He's the One

by Jane Beckenham

With Taylor cradled in his arms, Cade turned toward the bedroom. “By the way, did I tell you how sexy you look in my T-shirt?"

  She pulled back then and looked at him directly through heavy-lidded eyes. “Better than my underwear?"

  A throaty chuckle leapt from deep down in Cade's belly. “Nothing, sweetheart, is better than those sexy bits of fluff. You can turn me on with hose any time.” He kicked the bedroom door open, anticipation roaring through every part of him.

  "And the stockings?” she asked as he sat back on the bed and brought her with him. Her sex rubbed against him, a warm invitation he definitely intended replying to.

  "As long as I get to take them off.” And with that, Cade lifted her up slightly, pulling her down in one fluid rhythm onto his throbbing erection. “Once, is definitely not enough, Taylor Sullivan."

  * * * *

  "Tell me something about you?” Taylor questioned as she lay repleted in Cade's arms hours later. She'd lost count of how many times they'd made love—and it was making love. This wasn't just sex. Sex was emotionless, and Taylor knew what happened between her and Cade was full to the brim with emotion.

  Cade lay on his back, bare and blatant, for her eyes only. Just looking at him roused a primal urge in her. His breathing had slowed, but his eyes glittered with unrestrained desire, narrowed and dangerous. Tiny shivers fluttered across her skin, like effervescent bubbles.

  "What do you want to know?"

  With the tip of her finger, Taylor drew ever-increasing circles on Cade's flat abdomen. “How about something you've never told any one,” she suggested.

  His brow furrowed. “That deep?"

  "Think of it as getting to know you. A sort of speed dating."

  "I think we're past the first date, don't you?” Cade said, cocking his head to one side, his steady gaze holding hers.

  Taylor struggled to stem the blush suffusing her face. “True. How about I go first."

  "Thought you'd never offer."

  Taylor, play punched him on the arm.

  "Okay, so what it is it? Are you a closet bungee jumper?"

  "No."

  "I know, you're afraid of heights."

  "That would be good. Imagine trying to put up miles of silk ribbon and afraid to go past the first rung on the ladder. Nope. You'll have to try harder, Cade."

  Seconds passed, and slowly, Cade's mouth spread into a devilish grin. “I know.” And he edged closer, “You're ticklish.” And he lunged for her. Taylor scrambled, but not fast enough before Cade grabbed her, his fingers tickling wherever they touched.

  It was heaven and hell mixed together. “No, no. Wrong,” Taylor screamed, laughing and almost crying at the same time.

  "Yeah right,” Cade pulled back breathless, his face flushed with humor.

  Taylor kept her distance and tried to keep a serious face. “I ... I have ... um ... two left feet,” she said, scrambling for anything—anything but owing up to tickles.

  "I don't believe it. You're a wedding planner."

  Taylor shrugged. “Sorry, but that doesn't mean I have to dance. I organize others to do it, that's all."

  He laughed—a real belly laugh and his face lit up, the creases on either side of his mouth dimpling, making Taylor's heart constrict in her chest.

  "So how do you make sure they can dance, if you can't?"

  "I tell them to go to dance lessons,” she said matter of factly. “Right, that's me, now what about you? You can't be good at everything. Oh, I know what it is. You wear shoe lifts. That's it."

  "Yeah, right. Not,” Cade responded as if insulted, which of course he would be, the man towered over most. He didn't need enhancements.

  He's perfect

  Taylor caught herself up sharp with that thought. Steady on, Sullivan. It's a game, remember?

  But Cade's smile had evaporated and a deathly silence pervaded the bedroom with each passing second. Taylor reached out, her fingers grazing across his bare arm. “It's okay, you don't have to spill the beans. It's a silly game anyway,” she admonished herself, annoyed that she'd started the stupid game anyway, ruining the moment.

  "Can't say I run from a challenge."

  Taylor brightened. “True."

  Cade sucked in a lungful of air, his grip tightening on her fractionally. She pressed herself against him, silently willing him to share. Something of Cade himself—more than sex. That she needed it surprised Taylor—and scared her. When had things had changed—from sex to wanting, needing more of Cade than he offered?

  "When I was ten, my mother left."

  For a moment, Taylor was unsure how to respond. Finally, she garnered her courage. “I'm so sorry, Cade. That must have been very hard.” Taylor had expected fun, fly on the wall humor, not something so deep and insightful from him.

  "Yeah, well, it's a long time ago. Probably, for the best."

  "But you didn't think so then?"

  "No, not then. My parents argued—a lot. Sometimes it began from the time they got up, ‘til well into the night. Eventually, Dad came home later and later, but the moment he did, he would get an earful. This wasn't right, that wasn't done. Not enough money. On and on."

  "Parents don't realize how much kids take in."

  "You can say that again,” Cade agreed. His face had taken on a pained expression, eyes dark and sad as if he'd traveled back to his childhood.

  "I took it in. Thankfully, Zane doesn't remember much, and Katie was too young to know anything, except where the next feed was coming from. Then, it stopped."

  "Just like that?"

  "Yeah, just like that. Mum left. Walked out and everything went silent. Then, my father lost it. He couldn't cope with losing her. Oh, he wailed and railed against her, cursing her to the demons, but at night, when he thought we were asleep, he cried."

  "Oh...” What could she say? I'm sorry? Such words seemed inadequate. Taylor's heart bled for Cade, for his family, and most of all, for his lost childhood. She might have a straight-laced family and be the odd one out, never really feeling she was as good, or successful for their mold, but she knew deep down they loved her in their own awkward way. They just never said it, that was all.

  Cade turned over on his side and gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly. “It's hard to admit."

  "Why? Because big boys don't cry? That's silly, Cade."

  He frowned down at her. “No, that's not it. It's because I saw him. Saw him wail into his beer, wallowing in self-pity."

  "It must have been hard for him."

  "Him! What about the kids? About me? I vowed and declared then I wouldn't be like him. Wouldn't let myself be destroyed by...” Cade pulled himself up short and slammed his mouth closed. He spun away from her, but not before she seen the look of sheer horror sprint across his face. “Damn it."

  "It's okay, Cade."

  "Is it? I've spewed my guts out to you—more than to anyone—ever."

  "Thank you."

  A coarse shard of brittle laughter fell from his lips. “All this deep stuff, Taylor Sullivan, isn't me. I don't need it. Not from you. Or anyone."

  "But..."

  "No buts.” Cade slammed a hand against the wall, frustration etched into every corded muscle. “Just goes to prove, doesn't it—commitment doesn't work. It's not reliable, and I'm sure as hell not about to trust someone else to make me happy."

  * * * *

  Saturday. The day before the “official” day of rest. But she and Cade sure did rest, barely leaving the bedroom, unless, of course, it was to experiment somewhere else. And sex? Well, sex sure was something. Sex with Cade, according to Taylor's scale of experience of the power of one, was awesome. Every part of her ached in a tingly, lying on a downy cloud sort of ache.

  Just delicious!

  Lying on her back, the dewy sheen of perspiration cooling against her skin, Cade stared down at her, his fingers trailing a teasing path up and down her stomach.

  She purred, squirming under his ministrations. “If you keep doing that, I'm not sure
how much longer I can hold out."

  "That's what I was counting on."

  "Really?"

  "Sure."

  "But we've already...” She counted off on her fingers, eyes widening, and Cade burst into laughter, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, so that she lay chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip down his length.

  "Am I a notch on your bedpost, Ms. Sullivan?"

  "Could be?” she answered trying for sophisticated composure and failing miserably as his big broad hands cupped her buttocks, kneading the flesh, pushing her hips down against his arousal.

  "Can you still hold out?"

  "Debatable.” Very debatable.

  "Only debatable? I'll have to try harder.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose.

  "It is the middle of the afternoon,” she admonished.

  "And your point is?"

  "Well,” Taylor prevaricated and wiped the tip of her tongue across her lips. Kiss-swollen lips. Very yummy.

  "If you do that again, I'll have to see if your beautiful mouth still tastes as good."

  "Oh, believe me it does. It tastes of you.” Taylor smiled and licked her lips with exaggerated abandon. She brushed the fall of her hair back from her face, knowing the sheet would fall from her breasts. It did, and inside, her tummy did a roll of anticipation.

  "You could have been one of those artists models for Gauguin."

  Taylor's eyes widened in mock-horror. “He paints nudes."

  "Yeah.” And his gaze slid down her bare length. “On second thought, cut that idea. I don't fancy a bunch of pervs getting their rocks off looking at you."

  "And why not? You going to spoil a girl's fun."

  "So you want a bunch of horny old men staring at you?"

  "Ew, maybe not. Anyway, back to us being ensconced in here for hours."

  "Ensconced? Big word for this time of the day."

  "Exactly. It's 3:30 in the afternoon. Shouldn't you be out mowing the lawn or something?"

  "No lawn."

  "What about fixing that heap of rust you call cars."

  "Rust!” Cade's chest puffed out. “I'll have you know they're classics. Perfection in metal."

  "That's as may be, but it seems to me you have forgotten something. You did promise to show me your etchings."

  "Okay."

  "Okay? You mean now?"

  "Sure. No time like the present.” Cade lifted her from him and rolled off the bed. Standing in naked splendor, he simply took Taylor's breath away. He was Adonis. Tanned, muscled and sculpted to perfection.

  "Had enough time to get a good look, missy?"

  "Oh, God.” Taylor yanked the sheet up over her head, every inch of her turning scarlet, even blushing to the roots of her hair. She'd been ogling all right. How could she not? He was just so darn good to look at.

  Cade tugged the sheet back a fraction. “It's okay. It's a compliment, really. I like you looking at me and what I see in your eyes. Come on.” And he threw her one of his shirts.

  Taylor held it up. “I can't wear this, it's ... not decent. I don't have any clean underwear."

  Cade winked at her and she began to blush all over again.

  "Cade Harper, you're incorrigible."

  "That's me,” he said proudly.

  Taylor put one arm through the shirtsleeve. “See, it doesn't cover anything."

  "Yeah, I know.” And he wiggled his brows provocatively.

  However, Cade did up the buttons, using his closeness to brush his fingertips over her already extended nipples. Then, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he led her down the stairs from the apartment and through the bar. It was eerily quiet, the sort of unsettling silence that settles over a place which is normally so full of life and laughter. Thankfully, for decency's sake, the bar wasn't opened yet, and they were alone.

  Out through a side exit, Cade walked in front of her and down a narrow path to an area at the back of the building. The air was late-afternoon cool and goosebumps dotted her legs and arms. “I'll freeze in just this shirt."

  "Don't worry, I know a few ways to keep warm."

  "I'm sure you do,” she said pettily, though her body heated with the vivid imagery his answer inspired.

  Cade gave her a wicked grin. “Glad we're on the same wavelength."

  The backyard was dwarfed by a large shed of sorts that spanned its width, with a row of three-garage roller doors over looking a cobbled yard. Taylor spied the few tufts of grass struggling to grow between the paving stones.

  "And you said you didn't have any lawn,” she admonished.

  Cade shrugged. “Well, I could always manicure it to perfection and get down on my hands and knees and use nail scissors."

  "That I'd like to see."

  "Anytime, sweetheart.” And he brushed her lips with a fleeting kiss.

  "Not fair,” Taylor whispered.

  "Why?"

  "Because you only leave me wanting more."

  "That's the idea. Tempt and retreat."

  Cade drew a key from the pocket of his jeans and proceeded to roll up one of the shed doors to expose beauty in metal.

  Taylor could see exactly what he meant. Four cars lined the length of the oversized garage. “Oh, Cade.” She stepped close to the Mustang and caressed its curves, but suddenly yanked her hand back and spun to face Cade. “Is it okay, to touch, I mean?"

  "Of course. They're cars. Not museum pieces."

  Turning back she walked the length of each one, slowly, admiring their silent strength, yet each had a gentle beauty about them. The chrome glistened, the paintwork mirror perfect; all restored to perfection.

  "The Mustang I know is a ‘64, but what year is the pickup?"

  "A ‘48. It's been rodded to go faster. And that one,” Cade said pointing to its neighbor, “is a ‘66 Ford Galaxy. The soft top is a Lincoln Convertible."

  "So, you're a purist then, an all Ford man."

  "Yeah.” He grinned down at her. “Except that the pickup's rodded. You sure know your cars, Taylor Sullivan. I am impressed."

  Taylor walked the line of the cars a second time, hand trailing over each. They were all special in their own right, but in truth, the pickup was probably her favorite because it had been the car Cade used for their first date.

  First date. How cool did that sound?

  "They're beautiful. You've done a good job,” she said.

  "Thank you."

  Cade stood so close that when she turned to face him, their bodies brushed. Heat zinged through every part of her, and his stare was nowhere near any of his cars.

  Words failed her. Cade had that effect on her.

  He leaned forward, forcing her to arch backward and she came in contact with hard metal. Cade closed in and rested an arm either side of her.

  "That shirt sure looks good on you,” he said, eyeing his shirt.

  "It's ... um too short,” she said, tugging at its hem self-consciously.

  His gaze lowered to the top of her thighs. “Nope. Definitely the right length. I think you're a bit too ‘done up',” he said flicking one button open. The shirt sides parted, outlining the full curve of her very aroused breasts. Her heart raced a frantic beat, and blood pounded in her veins so hard she was sure she could hear its journey.

  Cade pulled back a fraction, eyeing her with a teasing glint in his desire-filled eyes. “Nope. Definitely too uptight still.” He flicked another button, and another.

  Taylor's breath hung in suspension, lips suddenly dry as any desert as Cade parted her shirtfront. His gaze flared

  "So beautiful,” he murmured. Then his mouth was on one nipple, sucking, teasing her as the curl of his tongue flicked the hard bud repeatedly.

  "Cade?"

  "Mm, baby, you taste good, just as I remember,” he said leaving one pleasured bud for the other.

  Taylor was in heaven and squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the world, only wanting to feel his touch. His hands lifted her easily, jolting her suddenly alert.

  "What are you doing?"
/>
  "Don't want to show the world,” he rasped against her ear. He yanked the rear door of the Galaxy open. It was made for loving. Intimate. Private. The door closed behind them, and except for the thud of her heart as it hammered behind her chest, the world went quiet.

  Reclining across the back seat, Cade pulled her onto his lap. She went readily, feeling his erection pulse against her.

  "Much better,” he said, and began dotting kisses across her eyes, her face and finally, her lips.

  A soft sigh escaped her lips. Things couldn't be any better Taylor thought and gave herself into the pleasure of it all.

  Cade kissing her.

  Cade loving her.

  Absolutely perfect.

  "Cade, where are you?"

  Cade's hands stilled their journey across her breasts and he uttered a few choice curses. “Damn, why now?” He looked into Taylor's eyes, silencing her question. “It's my brother.” He put a finger against her well-kissed lips and lifted her from him. Placing her gently on the car seat he slid toward the door, glancing back at her as he stepped out. “I'll get rid of him."

  Taylor curled into the corner of the car, buttoning up Cade's shirt with shaking fingers. Holding her breath, she clutched her hands to her chest. Her heartbeat was frantic, pounding as if it was going to explode.

  Fancy being caught in the backseat of a car of all places. What was wrong with her? She wasn't some schoolgirl—okay, so she was still relatively inexperienced, but the “back seat"—what was she thinking?

  Nothing.

  Ain't that the truth. Thinking had flown out the window the moment he touched her.

  Sneaking across the seat, making sure she kept her head below the window line, Taylor listened to the brothers.

  "What do you want, Zane?"

  "Just dropping off these car parts from Harry Fontain."

  "Thanks, now goodbye."

  "What? No time for your brother?"

  "Nope,” Cade bit out harshly.

  "None?"

  "That's right,” he reinforced.

  Taylor slid a fraction higher on the seat. Cade stood with his back to her. Dressed only in his jeans, his bare back ribbed with ripcord toned muscles, shoulders broad and flexed, he folded his arms across his chest. But that wasn't the only thing he wore. Scored across his beautiful back were other marks. Scratches. Ones she'd inflicted in the heat of passion, when Cade loved her.