“Jaron, I don’t care how far this goes,” she said honestly. She raised her arms to circle his neck and tangled her fingers in his thick dark brown hair brushing the collar of his shirt. “I’ve wanted you to hold me like this since the moment we met.”
“Don’t say that.” When he closed his eyes, a muscle twitched along his lean jaw and she knew he was struggling to do what he thought was right. “I’m not the kind of man you need, Mariah.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, cowboy,” she whispered, cupping his cheek with her palm. “You’re exactly what I’ve always needed.”
Two
Jaron felt as if he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning when Mariah touched his face with her delicate hand. He might have had a chance to harden his resolve and not let things go too far between them if she hadn’t admitted that she had always needed him. But her softly spoken words and the feel of her touch sent a flash fire streaking through his veins and made thinking clearly all but impossible. He’d wanted her for years, and not allowing himself to hold her, kiss her, had been his own personal hell.
He knew it was wrong—that he should walk away and leave her alone. But when he looked down at the woman in his arms, he knew in his heart that wasn’t going to happen. He needed Mariah more than he needed his next breath, needed to lose himself in her softness and forget for one night that she could never be his.
When she pressed a kiss to the exposed skin at the open collar of his shirt, then looked up at him, the desire in her brilliant green eyes robbed him of breath. She for damned sure wasn’t helping him win the battle over the hormones racing through his veins at the speed of light.
“Jaron, I know you need me just as much as I need you.”
There was no sense in denying it. Hell, he was certain she could feel the evidence pressed against her. But he had to give her one last chance to save them both from doing something he knew as surely as he knew his own name they would both end up regretting with the morning light.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “Once that line is crossed, there’s no going back, Mariah.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” she said without hesitation. “I don’t like the way things have been between us recently, and I don’t think you do, either.”
“I’m not promising anything beyond tonight,” he warned her.
She shook her head. “I’m not asking for more.”
She might not be asking, but he knew Mariah well enough to know she wasn’t a one-night stand kind of woman. If she slept with a man, she would expect it to be the start of a relationship. Unfortunately, he had wanted her for longer than he cared to remember and turning back now just wasn’t an option.
Groaning, he buried his face in her silky dark brown hair and tried to remind himself of all the reasons making love to Mariah would be a bad idea. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember a single one. A man had his limits, and Jaron knew that he had reached the end of the line with his.
For the past several years he’d fought against giving in to the attraction between them. But now that he’d finally held her soft body to his and tasted her sweetness, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Maybe it was due to the years of denial or more likely the loneliness that had settled in when he watched his brothers with their families—knowing that due to the fear he had of turning out to be like his father he would never allow himself to have a family of his own. He wasn’t entirely sure what the reason was, and it really didn’t matter. He’d deal with the guilt and regret in the morning. Tonight he was going to forget about the problems making love to her would cause and love Mariah as if there was no tomorrow.
“Let’s go to my room,” he suggested, taking her hand in his to lead her down the hall.
As they entered the master suite, Jaron flipped the light switch to turn on the bedside lamps, casting a soft glow over the king-size bed. Closing the door behind them, he immediately took Mariah in his arms and lowered his head to rain kisses along her cheek, down the column of her neck to her collarbone.
“Are you protected, Mariah?” he asked, removing her black leather jacket, then kissing the satiny skin exposed by the dropped shoulder of her slinky red dress.
“I... Um, no,” she said, sounding delightfully breathless.
“Don’t worry.” He continued to nip and taste her. “I’ll take care of it.”