He closed his eyes and put his head back, dipping to run his hand between her legs. Stroking her clitoris, testing how wet she was. How hot.
“Come first, before I do you,” he told her. “So I can watch.”
He withdrew, then came back at her from the front. She moved with his hand, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
“Does it make you feel out of control?”
She nodded, then gasped as he pressed a finger deep inside. He shoved her up on that cliff edge ready to dive off, then pulled her head back by her hair and kissed her. Long, deep strokes of his tongue in time with his finger.
“Come on, baby. Open your eyes and watch.” He held her face to his cheek and made her watch herself.
Her skin flushed to pink. She breathed through her mouth, small pants, soft moans. Then she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Squeezing them shut, she cried out, soft and low, as her orgasm pulsed up from his touch and shot through. She trembled, would have fallen if he hadn’t wrapped an arm beneath her breasts.
He licked her ear and rocked against her bottom.
They weren’t done, far from done. “I want you inside me.”
“Your wish is my command.” Leaning back, he bent her forward with his hand on her spine, then dipped and spread her to receive him. Hot and hard, he filled her. She wanted to close her eyes to savor the feel of him, how easily he slid inside, how perfectly he fit. But more, she wanted to watch his expression.
Hair rumpled on one side where he’d rubbed against her cheek. His mouth open to grab air. His eyes half-lidded as he buried himself in her heat.
“That feels so fucking good. I missed it so bad.”
She held onto the edge of the sink as he began to move, thrusting high, withdrawing, pushing her up to the brink again.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
Rich brown eyes the color and depth of the earth itself. She reached back, pulled his face to her throat and threaded her fingers through his hair as soft and as thick as fur.
Over her shoulder, he watched as he pumped inside. So hot. So good. So strong.
He put a finger to her clitoris and she flew clear through the roof. Biting down on her throat, he came, pulsing inside her even as he thrust one last time, hard and high and deep, then held her tight to his body.
Their hearts raced together, their breath mingling. Taylor floated back down to earth in his arms. And opened her eyes to stare at their reflection.
Lou stood behind her, holding her.
For a brief moment, he looked so much like Lou, she thought she was dreaming.
But it wasn’t Lou. It was Jace. And Lou had never made her feel the way Jace did. Never. Not even in the beginning.
Jace tipped his head. “What?”
She swallowed. Lou had never made her want to throw all thought and caution to the winds.
“That was good,” she whispered. Lou had never taken her so completely out of herself.
“Yeah. Fucking perfect,” Jace murmured, turning to kiss the slight red mark his bite had left.
Lou had never made sex perfect.
She’d fallen in love with him the day she met his family. His mother, his father, his loud, obnoxious brothers. His big, open, loving family so unlike her own. She’d fallen in love with all of them. She’d wanted them for her very own.
Lou had been the way to make sure they loved her, too. But he’d never made her feel the way Jace did.
“What’s going on in that mind of yours?”
Jace made her hot, bothered, crazy, needy, wonderful, wanted. He made her feel like a woman. Not just somebody’s mother or somebody’s wife. But somebody’s lover. His lover.
She was too unsure of her newfound realizations to answer.
“You’re getting freaky, Taylor.” He pushed inside her, as if he thought she needed reminding that he was there.
She couldn’t forget. She wanted him again. She wanted to taste him, swallow him, keep him inside.
She’d loved Lou, had thought she’d fall apart when he died, but he’d never made her ache for one more touch. Not the way Jace did. She tried telling herself it was just sex. Because it had been so long. And she’d been so needy. But it was so much more.
Lord. Jace. She closed her eyes and pulled in a long, deep breath until her chest hurt.
She’d loved Lou. But she’d loved his family more. Now suddenly, Jace had become more important to her than Lou had ever been. The disloyalty of it ate at her from the inside out.
More than the family stood between them. Lou himself did. The way he’d died. The way Jace felt about that. She didn’t know if she had the courage to talk to him about it. If she ever would.
She didn’t know if she had the courage to admit she’d never loved Lou the way she should have.
* * * * *
She scared the shit out of him.
He pulled out of her, aching to stay, then tossed the condom in the toilet, flushed, and did up his pants.
She shimmied her skirt down, not meeting his eyes. “You looked like Lou for a minute.”
Christ. Shit. Lou. His dead brother. The brother he let down. The brother he let die.
What the hell did he expect? He’d been doing her for a week. Lou was years ahead of him. She wouldn’t forget Lou, not after a week. Or a month. Maybe not even a lifetime.
“I’m not my brother’s replacement.” He wanted to ram his hands through his hair. He wanted to lay her down on the floor and fuck her until she didn’t remember who the hell Lou was.
“I know you’re not Lou.”
What did that mean?
She pulled her skirt down and smoothed her hair. “I have to think. I need to think.”
Don’t think. Please don’t think. Don’t remember. Choose me. He wanted to howl like a wounded animal. He would pay for what he did to Lou for the rest of his life. He deserved to pay. But he couldn’t stand here and watch her slip away from him.
“I gotta go. I’m meeting Dad and the guys out in Bentonville.”
He’d seen his mother driving away and had known Taylor would be alone. He’d taken to carrying the goddamn condoms in his pocket, but she’d been the one to yank the rug out from under him, dragging him into the bathroom. For a minute, he’d freaked out, but then he’d been lost in her. Until she remembered Lou.
He unlocked the door.
“Jace.”
Christ. She was going to tell him she couldn’t do this again. She was going to tell him to take a hike. Couldn’t she tell he was dying here? If he turned to her, he’d wrap his hands in her hair and drag her with him kicking and screaming.
“What?”
“Kiss me before you go.”
He couldn’t breathe. He closed his eyes and squeezed the doorknob until his hand was close to the breaking point.
“Please, Jace.”
She ran her finger down his arm in the softest caress. Taken in by her touch, he did what she asked without a clue to its meaning. Don’t-ever-let-me-go kiss? Or good-bye kiss?
Cupping her face, he stroked her lips with his tongue. Then he took her mouth with all the love in his heart. She didn’t touch him with anything but her mouth, yet that kiss was the sweetest damn thing he’d ever tasted.
He let go and backed out of the bathroom.
“Thank you, Jace.”
“Don’t thank me.” What does it all mean, Taylor?
At the door of the kitchenette, he ran smack dab into Connie.
Startled, she bounced back like a little butter ball despite the fact that she was a tiny thing.
“Jace”—she tilted her head around his arm—“where’re Evelyn and Taylor?”
How long had Connie been standing there? Behind her, the front door stood open. She’d dumped her bag on Taylor’s desk.
“Mom’s gone to the bank, and Taylor’s getting some coffee.”
Taylor appeared, coffee in hand. “Hey, Connie, what’s up?”
Cool as an ice queen. Those minutes in the bathroom might ne
ver have happened. He, on the other hand, hadn’t sewn his heart back together yet. “Gotta go.”
Connie didn’t move out of his way. He was in the mood to brush her aside.
She looked from him to Taylor and back again, then got that little Connie-flash in her eyes. Connie-the-know-it-all. Connie-the-I-know-your-secret. Mitch’s wife packed a punch into every look.
“Taylor, I came by to ask if you’d let me have the boys tonight. Peter wants a sleepover because it’s the last day of school. He wants to celebrate.” She gave Jace another Connie-flash, this one saying she was setting him up but good. “I know that means you’ll be all alone tonight, but pretty please.”
That said it all. Connie knew something was up. He checked his jeans. Thank Christ his zipper was closed. Connie had her teeth into something, and pretty soon his mother, father, and brothers would know Connie had almost caught Taylor and Jace doing...something. He didn’t give a flying rat’s ass. If it was out in the open, Taylor wouldn’t be able to hide from it either. She’d have to make up her mind.
He’d need to ask her the question first.
“Of course, the boys can come over.” Taylor hadn’t moved, neither closer to him nor farther from him. “I don’t mind being alone for a night.”
He glanced at her, only to find the look in her eyes unreadable.
Well, she wouldn’t be alone tonight. Then tomorrow morning, he’d ask his question, and she’d need to figure out her answer.
He couldn’t stand sharing her anymore. Not even with her husband.
Chapter Ten
“Now what did you really come over for, Connie?” Because Connie could have called to invite the boys for a sleepover.
Just like that, Connie burst into tears, where moments before, she’d been smiling.
“I’m not pregnant.”
Taylor patted Connie’s hand and murmured, “There, there.”
It was a blessing in disguise, not that she’d convince Connie of that. Children were an awesome responsibility, not one to be taken lightly. And no matter what anyone said about how three was cheaper than two or two was cheaper than one, it was crap. Personally, Taylor didn’t know what she would have done without Lou’s life insurance.
“And Mitch doesn’t even want to touch me anymore,” Connie buried her face in her arms.
“He must have touched you if you thought you were pregnant.”
“I mean after I told him I might be pregnant.” Connie shifted enough so that her words were muffled in her arms.
Taylor sat back. “You said you were going to wait until you were sure.”
Connie raised her head. “I couldn’t help myself. I was so excited. And I cooked this gorgeous dinner and put the kids to bed early, and—” She threw herself across her arms again. “And it all went to hell in a hand basket.”
“When was this?”
“Friday.”
Friday. When Jace had been making glorious love to her. Well, that was a melodramatic sentiment. He’d been fucking her. Didn’t he always call it fucking instead of making love? It hadn’t bothered her until this moment. In fact, the word was sexy when said in that husky, needy way of his.
“He won’t talk to me,” Connie moaned.
Ah, the silent treatment. Lou had been an expert. But she couldn’t think about Lou now. She needed time alone for that. For reflection and analysis. Like tonight, after she’d dropped the boys off at Connie’s. In the bath—a nice, steamy bath with a tangerine fizz ball scenting the water.
While she waited for Jace to arrive.
She knew he would. He had to. She wanted to believe he couldn’t help himself. How far she’d sunk. Their affair would eventually blow up in her face, but taking him in the bathroom had been an irrevocable decision. She’d chosen not to stop, to have him whenever she could. She just needed to figure out how her revelations about Lou changed everything.
“You’re not listening to me.”
“Of course, I am.” What had Connie said?
“I said my period started this morning. I feel all bloated and ugly and achy and I hate it.”
She knew Connie hadn’t said all that. “Did you take some ibuprofen?”
Connie scrunched her lips mutinously. “I don’t need drugs. I need a baby.”
The truth hurts, but sometimes it had to be said. “You know, Mitch has got to want the baby, too.”
“But I’m the one who carries it. I’m the one up all night feeding and diapering and soothing. I take care of everything.”
“And Mitch pays for everything.”
“You sound just like him. A big family was something we always planned on having.” Connie glared.
Well, she’d said her piece. Connie didn’t want to listen. Done. “What did he say when you told him you weren’t pregnant?”
“I haven’t told him. He’d already left.”
“Well, at least it will give you a chance to work out a compromise.”
“How do you compromise on a baby, Taylor? You either have one or you don’t. There is no compromise.”
“You can compromise on the timing.” She patted Connie’s hand. “You’re only twenty-nine. There’s time.” She wondered if Jace wanted children of his own. He was so good with the boys.
The ultimate quick-change artist, Connie dried her eyes and sighed. “You’re right. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.” She touched Taylor’s hand. “I don’t know how you put up me.”
“Because I love you like a sister.”
Connie sniffed one last time. She was never down for long. “Mitch and I will work it out. I’ll convince him somehow.”
“I know you will.” Taylor wasn’t sure of that, but she didn’t want Connie to start crying again. “What time shall I bring the boys over?”
Connie’s eyebrows popped up. “Better make it around four. Are you sure you’re going to be all right on your own? You could come, too, if you want.”
Right. That is not what Connie had planned. Taylor didn’t know how she felt about Connie playing matchmaker. Connie didn’t really get all the family dynamics. Everything was black and white to her. She had a baby, or she didn’t. What Mitch wanted was irrelevant. Taylor wanted Jace, or she didn’t. What Evelyn and Arthur thought about it was immaterial.
Things weren’t that simple.
Maybe they would be after tonight. After she’d slept in Jace’s arms and woken up beside him in the morning.
* * * * *
Jesus, he was freaking nervous. He parked around back on Lou’s old motor-home pad so his truck couldn’t be seen from the road, since he intended to leave it there all night.
Taylor had turned off the outside lights. The kitchen and family room were dark, blinds closed, as well as her bedroom. The only beacon guiding him, besides the moon, shone from the small bathroom window.
Unlocking her front door, Jace stepped into a collage of scents and candle flame flickering across the walls. She’d left four candles burning on the table. The main bathroom was to the left of the family room. Steam spilled out into the hallway.
He braced himself with his hands on either doorjamb.
The long, narrow room smelled like tangerines. Steam beaded on his forehead. She stood in front of the mirror, hair streaming over her shoulders, torso wrapped in a towel, and her left foot on the counter. Smoothing lotion from her calf to her knee, she then delved beneath the towel to knead the cream into her thigh.
Je-sus. He went up in smoke.
She put her foot down and held out the tube to him.
“I haven’t done the other leg. Do it for me.”
Squeezing a generous amount in his hand, he went down on one knee. “Give me your foot.”
She raised her leg, the towel falling open with a tantalizing sneak peak. Starting with her foot, he spread the lotion up her calf and thigh, his fingers lightly brushing the curls at her center. Taylor shivered.
He started over at the bottom, rubbing in the excess, first her instep, toes, ankle. She ste
adied herself with a hand on his shoulder, kneading him the way he did her.
“You give good rub,” she murmured, her voice a low caress.
“I give good other things, too.”
She put her head back. “Mmm. I know.”
She had no idea how good he could be. After tonight, though, she would. After tonight, she wouldn’t be able to turn him away. He started on her thigh. A moan escaped her.
He tugged on her towel. “You don’t need this.”
She freed the upper edge, and the whole thing pooled behind her on the rug.
She took his breath away. He couldn’t move beyond the simple touch of his gaze on her. She was perfect. Plump breasts, creamy, rounded belly, and dusky curls at the apex of her thighs. Moisture glistened there. He leaned forward to tongue it away like the sweetest wine.
She rewarded him with a sharp intake of her breath and a soft sound in her throat.
He nosed her belly button. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’ve got stretch marks times two.”
He put his lips to each and every one. “They’re gorgeous.”
She ran her hand through his hair, then fisted her fingers and pulled his head back. “You are a freak.”
He grinned. God, he loved her. Like this. Making him laugh. Making him hot.
“Hey, I’m trying to be romantic here, and you’re throwing my compliments back in my face.”
“You don’t have to be romantic to get what you want.”
His smile died. “Tell me what you think I want.”
She pushed her hips against him. “To fuck me.”
He’d never heard her use that word, and he took so long to speak, he knew she doubted he’d answer. He gave her what she asked for. The truth. “Oh, yeah. I want to fuck you. Over and over. Until you don’t ever want me to stop.” Taking her butt in his hands, he brought her to his face, breathed her in, held her scent. “Not fucking ever, Taylor.”
She combed both hands through his hair, massaging his scalp, his temples, the back of his neck. “Then get started.”
She didn’t understand what he was saying, but he let it go. For now. Pushing her to the wall, he put his hand between her legs and opened her to his touch.
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