"Where're you goin', Taylor?" Seth asked.
"I've got a headache, sweetie," she said with a strained smile, "so I think I'm just going to go home and lie down."
"But you won't get to see me ride a horse!"
"Maybe another time, okay?" She looked at the boy's brother, deciding she didn't have the energy to read his expression. "So if you wouldn't mind…?"
"No, of course not," Joe said. "Stay put, Seth, I'll be right back."
He waited until they were well out of earshot before saying, "There's no headache, is there?"
"Oh, I've got a headache, all right," she said, wrenching open her truck door. "And his car is currently blocking mine."
"Taylor—"
"What? This is what you wanted, isn't it? To scare me off? To put as much distance between us as possible?"
Confusion darkened his eyes. "I didn't think I had. I mean, yeah, that was my intention, but…I thought it hadn't worked."
"If you thought you were going to offend me by doing exactly what I wanted you to do, no. That didn't work worth squat. It's what you don't do, or won't do, or can't do that's doing the trick. Now would you please—"
"You don't understand, Taylor!" Although his voice was low, the words howled with frustration. "I can't get involved with you! Or anybody else!"
"Why?" she demanded, crossing her arms.
"Because when the hell would I fit it in?"
Her breath left her lungs in a silent oh as his agony melted her anger. Her hand lifted to his face of its own accord, tracing the hard lines of his cheekbones, the proud set to his jaw. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw a warning flash in their dark depths:
Don't pity me. Don't you dare pity me.
And suddenly, with lightning-bolt clarity, she understood something else: That she was willing to risk everything for a shot at something, anything, with this man. This proud, stubborn, impossible man who loved so hard, so completely, he'd forgotten how to be loved in return.
Okay, so maybe she was that much of a masochist. But, hey—at least she was a masochist with a sense of purpose.
"Surely you could find an hour or two for yourself," she said softly, then let her hand drop, deliberately, slowly, tracing the contours of his hard chest, feeling his stomach jump as her fingers trailed lower, one knuckle rasping gently over the bulge in the front of his jeans.
With a ragged sigh, he grabbed her hand. "I wouldn't be enough for you," he said, and she laughed.
"First time I ever heard a man admit that."
A ghost of a smile touched his hard mouth. "Not what I meant."
"Then prove it," she whispered. "Anytime. My dance card is wide open." She climbed up into her truck. "And all I'm asking for is one dance—"
"Joe! Where are you?" Seth popped around the corner of the house, bristling with excitement. "Cal said I can ride one of the horses now!"
"Be there in a sec, buddy," Joe called out, then swung his gaze back to Taylor. "You sure you don't want to see this?"
She hesitated, then said, "I'd love nothing more. But this is a perfect opportunity for you to bond with your brother. Without me. Now go move your damn truck so I can get out of here."
His eyes danced with hers for another second or two before he finally walked away and climbed into the Blazer, started the engine. A minute later, she was headed for home, trying to remember where she'd last seen her mind.
* * *
Joe settled in at his desk in the cabin, hoping to get in a couple hours work before calling it a night. They'd gotten back to the cabin a little before nine; not ten minutes later, right in the middle of a sentence, his brother had conked out. The boy had opened up a little, on the ride home, about what things had been like with their father, who apparently hadn't been much more "there" for Seth than he had been for Joe, about how Seth's mom had had to work so hard because his father never seemed to be able to hold down a job.
Yeah, that sounded familiar. But then, Joe had hardly expected his father to change his stripes simply because he'd had a new family. That his old man had walked out on that family the same way as he'd done on his first was no surprise, either. The social worker had said Seth's parents had apparently been separated for a couple years, but hadn't gotten around to getting a divorce. Knowing his father, Joe figured Jose had probably been too lazy to do anything about it. Or maybe Seth's mom, Andrea, had been hoping for a reconciliation. Nobody knew. Just as nobody knew why the couple had been together when Jose lost control of his car and went flying across the median, straight into the path of a semi.
Joe's stomach knotted. And not just at how horrible the accident must have been. One day, he supposed, he was going to have to work past the resentment, the anger. But for now—for the past fifteen years—that anger and resentment had fueled his drive to be the provider his father had never been, even before he'd left them. Whenever he was tempted to slack off, all Joe had to do was remember the sound of his mother weeping over a pile of bills on the kitchen table, the pained look on her face after a phone call from a creditor.
Now, all he had to do was look into his little brother's hopeful brown eyes to know what really mattered. And it wasn't Joe's comfort.
Except Taylor's words tonight had rattled him.
Surely you can find an hour or two for yourself.
For himself. Not her.
He spread out the new plans for the main building—Wes had thought it would make sense to turn the whole thing into a restaurant and gift shop, but Hank was adamant about leaving at least a half dozen rooms for guests that didn't need or want a whole cabin, so now they were working from new plans that needed to adhere to the original budget—but Joe was having a real hard time concentrating on electrical layouts and window elevations.
…an hour or two for yourself…
He had no right to accept her offer. Or even be thinking about it.
…an hour or two…
He could see in her face, in those eyes, her need for a real family, for babies of her own, for a husband who could devote more than bits and pieces of his life to her…
All I'm asking for is one dance…
Joe looked up, staring across the room.
When was the last time he'd danced?
Damn.
* * *
If it hadn't been for Oakley making such a racket, Taylor would have never heard the rap on her door. Poking her wild hair behind one ear, she padded barefoot through the living room, her shortie robe clutched to her chest. Damn dog was snuffling at the bottom of the door, butt in air, tail wagging a mile a minute, "talking" to whoever was on the other side.
"For God's sake," she heard coming through the partially open window, "you're gonna wake her up, you dumb mutt!"
Taylor's heart catapulted into her throat. She shoved the dog out of the way and opened the door, blood whooshing in her ears. Among other places.
She wasn't sure which of them was having a harder time believing Joe was here. But there he was, yep, leaning one wrist on her doorjamb with his other thumb hooked in his jeans pocket, his expression a blend of lust and profound sorrow.
"I take it you're not here to borrow a cup of sugar," she said.
"Depends on where you keep the sugar," he said.
Chapter 11
He came inside, shoving the door shut with the heel of his hand. "And if there's anything in particular you don't like," he added, lifting his T-shirt over his head as he walked toward her, "tell me now, because I do not want anything to interrupt the flow."
She froze, thinking, Oh, man, that is some chest, then gathered a wit or two enough to say, "Not much into chains and whips, but other than that, I'm good."
"I just bet you are," he said. A second later, she'd met him halfway, her heart racing, her fingers fumbling with his belt buckle as he yanked out a string of condom packets from his pocket and tossed them on the table by the front door.
Hmm, she thought, then looked up at him. "You can't be serious."
"O
h, believe me, honey," he murmured as his hands threaded through her loose hair, his touch on her scalp sending her into immediate overdrive. "I couldn't be more serious." Their mouths crashed together, their first kisses tripping over each other, clumsy and frantic, until Taylor wasn't sure whether she was more desperate to give or take, at which point some part of her yelled, Hey! No thinking allowed! Only then, some other part of her yelled back, Are you nuts? Get every bit of this down, sister!
What was this, sex by committee?
Anyway…his mouth—which she was delighted to discover wasn't just for show—was burning a damp, hot trail along her neck when, somehow, a question peered through the haze of arousal.
"How did you—?"
"Blair. We've got until midnight. Is this good?"
"Cheesecake is good," she managed through the gasps. "This is…um…remember the dry kindling th-thing?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, then kissed her again.
Hands roamed, breathing hitched, exquisite aches blossomed in places she'd almost forgotten existed. She was in more danger than she'd ever been in her life and thank heaven for it. Joe's zipper gave way—somehow—and she shoved his jeans and boxers past his hips, took a second or two to marvel, then cupped him. "This is going to be one helluva ball, Prince Charming," she murmured, and he chuckled, and she saw something in his eyes that made her heart melt. She kissed him again, her palms cradling his face, worrying his lip between her teeth, soothing it with her tongue as his scent invaded her senses, making her think wild, crazy, libidinous thoughts. Can't have too many of those, boy.
He growled, clamping his hands to her bottom through the thin cotton of her robe and yanking her to him. They kissed some more, and he finished undressing and yanked her to him again, at which point various body parts were obviously thinking about getting real cozy. By this point, well, her entire body hummed with songs of praise and wonder, is what. Vaguely, she registered Oakley wandering by as she heard a mantra spill from her lips of touch me, please, please, yes, like that, that feels wonderful, yes, with lots of little groans tossed in for good measure.
He backed her against the wall, his chest heaving, touching his forehead to hers. "I don't think I can hold off much longer—"
Her laugh was borderline hysterical. "Joe." She closed her fingers around him, marveled for another second or two, then said in what she hoped sounded like a husky, sexy voice, "This. Inside me. Now."
His mouth found hers again as he fumbled on the table for the condoms…then fumbled some more, then finally broke the kiss to jerk his head around, only to let out a "What the hell—?" followed by, "Oh, for God's sake!" Then Taylor was all by her lonesome, the wall the only thing keeping her from collapsing into a puddle of lust on her floor. Through a this-close-to-orgasm haze, it registered that a naked, and extremely aroused, man was now storming across her living room and yelling obscenities at the dog. Who had the strip of condoms clamped between his enormous paws and was happily gnawing on same. At Joe's approach, however, the beast leapt to his feet, prize firmly clenched in his jowls, and took off to the other side of the room.
"Dammit!" Joe yelled and went after him, dodging furniture as the dog zig-zagged around it with amazing agility for such a large animal. Thinking, This could only happen to me, Taylor lost it, stumbling across the room and collapsing onto the sofa, howling harder with laughter every time dog and Joe zipped past.
"You could help, you know!" Joe threw out on one of their passes, and she finally grabbed a breath and bellowed, "Oakley! Drop it! Now!"
The dog scudded to a stop, gave her an "Aw, maaaan" look and spit out what was left of the condoms. Muttering under his breath, Joe snatched them up off the floor. "You," he lobbed at the dog, shaking the condoms at him, "are gonna be the death of me yet!"
Oakley plodded over, tail wagging, ears dragging, and collapsed in submission at Joe's bare feet.
Taylor cleared her throat and squeaked out, "How many did he get?"
"Three," Joe said on a sigh, sinking onto the sofa beside Taylor, only to let out another curse. He stabbed one hand underneath him, hauling out a nasty, half-eaten rawhide bone the size of his forearm from between the sofa cushions.
In imminent danger of hyperventilating, Taylor fell over onto her side, laughing so hard there were tears.
Only to shriek when Joe yanked her legs out and planted himself on top of her, warm and heavy and looking extremely chagrined. And feeling extremely…impressive.
"Did I really just chase a dog naked around your living room?"
"Uh-huh," she got out on a strangled laugh. "Damn shame I didn't have a video camera…Oh!" Joe swiped aside her robe to nuzzle her breasts, the tip of his tongue teasing first one nipple, than the other. "Just help yourself," she murmured, and he said, "I already am." Taylor linked her hands behind his neck, shut her eyes and let him have at it until he leaned back, his head in his hand, to trace one aureole with his fingertip. And sighed, his warm breath chilling the damp tip, snapping it to attention.
"These are even prettier than I'd imagined."
She opened her eyes, peered down to check, then looked up at him. "Just your average set of 34Bs, nothin' special." Then she cocked one eyebrow. "Hold on…you've been imagining them?"
"Oh, yeah." The grin grew more deadly as he grasped a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and gently squeezed. She nearly jumped out of her skin. "Wanna make something of it?"
"Mmm, um…w-who, me?" she said on a gasp, only to let out a yelp of startled delight when suddenly his mouth was everywhere, and she was laughing all over again, her fingers tangled in his thick, soft hair, the committee cheering her on as she all but purred from the delicious torment of his lips and tongue while his fingers…did things, the things your mother told you only bad boys did because she didn't want you to find out.
Then, as if that wasn't bad—or good—enough, he took one nipple into his mouth and started suckling her like there was some kind of elixir in there, and all she could think was Ohhhh…(the committee having apparently gone silent). What she said was "Harder," and Joe, being the obliging sort, tugged her so high she was afraid to open her eyes for fear her eyeballs would pop out…and then she was floating, swirling in the sheer luxury of having a damn good time, and things continued in this fashion for a nice long while until she felt the welcome slide of him inside her, filling her, claiming her, even if only for these few minutes, just for tonight.
As if reading her thoughts, Joe suddenly stilled, his gaze on hers, in hers, bringing to mind a scene from one of those fantasy martial arts movies where the action is suspended midair, heightening the anticipation of the completed move.
"What?" she whispered, searching his face, hearing her heartbeat in her ears, feeling a sweet echo between her legs, embracing his hardness.
His smile gleamed in the dim light, like a blessing, as he shushed her, smoothing her hair from her face.
"You're incredible," he said, almost in wonder, his mouth meeting hers in a kiss so tender she nearly passed out. Then she wrapped herself around him to bury her face in his salty, damp neck, giving whatever comfort she could.
Whatever comfort he'd allow himself to take.
Then, slowly, he began to move inside her, encouraging her with whispers and murmured praise—not that she needed it, but still—lifting her knees so he could reach places inside her she hadn't even known existed.
But, oh, was she ever glad to meet them.
Each thrust was slow…deep…delicious, allowing her to hold him, savor him, before he withdrew, then pushed himself inside again, slower, deeper…so deep she felt as though he was truly reaching her soul, taking her past pleasure, past sensation into a realm where words failed, time was outlawed and there was nothing left but pure, undiluted emotion.
Then, on a scream of triumph, the first spasm flashed through her, followed by another and another and another and another, pushing and shoving each other out of the way like a horde of children just let out of school. And Joe w
as with her, each thrust demanding more tremors, and more still, until she couldn't get her breath and began to think if she survived this one, it would be a miracle.
And if she didn't, she thought as Joe let out his own hurrah, she wouldn't much care.
Then, finally, the shock waves settled down into little pulsing echoes, as the committee applauded and cheered…and she burst out laughing.
Joe propped himself up on his elbows, his brow furrowed even as a grin teased his mouth. His beautiful, wonderful mouth.
"Have I mentioned that you're one very strange woman?"
"I'm sorry, it's just…" She swallowed down a giggle. "I didn't know they came that big."
He glanced down at where their bodies were still joined. Taylor swatted his shoulder.
"Not that. What I just did."
Sure enough, that got a nice, cocky grin.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She skimmed one finger over his shoulder, then smiled into his eyes. "Somebody's had a lot of practice."
His features clouded; then he carefully lifted himself off of her and went into her bathroom. Taylor slipped her robe back on and followed him, figuring since he hadn't closed the door, it was no big deal. She found him with his hands braced on either side of her sink, frowning at his reflection, completely unselfconscious about his nakedness. Of course, if she had a butt like that, she wouldn't be, either.
She leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed. "What?" she said softly, for the second time in ten minutes.
In the mirror, she saw his mouth harden. "You scare the hell out of me."
"Gee, thanks."
He turned, then held out his hand, beckoning her back into his arms. "I've never had a woman come apart like that on my watch, either," he whispered across her temple. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever stop."
"You're not the only one." She pressed her lips into the springy mat of hair on his chest, then snuggled her cheek back into it. "Really? I mean about me being the first time that's happened to you, too?"
"Really."
"Huh." She reared back to look at him. "Got any theories as to why?"
Everybody's Hero Page 14