The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(30)

Hannah took a step into him, close enough that if she leaned her head forward the solid, hot warmth of his chest could be under her cheek. She wanted to drink in his scent, his heat, his fire, and place her lips on the hot skin exposed at the collar of his shirt.

His hands framed her face and she tilted her head back to look at him. “I know your pain, I know—” She didn’t know she was crying until she felt his lips swoop down and capture the wetness that poured from her eyes. He kissed and sipped, and branded her with sweet promise. His lips traveled her face and finally slipped lower until they touched hers.

They tasted and teased until she opened her mouth with a sigh. A voice, a sound that she didn’t even know she could utter, escaped her throat as his tongue tangled with hers. She had been waiting for him forever. His tongue tasted, tormented, and made love with hers so that breathing was impossible. They fumbled with each others’ buttons, hot fingers tangling together, their lips never parting. When the jackets fell to the floor in a heap, Jackson lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the couch and lowering her with a frenzied gentleness. She reached up for him and he covered her body with his. All that she let herself feel was the desire that ripped through her faster than a hurricane. She knew she needed to let him in, to trust him.

When his tanned hands went to lift her sweater she urgently helped him shrug it off. And any shyness she ever thought she’d have was snapped away by the desire she read in his eyes, and by her own need to take off his clothes. She tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he drew it over his head and tossed it to the ground, their eyes speaking the words that neither of them were able to say. She felt a throbbing heat escalate with each kiss that he placed on her exposed skin, and soon it felt like Jackson was everywhere.

She plunged her fingers into his soft hair as his head trailed the length of her torso, down to her stomach, and then back up until he reached her breasts. She arched her back when she felt his hands circle around to unclasp her bra. When she felt his mouth move from her earlobe and trace her collarbone with kisses she shivered. But when he found her breasts, his lips tasting and then suckling her nipple, she cried out. Hannah threaded her fingers through his thick hair, pressing his head against her breasts.

“God, you’re so beautiful, more beautiful than I dreamed,” he said before he moved his sweet torture to the other breast. She felt swollen, heady with an insistent sort of desire.

He was strong and powerful, but she felt no fear. Firelight made his tanned skin seem more touchable, more alluring. The reality of what she was doing started trickling into her mind, like a stream at the first thaw of spring, but there would be no spring with Jackson. There would be one night.

“Jackson,” she whispered, his name sounding more like a moan as his lips tormented her skin.

“Mm-hmm,” he answered, clearly not listening. She sucked in her breath as his tongue circled her nipple decadently.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?” he said, his head lifting. She couldn’t quite make his expression.

She could feel the cold air send goose bumps over her bare skin, despite the blush that she knew began to engulf her as Jackson stared at her, bracing himself on his forearms.

“I mean, this,” she said waving her hand between them, searching for some words to explain her sudden change of heart, something that could make him understand.

Her voice trailed off as he lifted himself off her slowly. She felt for her shirt with her hands, keeping her eyes glued to him. The most profound, intimate, unbelievable experience she’d ever had with anyone and she’d ruined it. Jackson exhaled raggedly and ran his hands down his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said reaching out to touch him but stopping herself, not really knowing whether or not he’d pull away. Why couldn’t she just let herself go? Let Jackson take her to that place of sweet oblivion? As she stared at his muscular back, her eyes wandering over what her hands had worshipped, she knew why. If she slept with him she would fall in love with him, and loving Jackson would be impossible. Loving anyone, giving anyone that kind of trust, that kind of power over her was inconceivable. She had spent her entire life trying to gain freedom and to give it up was unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again as she stared at his back. As much as she was sure she’d made the only decision she could, this never should have gone this far. He reached a part of her no one ever had.

“I, I need a second.”

“I feel really, really stupid right now,” Hannah said, drawing her knees up to her chest and wishing the couch would swallow her whole. She wrapped her arms more tightly around herself, wishing she’d found her shirt. Jackson leaned down and picked up his shirt, then gently drew it over her head. She pulled her arms through, inhaling his scent, feeling the soft cotton envelop her like a blanket. The firelight cast a warm hue over his muscular physique, making him appear more powerful, more beautiful than she ever thought a man could be.

“You’re okay?”

Hannah nodded, unable to speak past the cowardly lump in her throat. Explain to him why. Tell him you want nothing more than to let go of the past and spend tonight in his arms…tell him you want him to be the first man to touch you and hold you and love you. Hannah stared at Jackson, her thoughts screaming through her mind, but nothing came out of her mouth. Jackson’s jaw clenched, almost as though he sensed her battle. But still she couldn’t open her mouth.