“There’s one thing you and I have never lacked, despite every other issue . . . and that’s chemistry, darling.” His last sentiment floated on a breath, and that breath was like a preview of the kiss to come. “You want it as much as I do.” Another light pull of her braid had her mouth practically touching his, and she wasn’t sure why she was fighting so desperately to resist. “Go to bed, Ella.”
“What?” she gasped, the intoxicating moment shattering when he released her braid and stepped back, taking her by surprise.
He tipped his head to the side and stared at her. “I need you to go, because I won’t be able to stop at just kissing you. Not with you in that shirt. In my bedroom. With those fuck-me lips poised and wet.”
Oh, God.
You’re right.
If he kissed her, she’d lose her sanity and control within the space of a heartbeat.
“So, no before-the-wedding kiss, then?”
Jesse closed his eyes as if he couldn’t handle the sight of her. Well, judging by the erection in his shorts, he was struggling to not go savage mode and throw her on the bed.
“Jury is out now. I don’t know.”
“You changed your mind fast,” she whispered, now strangely disappointed.
“Go, please. Before I do a lot more than kiss you. And I don’t have condoms, so the pregnancy won’t be fake like the marriage,” he murmured darkly, lifting his lids to show his blue eyes almost hazy from the intensity of whatever he was feeling and thinking.
“Oh.”
Jesse shook his head. “Please don’t use that sound around me.” He didn’t elaborate why, but he added, “Go get yourself off. I know you need to.”
“Excuse me?” She smoothed her palms up and down her arms at his words, another insane comment coming from him that had her heart fixed in her throat.
“Go. I need to do the same before I . . .” Head angled. Eyes working over her body.
Holy shit. She was going to combust.
“Jesse,” she softly said, forgetting what his name from her mouth had done to him back in New York.
Before she had a chance to react, Jesse cupped her chin, and his piercing eyes cut straight through her as he hissed, “Ask me for it.” He angled his head, bringing his mouth close to hers. “Ask me,” he growled out, already forgetting his command for her to leave.
She was breathing hard and fast, utterly confused, but “Kiss me” still left her lips, and his mouth crushed hers with such intensity she had to walk backward to not lose her balance. But he moved right along with her, keeping her upright with a hand to her back.
He held her flush to his body, imprisoning her in his embrace. His other palm slipped from chin to cheek as his tongue pushed open her lips, and she gave in without hesitation.
The prior rigidness in her body vanished, and she wilted as he kissed her.
Kissed her hard. Then softly.
Tongue. No tongue.
Slow and sensual.
Were they floating? Were her feet on the ground?
Her head was in the clouds, that’s all she knew as she grew disoriented from the erotic sweep of his tongue in her mouth, alternating with the light pull of her lower lip gently between his teeth.
Her eyes were closed, and yet, she could see clearly. Every moment they’d spent together skipped through her mind in HD. With his lips on hers, it was as if she were walking through their lives together frame by frame.
Memories of their weekend in New York poured through her mind. And those memories remained tight and focused before her.
The horse-drawn-carriage ride in the snow that Saturday when he’d laced their fingers together beneath the blanket and held both her hands and eyes had been . . . intimate. Even if that word was supposed to have been stripped from their vocabulary that weekend.
And when they’d finally stumbled upon carolers, and Ella had joined them in singing Silent Night, with the smell of gingerbread and cinnamon in the air from a nearby street vendor, Jesse had watched her as if she were his everything.
Ella returned to the present with Jesse, choosing to skip over the last three years that’d nearly broken her.
She’d rather focus on how his hand slid farther down her back and to her ass as he kissed her.
But as if sensing she was “back,” he lifted his mouth from hers, and her hand went to her heart at the loss of his lips and hands on her body.
She wanted to catch hold of those memories again, knowing they were better than the sad and lonely feelings that would settle into the pit of her stomach any moment when reality took over.
“Go,” he said without opening his eyes, and he walked two steps back. “This will be a shotgun wedding if you don’t leave here in the next ten seconds, Ella Mae.” His tone hovered somewhere between angry and explosive with desire. “You. Need. To. Go.”
She stared at him, not sure what to do. She didn’t want to leave, but he kept breaking her heart. Giving her hope only to steal it back in the last three years. And if she gave in to him again, she’d never recover when he took that hope away one more time.
“Goodnight,” she whispered, hating her decision. But she’d hate herself more for staying.
Eyes still closed, he softly returned, “Goodnight.”
She started for the door and set her hand on the knob when a stupid thought hit her that managed to escape her lips. “Why don’t you have condoms?” What the hell am I saying? “I—I thought a man like you would be prepared for anything.”
“Why would I . . .”
“How many women have you been with since New York?” she asked before he found his voice to finish his words. “I—I need to know.”
She felt him closing in on her but couldn’t turn around to meet his gaze. She cursed herself for asking the question because she knew. His silence said it all, and she held back the tears that threatened to fall. Had she actually thought that he hadn’t been with another woman since her? That she’d been his last, same as he’d been for her?
“You were engaged,” he quietly said, her eyes welling up again at the finality in his tone.
“I know,” she replied, setting her forehead against the smooth wood of the door. “But that engagement was your fault.”
“I’m . . . sorry.”
Her chest tightened as she struggled to find her breath. An overwhelming sense of sadness washed over her as a single tear made its way down her cheek.
After that kiss, the kiss she now regretted because it’d been one of the most amazing kisses and moments in her life, maybe he really did belong at the top of her hate list. She’d need to convince herself he belonged there so she wouldn’t slip up and cling to the possibility of hope that there would ever be a real “them” someday.
Chapter Eleven
Jesse eyed the ring boxes on his dresser and struggled to breathe as thoughts of what might go wrong in Paris began to suffocate him. That feeling of uncertainty and helplessness was too similar to how he’d felt every day in Iraq. Even now, long after he’d witnessed brothers-in-arms lose limbs, die in battle, and even take their own lives, the ghosts of that damn war still haunted him. The country’s involvement may have ended, but the battles at home were still raging.