Christmas Moon by Elizabeth Lane

Christmas Moon by Elizabeth Lane

Author:Elizabeth Lane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00


Emma had finally drifted off, her head sagging against the pillows. J.D. stopped reading and closed the book, using a broom straw to mark the page. He hadn’t minded reading to her. It had taken him back to the winter evenings when he used to read to his younger brothers and sisters—books like Gulliver’s Travels, Uncle Tom’s Cabin and The Last of the Mohicans. He remembered how they would beg him for one more page, then another, until their eyes began to droop and their small heads began to nod.

When he married, he’d looked forward to reading to his own children. Then the worst had happened. After Maggie’s death he’d sworn off any desire to have a family. He’d compiled a mental list of excuses—he was on the move too much; he hadn’t saved enough money yet; a lawman’s job was risky, and being an ex-lawman was even riskier. J.D. had made all of those excuses to women, to his friends and to himself. After a while he’d come to believe them. It was easier by far than facing the truth. A family demanded love. Love walked hand in hand with loss. And he’d had all the loss he could stand.

Walking over to the bed, he stood gazing down at Emma. She lay back on the pillows, her hair tousled like a young boy’s. Why would anyone cut such beautiful hair? Maybe she’d lost it to a fever, as some women did, and was still in the process of growing it back. He imagined it long, falling around him like a silken tent as she leaned above him, her knees straddling his hips, his shaft planted deep and hard inside her. Heat flowed to his loins as he pictured her swollen breasts hanging over him like ripe pears, the nipples brushing his lips as she rode him to a frenzied, pumping climax.

J.D. cursed under his breath. That kind of thinking would only get him in trouble, and he was in enough trouble already. The pressure against his crotch wasn’t going away. Neither were the images in his mind. Resigned, he stepped out onto the porch and finished what Nature had started. It was a piss poor substitute for the real thing, but at least he felt sane again.

He came back inside, bolted the door and washed his hands in the basin. Ruby lay in her box, eyes closed, thumb in her mouth. Leaning down, J.D. brushed a fingertip along her downy cheek. Instinctively, she turned her head toward his touch. Her lips made little sucking motions. Not wanting to wake her, J.D. withdrew his hand. Maybe tomorrow he’d scour the town for some paint to fancy up that battered old cartridge box. A pretty little girl deserved a pretty bed.

Emma stirred on the pillows. The stack behind her was too high for comfortable sleep. J.D. supported her with his arm while he slipped out the extra pillow. Then he lowered her to the mattress. She slept on, not even stirring as J.


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