How else should she think of you? a voice in his head asked mockingly.
Jordan didn't have an answer for that. He didn't want a relationship; at least, that was the story he always told himself. He knew firsthand the dangers involved. But a flicker of need inside warned him letting Holly go wasn't going to be as easy as he'd first thought.
* * *
Chapter 9
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Holly smoothed the oversize sweater, then reached for the towel on her head. When she pulled it loose, her wet hair tumbled onto her shoulders. She stared at herself in the mirror, then shook her head.
It didn't matter that she'd spent several minutes splashing cold water on her face. She still looked puffy and red eyed. It was obvious she'd been crying.
She should have changed the subject, she told herself. She could talk about her mother and their holiday traditions, and she could talk about that ill-fated trip to visit her father, but she couldn't talk about them together. Every time she thought about what that man had said, how cruel he'd been, she got so mad and so hurt for her mother that she…
Tears burned, but this time she blinked them away. She wasn't going to cry any more. She was supposed to be here looking after Jordan, but every time she turned around, he was taking care of her.
She reached for her brush and began the slow process of untangling her hair. When that was done, she plugged in the blow dryer, then bent over at the waist and started drying her hair. The low, steady roar of the machine was soothingly familiar. She cleared her mind of unpleasant thoughts and resolved only to think about nice things for the rest of the evening.
That was easy, she thought with a smile. She would focus on Jordan. A delicious, sensual shiver went through her as she remembered what it had been like when he'd held her. She knew he'd meant it as a comforting gesture. But she'd liked the feel of his arms around her. She'd felt safe and comforted at the same time. He was strong yet gentle. Usually she didn't show a lot of herself to other people. She didn't have much experience with relationships, even friendship, and her awkwardness made her wary. But around him, she forgot to be afraid.
Very out of character, she told herself as she straightened and began to dry the front of her hair. But then several family members had told her that Jordan was a brooding loner, and she'd never seen that part of him. Maybe they were different with each other than they were with the rest of the world. Maybe the odd circumstances allowed them to let go of the barriers normally in place. She would like to believe Jordan thought of her as special, even though she knew she was fooling herself. He probably had dozens of women in his life. He wouldn't have time for her.
Then why aren't any of those women here? a voice in her head asked.
Holly didn't have an answer for that. She didn't want to think about it, either. If she allowed herself to hope, she would end up being disappointed, or worse, hurt. She didn't want to do that. Besides, there was no point in wishing for a romantic relationship when she wasn't willing to commit to one.
Something warm rubbed against her leg. She glanced down and saw Mistletoe.
"We always want what we can't have," she said, then turned the blow dryer to warm and patted the counter.
Mistletoe was huge, with her wide belly hanging low. The cat couldn't make the jump to the counter easily, so she jumped onto the toilet, then stepped across. When she stretched out by the sink, Holly petted her soft fur.
"How's my pretty girl? Are you enjoying this big house?"
Mistletoe purred. Her wide, flat face and green irises made her look wise. Her eyes closed in pleasure as Holly pointed the blow dryer at the cat's coat.
Mistletoe loved the heat of the machine. She could lie there for hours being warmed and petted. Her purr rumbled as low as the motor. Holly felt the vibrations through her fingers. She turned the dryer off after a few minutes, Mistletoe bumped her fingers with her damp nose as if asking for more.
"Wait until you have your babies," Holly said.
Mistletoe stretched, then rested her head on her front paws, as if she intended to nap on the counter.
"Fine by me," Holly said. She glanced in the mirror. Her nose was still red, but some of the puffiness had gone down around her eyes. Her hair wasn't completely dry, but that always took forever. She pulled it back into a loose ponytail and walked out of the bathroom. First she would check on Jordan, then she would finish dinner.
As she approached the study, she heard a muffled curse. When she walked in the room, Jordan was pacing shirtless. He held his right arm close to his chest. Lines of pain stretched from his nose to his mouth.
"What's wrong?" she asked as she hurried to his side.
"I painted the baseboards. At least, I started to. Then this muscle seized up in my back." He tried to straighten his arm, then grimaced.
Holly walked behind him. She touched him by his shoulder blade and felt the large knot of muscles. "I used to massage my mother," she said. "Do you want me to try and do you?"
He turned so he was facing her. "I'm in too much pain to be done," he said, then grimaced.
She stared at him blankly. "You don't want me to rub your back?"
"Yeah, that would be great."
"Then why did you say—"
He cut her off with a shake of his head. "Joke. Bad timing. Forget it." He glanced around the room. "Where do you want me?"
"Lie down on the bed." As soon as she said the words, she started to get embarrassed. Thankfully he did as she asked without looking at her first.
She went into the bathroom by his room and found a bottle of body lotion. As she returned, she tried not to notice how he looked wearing jeans and nothing else, stretched out on clean white sheets. Her insides felt funny, as if they were being jolted by a slight electric shock. She wore socks but not shoes, and she couldn't stop her toes from curling.
He was hurt, she reminded herself. He was in pain and he needed help. This was medicinal. She wanted to heal, not indulge in some bizarre fantasy.
She approached the bed slowly. His eyes were closed, and a dark lock of hair fell across his forehead. A twitch by his mouth was the only indication of his pain.
She sat on the edge of the bed and uncapped the lotion. After pouring some in her palm, she shifted so she was facing his back and touched her hands to his skin.
He was hotter than she'd expected. While she worked at the knotted muscles, part of her mind stood back and noted differences. Her mother's skin had been thin, her back more narrow, her muscles easily manipulated. Jordan was pure male in his prime. Loan ropes of strength challenged her trained fingers. She pressed her palms against the tightness, trying to force the lactic acid out, and with it, the pain.
She leaned toward him, using her body weight to increase the pressure. Her conscience split in two. One side was the nurse, noting the slight relaxing of tension in his body. That portion of her allowed her to straddle his narrow hips so she was able to put more pressure into her massage. The other part of her, the shy, inexperienced woman, was shrieking at what was going on. She couldn't believe she was doing this, on his bed, in his room, with nothing but a few layers of clothing between them.
As she worked, moving slowly, starting her strokes low at the small of his back and sliding up, she tried to ignore the curve of his rear pressing intimately against her. She tried to ignore the dryness of her throat and the nearly uncontrollable urge to giggle. She wanted to stand up and scream, Look at me. I'm touching a man's bare back. But she doubted Jordan would understand.
She rubbed the knot and found it was much smaller, Jordan groaned. "If I pay you a million dollars, will you promise to never stop?" he asked.
"Do you have a million dollars?"
"Not with me."
"Too bad. I would have promised."
She stretched up until she reached his shoulders and neck. She squeezed the muscles there.
"This is heaven," he murmured. "I haven't felt this good in weeks."
"I aim to please."
She shook out her fingers. They were a little sore. "I'm fine."
"Stop for now," he said. "You can do more later."
"Sure."
She slid off him. Now that she wasn't massaging him, the nurse inside her faded away and she was left with just the woman. Awkwardness returned, and with it a feeling of self-consciousness. She needed to get away from this bed. But before she could leave, Jordan turned toward her and grabbed her hand. "Don't go."
It wasn't what he said; it was the way he said it. Holly stared at him. The low, throaty sound of his voice vibrated in her ears. Something about the tone or the pitch sparked an answering resonance deep in her soul. Don't go. He said it the way she'd always imagined men said it to women. She was immobilized. She felt as if she'd forgotten how to breathe.
A dark light flared in his eyes. Some forbidden spark that tempted her. She wasn't sure what she was being tempted for or with. Their gazes locked. She thought about looking away, but he held her in his spell. The room faded around them. There was nothing in the world but the man in front of her.
"Holly."
He spoke her name as if the sound were precious to him. She tried to swallow, but nothing was working. It was then that she noticed he was circling her palm with his thumb. Sensations skittered up her arm, diffusing in her chest, then refocusing in her oddly sensitized breasts.
"I want to kiss you," he said, his gaze never leaving hers. "And touch you. If that frightens you, then you can go, now or later. I'm not going to make love to you, though. Not because I don't want to, but because—" He paused, then gave a rueful grin. "I couldn't handle the pressure right now. Maybe when I'm stronger."
She blinked several times, sure she couldn't have heard him correctly. He announced he was going to kiss her and touch her? Just like that? He was talking about sex? And it wasn't even seven o'clock? Was he crazy?
But curiosity and anticipation were stronger than terror. The thought of leaving was quickly pushed aside. She remembered Jordan's last kiss, and definitely wanted to repeat the experience. Most women experimented with the opposite sex while they were still in high school, or at least in college. Holly knew she was backward when it came to the man-woman thing. Even if Jordan hadn't made her blood race and her heart pound, she still would have been tempted to kiss him again.
If nothing else, she trusted him not to hurt her or do something that would make her uncomfortable.
"You're not leaving," he said. "So the idea of kissing me doesn't horrify you?"
Embarrassment forced her to look away. How long were they going to talk about it? Couldn't they just do it? She shook her head.
"Good."
He tugged her closer. She resisted and sat straighter.
One corner of his mouth curved up in a smile. "I'm in a weakened condition. You're going to have to come to me."
She stared at him uncomprehending.
"I can't sit up," he said.
"Oh." Then she got it. The muscles in his back. His pain. "Oh!" He needed her help. She could do that.
But when she went to lean toward him, she found she couldn't do that. It was too bold, too beyond her comfort level. She didn't know what to do.
"Jordan, I can't."
"Yeah, you can. Kiss me, Holly."
She stared into his eyes, then allowed herself to get lost in the dark depths. She leaned forward and touched her lips to his.
The hand he was still holding got caught between them, and her wrist bent back. Sharp pain shot up her arm, and she pulled back. It wasn't going to work.
"I'm just not good at this," she muttered, and turned away.
"Sure, you are." He raised the bed a little, then patted his belly. "Straddle me like you did when you were giving me a back rub." He grinned. "I'm pretty sure I can stand it."
She eyed him doubtfully. She might not have ever seen a man naked before, but she knew where all the parts went. If she straddled him, then his … she-knew-what would be pressed awfully close to her private parts, and she wasn't sure that was right or even legal. Although the statement about him being able to stand it was confusing. Would it hurt him?
"Never mind," Jordan said suddenly. "Bad idea. Why don't you let me get some rest?"
Now Holly was really confused. What was going on? One minute he wanted to kiss her, the next he was dismissing her?
Then she looked at him closely and recognized the tension around his mouth. He was embarrassed. She wasn't sure by what, if it was his weakened condition or the fact that he thought she wasn't interested. It didn't matter. Holly's already soft heart melted. She grabbed his hand in both of hers.
"Don't be mad," she said quietly. "I don't mean to be shy, but this is all new to me."
He gazed at her for a minute, then relaxed perceptibly, "Yeah?"
"I swear. Tell me what to do."
His eyes narrowed. "Is this some sort of new-tech nursing technique?"
"I'm sure kissing is considered a breach of professional ethics." Her voice was prim. "I've never heard of it being prescribed for medicinal purposes."
"A guy can always hope."
He smiled and she relaxed. "Tell me what to do."
"Straddle my stomach."
Feeling as coordinated and elegant as a newborn giraffe, she did as he requested. Thank goodness her sweater was loose so he couldn't get a good look at her body. That would be too embarrassing to stand.
"Lean forward," he instructed. "Rest your forearms on the bed."
"But then my—" She glanced down at her breasts. "Then I'll be touching you with my chest."
His smile broadened. "That's the point."
"Oh. Are you sure?"
"Trust me."
She did as he requested. Their faces were inches apart. She could feel his sweet breath fanning her face. Her breasts nestled against his lean strength as if they'd spent their whole lives looking for this one spot to rest.
Holly wasn't quite as comfortable. She didn't know what to do with her hands. She felt as if her butt was sticking up in the air. To make matters worse, every inch of her was tingling and trembling, and she couldn't catch her breath.
"This would have been a whole lot easier when I was sixteen," she murmured.
"Not for me. Back then I was more interested in results than the process itself."
She didn't know what that meant, but before she could ask, he raised his head slightly and kissed her.
It was better than she remembered. His lips were firm, and warm as they caressed hers. He brushed against her sensitive skin, awakening the nerve endings and reminding them why they'd been put there.
He opened his mouth. She didn't need urging to follow suit. The anticipation of those few seconds waiting for his tongue to touch hers nearly made her swoon. Suddenly she knew what to do with her hands. She cupped his face and urged him closer. She buried her fingers in his thick dark hair and tried to communicate her need.
He got the message. He invaded her mouth, touching, stroking, tasting, leaving wickedly wonderful sensations in his path. He stole her breath, made her relax against him, made her want more. She squirmed in delight when he drew her lower lip into his mouth and suckled it. The gentle tugging started a chain reaction that coiled all the way to that waiting place between her thighs. Tremors rippled through her.
This wasn't a kiss; it was a life-changing event. She felt herself being pulled under, drowning, and she didn't care. She followed his retreat, invading his mouth, assaulting him as he'd assaulted her. She felt answering shudders in his muscles.
His hands stroked down her back. One played with her hair, while the other discovered the sweet spot where her derriere curved into her legs. He touched that place over and over again. It tickled yet sent hot rivers of feeling through her legs and up her chest.
She wanted to kiss him forever. She liked the hard breadth of his body below hers. She'd been denied physic
al passion so long, she wasn't sure she would ever get enough.
He reached for the hem of her sweater and tugged it up. Holly broke their kiss. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
When the sweater was bunched around her waist, he slipped his fingers under it and began to touch her bare skin.
"You're doing something. I can feel it."
Lines deepened by the corners of his eyes as he smiled faintly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She wasn't sure she did, either. He traced her spine up to her neck. His soft touch sucked away her strength. She couldn't even protest, not, that she wanted to.
He touched her shoulders, then down her sides and over her ribs. Without planning the action, she raised herself slightly. She didn't even know what she'd done until his hands slipped under her, circling around and coming to rest on her breasts.
Large hands cupped her full curves. He didn't move, but just supported their weight against his palms. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations. No man had ever touched her there. Everything was new. The whisper of embarrassment, the tingling, the way her nipples puckered and ached for more of his caress.
Then he began to stroke her. His thumbs swept across the taut peaks. She felt the jolt clear down to her toes. Her arms trembled violently, then strength faded and she collapsed against him.
He didn't give her time to have regrets. He claimed her mouth, sweeping inside, taunting her, tempting her, teasing her until all she could do was cling to him.
She didn't recognize herself anymore. She was painfully alive and aware of her body. She'd never thought about physical pleasure before, and now she couldn't think about anything else.
His hands stroked her back. She was vaguely aware of a slight tugging on her bra, but she ignored it. Jordan could do whatever he wanted. She was never going to protest again.
"Sit up," he said, then kissed her cheek and her jaw.
She did as he asked. She swayed for a moment, finding balance, then glanced down at him. His bare chest was in reach. Not sure where she gathered the courage, she placed her hand on top of his breastbone. His eyes closed slowly, and he breathed her name.
HOLLY AND MISTLETOE Page 11
