Well, once a fool, always a fool, she figured, knowing how this man had always felt about her. Nothing. That was what he’d always felt. Not a single thing.
But he wasn’t looking like he felt nothing at the moment. No, he looked like he wanted to lay her out on the hood of her car and taste her from head to toe, lingering on all the good parts in between. She couldn’t believe this was Jake. Couldn’t believe he was actually standing before her—the real flesh and blood man—and not some heartbreaking figment of her imagination.
“Well, um, thanks for what you did and all. It was, uh, really nice of you to stick up for me in there.”
He moved closer, just a hairsbreadth away from actually touching her trembling body with his own. “Is that what I was? Nice?”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a gorgeous little crooked grin, like he was almost embarrassed, and the memory of it nearly floored her. It was the same expression she’d seen him wear back when people would stop him in town and go on and on about his latest success on the high school football field. Mitch had eaten it up, but Jake had always seemed uncomfortable with the outlandish praise, which had endeared him to her even more.
And, oh man, was he tall. She felt so small next to him—so deliciously feminine. “Well, I, uh, mean it was nice to act like you, um, like you—”
Ugh! She knew she was rambling like a half-wit here, but she couldn’t get the words out.
He moved closer, and this time his crotch nudged into her belly. Wow, she nearly swallowed her tongue. Then his hands went back into her hair, the same way they had inside the store, and her heart nearly stopped at the thought that now he might kiss her.
Yes! Right here! Right now! This very instant, please!
“I wasn’t trying to be nice. I was trying to put that jealous—”
“Jealous? Wanda Merton’s never been jealous a day in her life!”
His fingers tightened, thumbs moving at her temples in a slow, seductive touch that he probably thought would relax her, but had the complete opposite effect, making her want to just crawl all over him like a wild woman. Her hands fisted at her sides to keep from grabbing anything she wasn’t supposed to touch. And damn it—that was probably all of him.
His face lowered, their noses nearly brushing, and from this close Taylor could see all the brilliant streaks of light green star-bursting through the darker jade of his eyes. They were so incredibly beautiful. When she got home, she was going to paint them so she wouldn’t forget a single enthralling detail.
“She’s always been jealous of you, Taylor. Just like all the other two-faced women in this town who hated you for being beautiful and smart and talented. Who hated the way every guy watched your little fuck-me body every time you walked by. Haven’t you figured it out yet, after all this time? They’re all spitting with jealousy. All but green with it, honey.”
Jake watched her beautiful eyes go wide with shock at his words, her expression completely disbelieving.
“Jake, what are you talking about?” she laughed, the sound shaky and strained. “Just look at me. It really was sweet of you to pretend for Wanda’s benefit, but you’re the one who used to tell everybody I looked like a scrawny runt. Mitch said you didn’t know how he could stomach being seen with me when we’d go out together.”
Jake laughed too, but it was a dark, rough sound that touched a place deep inside of her—someplace that had never been touched before. “He said all that, did he?”
She nodded, at least as much as she could with his hands holding her head, his thumbs still circling her temples.
“And what if I told you everything he said was a lie, Taylor? Would you believe me? He used to give me piles of bullshit about you too. About how you thought I was stuck on myself and dumber than shit. But I’m not buying it anymore, sweetheart. What if I told you everything I said to Wanda was the truth, and that I’ve spent the last ten years of my life wanting it—craving it?”
His voice lowered, his forehead dropping forward to rest against her own. “What if I told you I’ve wanted to get inside your pants and fuck you from the second I set eyes on you in school? Hell, you were barely sixteen when I first saw you, and I still wanted to take you home with me and lay you out on my bed and shove my face between your legs, just eating you out for hours on end. I never even thought about doing that to a girl until I met you, Taylor.”
She tried to say something, but all that came out was some sort of hoarse, choked whimper. A small, needy sound of hunger and disbelief. But she wanted to believe. Oh, man, did she ever.
Then he pressed his mouth against her own. Hot and sweet and electric, a sensual assault of textures and tastes, and she knew she was going to die. Right there in the middle of Lincoln Street, in front of Mason’s Groceries, Taylor Moore was going to die from the rapturous ecstasy of being kissed by Jake Farrell. The heart stopping moment was going to happen any second now.
His lips molded hers, eating at them, but not pushing inside. Not yet. “You can believe me, Taylor. It’s true,” he whispered hotly against her mouth, unable to get enough of her intoxicating taste. It was the one flavor he’d always hungered for and never found in any other woman.
“Mitch was a lying bastard because he could see how much I wanted you and it drove him crazy,” he rasped, rubbing his lips against hers, marveling at their silky petal softness. “Nearly as crazy as it drove me to think of you with him, letting him touch you and kiss you and fuck you the way I wanted—no, needed to.”
What? “But he didn’t. I mean—I never slept with him until after we were married, Jake. Not till after you were gone.”
His head lifted, hands tightening to hold her in place. “You don’t have to lie to me, Taylor. Mitch told me the two of you screwed like rabbits every chance you got. That you would ride him so hard he couldn’t see straight!”
He looked angry now, and she couldn’t find the air to finish explaining. “But I never slept with him. Not back then. Not when we were dating.”
His high cheekbones were slashed with color, voice little more than a snarl. “I’m beginning to think there isn’t a damn thing that miserable bastard didn’t lie about.”
Taylor shook her head in a frantic motion, trying to make him understand. She could feel the rage simmering just beneath the hot surface of his skin, his fingers trembling against her face—and everything within her longed to soothe him. She wanted to be the woman to wrap him up in her arms and gentle his anger, but this was neither the time nor place. And no matter how strongly she wished it otherwise, she wasn’t his woman.
The streets were thankfully empty at this early hour, but soon everyone would be coming into town and she knew they’d draw a crowd. No one around here had ever expected to see Jake Farrell yelling at her about being—er, uh, ridden by Mitch.
No, wait. She was the one who’d supposedly done the riding.
Yeah, right.
Since she couldn’t look away because of his hold on her, she closed her eyes instead, trying to regain at least a modicum of control. “Jake, what are we doing? This is crazy. I have to go, and I’m sure you have to get to whatever brought you back to town.”
What had brought him back? Man, she really wanted to know.
Jake released his hold on her face, only to move his big hands to her shoulders, curling around the delicate slopes. His fingers slipped beneath the edges of her sleeveless shirt, smoothing over satiny skin that felt softer than silk. “I’ll follow you home, then. We’ll finish this there. My Uncle Mark told me you live in the old Tupelo place now.”
Taylor nibbled on her full lower lip, looking adorably befuddled. The knot in his shaft doubled, thinking of the moment when she’d close those soft lips around the head of his cock and nibble on him instead. Aw, hell, he was gonna come in his pants if he didn’t get inside her soon. And knowing it wasn’t going to happen any time soon made him want to cry like a friggin’ baby.
“Jake, you don’t have to follow me home. I’ll be fine. You ca
n go on and do your thing. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He couldn’t stop the wicked grin spreading across his face. “The only thing I’m worried about, Taylor, is how long you’re going to make me wait before crawling into bed with me.”
Heat was blazing from her face now, her expression so cute and wonderfully confused.
“Jake, what are you talking about?” Her hand lifted to her forehead, rubbing as if she had a sudden headache pounding there. “God, I’m not awake enough for this. What are you doing here? Did you come back just to drive me crazy? Is this some kind of game? A joke?”
His hands trailed down her sides to settle at her waist, and he loved the way he could bracket her slim curves with his big hands. Everything about this woman, all the things she’d always hated about herself, turned him on to the point of pain. It was just one of those primitive, testosterone things. Her slight curves and delicate features just made him want to go all caveman on her.
For years he’d fantasized about being the man to rip away her pristine façade, stripping away all those cool layers of self-control until she was writhing like a maddened animal beneath him. An insatiable little creature that demanded he make her cream and scream and fuck her till she couldn’t even remember her name.
Whenever he’d thought of how sex should be, he’d always thought of Taylor. Hell, probably a minute hadn’t gone by in the past ten years that he hadn’t thought about wanting her. And God help her, he had a decade of raunchy, lust-filled fantasies saved up to spend inside of her.
When he’d first left town, he’d been young and angry and confused, and for a long time he’d been stupid enough to think he’d be able to screw this woman out of his system. But it’d never worked. He knew without bragging that he could make a woman very, very happy in bed, but every woman he’d ever known came up short when compared to Taylor Moore. There was a part of him, something deep inside that had always been locked away, saving itself for her, and no amount of mindless fucking had been able to release it.
It just wasn’t ever going to be enough until it was Taylor beneath him, screaming his name, raking her slender nails down his back while he broke her open, pounding her through the mattress or wall or wherever the hell else she’d let him fuck her. How many times had he fantasized about spreading her legs and plowing into her, watching the entire thing, seeing his thick cock stretch her open, feeling her pussy suck him in?
It’d be a penetration that went deeper than her body, straight into her soul.
He wanted to be able to take her right now. Just carry her over to his truck, toss her up in the back seat, and make love to her till they were both too dead to move. And that was just for starters. Like he’d said, he had a lot of time to make up for, and the rest of his life to do it.
But she was still too skittish. He fought the urge to drag his hands down the slope of her spine until they rested on that perfect little heart-shaped ass he’d always loved, knowing she’d probably pass out on him. Her pupils were dilated and she wasn’t breathing quite right, and he couldn’t help but feel like an arrogant prick for loving the way she reacted to him so easily. He’d barely even touched her and already she looked as if she’d convulse with pleasure.
Taylor licked her lips and tasted Jake there. A strange wave of peace buffeted her body. It was so odd. She’d never been kissed by Jake Farrell before, and yet, he tasted so wonderfully familiar. Warm and sweet and delicious, as if he’d been made just for her.
“Why are you here?” she whispered, trapped within his glittering green gaze. There were promises there she didn’t dare trust herself to believe. She couldn’t do it, not if she didn’t want to be left shattered when he walked back out of her life. But she was helpless to look away. “What do you want from me, Jake?”
To hell with it. A man could only take so much, and a desperate man even less. She squealed the instant his hands grabbed hold of her backside, pulling her up against the searing heat of his body. Perfect, he thought. They were going to be so fucking good together.
“I came back for this,” he growled, kneading the firm, resilient muscles beneath his palms while grinding his cock against her mound. The feel of her was incredible. Soft and sleek and beautiful. And his. One hundred percent, irrevocably, undeniably his. “I came back for you, Taylor.”
“You’re crazy,” she groaned.
“No, sweetheart, I’m determined.”
Chapter 3
Jake followed her to the old Victorian on the edge of town, replaying every word of their exchange through his mind. What was she thinking? He knew he needed to be careful—knew she didn’t come anywhere close to trusting him yet. It was just so hard when he got near her, both literally and figuratively. This thing between them was stronger than ever, stronger than even he’d expected. But at least he’d been expecting it. Taylor must feel like she’d just been blindsided.
He pulled in behind her in the long driveway, taking in all the telling details of her home at once. It was picture perfect, like something from a fairy tale—dark green with salmon pink shutters, a lush garden and an explosion of vibrant flowers from one end of the house to the other. They spilled from huge wooden tubs, hung from moss-lined baskets, scenting the morning air with their heady perfume. He loved it. If the house weren’t here in Westin, he’d move here to live with her in a heartbeat.
But there was no way in hell he was going to stay here, not with the likes of Mitch and Wanda and the rest of his gang clouding their happiness. Taylor deserved a new beginning, and he was willing to move heaven and earth to give it to her. Hell, he could relocate his business to wherever she wanted, and when they got there, he’d build her a perfect replica of this place, right down to the Victorian eaves and cobblestone walkway.
With his body thrumming with anticipation and his cock all but crying to get at her, Jake climbed out of his F350. Taylor shot him a shy smile as she opened the front door, and he followed her through the dim, lemon-scented rooms back to the kitchen. She motioned for him to take a chair at the table, but stayed standing herself, putting the entire distance of the world between them.
She shifted uncomfortably, folding and unfolding her arms around her slim waist as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. Maybe she was itching to grab him as badly as he wanted to grab hold of her and toss her up on the gleaming pinewood table. God, he could only hope so. Then he’d rip her jeans off, shove his face in her sweet little cunt, and eat her for breakfast. He’d give her whatever she wanted, however she wanted it, for as long as she could take it. Then it was going to be his turn. And he planned to take a long, hard, sweaty time.
“Do you, um, want some coffee?” she finally asked, interrupting his ill-timed fantasy. Her eyes focused on his chin, his chest, anywhere but his telling green stare. Now that they were completely alone, she wasn’t quite able to meet the lust-driven fire smoldering there. “Or some breakfast?”
Hell yeah, he thought with a hungry groan. I’d like to open your soaked pussy with my thumbs and taste you from your clit to your slit, licking my way as deep into you as I can.
Whoa. What was it with him and this sudden oral fixation? Hell, he liked going down on a woman as well as the next guy—but he’d never felt this burning, gut-clawing ache for the taste of a woman’s cunt in his entire life, like he’d go nuts without it. He felt himself actually tremble, barely managing to mumble, “Yeah, some coffee would be great.”
“Okay, great,” she repeated too brightly, obviously relieved to have something to do.
It was easy to see he was making her nervous as hell. Not that he blamed her. He’d meant to be subtle, to ease into this, but one look at her and he was tumbling hard and fast, unable to put on the friggin’ brakes. He should’ve known that after all this time he wouldn’t be able to play it cool around her. It was all he could do to keep his ass in his chair and not drop to his knees on the hardwood boards, begging like a fool.
But he’d do it if he had to. No one who’d
ever known him would’ve ever believed it. He knew he had a badass, ruthless reputation, not to mention a notoriously wicked one with women. But he’d do whatever it took to make Taylor Moore his own.
Beg.
Plead.
Anything.
She moved about the airy kitchen with the smooth grace that had dazzled him as a boy and seduced him as a man. She was just so perfectly delicate and precise; it made a guy ache to watch her go all flushed and ripe, begging for him to shove his cock into her and ride her as hard as he dared. He watched the elegant lines of her body in profile as she leaned up to pull down two thick, terracotta colored mugs, and her shirt rose just high enough to give him a brief glimpse of the pale skin between its hem and her jeans.
Well, hell. His cock was on the verge of bursting open and he hadn’t even seen anything more than a smooth inch of skin yet.
But it was Taylor’s naked flesh he was seeing, and that right there made all the difference. “This was a mistake,” he groaned into the heavy silence. “We can’t do this here.”
She gave him an uneasy look. “Do what?”
“Talk,” he grumbled, watching the way the early morning rays of sunlight glinted through the windows, setting the red highlights in her long dark hair on fire. “All I keep thinking about is how we’re alone and how much I want to be inside of you. But you’re not ready yet. We need to get all this shit out in the open first, before we make love.”
She wasn’t ready? Make love?
Man, she really needed more sleep if she was going to be able to keep up with his lightening-speed pace. Why had she stayed up half the night painting? She should’ve been saving her strength! Was it not even thirty minutes since Jake had walked up behind her in Mason’s and started turning her entire world upside down?
Waiting For It Page 2