Chapter Eleven
“You—you can’t be serious.” No way could he be. Even though he didn’t feel overly warm, he must still be delirious with fever.
That was the only way Jane could justify the odd request, the downright romantic way he treated her. After their kiss and then her ultimate rejection that night at the movies, he’d essentially kept his distance. Always respectful, polite, more like a friend than a lover.
Right now, he was acting very much like a lover. And she liked it. A lot.
“I’m dead serious.” He kissed the back of her hand again, his lips lingering, warm and damp on her skin. A shiver moved through her and her breasts grew heavy in reaction to his simple touch. He drifted his mouth over her hand, across her knuckles, and her lips parted on a sigh.
“Join me, Jane.” His sleepy voice was seductive, alluring, and she was tempted
, so tempted. But what would happen if she did join him? Would he touch her, take this even further? Or would he recoil from her in disgust when he discovered her scars?
No way could she let him see her…but even in the dark he would feel the raised, puckered, scarred skin.
“Chris.” She tried to sound strong, firm. “I can’t. The children—”
“Are still asleep,” he finished for her. His voice was low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down her spine. “They’ll never know. Lay with me, Jane, just for a few minutes.”
“I shouldn’t.” Again, with the firm voice and the not-so-firm resolve.
“You should. You know you want to.” He actually chuckled, the cocky man, and she felt him slide over to make more room for her. He released her hand and flipped back the blankets. “Come on. Before I get cold.”
She could not believe she was doing this…but she wanted to. She was attracted to him. Giving in to him seemed natural. Kicking off her slippers, she shifted under the covers, her bare toes nudging a knee, sliding down to brush against a hairy calf. He was very warm, his body heat embracing her much like his strong arms when he drew her to him.
“Christian! You’re naked,” she said on a gasp, shock coursing through her when she realized he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.
He chuckled again, smoothing his hand up her back to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. “You’re very perceptive.”
“I think…I think you’re hallucinating or s-something,” she stammered, and she rested her hand against his chest. His very warm, very hard chest. She couldn’t resist streaking her thumb across his skin.
“Nope, no hallucinations. I’m feeling a lot better.” He dipped his head, his still damp hair brushing against her cheek, and his mouth moved against her neck in the softest of kisses. “Just wanted to show my thanks.”
“A simple thank-you would’ve worked just fine.” She arched her neck, giving him better access as she clutched his broad shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. He was an anchor, something to cling to as the storm of emotions his mouth brought forth raged within her. That mouth slid down her neck, kissing and nipping, and his tongue licked, making her squirm, making her sigh in anticipation.
Anticipation of what? Lovemaking? Oh, no. No, no, no. She wasn’t ready for that. She couldn’t be ready for that. She needed to get to know him better first.
Right. And she’d been saying that for weeks.
“I love the way you smell.” He lifted his head, his face in front of hers, his mouth so close she swore she felt his lips move when he spoke. “It drives me crazy.”
“It does not.” No man had ever said anything like that to her, not even her husband.
“It does.” He kissed her, his mouth connected with hers, and oh, she wanted more. “You drive me crazy. All day. Every day.”
“Chris…”
“Do you think about me? At night, all alone in your bed, do you close your eyes and think about me, Jane? Because I think about you.” He kissed her again, this time his mouth lingering. His tongue touched the seam of her lips and she opened for him, let him in, wanted him in.
His words, his kisses, were like a drug. She needed to hear more, taste more, experience more. More, more, more.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she said the second he lifted his lips from hers. Though she could barely speak, she was so breathless, swept away by his seductive mouth and delicious tongue.
“What’s stopping us?” He kissed her cheeks, her chin, and nipped her there. He gripped her waist and his fingers slipped beneath her shirt.
“Me. I’m stopping us. Um, you could get me sick, you know.” What a weak excuse. She really should tell him she couldn’t risk the involvement, the idea of being with this man in beyond a friendly manner.
Chris paused, his face nuzzling hers, his stubble-covered cheeks scratchy in a most pleasant way. “Sweetheart, if that was going to happen, it’s too late. I already kissed you. Thoroughly.”