Jane's Gift (Lone Pine Lake 1)

He let go of her hand and it dropped into her lap, her fingers tingling from his touch. He took it a step further by reaching out to cup her left cheek, his work-roughened fingers caressing her skin, and she drew in a sharp breath. She didn’t want him to feel her scars.

But he wouldn’t let her move away.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes went wide as she stared up at him. His face hovered above hers, his hand tightening on her cheek as he drew her closer. Oh, he was going to kiss her, just as she’d imagined only moments before. Panic set in. Her breathing accelerated, her chest heaved with the effort, and she licked her lips in preparation.

Earning a quiet groan from Chris. Feminine power sparked within her. Who knew she had such an effect on him?

“I shouldn’t do this. But…you’re so beautiful.” His words made her heart flutter and she wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him how much better looking she’d been before the accident. When her skin had been clear and not covered with scars and she hadn’t been as skinny. When she could move with ease and dance and sing and have fun. Her hair had been longer, past her shoulders, wavy and so thick.

She was a mere shadow of her former self. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to get that old Jane back.

“Chris, I—” she started, but he didn’t let her finish. His head swooped and his mouth captured hers, silencing her, swallowing her words.

She forgot what she wanted to say. Her mind had been wiped clean by the touch of Chris’s mouth upon hers.

And she never wanted this kiss to end.

Chapter Five

Her lips were soft and damp. They clung to his in a gentle, almost innocent kiss. A kiss that reminded him of those he’d experienced when he was thirteen and unsure of how to lay one on a girl.

It was sweet—she was sweet. Her lips tasted of salt and butter with a hint of chocolate. He broke the kiss, blew a soft breath across her mouth before he touched it again. He parted his lips, as did she, but no tongue played interference—not yet. He didn’t want to spook her.

He knew it was wrong, kissing her. Going against what she’d said only an hour or so before. Friends didn’t kiss—especially not like this.

But he couldn’t help it.

Chris approached her much as he would approach an injured animal or a scared child. Tentative, gentle, and so very careful. He didn’t want to go too fast, and she responded to his tactics. Jane tilted her head, angled her chin toward him, and opened her mouth just a bit wider.

“You taste sweet,” he whispered against her lips, and then decided to make a bold move. He swiped his tongue first at one corner of her mouth, then at the other. Her swift intake of breath told him she liked it.

It was time to take it further.

He slid his hand across her cheek, felt the scars there that ran along her hairline. They were puckered, soft and raised. All of a sudden, she jerked away from him, breaking the kiss. Opening his eyes, their gazes met, their heavy breathing in tandem.

“Sorry.” Shit, he blew it. Should’ve never touched her there. She was sensitive about her scars.

“It’

s…it’s okay.” Jane shook her head, offered him a trembling smile. “I can’t remember the last time I kissed in a movie theater.”

“Want to do it some more?” He raised his brows. It was a joke…but not really.

“Um…”

“What’s the matter, Jane? Scared we’re going to get caught?” He meant it as a dare. Wanted to see if she’d take him up on it.

“Who’s in here to catch us?” she finally said, her lips curved in the barest of smiles.

He acted without thought, her words spurring him on. Curving his fingers into her hair, the wavy softness curled around his fingers and he cupped the back of her head, tilted her to his mouth so he could kiss her, deepening it in seconds.

Jane opened her lips to him, curved her body more fully toward him, and he blindly reached for the soda, shoving it into the drink holder to his right to get it out of the way. With jerky movements, he lifted the arm rest, shoved it up, and she shifted even closer, her knees bumping against his.

Reminding him that she wore a skirt. He could easily slide a hand up beneath the denim and touch her warm, tight-covered thigh. Yeah, he couldn’t go that far, though. Not yet, especially not in a movie theater. He wasn’t a teenager trying to cop a feel.

Yet he felt like one, making out with a pretty girl in his arms, trying to get to second base at the movies. He’d done something similar with his first serious girlfriend in high school. Eager to crush his mouth onto hers, put his hands all over her body, he’d tried anything and everything to get them alone.