A Christmas to Believe In (13 page)

tell you because I'm not legally anything more than a foster

parent. Things I wouldn't say because I have his confidence."

Clint held her gaze from across his mare's back. "I'm not

asking you to betray confidences." He ducked under the

horse's belly, his voice muffled. "I'm not asking you to do

anything."

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"Then what are you saying?"

His chuckle met her ears a good minute before he

reappeared. He returned to the box near the door and mixed

something into the container in his hands.

"What are you doing?"

"Testing her milk for calcium and pH levels. If her calcium

is high—which it has been for the last week—she's close. If

her pH bottoms out, foaling is imminent. It was dropping this

morning."

He gave the container a firm shake and pulled out what

looked like a pool water test strip. She watched, fascinated,

as he compared the color of his sample with the little squares

of color. A frown tugged at his brow, his focus temporarily on

the chore at hand.

"Any good?" she ventured.

"A little higher than this morning. Thank God." He dumped

the contents of the vial into the shavings, put everything back

in the box and snapped the lid shut. Returning to his mare,

he pulled the blanket back over her haunches. "I think I can

put a bridge between Ethan and me. It might be a little

shaky, but it'll hold."

"Oh?"

He gave his mare an affectionate pat, then slipped out of

the stall. Leaning against it, he folded his arms across his

broad chest and crossed one ankle over the other. "I get that

I'm invading his territory. If I make it clear I understand, and

show him I'm not a threat to his position in your life, he'll

come around."

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A feat Jesse doubted even Clint could pull off. Especially in

the short timeframe he had. It had taken her two years to

gain Ethan's trust. No way could Clint accomplish anything

significant in five or six days. As much as she'd like to hope

he could, odds just didn't pay in his favor.

She gave him a sad smile. "Maybe,
maybe
, if you sit down

and explain we're just friends, that you don't have any

influence over me, you might get him to be polite."

Clint cocked a dark eyebrow. "Friends? Jesse, I hate to

break it to you, but that kiss had nothing to do with friends."

Twisting her hands, she looked over his shoulder and

searched for strength. "I think we should forget tonight,

Clint."

The other eyebrow rose up to join the first. "I don't think

I'm interested in that solution."

On a heavy sigh, Jesse turned away and leaned her

forehead against the rough-hewn wood. "Don't make this any

more difficult, please. Let's just go back. To what makes

sense. I can't play tug of war between you both."

Warm hands settled on her waist. A grip strong enough

she couldn't twist free, but gentle enough it beckoned her to

lean back, soak up the strength in his arms. Steady pressure

turned her around, and Clint lifted one hand beneath her chin.

He tipped her head up, bringing her gaze to his.

For one suspended heartbeat, time stood still as his eyes

searched hers. Then, before she could gather her senses and

escape the mesmerizing pull of his stare, he dipped his head

and brought his mouth to hers.

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Under the gentle assault of his masterful lips, her resolve

crumbled. The velvety slide of his tongue as he traced the

seam of her mouth set off the butterflies in her belly. He drew

her lower lip between his teeth, gave it a little nip, then

quickly chased away the sting with a warm caress.

A plaintive sound of surrender worked its way out of her

throat, and she sank into his arms, yielding with parted lips.

He delved in deep, the brush and slide eroding what remained

of her senses. Her body turned to molten wax, her insides

nothing but a pool of liquid heat. She brought her hands to

his shoulders, curled her fingers into his leather coat, and

held on, content to let Clint carry her away.

Dimly, she felt the wall press into her back. His body sank

into hers, pinning her between the old timbers and a solid

mass of masculine heat. She struggled for air, overwhelmed

by the fierce surge of pleasure that rushed through her veins.

Beneath the loose confines of her coat, her nipples beaded,

aching for the feel of his flesh against hers.

Clint tore his mouth free and drew a ragged breath. His

lips a breath away, he whispered, "Do you want to forget it,

Jesse?"

She swallowed hard. Shook her head. "No." Her tight

throat turned her answer hoarse.

Unblinking, his gaze held hers. "Good, 'cause I can't."

Before she could fully process the meaning behind his

words, his mouth found hers again. Hard, insistent, full of all

the pent up desire that flowed in her blood. The rich flavor of

aroused male consumed her. The need for more, for

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something she could not name, crawled down her spine to

settle uncomfortably in her gut.

Clint slipped a hand between their bodies. Fingers fumbled

at the buttons on her coat. A wash of cool air brushed against

exposed skin as he lifted the hem of her heavy sweater. The

touch of his palm against her bared side, scalded into her.

She arched her back against the scrape of a calloused hand,

her heart tapping a staccato rhythm as he inched his way

along her ribs.

When he cupped her breast, her knees buckled, and she

let out a whimper. The arm around her waist tightened,

holding her up as he gently kneaded the soft flesh beneath

his fingers. Trapped in a whirlwind of sensation, Jesse's

thoughts ceased. She succumbed to the stroke of his thumb,

the slide of his tongue, and surrendered to feeling.

Incredible feeling, at that. Not a part of her wasn't aware

of him. From her toes to her fingertips, every nerve ending

stood on alert. The butterflies in her belly transformed into a

hard knot, and a hollow ache spread into her womb.

As if he sensed what she desired, he sank his hips into

hers. Beneath his jeans, the hard swell of his erection pressed

against her abdomen, a taunt she couldn't resist. She lifted

her hips, seeking the contact, in search of fulfillment only

Clint could bring.

At the brush of her body, Clint sucked in a harsh breath

through his nose. He trailed light kisses across her cheek,

along her jaw, and traced the hollow beneath her ear with the

tip of his tongue. When he took her earlobe between his teeth

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and gently suckled, Jesse clenched her hands into his

shoulders.

God above, she was going to crumble into pieces in the

middle of the barn. Her body felt afire, her only care in this

world to feel Clint's naked flesh against hers.

All too soon, he pulled away and touched his forehead to

hers. His ragged breath hung between them, blending with

her soft gasps.

"Oh, Jesse," he murmured. "What have you done to me?"

Caught in the dizzying sensations, she dropped her arms

and wrapped them around his waist. Her fingertips poked into

his back pockets, forbidding the retreat of his lower body.

He eased his hand from beneath her shirt, brought it up to

push the hair away from her face. "You better go inside. If

you don't, I'm going to have you naked in the hay."

It took all her will power to squelch a protesting whine.

Reluctantly, she let go. "I have to take you home."

Clint shook his head. "I'll walk."

Rising to tiptoe, Jesse brushed her lips across his. "Don't

be silly. It's cold out."

His chuckle reverberated into her chest. "Trust me, I could

use the air."

A grin crept free, and she gave into a light giggle. "We're

making out in my barn, Clint."

"I know." He nipped the tip of her nose with his teeth. "I'm

sorry. I didn't mean to get caught up like that."

"Don't be." She pressed her fingertips to his mouth and

offered him a soft smile. It worked to ease the unsteady

feeling in her limbs and chase away the shock of what had

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just happened between them. A few minutes more, and she'd

have helped him out of those layers of clothes.

A flush warmed her cheeks. "I...ah," she hesitated, unable

to look him in the eyes. Lowering her voice, she whispered, "I

like this. A lot."

His hips sank into hers, and his hands dropped to her

bottom, pulling her in tight. He closed his eyes, his voice

rough as he murmured, "I like it too, Jesse." With a groan, he

released her and stepped away. "Go on in. I'm going to give

her some water, then head out."

"You can take my car..."

He shook his head. "No. I need to cool off."

She accepted with an awkward nod and a nervous smile.

What did this mean? Where did it put them? Was she

supposed to pretend, the next time she saw him, this hadn't

happened? Or had he just given her free rein to do as she

pleased?

She shook off the questions and headed for the door. Now

wasn't the time. If she didn't escape while she could, she'd

invite him to stay. An even bigger mistake than what she'd

just allowed to happen.

Lord above, this was out of her control. Common sense

told her to retreat before she couldn't. But her traitorous body

demanded she stick around to see what Clinton King would

offer next. And those visions sent a delightful shudder rolling

down to her toes.

At the barn door, she paused to look over her shoulder.

"Sweet dreams, Clint."

His short laugh said his would be every bit as tortured.

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Clint let himself into his mother's house and stomped his

boots on the welcome mat. From the kitchen, her voice

blended with his brothers'. He hesitated, knowing if they

heard him, he'd be expected to join in. Only, his trip through

the cold hadn't accomplished the desired results. His body still

felt as tight as a belt, his cock still hadn't gotten the message

there would be no fulfillment tonight.

No way in hell would he risk his brothers' all-too-observant

natures. Alex already suspected. If he caught Jesse's perfume

on Clint's clothes, he wouldn't relent. Heath wouldn't be able

to resist, once Alex started in. And his mother... Clint tamped

down a groan. If his mother found out, she'd be planning a

second wedding. Amelia King would find a shotgun and turn it

on her own son, if she thought for a moment she had a

chance of making Jesse legitimate family.

He eased out of his coat and quietly tossed it on the back

of a nearby chair. Toeing off his wet boots, he kicked them

into the corner with the rest of the shoes. Then, he gave the

kitchen entry a wide berth and headed for the stairs. As he

set his foot on the bottom tread, the old wood creaked

beneath his weight.

"Clint? Is that you?" his mother called.

Clint cringed. Damn and double damn. That board had

creaked for as long as he'd been alive. He knew better than to

try to sneak upstairs without starting at the second tread.

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He stood motionless, holding his breath as he listened for

investigative footsteps. Alex's laughter broke out, punctuated

by an oath from Heath. Exhaling, Clint placed a hand on the

rail and hauled himself over the first tread.

Deep down inside, he realized he fooled only himself.

Maybe his brothers too. But his mother would likely be

watching the ceiling, tracing his overhead footfalls as he

made his way to his room. Their mother had always known

when her sons were home and when they weren't. She waited

until she needed leverage, then revealed her secrets to get

them to do some chore they'd resisted. Clint's had always

been mowing the lawn.

He shut his bedroom door and sank onto the edge of the

bed, his head in his hands. God, what had he done? He'd

never intended things to go so far. Kiss her. Explore the

promised sweetness of her lush mouth. Never,
never
get

caught up in the kiss. But that gut-wrenching little sound that

had tumbled from her throat had stripped him bare. Broke

down all of his resolve. One minute, he'd been drinking from

honeyed lips. The next, he wanted nothing more than to sink

deep inside her and feel the silk of her skin next to his.