Read A Christmas to Believe In Online
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
In a slow, intoxicating slide, he swept a thick finger
through her ready flesh. On a gasp, she jerked into his hand,
and Clint covered her with his palm. The heel of his hand
pressed against her sensitive center, an unyielding pressure
so pleasant she squirmed. She hooked her heel around the
back of his knee and urged his body into hers.
Clint obliged. He rolled, and his weight settled over her.
Comfortable. Just right. He withdrew his hand, returning it to
her breast as he nudged her thighs apart and lowered himself
completely. The hard length of his swollen cock aligned with
her aroused flesh. As his kiss worked sensation after
sensation through her, his hips pressed hard. Forbidden
fulfillment by what remained of their clothing, Jesse
swallowed down a moan. Wild need ripped through her, and
the idea of Clint taking his time became a torment she
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couldn't bear. She tore her lips free from his and met his
questioning gaze.
"Take them off. Take everything off. Let me feel you,
Clint." She shifted beneath him, stroking his hardened shaft.
His eyes glittered. He held her gaze for a long moment,
then nodded. For one agonizing heartbeat, all that blissful
warmth left her body. In the next, he was naked, as was she.
His body glided over hers as he lowered himself into her
waiting arms. She parted her thighs, accommodating the
width of his hips, and Clint claimed her in a soul-deep kiss.
Every inch of Clint's body tensed with anticipatory need.
The heat of Jesse's femininity scalded into him, demanding he
take her in one, swift, mindless thrust. Yet, he forbade
himself the wild abandon. Forced his body to wait while he
indulged in the sweetness of her mouth.
Any idea he'd had about drawing out tonight and taking his
time with her had vanished with her plea to remove the
remaining barriers of their clothing. He could have no more
denied that plaintive request, than he could have walked
away when she'd asked him to make love to her. The raw
desire he understood. What mystified him was all the other
feelings Jesse stirred.
So many things he didn't want to identify woke up to the
scrape of her nails, the subtle thrust of her hips, the ragged
fall of her breath. Frightening things that left him feeling
exposed far more than any removal of clothing. He didn't just
want her... He needed her.
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And through a lifetime of empty involvements, he'd never
needed a woman before. Not like this. Not when he felt like if
this night came to an end, he'd lose everything that mattered.
He kissed her until the trembling in his gut subsided to an
occasional tremor. Until the shaking in his hands reduced to a
manageable twitch. Then, he pulled in a deep breath, lifted
himself on his hands, and aligned his straining cock with her
swollen flesh.
Closing his eyes, he entered her slowly. His lungs
contracted with the overwhelming sensation of her inner
muscles gripping him tight. Drawing him in so deep his head
spun. For a horrifying moment, he feared he'd come right
there. But when he'd pushed in as far as he could, and she
encircled him completely, Jesse lay still, allowing him to suck
in short gasps of air through his nose. He held himself up,
unmoving, not trusting what the full out contact of her silken
skin would reduce him to.
In all other ways, she knew him as intimately as he knew
himself. That she should understand he needed a moment
shouldn't surprise him. Yet, he could not help but wonder at
how she could so readily anticipate his needs. Do just the
right thing to ground him against the torrent of ecstasy that
pounded at his senses.
Testing his control, he inched out of her, then thrust in
deep. His body recoiled, a hair trigger on the brink of release,
but his lungs expanded, allowing him the ability to breathe.
Opening his eyes, he looked into hers. The effect was
staggering. Beyond the bright gleam of arousal, affection
glinted back at him. Unshielded emotion that both humbled
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and elated him. Her lashes fluttered as she arched into him,
following the retreat of his hips, but when he pressed in,
gliding through her slick sheath, she held his gaze. Her eyes
told him things her voice would not, whispered confessions
that would forever score this night into his memory.
Unable to confront the staggering emotion that tightened
his chest at the same time his body struggled against his
faltering will, he sank into her and claimed her with a rough
kiss. The undulation of her body stripped him of his senses.
He gave up attempting even minimalistic thought,
surrendered to the sublime satisfaction of being one with
Jesse.
They moved as one, trapped together by primal instinct.
The slip and slide of her warm skin beneath his sent wave
after wave of sensation pulsing through his veins. Hungry,
desperate for everything Jesse could give, he dug his hands
into her hair, and choked back a groan. But the pleasured
mewl that tumbled from the back of her throat and vibrated
against his mouth set his husky sound of satisfaction free.
She twisted her head to the side, her breath hard and
short. Eyes closed, her nails bit into the small of his back. On
a gasp, Jesse lifted off the carpet into his arms. He gathered
her close, guiding her through a climax that stole in to touch
a portion of his soul. Her inner flesh gripped hard, pulsed
around him, urging him to follow.
He surrendered. Driving in deep, he yielded to ecstasy. It
burst through him like a spark set to paper, every bit as hot
and all-consuming. Equally destructive. For in that moment of
cataclysmic helplessness, he realized a lifetime of making love
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to Jesse would never be enough. His body shook as he poured
himself into her. He dropped his head to her shoulder, grazed
his teeth across her skin. "Jesse," he rasped.
Her arms came around his waist, holding him tight.
Distantly, he heard the melodic sound of her voice,
recognized the murmurs of his name. The tide of sensation
ebbed, and Clint collapsed into her spent. Robbed of every
natural defense, he lay in her arms more exposed than his
nakedness belied. Her forced breath matched his. Her
fingertips danced across his back.
He found the internal strength to lift himself on one elbow
and pushed her long hair away from her face. In the firelight,
a flush colored her delicate features. Her lips were swollen
from his roughened assault. She gave him a sated smile, and
his heart tripped. He pulled in a deep, stabilizing breath.
"So beautiful," he murmured as he brushed a kiss across
her mouth.
"I could do that all night long," she confessed on a light
chuckle.
He paused against her lips to sample the sweet flavor that
was all Jesse. "You're welcome to stay. Though I don't think
we should camp out in front of the fire."
She returned his kiss, but her earlier willingness shifted.
Abrupt, brusque, she barely touched her lips to his. "No. I
need to go." A push on his shoulders told him she meant now.
Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of her and sat up.
Gathering her clothes, he passed them to her, hesitating
when her hands brushed his. "Jesse?"
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"Hm?" She reclaimed her bra. Fastening it, she kept her
gaze on her lap.
Concerned, Clint reached out to cup her face. "What's
wrong?"
"Nothing." Her bright smile came too fast, too wide. A
trademark Jesseism when she tried to hide something.
Apprehension filtered uncomfortably into his spine. He
knew her well enough to realize no amount of coaxing would
convince her to share whatever had just flipped through her
mind. At the same time, instinct warned he'd said something
wrong. Done something that made her uncomfortable. And a
lifetime of friendship, coupled with the newfound stirrings of
deeper affection, insisted he couldn't let her walk out of the
house pretending not to care.
"Tell me tomorrow?"
Again the brief smile as she shrugged into her blouse.
"Okay."
The hurried motion of her hands set off alarms in his head.
But he resisted the urge to press her to explain. Sometimes
Jesse needed time to find her words. When rushed, her
temper would take over. The last thing he wanted to do
tonight was argue. Not when everything inside him felt warm
and comfortable...and entirely too content.
She jumped to her feet and wriggled into her jeans. Bent
over, she hopped alternately on one foot to pull on her socks,
then set her hand on his shoulder and gave him a quick,
chaste kiss. "Sweet dreams," she whispered.
He barely had time to stand and dress before the front
door quietly shut.
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Jesse parked the car in her drive and shut the engine off.
As the tick of cooling metal permeated the silence, she stared
up at the waning moon. Her stomach clamped into a ball of
hard steel, and she struggled for a normal breath.
Leaving Clint as if nothing in the world was wrong had
been an exercise in true acting. In reality, everything
compounded into one terrifying confrontation with reality.
She'd fallen for him. Over the top, head over heels, one
hundred percent fallen for Clint King. Clint, who would leave
in a week, two at the most. Clint, whom Ethan couldn't stand.
She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and let
out a groan. This wasn't in the rules. Hadn't been in her plans
at all. But as he seated himself deep inside her, the
realization had slammed into her with a cyclone's force. She
couldn't move, the feeling so engulfed her. What compounded
it, however, was the way he tensed, the silent message his
body conveyed that he shared the same intoxicating inability
to control what was happening to them.
She could feel the tremble roll through his body even now,
as she sat alone. Hear the jagged catch to his breathing.
When he'd invited her to stay, every fragment of her soul
screamed yes. But if she'd spent the night in his bed, not only
would she fuel Ethan's insecurities, she'd lose a portion of
herself she instinctively knew she'd never reclaim.
Loving Clint was bad enough. Allowing him to access the
innermost part of her heart, the part where she nursed
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insecurities and longed for family, a partner, a spouse, would
be disastrous. She'd need him. And she'd gone her entire
adult life without needing a single individual.
Drawing in an unsteady breath, she lifted her head and
blinked back the sudden wash of tears. Maybe he'd already
touched that forbidden territory. As it was, leaving him
tonight made her ache. Had she already come to need him in
her life?
She shook her head. No. He might have made contact with
that secret place of hopes and dreams, but he hadn't
trespassed that far. She could keep him at bay, well behind
her fortified line of defense. What she couldn't do, however,
was continue to pretend Clint meant nothing. She couldn't
indulge in this game of charades with Ethan, and ignore the
way he refused to grant Clint even a modicum of decency cut
her so deep she bled.
Tonight they'd talk. She'd explain to Ethan that he didn't
have anything to worry about. She wouldn't leave him for
another man as his birth mother had, but that she intended
to enjoy herself while Clint was in town. Somehow, she'd
make Ethan believe.
Gritting her teeth against the unpleasant conversation she
couldn't avoid, she opened her car door to the frigid winter
air. She huddled into her coat and ran for the back door.
When she bolted inside, the warmth of her home soaked into
her bones. Her gaze flicked to the lighted tree. Ethan had
been so at ease, so happy, when they'd decorated it tonight.
Though they'd done the same routine two years in a row, this
year brought a whole new meaning to the occasion. He knew
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he had a family. A real one. Not just a temporary place to
occupy space before his fears shoved him on to the next
transitional family.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered the other
thing she'd neglected to take care of today—telling him about