by Jaycee Clark
“None of that,” he chided, and pulled his hand back. “I want to talk.”
A guy wanted to talk? “I thought that was women generally, something that—rumor has it—drives men nuts. Isn’t that my line?”
“Hush.” He reached for a chunk of kiwi, her favorite fruit. But, instead he popped it into his own mouth.
“Hey,” Taylor said, splashing him lightly, leaning to the side. “I wanted that.”
“Too bad.”
This time he offered her the green seeded fruit.
“So, Taylor, tell me about yourself.”
She almost turned around to look at him. “What? You already know all about me.”
His head moved closed to hers and she could tell it was in a negative shake. “No, I know what you do, what you want out of life, and that you were married to a completely, utterly incompetent fool.”
“Ass.”
“What? Oh. Fine then, an ass. Anyway, I know nothing about your family and you know all of mine.”
“You know Ryan.” Taylor shrugged her shoulder, and started to lean up to get another piece of something off the plate. Not that she really wanted it, but it would give her something to do with her hands. But Gavin was having none of it. He pulled her back against him and water sloshed around them and out the edge of the tub with the force of the movement.
His breath was warm against her ear. “Don’t run away. Talk to me. I want to know you. Everything about you.”
“Why?” she asked, resettling against him. And what was the big deal? Why couldn’t she just tell him? Fear. She was scared he would think the same of her that Charles had in the end and then that would hurt. That realization made her angry. Gavin was not Charles.
“Because, I want to know you,” he answered her after a while. Something about the answer said there was more to it, but that was all he was going to share with her.
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Your parents?”
One of his hands laced with hers. The other scrolled shapes on her chest and arms.
Taylor took a deep breath. “They died when I was in high school.”
The finger on her shoulder stilled, then continued its meandering. “What happened?”
“I had play practice that morning, so I was up and about early. Buddy Bishop and I were going over this scene that we never could seem to get right for our director and that was the only time we could all work on it. I got ready and went to school. I was running late, so I didn’t eat breakfast. Never even went to the kitchen.” Taylor patted one hill of bubbles down. “The sheriff and one of my dad’s friends came and got me before we had even finished our first run-through. There was a gas leak and when they got up and turned on the kitchen light, or whatever it just . . .” Taylor shrugged. “Just exploded.” As though it was the most important task in the world, she scooped up bubbles, intent on making some sort of wavy sculpture.
His arm around her tightened and the hand circling her shoulder stopped. “I’m sorry. That must have been really rough.” He leaned over and kissed her jaw.
She’d never talked to anyone about it. Charles had always told her to get over it—that was life. But Gavin was not Charles. He proved time and time again without even realizing it. Nodding, Taylor relaxed back into Gavin’s embrace, her bubble sculpture forgotten.
“Yeah, it was. My entire life turned upside down and nothing was ever the same. But then, a couple of years later graduation came, and I was free to pursue life as I wanted to.” She wasn’t going to tell him about the foster homes, the endless round of workers who were too busy to really care. Except for one.
“Then, while working on an associates degree in human resources, I married Charles. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin against her hair, which she’d piled high up on her head. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Sure.”
“How did you ever get hooked up with him? What’s the story there?” He shifted behind her, straightening a little. “I don’t want every little detail, but I’m just having such a hard time picturing you with a guy who didn’t care for you.”
Taylor chuckled, turned a bit and cupped his cheek with her palm. “I . . .” Before the words were out of her mouth, she stopped them. Just like that? I love you. She was going to say those words to him?
Averting her gaze she looked to the right of his shoulder. Taylor shook her head at herself and smiled back up at him. “I’m glad I have you in my life. You make me feel good.”
“Hmm . . .”
Taylor wasn’t about to ask what that had meant. Instead, to fill the awkward gap she could feel growing between them, or maybe just around her, she complied with his earlier question, turning back to her bubbles.
“Charles was and is Charles. He’s a stockbroker and stuck on himself. It took me a long time to see that.” Where to begin? With the truth? “After my parents died, I was sent to a state home.”
“You had no other family?” His voice reflected his surprise.
Taylor shook her head. “No, I was adopted. Mom and Dad were older and had tried to have kids for years. They always told me I was the miracle they’d prayed for. There was a distant aunt, my father’s older sister, but she was much older and wasn’t able to take me in.” Taylor smiled and pulled Gavin’s hand holding hers out of the water.
Suds slithered down their joined fingers, palms, and wrists. “Daddy’s hands were like yours.”
“How so?” Both of his hands picked up water and trickled it over her. Then, putting his palms flat, he ran them from her upper arm, over the sensitive skin of her inner elbow, to her fingers, sandwiching her hand between both of his.
“You’ve got big strong hands. Hands that would work hard for a family, hands that are caring and gentle, but would do whatever necessary to keep those you love safe.”
He was quiet for so long Taylor started to worry. Instead of waiting longer for him to say anything, she continued. “Anyway, I joined the ranks as a number and name and got shuffled and reshuffled until I was finally put with this family that dealt with kids like me. That’s where I met Charles. It was at Christmastime and he came home for some sort of alumni thing this family held every year. They’re really nice people, but I didn’t care. I was too lost to care how nice they were.”
Taylor thought back to the first time they’d met. Funny, Charles didn’t seem like such a handsome man now.
“That was our first meeting. We kept in touch. After graduation he helped me find a part-time job with the firm he worked for. When I was twenty we got married. The years went by, we grew apart and then we divorced.”
“No kids? I mean I know Ryan is your son, but you and Charles never had children?”
He would ask that question, wouldn’t he? Taylor shrugged. “I told you, you didn’t have to worry about me getting pregnant.”
Silence settled between them again. Then he sighed and asked, “What was the diagnosis?” All doctor now.
Though the subject still squeezed her heart, she no longer cried because she’d never conceived. Instead she laughed.
“You are the professional. Actually, they never knew. It just never worked. I never even got pregnant.”
“He was tested?”
Taylor squiggled against him. “Yes, honey, he was. That was probably a lot of the strain. But in retrospect, as with most things, it all turned out for the best.”
His hands cupped her knees beneath the water and the foam. Gently squeezing, he nuzzled the side of her neck. “I would have to agree there.”
His hands on her knees tickled and she wiggled against him.
Warm breath heated her ear. “You know, I always knew I liked you, but the more I know you, the more I admire you.”
“That’s sad,” she quipped.
His movements stopped, and straightening, he turned her to face him, until her ankles rested on either side of his hips and her knees were tucked beneath his arms. She
tried to wiggle out, this trapped feeling warming inside her, but he only clamped his arms tighter, his hands immovable at her waist. His eyes held no humor now, an intense blue, their depths unfathomable.
“You need to work on your self-esteem. Taylor, you are an amazing woman. Why can’t you see that?”
“That’s what you see?” It truly shocked her. It was not as if she thought badly of herself, no. It was more she didn’t see herself as amazing or wonderful—just normal. How did Gavin see all this other in her?
Both his hands came up to cup her face, his thumbs circling her chin. “I see this beautiful woman, who has the most heart-stopping smile, a great mom who wants the best for her son, a caring gentle soul who cries at the pain of children. How can I not see you as an amazing woman? To know what all you’ve been through and that you’re still . . .” A muscle flexed in his jaw.
If he said any more, she’d cry. No one but her parents had ever told her anything like this.
Taylor leaned forward and kissed him. Her hands cupped the back of his head, fingers spearing through his wet black locks. His mouth opened under hers and she poured all her heart into the mating of their tongues, of their breath. She wasn’t ready to say the words to him yet. Not yet, but maybe, just maybe some part of him would know what he did to her, what he made her feel, how easily he could break her heart. Taylor knew she was heart over head in love with Mr. Gavin Kinncaid, but there was no way she was going to tell him that.
His hands—magical as they were—started their spells on her again. And wet with water and suds, there seemed to be no barriers between them. Hands slid and caressed on skin, shocking nerve endings. He touched her breasts, kneaded her stomach, her hipbones. Moving between them, his fingers found her, spread her, pierced her. Soon she was too lost in the onslaught of feelings, of emotions to think of anything but Gavin. Gavin. Gavin.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. One hand, splayed on her back, held her up for him to see. Water and suds slid off her long body, over her breasts, down into the water. He leaned forward, pressing his hand deeper, and kissed her arched white neck. Her moan vibrated in her throat, against his mouth.
“Beautiful.”
When her moans and whimpers bounced off the tiled walls, he held his hand still, waited until she looked at him. Then he slowly started to work her again. He wanted more. He wanted all. Her lips trembled, her legs shivered. Gavin shifted and in one fluid motion, filled her.
Her eyes opened and looked at him. Deep in the amber depths he sensed a change in her. One his mind didn’t recognize, but some part of him did, because he felt the same way. She tried to wiggle, moved her legs, but he shook his head, keeping her legs tucked against him, keeping her open to him, vulnerable to what he wanted her to feel.
“Wonderful.” He moved her up and down, keeping control of the rhythm. Water lapped between them, sloshed over the edge of the tub.
“Amazing.” He pushed deeper.
Taylor never said a word, but the sounds she made in the back of her throat drove him on. Her hands slid over him like the soft wings of butterflies.
He made certain this joining was more than before, slower, fuller, complete.
Her teeth nipped his lips, before Taylor’s tongue darted into his mouth, demanding more.
And more he gave.
Had he ever made love to a woman and stared into her eyes the entire time, hoping she could see what he didn’t understand?
Gavin pushed deeper, worked her on him until her eyes filled and she smiled on a shuddering sigh.
When he felt her tighten, knew she was cresting, Gavin jerked her head back.
Looking straight into her clouded eyes, he said, “Mine.”
And followed her over the wave of passion.
• • •
Late into the night, when all that was heard was the soft sounds of appliances—the hum of the ceiling fan, the whir of the air conditioner, the tumbling of the icemaker—Gavin lay awake, lost in thought.
Taylor was snuggled up against him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, her hair fanned out over his arm and the pillow and bed behind her. The coppery tresses were like soft new flames licking their way across the pristine white sheets. His fingers tangled in one long curl. Her arm draped over his chest, and her thigh was atop his.
The ceiling fan continued its slow rotation and he watched it hoping for sleep, but it eluded him.
What was he doing?
This was generally where he was either ready for the woman to leave or he was thinking how to end a relationship. Not that he’d had as much practice as was rumored, he simply avoided tangles and commitments. Kept things simple. He was busy with work, and getting his practice off the ground so that he no longer worried that he would have to join another group of doctors. He wanted his own practice. He was his own man. His own man.
Maybe not his own anymore.
Turning slightly, and tucking his chin in, he studied the woman in his arms. She was so damn beautiful his breath caught. Long lashes curled like russet crescents against her pale, freckled cheeks. He wanted to run his finger down her nose, over those full lips that were slightly parted. With one hand, he gently brushed a strand of hair back off her forehead and tucked it behind her ears.
His? Well, that was what he’d told her.
Mine. Like some damn battle cry. Where had it come from? Gavin hadn’t thought, it had simply come out. And that was not like him at all.
Wherever the hell the word had come from, he meant it.
Mine.
Taylor was his. His hand bunched in her hair and he tightened his arms around her.
Mine.
What if the woman didn’t want to be his?
There was a thought. So, what of his charm? He made her laugh and she liked being with him. She cared about him. But was it more than that?
Did he want it to be?
Mine.
Yes. Damn it. Yes. She was his and surprisingly he was hers. The woman just didn’t know it yet.
Gavin shifted. He had a feeling that with time Taylor would come to trust him not to hurt her and maybe come to love him.
Love?
Well, if she was his what else did he think it was?
No, he couldn’t be in love. Love was . . . love was . . . Truthfully, he had no idea what love was. He loved his parents and his brothers, his family. But he had no idea about love for a woman.
Attraction, interest, lust. Those he knew and understood, he’d experienced them enough.
But love? That emotion he didn’t exactly understand, not the kind his parents had, the kind that Aiden and Jesslyn had. Is that what he felt for Taylor?
Gavin had absolutely no idea.
He did, however, know that he loved spending time with her, couldn’t wait to talk to her or see her. Making love to her had been like nothing he had ever experienced in his life. The feelings just kept building, kept growing.
With Taylor, he wanted to see her smile, hear her tinkling laugh that reminded him of the stories of faeries in sunshine. He wanted to make certain she was never hurt again.
So did he love her?
Okay, he’d steer away from that question for the time being and just go with the stream of things, see how she thought about things in the morning.
This was a first. He never worried about what the woman thought. Well, he did. But this had absolutely not a damn thing to do with lust or passion. Gavin didn’t want Taylor to regret any of what they shared.
Part of him wanted to wake her up and demand to know what she thought of all this, what she thought of them. But he didn’t, and he was too much of a man to act like a boy.
No, he’d be patient and wait. Wait and see what she thought, how she acted, and what her feelings were, if they were the same as his.
And if they weren’t?
Then he’d just have to persuade her.
Gavin smiled at the thought. He’d have to make certain she just didn’t know he was p
ersuading her, or there would be hell to pay.
But no matter what he had to do, he wasn’t letting her go. Love . . . Taylor was . . . Taylor was right. Simply right.
He yawned, his thoughts finally settling.
Taylor was his.
Love.
Mine.
• • •
The ringing phone jarred her awake. For several seconds Taylor had no idea where she was and panic took hold.
“Hello?”
Gavin. She was with Gavin and he was talking on the phone. They were in his hotel suite and Ryan was just down the hall with Brayden and Tori.
Relaxing, Taylor stretched. Sunlight slanted in through the windows of the balcony doors.
“Yeah, I’ll tell her,” Gavin said, his voice throaty from sleep. The phone clattered back into its cradle. His eyes cut to her before he propped up on his elbow.
Taylor smiled at him, and brought her hands up to rub the dark stubble on his jaw. “What? Who was that?”
“Brayden. He wanted me to know that they were going to take the kids . . .” He looked away then back at her.
“Take them? Where?”
He yawned and shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Gavin!”
He pinned her down. “I don’t remember that part, but they’ll be back about lunch.”
“Lunch? What time is it?” Taylor tried to get up.
Gavin held her down. “I have no idea. Morning.”
Taylor couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Yes, dear, but when in the morning is the operative thing here.”
“Hmm . . .” He lowered his head and kissed her, a soft gentle kiss that left her yearning. “Morning, on mornings off, is only morning.”
“Days off.” Work! “Oh my God.” Jerking out of his hold, she turned to look at the clock. It was after nine. “I have got to go. I can’t believe . . . Clothes? I don’t have any other clothes and I can hardly wear my dress to work.” Taylor shimmied out from under him and hurried to the bathroom.