He dropped the bucket, and it rolled around the floor, unheeded, as he began to chuckle. Rose grinned in return, crazy with relief that the fire was out and Bea and Taylor had survived. Taylor waded across the debris on the floor and swept her into his arms, laughing hysterically as he held her. She clung to him, the wet cotton of her clothing sticking to his dusty coat of flour and making a terrible mess. She couldn't have cared less, however. Taylor was safe. The fire was out. For the time being, everything was going to be all right.
"Sorry, Rose!" he gasped, shaking with laughter. "Oh, God!"
She pressed against him, her laughter abating as quickly as it had begun. She could have lost Taylor and Bea. She might have come into the kitchen and found him sprawled on the floor, dead. The thought doused the chuckle immediately.
"Taylor!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Taylor, you're all right!" Desperate and shaken she clutched his neck and stood on tiptoe to reach his lips, yearning for a kiss to reassure herself.
"Rose!" He gathered her still closer. She could feel her limbs and torso molding to his touch as he brought his mouth down on hers. She kissed him, not in gentle surrender, but in harsh desperation, as if the kiss had to encompass everything she felt at that moment—fear, glory, love, relief and a great shattering need brought on by the calamity they had just survived. She felt as if this was their first real kiss and might very well be the last one she would ever share with him. She had to tell him everything with her lips—everything that burned in her heart and lit up her soul. Everything.
Taylor's hands spread across her back as his tongue entwined with hers. She could feel need and fear in both his kiss and the rock-hard way he held her, as if he, too, realized how close they had come to losing each other and how soon they would be tested again. His chin and nose grazed hers, branding her with dust and smoke as his lips claimed her. She wanted to be claimed. She wanted to be his. Forever and ever. But tonight, if she didn't find a way to escape, she would be lost to Taylor, never to know his touch again.
She longed to tell him how she felt about him. I love you, Taylor. The words sang in her heart and threatened to fly up her throat. But how could she reveal her feelings now? It wouldn't be right. Her love would only bind him closer, make him even more determined to help her fight Seth Bastyr. She knew now that Taylor's sense of honor and duty would never let him turn his back on her. And if love were involved, he would probably sacrifice himself to save her. She couldn't take that chance. She swallowed back the words she yearned to say and squeezed her eyelids shut, pressing out tears of frustration and sorrow. What could she do? How could she save the life of this man who had become so precious to her?
The only way to save him was to run from Brierwood. If she left, she would take the Bastyr curse with her, allowing Bea and Taylor to resume their normal lives. The trick was in leaving. She couldn't call a cab. The phones were down. She would have to make a run for the carriage house, where the Jacobys' car was parked, and hope to escape the wild dogs. She knew her chances of succeeding were almost nil,
But she had to try. And if the dogs killed her, she would still succeed in a way, for certainly with her death, both Taylor and Bea would be released from danger.
Resolved to leave Brierwood as soon as possible, Rose gave Taylor an extra hug, knowing the embrace would have to last her forever. He squeezed her back and then looked down at her. All laughter had died in his eyes as well, and his mouth was set in a grim, straight line.
"Rose, do you have to be a virgin to become a bride of the patriarch?"
"Yes."
"What would happen if lost your virginity before tonight?"
She felt a hot shaft of desire course through her at' the mere mention of making love. "I—I don't know."
"If you weren't a virgin, old Seth Bastyr would probably reject you."
"Yes, but-"
"And if he's some kind of vampire, he only comes out at night, right?"
"Yes."
Taylor brushed a strand of hair from the side of her face. "If you lost your virginity today, Rose, when Seth wasn't around, we might just save you yet."
She stared at him, longing to tell him to ravish her, to tear off her nightgown and take her on the floor right now, regardless of the flour and ash. But she recalled the warning in her mother's letter and was afraid to take the chance. So far, her mother's information had been correct. If she had heeded the advice in the first place, she might have avoided much of the trouble they'd experienced. She glanced away, distraught.
"Unless," his voice lowered, "you don't want to…do that with me."
His words hung in the air, awkward and challenging.
Rose met his smoldering gaze and saw two patches of red blossom beneath the dust on his cheekbones.
"I have been warned not to," she put in. "Something terrible might happen."
"Like what?" He cupped her elbows. "Don't you think it sounds like an empty threat, the kind a worried parent makes?"
"I don't know. I just shouldn't do it. What if you get hurt! Or killed?"
"I've never suffered any damage from a woman yet. And neither have they. In fact, we rather enjoyed ourselves."
Rose blushed. "But I'm not your run-of-the-mill woman, either."
"That's right," he replied softly. "You aren't. But, Rose—"
"I've got to check on Bea," she interrupted, afraid that he would press her further. She knew she should leave immediately, before she changed her mind. When she pulled away from him, he reluctantly let her go. She headed for the parlor.
"Rose?"
She paused and looked back at him. He sighed and gazed at her as if he wanted to say something. Then he seemed to think better of it and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "The virginity idea—it wasn't just a ploy to get you into bed."
"I know." She smiled sadly and hurried out of the apartment, promising to look for the emerald after Taylor was finished.
Rose saw to Bea's comfort and then stood near the bed, deep in thought as she considered Taylor's offer. No one really knew what would happen if Seth found out she had lost her virginity. So far, all the Bastyr women had been maidens when taken during the ritual. Of course, Seth would be enraged to find her virginity stolen from him, but why should she care? At that point, her life would mean nothing to her. Her memory would be wiped out, Taylor would be lost to her, and she would be Seth's prisoner for the rest of her life. If Seth killed her out of spite and rage, it really wouldn't matter.
Rose crossed her arms and looked out the window at the sundial in the back garden. What if she ran to the carriage house and the dogs attacked her and killed her? She would never know Taylor's love. To die before knowing him intimately was too painful to think about. What if she did give herself to Taylor? Would Seth reject her? If he did, she would be free to live her own life. If he didn't reject her and chose to punish her or kill her, at least she would have had the opportunity of knowing what it was like to make love with Taylor. Any way she looked at it, she wanted to give herself to him.
With her decision came a sudden piquancy, a compelling need she had never felt. She had to seek him out immediately and ask him to make love to her. A rush of heat passed through her as she slipped out of her room. What would she say to Taylor? How would she ask him to take her? Would she simply disrobe and offer herself? How did one ask such a thing of a man? Her mouth went dry as she hurried down the hall to Bea's room. She walked through the smoky apartment, searching for Taylor, but he wasn't there.
Next she tried his room. She could hear his shower going as she approached the door. Her first thought was to knock. Then she reconsidered and quietly pulled the door open. He didn't call out to her. Obviously he hadn't heard her come in over the spray of the water.
Still in bare feet and wet nightgown, she padded across the floor to the bathroom, which was roiling with steam. The Boston fern fronds trembled in the wafting air currents. Rose paused at the threshold and glanced at Taylor's indistinct form through the frosted gl
ass of the shower door. She realized she smelled of smoke and remembered that her nightgown was plastered with flour and water. Why hadn't she thought of bathing first before coming to him? How desirable would she appear to him? She was crazy to have come into his room like this.
Before she could turn and flee back down the hall, she saw the shower door slide open slightly.
"Rose?" Taylor's tanned face appeared in the opening. His raven hair was slicked back, and beads of water hung in his lashes.
"I—I just came to—" She flushed hotly, losing her nerve altogether.
He scanned her bedraggled nightgown and her face. Then he tilted his head and slowly smiled. "To scrub my back?"
"Taylor, I—" She backed up a step, wondering how she would ever extricate herself from this situation with any semblance of grace. What had possessed ho to come to his room?
"Shut the door and come in, Rose. All the heat's going out."
Thankful that he hadn't asked the reason for her presence, she pulled the door shut.
"Come here," he continued.
She ventured closer, stepping onto the plush bath mat. Swallowing her embarrassment, she looked up at him. "Taylor, I—I changed my mind."
For a moment he stared at her, as if disbelieving the words she had just uttered. For an awful moment more, she was afraid that he might ask her to explain what she meant, and she wasn't quite certain if she could come right out and say what she wanted of him.
"Then take off that nightgown," he finally replied. "And come on in."
He winked at her and left the door slightly open, as if expecting her to obey him.
Rose hesitated. She hadn't anticipated joining Taylor in the shower. She had visualized the act of love as taking place in a bed, with a low lighting and plenty of blankets to shield her nakedness from his gaze. She wasn't anxious to step into the lighted cubicle of the shower and meet him face-to-face with nothing to hide behind but a washcloth or a bar of soap.
"Rose?" he called above the thunder of the shower.
Rose frowned. What kind of coward was she, to want to hide from him? He'd already seen her breasts. And what did she have to hide from him, anyway? She wanted to give him everything—her heart and soul. No holds barred. This was not the time to hang back.
Yet, what would he look like naked? She had never seen a naked man before. She glanced at his blurred shape and fought down the clamoring of her heart. She had to carry this through. She wanted to carry it through. She wanted to see him bare and beautiful, as beautiful as she'd dreamed he would be. And she wanted to offer her own nakedness without reservation. With trembling hands she pulled her damp nightgown over her head and slipped out of her panties. Then she eased open the shower door and stepped in.
She looked up immediately, not daring to take in his full figure. Taylor stood facing her, his back to the spray. His powerful body appeared to fill up the small enclosure. He looked incredibly dark and tall against the white tile. Drops of water clustered on his chest and accentuated the streak of hair that feathered down the center of his firm abdomen. He stood there gazing at her, with his intense, inscrutable expression darkening his eyes.
"Rose," he murmured, struck by the sight of her.
She flushed. Then he reached out for her, cupping her shoulders and slowly sliding his hands down the backs of her arms until her chilled fingers rested in his hot palms. Without breaking eye contact, he drew her toward him as if leading her in a dance. Mesmerized, she let him pull her closer until their bodies touched—first her nipples to his warm chest and then her belly to his hips. The sensation of his hard wet body against hers was like a bolt of electricity that sent her heart hammering out of control. She gasped and reached up, linking her arms around his neck to keep from collapsing out of sheer shock.
Taylor surrounded her in a warm embrace, one hand at her back and one in her hair. Slowly he slid both hands down her back to her rump and lifted her slightly against him.
"Rose," he whispered, his mouth near her ear. "Are you sure of this?"
"Yes." Her voice wavered, but her body knew a conviction more solid than anything she had ever experienced. She wanted Taylor. Every cell in her body wanted Taylor. Her mouth wanted to kiss him, her breasts ached for his hands and lips, and deep inside she longed for him, even though she had no way of knowing what it would feel like to encompass him.
Between them she felt the strange and wonderful length of him grow and harden. She started to say something, but he bent down to kiss her, and the shower spray broke over the top of his head to splash her face and hair. Water drenched her upturned face and streamed down her cheeks, but she was hardly aware of it. All she could feel was the way his naked skin burned against hers and the way his lips took possession of hers. The inside of his mouth was even warmer than the water that drenched them, and his kiss harder than the relentless pounding streams. He crushed her tightly, nearly lifting her off her feet. He had never kissed her this way before, with such dominating strength, and she had never kissed him back with such needful abandon.
Taylor pressed feverish kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids and her temples while the water sprayed around them. Rose let herself melt into him, feeling as if the water consecrated them, as if she were being born again in the spray. In that instant she knew that this moment with Taylor would sustain her to the end of time, and that she would never need more than this to know heaven on earth. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to him and moaned his name as if chanting a prayer.
The water thundered in her ears as he turned and backed her against the wet wall of the shower. She was lost—lost to the noise, to his hot demanding mouth, to the way he took possession of her, and the way his long hands splayed over her hips.
"Ah, Rose!" he exclaimed, lifting her up and pinning her against the tile. She felt his rigid shaft between her thighs and knew the moment of truth had arrived. In a few seconds she would be his. Another electric shock zapped through her. She cried out and lolled her head back. She felt the tip of him against her and wrapped her legs around his hips.
"Damn—" Taylor gasped, surging against her. He dropped his head to the small of her shoulder and crushed her to the tile. She felt the rigid length of him pass across the unbelievably sensitive part of her. When she tried to adjust to accommodate him, he squeezed her rump with both hands and lowered his mouth to her breasts.
"No," he breathed. "Not yet!"
As he bent down to nibble her, the shower hit her full force. She looked down at his raven head, taking the spray as if being anointed, writhing in ecstasy as he drove her crazy with longing. She wanted him so much, that she cried out in supplication. Slowly Taylor raised his head, kissing her exposed throat and her lips, while his hips moved against hers.
"Taylor!" she pleaded. She couldn't stand much more.
"We've got to get out of this shower," he replied. "This is your first time—"
"Taylor!" She raked her nails down his back, arching against him with a hunger that was about to overwhelm her.
"Rose, this isn't the place to…I’ve got to get some protection."
She ran her hands down his slick muscular back to hold him against her. Her breath came fast and hard as she felt him at the entrance of her most private opening. She shifted her hips to guide him closer, and he groaned.
"Turn it off," he said. "Turn off the damn shower!"
She fumbled for the handle of the shower and pressed it down as Taylor reached back and yanked open the door. The next thing she knew, he had lifted her out of the tub. She straddled his hips as he sank to his knees on the floor of the bathroom. She felt the soft plush fabric of the bath mat as he laid her upon it.
"It might hurt," he said against her lips.
"No," she murmured, running her hands into his glossy wet hair. "Not with you. I want you, Taylor." All she was aware of was the way her body screamed for him. She didn't think of the pain, of the consequences, of the moment after. All she wanted was to take him inside of her and c
omplete her journey into womanhood by engulfing him.
"Taylor!" she urged. "Just—oh, Taylor! Please!"
He knelt above her, taut and dripping wet. Then he bent his elbows and lowered himself to her, probing her with gentle urgency. He seemed incredibly big, unbelievably blunt, and uncompromisingly male.
"Don't move," he warned, pulling back. "Just don't move for a minute."
She closed her eyes and reached for his shoulders, lost in the blind bliss of anticipation. She felt his hand on her, making certain she was ready for him. Even the touch of his finger was enough to make her arch upward.
His breath blew on her face, hard and strident.
"Tell me if I hurt you."
"Taylor, just—just do it!" She clutched his hard shoulders. His arms were like columns of marble.
Rose heard him suck in a breath while he pushed into her. She lifted her hips. He leaned closer and clutched her hips in his big hands. The pressure of his manhood against her delicate flesh increased as he pulsed against her. Rose opened her legs to allow him more room. And suddenly he was partially inside her. She gasped at the strange invasion. Then he pulled away. Why was he leaving? Desperate for more, she clutched his back, afraid that he wouldn't keep going.
"Don't stop!" she cried in a hoarse voice.
"Don't worry. I won't. I can't!"
With a grunt, he shoved into her, hard and insistent this time. She felt a twinge of discomfort as his shaft came up against her maidenhead. She gasped as he pulled back and then pushed further into her, all the way into the very depths of her. For a moment he remained motionless, as if trying to gain control over himself. She glanced up at him and saw that his eyes were tightly closed and his mouth was set in a grim, determined line, almost as if he were suffering. That she could make him lose control gave her an awe-inspiring sense of power.
The Haunting of Brier Rose Page 20