The Sweetest Taboo

by Alison Kent

  10

  AT THE SOUND OF THE bedroom door closing, Sebastian looked up. Erin, exhausted, leaned back against it, still wearing the head-to-toe black Paddington’s uniform that looked like no uniform he’d ever seen when she wore it. Her complexion was more pale than usual, the circles under her eyes darker than he thought he’d ever seen.

  But she was still an incredibly gorgeous creature and his groin tightened in response. The sensation was one he’d grown to expect and embrace. But the same sort of tightening that clutched at his chest was new, not particularly welcome, and a feeling he had no intent to explore.

  At least not now, tonight, this morning. Not when his current agenda involved more closely examining what was going on with Erin, not with himself. He’d done way too much of that already the last few days. And he was more than uncomfortable with the conclusions he’d reached.

  He shut the window and got to his feet, crossing the room and silently taking Erin by the hand. He led her to the foot of the bed where he faced her, tugged her polo shirt from the waistband of her pants and off over her head.

  She didn’t say a word, didn’t object by expression or body language, even when he released the clasp of her bra and freed her breasts. All she did in return was lift the hem of his sweater and pull it over his head.

  Her hands found their way to his shoulders and she slowly dragged her palms down his chest, circling her fingertips over his nipples then pushing into his armpits and laying her head gently on his chest.

  He wasn’t about to deny his arousal but right now it meant next to nothing compared to Erin’s needs. Leaving the briefest kiss on his sternum, she moved her hands to the fastenings of his pants. He reciprocated and both pulled off shoes and socks and skinned pants down legs until wearing nothing but practical black cotton underwear of the same cut they’d been wearing the first time they’d shared this intimacy.

  But this time their bare skin was more about baring souls than bodies and that realization hit Sebastian hard. So hard he wondered for a moment where and how he’d been so weak as to let her get to him as she obviously had. Erin backed away and moved to douse all the room’s light but for the single bedside lamp. She pulled back the quilt and crawled beneath, pleading with her gaze for him to follow.

  And so he did, stretching out his much longer legs and tucking the quilt around her shoulders, tucking her weary body spoon-fashion back into his. They lay that way for at least five minutes, sinking into the pillows and mattress, bodies adjusting to being together in bed, hands here, feet there, legs working in and out of one another until their breathing settled into a matching rhythm, their chests rising as one.

  “I can’t believe I’m this exhausted,” Erin said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “You’ve had a lot going on lately. Work, planning your party.” He hesitated, added, “Me.”

  She didn’t say anything and he wasn’t sure if she wasn’t listening, if she agreed, or if she was weighing options for easing her stress load. He would be the easiest to get rid of and the first to go. As well he should be.

  And being long ago done with any abandonment issues he’d once battled, he wasn’t quite sure why the thought of her kicking him out left him ill at ease.

  “I’ve put so much effort into this celebration. How the hell is Paddington’s supposed to compete when Courtland’s is bringing in the jazz talent most fans have to pay big bucks to hear?” She sighed but her body had already grown tense. “Half the time I don’t even know why I bother.”

  He didn’t know her well but what he did know assured him she wasn’t a defeatist.

  “It’s not a bother. It’s your life.”

  She shook her head against the pillow and against his chest. “It was my granddad’s life. My life is…”

  She let the sentence trail and he wondered if she really didn’t know or have an answer. He placed his hand on her hip and she moved closer to his body, if closer were truly possible considering he could already feel her bones where the curve of her spine pressed his torso.

  “I grew up with Rory, my granddad. He raised me after my parents died. I was eleven and Rory gave up his entire life in Devon and moved here so I wouldn’t have to be uprooted.”

  Sebastian rubbed her hip, up and down in a soothing motion to work out what tightness he could from her muscles. He adjusted his other arm beneath his head on the pillow and nuzzled his chin on the top of Erin’s head.

  She exhaled a bone deep sigh. “Rory did so much for me and you would think the least I could do for him would be to carry on with what was the joy of his life.”

  Strange thing to say. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

  “I suppose so, but in case you haven’t noticed there isn’t a lot of joy involved for me.”

  Actually, he hadn’t noticed that at all. What he’d seen he had chalked up to the normal stress of running a business, not dissatisfaction at feeling stuck in the life. He gave a small shrug, wondering exactly whether she considered the bar hers at all, or whether she still thought of it as Rory’s. “So, sell the bar. Do what you want to do with your life.”

  “I don’t know what I want to do with my life,” was all she said.

  But it was the way she said it, the exhaustion that went beyond the need for sleep, a tiredness that spoke of a weary soul that clutched hard in the region of Sebastian’s heart. He didn’t want to feel the need to set things right, or the urge to soothe whatever he could of her emotional ache. A few things, however, he couldn’t control.

  Funny how they both seemed to be at a crisis point. His had been a nagging pain in the ass now for several months, rearing her annoying little head every time he sat down with Raleigh to write. He wondered…“You’ve been running Paddington’s for a year?”

  She nodded again. “Rory died three years ago. Once his estate was settled, I worked with a designer on the remodeling of the bar. We reopened last October.”

  He continued to rub her hip, over the cotton of her panties to the smooth skin of her thigh. “Before he died. What were you doing then?”

  She snorted. “Nothing. Everything. I traveled. I took university classes. I have way too many credits for someone with no degree. I thought about declaring business as my major because Rory was always asking my advice, which was a totally ridiculous ploy to get me involved in the running of the bar. He’d been in business longer than I’d been alive.”

  “You had money from your parents, then.”

  “Oodles.

  Ridiculous,

  really. All the money to do what I wanted and I never knew

  what I wanted to do.”

  He thought about that for several minutes, his hand moving to Erin’s waist and rubbing there and down over her belly. He’d known for as long as he could remember what he wanted to do. Hell, he’d made up stories when pushing that little yellow truck through the ashes of dead fires.

  Richie had been the one to help prep Sebastian for college when the visiting counselor had shot him down, telling him he’d be wasting his time to aim beyond trade school. He’d aimed way, way beyond and had put himself through the five years it had taken to earn his four-year degree.

  Five more years and his first book was in the publication pipeline. He’d found his niche, but he still wasn’t satisfied, greedy bastard that he was, wanting more.

  Erin rolled over onto her stomach and propped up on her elbows. The plump side of one breast pressed against his ribs. Her eyes glittered and her gaze probed. “What are you thinking?”

  He couldn’t tell her. Writing was a part of his life he didn’t share. Even being here with her now, this way, talking about life and dreams. He was growing too complacent, too comfortable, and he stiffened rather than answer.

  Erin grew pensive, obviously sensing his backing away. “Do I frighten you somehow? Are you afraid I’m going to tie you up and torture you free of your secrets?”

  Sebastian rolled over onto his back, crossed his arms behind his head. “To
rture away. I don’t have any secrets.”

  Erin’s grin said give-me-a-break with more sarcasm than her voice. “What’re you talking about? Everything about you is a secret. You haven’t told me anything about who you are or what you do or things you’ve done in your life.”

  He stared into her eyes, watching the low-burning lamplight draw silver flecks from pure hazel. Her nose was long and straight, her mouth lush, her lips plump in the way a man enjoyed. He felt an urge to cup the back of her head and pull her mouth to his.

  An urge he forced himself to resist even while forcing a retreat from the intimacy she sought. Safety, sustenance and support. He needed no one to give him any of those things. What Erin looked ready to offer went totally off his radar and he had no choice but to push her away.

  “Is that what I’m here for? That’s what you want? To know everything about me?” When she didn’t answer, when she continued to meet his gaze without blinking, he added, “I didn’t think what we were doing required more than what we already know.”

  Her expression remained unchanged though the softness paled and what he could only imagine was hope faded away.

  “You’re right,” she finally said. “There’s not a thing you could tell me that would make any difference to why we’re here.”

  He waited, tensed, expecting any minute for her to ask him to leave. So, when instead, a minute later, she moved closer and climbed up to straddle his lower body, all he could do was close his eyes, let her have her way and play the part of the convenient dick.

  Not that doing so required much effort. Certainly not the same effort required to ignore how right this felt because this was Erin sliding down his body and not some nameless female or even one who’d mentioned her name before rolling on his condom.

  He tensed further, told himself to relax. Impossible, because Erin brushed her lips down the center of his torso and dipped her tongue in and out of his navel. She nipped at the surrounding skin, tiny bites with the edges of her teeth followed by a soothing bath from her tongue.

  Blood pooled heavily in his groin and he held himself still when he wanted more than anything to surge upward. Her bare breasts plumped against the tops of his thighs and her hands at his hips held fast.

  She moved lower, her teeth, lips and tongue toying with the waistband of his boxer briefs where it rode low on his abs and behind which his erection strained. When she drew one finger from the head of his dick to the base, Sebastian gave up all attempts to stay aloof and groaned from the center of his gut.

  He spread his legs, knowing if this was going to go where he wanted her to take it, his shorts had to go. He lifted his hips; Erin shoved him back down, keeping a hand flat on his stomach. A woman in charge. He liked the concept, liked it a lot. He’d let her be the boss as long as she didn’t stop what she was doing, blowing hot air through her open mouth down the same trail her finger had followed.

  Her fingertips slipped beneath the elastic—finally—and she eased down the band, but only far enough to expose the head of his dick which she summarily took into her mouth to suck. He huffed out several short breaths and this time it was Erin who pulled off his shorts when he lifted his hips and begged.

  She took him fully into her mouth. He hit the back of her throat and felt her lips wrap around the base of his shaft. Unbelievable. He hated to move, to dilute the sensation, but when she pressed her most intimate kiss around him and pulled upward, he followed, thrusting because she made it impossible to do anything less.

  She wrapped her hand around his erection and held him still. Her mouth moved up and down, her tongue swirled over the head, her lips caught the ridge where sensation centered. Her hold tightened, the pressure and the rhythm of her mouth increased.

  And then she slid her other hand between his legs, stroking behind his balls and finding the source of his building pressure. She pushed hard, pushed harder. He groaned and she took her exploration lower, fingering him in places he most wanted her touch.

  But he was going to come and this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be buried as deep in her body as size and position allowed. “Erin,” he grunted, his voice hoarse and ragged.

  She released him, her hands and her mouth moving back up his torso, tickling and teasing until, still wearing her panties, she straddled him. Her smiling face hovered inches over his.

  “Damn you, woman. Tell me you have a condom.”

  Her smile widened and she reached into the drawer of her bedside table and handed him the packet. She worked herself out of her panties while he worked himself into the latex. And then she positioned her body above his and lowered herself completely.

  He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t handle anything else that was slow and easy. He wanted her now and he flipped her over, driving his body deeply into hers. Fingernails scraped down his back. Heels urged him forward, digging into his backside, her long legs moving up to wrap around his waist. She cried out. It hadn’t even been a minute and she came. He continued thrusting, driving, pumping into her.

  His orgasm consumed him. There was no other word for the overpowering sensation of being ripped in half, burned alive, torn apart from everything safe he’d ever known. He couldn’t wait to come down, to finish, to be free of her hold. He pulled out, rolled up to sit on the edge of the bed.

  For a moment all he had the strength to do was sit, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. Sit and breathe and do what he could to pull himself back together. He felt Erin turn toward him, felt the touch of her hand to his back and, before she had the chance to call out his name, he left the bed.

  Once in the bathroom, he pulled off the condom and flushed. And then he looked into the mirror. And he didn’t like anything about the man looking back. The man who lived alone for a reason and had known the first time he’d crushed his mouth to Erin’s that he was making a huge mistake.

  He’d abandoned every one of life’s lessons for what he’d tried to tell himself was nothing but a great piece of ass, when the reality was that he was in over his head, far beneath his comfort zone of emotion with no possibility of ever surfacing for air. Taking her down with him only furthered his sensation of strangling. Which was why he would save her.

  But then he would destroy her.

  There was nothing else he could do.

  ERIN NEVER WENT TO THE bar on Sunday. Never, because Sunday was her one and only completely free personal day of the week. She’d promised herself never to do more than attend church and buy groceries. The rest of the day was for shopping or the movies or anything else she deemed fun.

  But here she was, unlocking the back door into the bar having walked the several blocks from the loft. She’d woken with an insane headache and spent too long in the shower trying to steam it away. The shower, in fact, only doubled the pain’s intensity because the ache spread down her neck, over her shoulders, and wove a web around her heart.

  The resulting nausea had convinced her to skip buying groceries—who could eat when on the verge of vomiting? And, since she’d already missed church, she figured she might as well use the time to catch up on Paddington’s accounting, having slacked off the last three nights.

  She turned on the lights and the ceiling fan low to stir the still air. Dropping into her desk chair, she wondered if Tess and Samantha were tired of her yet. She opened her e-mail program but hesitated before starting a new message, waiting while the usual spam mail and Eve’s Apple digests filled her inbox.

  Erin groaned. She was so behind on reading Anaïs Nin. No doubt the group had already discussed Little Birds—which she hadn’t picked up since reading those few pages after work on Wednesday night—and moved on to Delta of Venus. If she didn’t get busy and participate, she’d lose her spot in the queue for choosing the next author, and she was determined to introduce the group to Emma Holly’s erotica.

  Neither Tess nor Sam had said a word about the goings-on with Eve’s Apple, but she hadn’t thought to ask, being so caught up sending them her Man To Do
missives. She hated whining to her cyber-girlfriends as much as she hated whining to Cali. Besides, Tess and Sam would both be well within their rights to give her a big fat, “I told you so.”

  Not only had Erin not gone to Starbucks for a brownie and a Frappuccino à la Tess, she’d also stupidly done all the things Samantha had warned her not to do. Especially the worst offender. The infamous chick cliché. Mixing up I love sex with I love you.

  Erin had known Sebastian Gallo now for two and a half days. If anything, she was a victim of sex at first sight. More than that would’ve been a true stretch of her credibility as a savvy, independent woman, assuming that’s what she was. And she was. She knew she was. She just hadn’t been terribly savvy about opening up her emotions to a man she only wanted to screw.

  She should’ve kept her opening up to her girlfriends. But she knew Tess and Samantha had to be rolling their eyes that she’d managed to botch things so quickly. And then there was Cali who had her own issues with Will and didn’t need to be hit first thing this morning with a blow-by-blow of Erin’s night.