Before the betrayal. Before she had lost herself in her father’s relentless quest to destroy Haven and everyone who lived there.
“This won’t work,” she whispered, though she couldn’t keep from leaning into his touch for just a moment. “It won’t work, Hawke.”
She had to force herself away from him. It was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. When several feet separated them she turned back to him, miserable with the awareness of exactly what she was turning her back on.
“If something happens to me, you’ll be alone.” She swallowed tightly at the thought. “You won’t find another mate. You won’t have the comfort of another woman.”
“Don’t, Jessica . . .”
“You’ll be alone,” she cried out furiously. “I know what alone is like, Hawke. I know how empty and bleak it can be and I don’t want that for you.”
Endless nights curled on the cot she had slept in. Months of agony, dreaming, wishing, crying for someone she couldn’t have.
“That won’t happen,” he gritted out, determination marking his face now.
“You can’t be sure of that.” She stepped back as he paced closer. “I won’t risk it. Not now. Not until we have a chance to clear things between us. Until we know if there’s even a future.”
“Oh, there’s definitely a future.”
Before she could evade him she was pressed against the side of the refrigerator, his body so warm, so inviting, touching hers. Heat seemed to surround her, to sink into her.
Pressing her hands against his chest, a breath lodged in her throat as she stared up into his dominant, hungry features.
“There’s a future, Jess.” One hand slid into her hair, the other gripped her hip. “And it starts now.”
FIVE
Jessica expected a kiss. She’d waited on his kiss for what seemed like forever. Her lips parted as his head lowered; her breath stopped in her chest in anticipation of the pleasure to come.
Once his lips covered hers, once his tongue slid against hers, she knew exactly what was going to happen. The mating hormone that filled the small glands beneath his tongue would release into her system. That hormone would spark a fire to her arousal that couldn’t be quenched. It would be an adventure in her own sexuality, as well as his. She knew what to expect. She had dreamed about it, fantasized about it. But it wasn’t what happened.
At the last second his lips pressed to the corner of hers rather than covering them. Breathing harshly, his heart beat heavy against her palms as they pressed against his chest. He stood stiff against her, obviously fighting for control.
She was having to fight for her own, and she was failing miserably.
Her hands moved from his chest to his shoulders. As he stood there with her in his grip, she let her hands slide into his hair, let them grip the thick, heavy strands and relish the feel of it. Finally.
How often had she dreamed of simply touching him? Just feeling him against her?
“I don’t want to take from you,” he growled as he turned his head, his cheek pressing against hers. “I don’t want to force this, Jess.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered.
There was no force needed. She let her fingers clench in his hair, rubbing it against her fingertips as she felt the heavy proof of his erection against her lower stomach.
She wanted. Oh, Lord, she wanted him. She shouldn’t. He had left her alone for over a year. He had turned his back on her. But he’s here now, another voice protested. The voice of hunger, of a need, that had whipped through her the first day she met him.
She’d scoffed at the idea of love at first sight until she met Hawke.
“Jess.” His voice was rough, rich with wanting. It was primal and brooding and sent a shiver down her back as it caressed her senses. The moment she set eyes on him she had known she would never want another man as she wanted him.
“Touch me, Hawke.”
Oh God, who had dared to voice that plea? Surely not her. Didn’t she know better? Hadn’t she promised herself that she would never make that request awake as she asked for it in her sleep?
She stared up at him as his head moved back. Fierce golden eyes narrowed on her as she fought to breathe.
“You don’t have to kiss me,” she whispered. “Just touch me.”
Let her touch him. There were surely ways to do this without starting something that they couldn’t turn the tide back on. It wasn’t as though a simple touch was going to turn into a full-fledged wildfire, was it?
“You’ll kill me,” he growled, but his hand moved from her hair, his fingertips touching her cheek as she pulled hers from his hair and slid them down his chest.
She could touch as well, couldn’t she?
“Jess?” He groaned her name as she pulled the hem of his denim shirt from his jeans.
“Maybe we won’t even like each other’s touch,” she suggested, feeling almost playful in his arms now. “We could be totally disgusted by each other. I think we should be sure before you kiss me.”
And maybe it would give her time, just a little time, to figure out what she wanted, or how she was going to handle this big, hardened male.
“Jess, I kind of doubt that your touch is going to disgust me.” He groaned, but she sensed an edge of lightness in him as well now. Almost playfulness.
Did he even know how to play? she wondered. Or was his playfulness as cautious as his half smiles used to be?
“You never know,” she whispered.
Pushing her hands beneath his shirt, she was rewarded by his sharply drawn breath. A second later he found retaliation by edging the hem of her shirt higher, his fingertips, just his fingertips, touching her sensitive stomach.
“And I can touch you,” she whispered. “I’ve so wanted to touch you, Hawke.”
She could feel her juices flooding her pussy now. She was wet and heated, her clit throbbing erratically as she tried to find her breath.
She had waited so long for his touch. Maybe she had waited too long, she thought hazily. Too much anticipation. It was making her dizzy.
“We should be lying down for this,” he suggested as he drew back, caught her hand and stared down at her. “We could touch where we wanted to then, Jess. I’d be right there, laid out for you.”
“To do with as I wish?” Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.
“Whatever you wish,” he promised, his voice low and rough as he drew her from the kitchen toward the bedroom. “However you wish.”
However she wished? She had a lot of wishes where touching him was concerned. She could do a lot of things and never kiss him. Things that could burn through her soul and tie her tighter to him, she thought hazily. Then she disregarded the idea.
Could she really be tied tighter to him? she wondered. She didn’t think it was possible. She had thought of no other man, dreamed of no other man, wanted no other man but this one since the day she had seen him.
And she could have him, she assured herself. However she wanted him.
She let him lead her to the bedroom, staring back at him as he guided her easily through the living room and past the opened bedroom door.
As she stopped at the side of the bed she stood, uncertain, watching as he drew his boots off, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Long, graceful male fingers released the buttons with confidence as he watched her. He drew the shirt from his body, and she was rewarded with the sight of broad, heavily tanned shoulders. Muscle shifted and rippled beneath the tight, firm flesh. The strong breadth of his chest was bare of hair, but there was nothing immature about it.
Her gaze was drawn to flat, hard male nipples before being dragged lower to tight, rippling abs. His belted jeans hung low on his hips, the heavy wedge of his cock pressing tight against the zipper.