I’ve never seen anybody look so gorgeous.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered sleepily. “Who’s that?”

  “Wesley,” said Wesley, “and Luke, you’d better tell that woman I want to know who she is.”

  “Were you always this nosy?” Luke chuckled. “And what time is it, anyway?”

  “Ten.”

  Luke struggled up. “Ten?” It was Christmas Eve, so he had the day off at Cross Creek, but he still needed to finish wrapping the gifts for the kids at Lost Springs. And no one had called for Claire.

  Claire’s sleepy eyes fluttered farther open. “Ten?” She scanned the room, locating her skirt and sweater, which lay wrinkled on the floor. As she scooted closer, Luke pulled her to his side. She fidgeted until her warm body molded perfectly to his, and Luke let his mind float, enjoying her silken skin and the warm sheets.

  Wesley did his best to sound sour. “Some of us have to work for a living. So, while you’ve been at home merrily doing whatever to whomever, I’ve been out earning my daily bread.”

  Luke playfully mussed Claire’s hair. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I checked on the license plate to the truck in Elmer’s barn. Turns out it’s owned by Cheyenne Mining, a small firm out of Glenrock.”

  Luke was starting to wake up fast. The call was reminding him of why he and Claire had initially gotten together at the mall, to find Clive. Since it was Christmas Eve, Clive would probably show up tonight, unless something really had happened to him. Luke sighed. Supposedly, Claire’s wedding was tomorrow.

  Luke said, “Did you get any other information, Wesley?”

  “Nope. But you might want to ask Evander Stoddard if anybody’s been pressuring him to sell his land.”


  Luke glanced at Claire. “It’s possible they’re in a little financial hot water,” he said. “Nothing big.”

  “Well,” said Wesley, “maybe you can ask Evander if he’s had any offers. I want to see if that truck from the mining company’s got anything to do with Clive’s disappearance and Elmer’s barn fire.”

  “Elmer hasn’t sold his land,” Luke reminded him.

  “But with his horses gone, he can’t afford to keep it. You know that, Luke.”

  “True.”

  “Well, look,” said Wesley, “I’ve got to go. I finally got some time off this afternoon, and I still haven’t finished my Christmas shopping.”

  “I’ll call you with any developments,” Luke assured him before he hung up. Even though he needed to go to the Stoddards’, Luke leaned over, pressed his mouth to Claire’s and delivered a slow, wet kiss. When he drew away, her gaze had turned serious. “Luke,” she said softly, snuggling against him. “I wouldn’t worry. I really think Clive’s all right.”

  Luke’s voice was husky. “What convinced you? The way we got shot at in Elmer’s barn?”

  She shrugged. “No. It’s just a feeling. And I trust my feelings.”

  “You keep saying that,” he said, his body starting to feel flushed with his response to her. “And I’m glad, but are you sure you don’t know more than you’re telling?”

  She pressed a kiss to his chin. “No.”

  “Good. I don’t want you keeping secrets from me, Claire.”

  “I wouldn’t. I meant what I said last night. I love you, Luke.”