Hot for the Holidays (5 page)

“Are you going to stare all day?” he snapped. Not angrily. There was an edge of anticipation and impatience in his tone rather than anger.

“Maybe,” she drawled, though her hand lifted, almost of its own accord, her fingers trailing down the center of his chest to his hard stomach.

If she went much further, she’d be in his pants. It wouldn’t take no more than a breath to touch the hard crest of his cock. She could undo his jeans . . .

Jessica shook the thought off. That would be cruel. She didn’t want to be cruel.

“Lie down beside me, baby.” He turned, moving to his side as he drew her to the bed. “Let me touch you as well.”

Without kisses.

She would die for that kiss, she thought a second later as he rubbed his hard, bearded jaw against skin and moved over her as she lay back.

Her hands had a will of their own, touching his back, his shoulders, sliding over the tough, hard flesh and relishing the feel of strength beneath it.

She ached for the kiss she was denying herself, almost as though the mating heat had begun without it.

But that wasn’t possible.

Her eyes closed as he dragged the rough rasp of his beard over her neck, his heated breath a caress against her bare skin as she arched beneath him, her body demanding more.

This might not have been such a good idea, she thought. Maybe she should have given it more consideration. She was becoming lost in touching him, her hands moving down his back to the edge of his jeans, the temptation to delve beneath the snug band almost more than she could bear.

“I can’t kiss you. I can’t lick you,” he whispered against her shoulder, his lips barely feathering the sensitive skin there. “If I touch you with my tongue, the hormone will touch your skin. I could suck your nipples, and the need for more would burn inside you. I could lick down your soft belly, and your flesh would grow hot, your arousal would build.”

The whispered enticement as he brushed his beard against the exposed flesh above her breasts was almost more than she could bear.

“Can I kiss you?” Her nails scraped over his belt before she gripped his hip with one hand, forcing herself not to go lower.

Hawke paused. The thought of her lips against his flesh was both Heaven and Hell. The thought of her caressing him, licking him, had his dick throbbing like an open wound.

Sweet merciful Heaven, give him strength, he thought.

“Yes.” He almost hissed the word, because her lips were already at his shoulder, her teeth scraping over the flesh as he bit back a groan. Maybe it was a mistake to give her leave to caress him with her lips, because the pleasure was tearing through him, ripping through his senses and leaving him weak.

She bit him. The rounded curve of his shoulder throbbed as she nipped at it. Then she licked it. His hips jerked, grinding his cock against her thigh as he fought just to breathe.

How insane had he been to agree to this?

She panted against his shoulder. “It takes the hormone to start the heat, right?”

“Yes.” His damned tongue was filled with it, the glands so swollen they were painful, filling his own mouth with the erotic heat, making him crazy with the hunger that flooded his system for her.

“The hormone is in your kiss and your semen.” Her nails were raking his back.

Hawke stretched into the burning caress. God, he didn’t know how much more he could bear.

“I can kiss you.” She kissed his shoulder before her lips moved lower.

“God, yes.” He cupped the back of her head, holding her closer as her lips moved down his chest, her hot little tongue raking over a distended nipple as he felt his senses catch fire.

“We could play around for a while.” Her voice sounded desperate, almost as desperate as he himself was. “Help me, Hawke,” she panted. “Please.”

She arched to him, her thighs gripping one of his as she rubbed herself against him. The heat of her pussy through her jeans was destructive. He could sense the warmth, the slick dampness. She was so damned ready for him that the scent of her filled the air and left him feeling drunk on it.

“You’ll kill me like this,” he groaned, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Easing the undershirt up over her breasts, he revealed the delicate curves and the candy pink, spike-hard tips of her nipples. He wanted to lick them, suck them. He wanted to draw them into his mouth and fill his senses with the taste of her.

He used his fingers instead. Gripping the hardened little points between his index fingers and thumbs, he rolled them, stroked them, plumped them.

He watched, amazed, as she flushed from her breasts to her forehead. Red-gold hair spilled around her delicate features as her lashes closed over her eyes and her lips parted to draw in more air.

She was lost in the pleasure he was giving her. This was exactly where he wanted her, how he wanted her. He wanted her senses consumed by him, filled with his touch.

And Hawke realized he loved watching her reaction to him. If he had given in to the mating heat and taken her kiss, then he would have been denied the sight of her relishing his touch.

The mating hormone was pumping into his system, spilling from beneath his tongue as he fought to hold back his own lust for her. She wanted to touch. She wanted to love, he thought. But Jessica didn’t just want to be touched. She wanted to feel him, sense him. She wanted an assurance that what she would have with him would be enough to sustain a future together.

She had no idea. Mother Nature hadn’t made an imperfect mating yet. In all the years that the Breeds had been in existence, she hadn’t once created a pairing that hadn’t sustained, that hadn’t loved.

It was killing him, simply touching her like this, but he knew this was for their future. He couldn’t take from her. He couldn’t force the mating on her. Everything inside his soul rejected the thought. But he could tease her. He could entice her.

He stroked her nipples with his fingers, plumped them with his fingers. He cupped them, raked his palms over the tips, watched her face and the pleasure that suffused it.

It was almost innocent. Hell, it was innocent. She was a virgin. She came to him untouched by another man’s caresses, and he knew it. He knew her background, her history. She hadn’t played with boys. His serious, sober Jess had worked hard for a career, worked to escape the legacy her father would have drawn her into.

“So beautiful.” He sighed as his fingers trailed from her nipples to her rounded little tummy. “You make me crazy for you, Jess.”

She pressed her head deeper into the pillow as he played with the clasp of her jeans, a whimpering little moan leaving her lips.

“I can pleasure you without kissing you,” he promised her as he flicked the metal tab of her jeans open. “With just my fingers, I could make you come for me, Jess. Let me make you come.”

Hawke watched as she dragged her eyes open, her gaze going to his fingers as he pulled the zipper down.

“Let’s get these off, baby.” He lowered the material, dragging it from her hips, down her thighs.

He almost came himself when he saw the delicate violet silk of the low-rise panties she wore. They barely covered the fiery triangle of curls beneath, and did nothing to hide the fact that they were wet from her juices.

The scent of her filled his nostrils. Sweet, feminine, fresh. Like a mountain brook, he thought. That was what the scent reminded him of. Pure and clean; untouched.

“Jess.” He pulled the jeans from her legs and tossed them to the side of the bed as he fought for control.

She needed to see, needed to know. She needed this moment in time, he realized.

Moving to her side, he laid beside her, his hand covering the small mound between her thighs as he propped himself on his elbow to watch.

His fingers edged beneath her panties and her hips arched closer to him. A gasp, then a hard breath of need parted her lips as he let one finger slide into the narrow slit, feeling the slick wetness, the clench of her folds around his fingers.

His dick was in agony. His balls were drawn tight to the base of the agonized shaft as the crest throbbed in despair. A dark, spicy heat filled his mouth as the powerful hormone spilled into his system from the tight glands beneath his tongue.

Never had he imagined such agony, such need that he couldn’t relieve. Relief was the sweet, fiery heat his fingers were caressing; the delicate, plump folds; the taut, throbbing pearl of her clit.

He wanted his lips there, his tongue. He wanted to taste her as he was touching her, to spear his tongue inside her and feel her coming for him.

He had to end this soon, he realized. His control was shaky now, his hands trembling with the hunger racing through him.

Jessica was breathing hard and fast beside him, little moans breaking past her lips as he circled the entrance to her vagina, dipped his finger inside, then massaged her clit with his thumb.

Her hips arched, a cry throttled from her throat as he felt her clench around his finger.

She was close. So close.

J
essica felt as though the world were burning around J her. Pleasure surrounded her, filled her. His finger caressed the opening to her sex, thrusting inside just enough to stroke nerve endings she hadn’t known she possessed, while his thumb raked across her clit before finding a spot that sent her flying.

He stroked it, rubbed it. His finger thrust lightly inside her, his thumb ground against her clit and she felt her mind explode. Her senses disintegrated. Her orgasm was an explosion of sensation and light that tore through her, tightened her muscles and had her arching, crying, fighting to breathe.

She was gasping for breath, short, startled cries leaving her lips as he jerked her to him, holding her close, tight, as shudders tore through her body.

This was pleasure. It was flying in another’s arms. It was racing to the sun and exploding in the center of it even as she knew it could have been better, brighter, hotter.

It could have been pure, unfettered sensation with his kiss.

A kiss she now knew she wouldn’t be able to live without.

SIX

H
awke was in agony.

The next morning he slid slowly from the bed, grimacing at the violent sensitivity of his dick as he eased away from Jessica’s warm, naked body.

She was sleeping deeply, one arm thrown over her head, the silken, tangled mass of red-gold hair spilling around her face to her shoulders.

Fiery lashes feathered her cheeks. A light flush suffused her face and her soft pink lips were parted as she breathed in and out slowly.

Perfectly curved ripe breasts lifted and fell with each breath and, God knew, they tempted him almost past bearing. It would take so very little to begin the mating heat right now. He could lower his head, take one of her soft nipples into his mouth and suckle her slow and sweet, never waking her.

The mating hormone would lave the sensitive flesh, sink into it and slowly enter her system. Twelve to twenty-four hours and she would need his touch like she needed the air she was now breathing.

As much as he wanted her, as much as he needed her, he couldn’t do that to her.

Shaking his head, he turned and moved to the bathroom. A cold shower wouldn’t help his hard dick, and he knew it. The spray of the water would only torment already sensitive flesh, but he needed to get ready for the day ahead.

He stepped under the spray and almost moaned at the feel of the water over the flesh. Hell, he was going to have to make this the quickest shower on record.

Grabbing the bottle of liquid soap, he quickly lathered his hair and rinsed it before soaping a rag and going to work on his body.

The quick, hard strokes of the rag were torture to his aroused body. The silky slid of suds over his cock and down his thighs were hell.

He rinsed quickly and gave a sigh of relief as he turned off the shower, grabbed a dry towel and grimaced at the thought of drying. Damn, no man should have to go through this, he thought. But neither should a female. He knew what Jessica would suffer once the mating heat started. A sensitivity of flesh that wouldn’t allow for the lightest touch of anything but his hands, his body, his possession.

It was harder for their women, and so far, Breed males were very aware of this. They were selective in their choice of lovers, ensuring that when they went out in public they paid attention to even the smallest signs that mating heat could occur. Enough had been forced on them; they had no desire to force the sometimes painful arousals on a female, whether she was Breed or not.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he pulled the shower doors back and came face-to-face with Jessica from where she sat on the bathroom counter, watching him.

Her somber blue eyes regarded him quizzically as her gaze flicked to the obvious arousal beneath the cotton.

“You were hard all night,” she said softly.

Glancing away from her, Hawke paced to the sink, where he’d placed a clean change of clothes.

“No answer?” she asked.

“What does it matter, Jess?” He let himself watch her in the mirror, saw the suspicion in her face and almost groaned at the next question.

“The mating heat affects you anyway, doesn’t it?” There was a knowing tone to her voice, an edge of regret.

“It’s not as bad for me as it would be for you.” He shrugged as though it didn’t matter, when he knew damned good and well that the need was eating him alive. Like acid in his gut, it was tearing at the very fiber of his control.

“Because you were trained to endure pain.” That wasn’t a question. It was an observation, and more or less the truth.

“Pretty much.” He cast her a look of self-mockery. Hell, he might as well try to laugh about it, since raging over it would only make it worse. “We were trained to endure a lot of things. Maybe it’s just second nature now.”

She ducked her head for a moment before looking to the shower as though desperately seeking a way to change the subject.

“Will it hurt me?” When she lifted her head there was a hint of nervousness in her gaze. “Hope, Faith and Charity didn’t say anything about pain.”