Without a word, he reached for the hem of her shirt and tugged, a silent request to continue. She surrendered, held her arms up, and slowly he pulled the shirt over her head, then tossed it onto the floor.
“You’re so soft.” He caressed her, a slow, soothing glide of his hands over her skin. She shut her eyes, let herself be carried away by the exquisite sensations his touch brought forth.
She couldn’t wrap her head around it, that he wanted to be with her. And so she wouldn’t frazzle her brain by thinking about it too much. This time she was the one who kissed him. Who snuck her tongue into his mouth and tasted him.
The kiss turned instantly hot. She clutched him close, slung her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his hair. His hands were everywhere, applying pressure where she wanted it. So gentle, so careful, and she needed that gentleness, appreciated it more than he would ever know.
He broke the kiss, his ragged moan so close to her ear it made her snap her eyes open. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart.
“God, Jane.” The desperate groan that escaped him matched the desperation rising in her body. “I can’t hold back much longer.”
This was it—this was the moment where she could tell him to stop or beg him to continue. She’d never done something like this before, taken a chance where usually she was so careful
For once, she was willing to risk her heart.
/> “Then don’t.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, savoring the heavy weight of him when he settled his body over hers.
Oh. Her eyes flew open and she stared blindly at the ceiling. She sunk her hands into the thick mass of his hair, holding him in place. His hair tickled her sensitive skin and tingles sparked all over her body.
And when he finished thoroughly making love to her, as he rolled onto his side and draped his arm over her, holding her so close she could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath her ear, she knew she’d never felt so content.
Chapter Twelve
Chris was in a state of…something. He couldn’t think of any words to describe how he felt.
Panic, maybe? Anxiety? A major freak-out of epic proportions?
Yeah, that just about summed it up.
Five days ago, he’d slept with Jane. Well, little sleep had actually been involved. No, five days ago, he’d had sex with Jane.
Sweet, beautiful, giving Jane.
Impulse had led him to do it. That and good old-fashioned lust. And want. And need. Once he’d touched her, he needed her as if he needed his very last breath. The intensity behind their every mutual shift and movement, every kiss, every caress had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.
Caught up in the moment, that’s what he’d chalked it up to. Caught up in her and her delicious scent, her touch, her mouth; damn that lush, seductive mouth. Those little hands had fluttered over him as if too cautious to touch, but once she’d gotten into it, oh, how she’d touched him. Touched his heart.
It had been all-consuming.
But when he’d come down from his Jane high, reality had crashed around him.
They’d dozed in each other’s arms until one of the kids had cried out for her. Jane had withdrawn from him, sadness and a hint of hesitation clouding her soulful green eyes. Dawn had started to break, dim gray light slowly filling the room, and he’d watched as she hurriedly dressed.
The scars, the raised, disfigured skin he’d touched, was laid bare in the thin light of the morning. He caught sight of them; she knew it. And for once, she hadn’t shied away or tried to hide. He touched her there, lightly tracing her scars, his gaze locked with hers. And she stood before him, unflinching, so brave. The sight of her shattered him.
He told himself they didn’t bother him, the scars. But they did affect him. Not because they made Jane unappealing or ugly or whatever her fears were. They affected him because they showed the extensive damage this woman had gone through. Everything she’d suffered in the past, and from what he could tell, she’d suffered a lot.
Seeing them, seeing Jane, making love to her, had been almost too much. After she left, he’d quietly lost it. The urge to leave, to flee like some sort of trapped animal, had pushed him to hurriedly get dressed. Rush out of her house as if the devil nipped at his heels, her children sitting around the kitchen table staring at him like he’d grown horns and carried a pitchfork.
The disappointment on Jane’s face had been undeniable. He’d let her down, and he didn’t quite know how to rectify it. It didn’t help that he’d gone home and crashed for over twenty-four hours—the lingering effects of his utter emotional exhaustion. He’d recovered just in time to go back on shift for the next four days. Considering it was the slowest time of year, it had been a busy four days as well.
And so now, he was off for the next three days. The perfect opportunity for him to swing by Jane’s house and talk to her. Beg her forgiveness for being such an ass. He’d bolted from fear of taking it too seriously. Then he’d stayed away after he started hearing rumors about his truck being seen in Jane’s driveway. And when Dolores, the checker who’d worked at Hillside Market for as long as he’d been alive asked when he and Jane were going to get married, he knew he was in trouble.
God. He hadn’t even called her. He wouldn’t blame Jane if she told him to get lost. Staying away from her had made him realize, though—he missed her. He’d made a mistake, bailing out and then not calling. He could only imagine how much of an asshole she thought he was.
Chris went straight home, not ready to face her yet. He needed to gather some courage first. He changed out of his uniform and took a quick shower. Shaved carefully, actually put gel in his hair. Dressed even more carefully, dug his newest jeans out of the dresser, and slipped them on. Dressing to impress was the plan. Would it work?
Okay, yeah, he was acting like a chick. He needed to get the hell out of his house and over to Jane’s. Now.