Hometown Heartbreakers: Holly And Mistletoe Part 42

They'd made love. He smiled slowly and reached out to stroke her smooth skin. Her heat warmed him to his soul.

After exhausting themselves in front of the Christmas tree, they'd come upstairs to her room. Not only was her bed bigger, but neither of them wanted to disturb Mistletoe, who was in Jordan's closet.

Once in bed, Holly had gotten shy, wanting to put on a nightgown instead of sleeping naked. When words hadn't worked to persuade her, he'd tried kisses. He wasn't sure who had persuaded whom, because they'd ended up making love again, slowly, erotically.

He could still see her body beneath his, feel her pa.s.sion and taste her sweet skin. She'd been all he'd imagined her to be, and more. He'd wanted to take her again and again, but sleep had claimed them before he could act on his fantasy.

Now, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing and fingering the silky hair he admired, he wondered how he'd gotten so d.a.m.n lucky. He'd never met a woman like Holly, and he doubted he would again. She was honest and open, loving, generous, pretty and s.e.xy enough to make him hard in less than five seconds. In short, she was perfect, and that scared him to death.

He slipped out of bed and made his way down the stairs. Once in his makeshift bedroom, he flipped on the lamp by the bed, then checked on Mistletoe. She was curled up on his sweater, dozing. He reached above her and collected his robe, then put it on. After tying the belt, he crouched in front of the cat. Mistletoe glared at him, then spit softly.

"I'm not impressed," he murmured.

Mistletoe stood up. Her babies made soft mewing sounds, then settled back to sleep. After stretching, Mistletoe stepped out of the closet and wound her way around Jordan's legs. When he reached down to pet her, she hissed at him, then b.u.mped her head against his hand as if asking to be scratched there.

"Make up your mind," he told her.

She ignored him and continued to growl and hiss between bouts of purring. Then she ate some food and drank a little water.

Jordan moved to the bed and stretched out on top of the blankets. Mistletoe followed, then climbed on his chest and stood there. They were practically nose to nose, and he could smell the cat food on her breath. She flattened her gray ears, then began to knead. Sharp claws dug in through the terry-cloth robe. He winced with each press of her paw.

She seemed to delight in causing him discomfort, because she kneaded deeper, then sank down on top of him and breathed in his face.

He reached up and scratched under her chin. Mistletoe arched her head. When he stopped, she licked his fingers, then nibbled as if warning him to continue or suffer the consequences. He continued.

As he stroked her soft fur, he found himself thinking about Holly and their night together.

She'd been a virgin. He'd known that fact; they'd even discussed it. But knowing it and actually being the first man to make love to her were two different things. He'd felt the tightness, the protective barrier that, once broken, could not be repaired. The act of making love with her had been different from making love with anyone else.

In a primitive male way, he felt a connection and sense of responsibility. She'd marked him with her innocence, and he'd claimed her with his seed. If he were a different kind of man, he would want to hold on to her forever.

If he were a different kind of man, she would be safe with him.

But he wasn't different. He was stuck in a world where he could not escape the truth. Because he respected her and cared about her, he would not try to destroy her by loving her. As he stroked Mistletoe and listened to her purring, he swore he would treat Holly right. He wouldn't betray her or let her down. Others had done that before him, but he was going to be different. He was going to give her the best gift of all. He wasn't going to hurt her. If the price of that was not loving her, then so be it.

Holly woke to the smell of coffee. She opened her eyes and saw sunlight streaming into her bedroom. Despite the familiar furniture, something was different. She blinked as she tried to figure it out. Then she remembered last night. In the same instant she realized she was naked beneath the covers and that Jordan was entering the room.

She stared at him and felt her heartbeat increase. His hair was tousled, his face unshaven. He wore a white terry-cloth robe loosely knotted around his waist. Bare legs led to bare feet. He was gorgeous and smiling at her.

"I brought you breakfast," he said, holding out a tray. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved." After pushing her hair out of her eyes, she started to sit up. The sheet chose not to cooperate, and there was a quick tug-of-war as she tried to get into a sitting position without flashing Jordan.

He set the tray over her lap, then leaned toward her. "You don't have to work so hard to cover up. I've seen it all, and it's lovely."

Before she could recover enough to speak, he settled on the bed next to her and poured them both a cup of coffee. There was also toast and fruit.

"I checked on Mistletoe," he said. "She ate breakfast, and the kittens seem fine. They don't have their eyes open, though."

"That takes a little while," Holly commented automatically, not able to believe they were practically naked, eating breakfast in bed after making love. As if this were normal. She wanted to shriek. It wasn't normal, at least not in her world. Normal was living alone and being lonely, not pa.s.sion in front of a Christmas tree and a man who threatened to steal her heart.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

She took a quick sip of coffee and nearly burned her tongue. "Fine," she said, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

"No repercussions?"

"Like what?"

He smiled. "Are you sore?"

Sore? "From what?"

He reached toward her and pulled at the sheet until the top of her breast was exposed. Then he touched the curve. Nerve endings caught on fire and burned all the way down to her feminine center.

"Making love. Different muscles get used. You were very tight when I was inside you. Are you tender today?"

Oh, my. Heat flared on her cheeks. He wanted to talk about it? About doing that? About making love?

She swallowed, then set her coffee on the tray. "I feel fine."

"Let me know if that changes."

She wanted to ask what he would do about it if she was sore, but then she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

He leaned forward and kissed the top of her breast, then her neck, then the sensitive skin below her ear. "You're feeling a little awkward," he said, making the sentence a statement, not a question. "I'm going to leave you to shower and dress in private. But you owe me one."

"A shower? There are four more bathrooms in this house."

He stood up. "But you're going to be in this one."

Men and women showering together? Was that even legal? Her confusion must have shown on her face, because he was laughing as he left the room.

Holly moved the tray and got out of bed. Now that Jordan had mentioned it, she was sore. Her thigh muscles ached as if they'd been stretched a couple of inches too far, and the place between her legs was a little raw. She wanted a long, hot shower. Things would be clearer when she was done.

But as Holly wiped away the steam and stared at her reflection in the mirror, things weren't better. If anything, they were more confusing.

She tucked the towel around her body and wondered if making love had really changed her. This time yesterday she hadn't known about the intimacy that joined a man and a woman. While she didn't regret what she'd done, she was beginning to realize that there was a lot more to s.e.x than just the act itself.

She reached for a wide-tooth comb and began drawing it through her wet hair.

"I'm all grown-up," she murmured. She had a business that was more successful than she had imagined, and she was taking care of herself. She was smart, capable and she'd finally joined the mainstream. She had a lover. All she needed was a beeper or a cellular phone.

Holly sank down on the edge of the tub and sighed. On the outside she might be just like everyone else, but on the inside she was different. She'd always been a little out of step. Having a lover wasn't her style. She could say and do all she wanted, but in her heart she was an old-fashioned woman.

She wanted to love the man she gave her body to, and Jordan didn't love her. Worse, he believed that love caused pain. In his mind it created more problems than it solved. So where did that leave her?