She didn’t want to think about why he was wrong for her, because as much as she wanted to deny it, her feelings, her attraction, didn’t care about why he was wrong. There had never been anyone so right. In twenty-eight years, she had never felt truly safe. Until tonight, when he found her in a blizzard and carried her so protectively—like she mattered, like she was important.
Jackson pressed her fingers against his face. She closed her eyes and shuddered, partly due to the pain, and partly because of the pleasure of feeling that strong jaw, the tickle of his stubble. She lifted her eyes to his, transfixed by the warmth, the fire in them. When he took her hands and kissed each palm, holding it to his lips, she felt her knees slowly start to give. She wanted to lean in to him, to give in to the overwhelming desire to be held and touched by him.
“Do you know how fast people can get lost out there?” he murmured against her hands, his breath hot and oh so delicious against her cold skin. She had a hard time concentrating, her mind distracted by the sight and feel of his lips.
“Obviously. And I knew what I was doing,” she said, the chattering of her teeth abating. She tried to focus on the conversation and not on the sensation that his lips were causing. “I’ve seen the Little House on the Prairie episode where they get snowed in and they tie a rope from the house to the barn.” The look he gave her almost made her laugh out loud. Almost.
“Hannah, do not tell me you are getting your advice on how to brave a blizzard from a stupid TV show.”
She frowned at him, feigning insult. “It’s not a stupid show. It happens to be my all time-favorite show.”
“You could have died. Charlie is a dog.” It sounded as though the words were ripped from his heart. Hannah felt every bone in her body melt and every speck of laughter that had teased her seconds ago was gone.
She shook her head. “I know what he is. I know what he means.” Her voice sounded odd to her ears. Maybe it was the cold or maybe it was the emotion in her throat as she spoke. She didn’t want him to feel alone anymore, didn’t want him to think that no one else could understand. She knew why he was afraid of adopting his niece now. She had been wrong. He wasn’t selfish, he was afraid. Jackson was a man that gave the people he loved everything. He gave them himself and the betrayal of disappointment, of abandonment was more painful than he could bear.
His eyes turned a deeper shade of brown, his voice a gruff whisper. “What do you mean?”
She swallowed hard. She couldn’t back down, she couldn’t be a wimp her whole life. She wanted to jump into the safety of his arms and stay there, start there. Become the woman she always dreamed of being but never wanted to. Until now. She looked into his eyes, embracing the warmth she saw staring back at her. “I know, Jackson, I know what it’s like to feel that no one loves you, that you’re not worth fighting for.” Those last words were torn from some place deep inside her. And for all the therapy she’d ever had, nothing had ever healed like this. Hannah placed her hand on his jaw and a sensuous heat warmed her body. She didn’t look away as the shock registered in his eyes. He covered her hand with his, staring at her.
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.