Waiting For It

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Their eyes met. Held. His mouth twisted with a wry smile, and he murmured, “Did you ever feel this with Mitch?”

  She stared up at him in the watery darkness, wondering why he wanted to know. For all the wonderfully possessive remarks he’d made during the long hours they’d spent together, she still couldn’t bring herself to accept that he actually meant any of it. So then why was he still so curious about her marriage?

  Trying to make light of the question, she forced a small laugh. “If he’d ever made me feel even a fraction of the way you do, Jake, I probably wouldn’t have had the willpower to leave him.”

  She felt the slight tightening of muscle along his body, her breath catching as the next of his now grinding thrusts forced him impossibly deep, as if reminding her that he was the one buried deep inside of her now. Then he lowered his head and kissed her parted lips. “I hate the thought that he was your first. That he ever had you, because he never deserved you, Taylor. Never.”

  She took a deep breath and did the unthinkable, unable to stop herself. “What was it like? The first time you made love to a woman?”

  Color burned hot beneath his sun-bronzed flesh, the silky skin stretched taut over high cheekbones. His eyes glittered, as dark as infinite space in the moonlight. Green ice. She loved the crinkles at their corners. The grooves that bracketed his sinful mouth. All the delicious details that made him the man he was.

  “This is it, Taylor.” His mouth pressed against her own again, then trailed kisses down her throat to rest against the hollow at its base. “This is the first time I’ve ever made love to a woman.”

  He pushed even deeper then, and she felt the passion, the need, rolling through him like a cresting wave; a ripple and flex of muscle and bone that could have terrified her if she didn’t trust him to keep her safe. Jake felt it surge through him and gave himself over to it for another first. They rode it together, letting it carry them through to its devastating rush of ecstasy and pulsating crescendo.

  When they came, he felt tears fall hotly from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. He licked them dry with the velvet rasp of his tongue, understanding their source because the same shattering emotions rocked through him as well. Sleep eventually claimed them again, in the quiet moonlight of the night—and in the morning, she was gone.

  Chapter 16

  The scraping wail of a siren was the last thing Jake wanted to hear. He was so fucking furious, he didn’t trust himself not to take it out on good ol’ Sheriff Mitch McCarter and beat the ever-loving hell outta him.

  Taylor had run out on him.

  He couldn’t believe it—couldn’t get his head around it. Fifteen minutes ago, he’d awakened to an empty hotel room smelling of sex and Taylor and cum. He didn’t know what the stubborn-ass woman was thinking, but she was out of her ever-loving mind if she thought they were finished. Hah! He was going to spend the rest of his life loving her silly and still not be finished with her sweet little ass.

  He was so panicked he could barely breathe, wondering what hare-brained reason she had for ditching him. Surely she didn’t think he’d gotten his fill of her. He’d told her he loved her—and he sure as hell knew she loved him.

  She always had.

  The painful blare of the siren snapped his attention back to the moment. Jake flashed his eyes to the rearview mirror and smashed his hand on the steering wheel. Fuck, this was all he needed. He pulled to the side of the road and climbed out of his truck so they could get this over and done with and he could be on his way. As he watched Mitch climb out of the Bronco, he flexed his fingers, fighting the urge to give into his anger.

  Mitch took off his mirrored sunglasses as he leaned back against the hood of the Bronco, staring out of lifeless, bloodshot eyes. Jake barely recognized him. His once golden head of hair was now streaked with gray, the rough features of his once handsome face now etched with tired resignation. Whatever spirit his childhood friend had possessed, Jake could see it had long ago shriveled up and died. Mitch looked far older than his years, as if he’d lived too fast in the beginning and was now buried beneath the backlash of time. Then again, he’d probably just gone sour on hate and bitterness.

  After several tension filled moments, Mitch’s mouth curled with a sneer. “You fucked her, didn’t you?”

  Jake had no intention of relaying any of the details of his and Taylor’s relationship to anyone. And it was definitely a relationship, whether the idiot woman realized it or not. She’d given herself to him and he was keeping her, end of story. To Mitch, he simply flashed a cocky smile and drawled, “Nice to see you too, Sheriff McCarter.”

  Mitch’s long, lanky body vibrated with rage. His hands fisted at his sides, his shoulders bunched. “Cut the crap, Farrell. Wanda told me all about your little show the other day. You came back just to screw around with Taylor, didn’t you? Couldn’t wait to show up and fuck her the way you always wanted to.”

  Jake took an aggressive step forward, pointing a finger in Mitch’s angry face. “I’ll take a lot of shit from you Mitch because you were my friend once and because you’ve become such a pathetic bastard now, but I’ll pound the shit out of you if you so much as mention Taylor’s name again. You got that?”

  Mitch jerked straight, mottled with fury. “Who in the hell do you think you are?” he exploded, thumping his chest with his fist. “She’s my wife!”

  “No. She’s not. You blew your shot, Mitch. You know it as well as I do. That’s why you’re so pissed. You had the best woman in the world and you threw her away. Tough shit for you, pal, because now you’re just going to have to live with it.”

  Mitch snorted. “Hell,” he muttered, his voice thick with disgust. “I never had her to begin with. She was always so strung up on you. It made me sick, all those friggin’ paintings and crap.” He turned around, smashing his fist down on the Bronco’s battered hood. “Hell, she used to moan your name in her sleep at night. Drove me outta my fuckin’ mind.”

  If Mitch thought Jake was capable of feeling any pity for him, he was sadly mistaken. Whatever hell Mitch lived in had been of his own choosing. If he hadn’t meddled in their lives ten years ago, spreading his vicious lies and trying to turn Taylor against him, they’d have been married for years now and Mitch might’ve had the chance to find someone who really loved him. But he’d tried to trap Taylor for his own, and caused the three of them years of misery in the process.

  “I’m not gonna feel bad about that, Mitch, because you never deserved her. Even while you had her, you treated her like shit, when you knew she was the best thing to ever happen to you.”

  Mitch hung his head forward between his shoulders, his fists still clenched on the hood of the truck. Jake didn’t know if he was going to take a swing at him or not, and he really didn’t care. Yeah, it’d feel good to knock his teeth down his throat, but it wasn’t going to change things. And being stuck with the likes of Wanda Merton almost seemed like punishment enough.

  Almost—but it’d still feel good to pound the crap outta him.

  “So now what? You just gonna screw her till you’re through with her? Shove my face in it, is that it?”

  “No. I’m going to marry her.”

  Mitch took a deep, trembling breath, and then another. Finally he just stood up and walked to his door, pulling it open. With his sunglasses back in place, he turned to face the man who’d once been like a brother to him. “I always knew this shit was gonna happen someday,” he laughed, but the hoarse sound held more miserable regret than humor. “You always did get every damn thing you wanted. Wasn’t a girl in Westin who’d tell you no.”

  “Yeah, but I would’ve traded every one of them for just one minute with Taylor. I love her, Mitch. You know I always have.”

  Mitch snorted again, then just shook his blonde head as he climbed up into his seat. Suddenly, he couldn’t understand how he’d ever gotten to this point in life. “You’re still an arrogant fuck, you know that?”

  Jake flashed a cocky smile. “Ye
ah? Why else would we ever have been friends?”

  The Bronco’s engine cranked to life. For a brief moment, the thought flashed through Jake’s mind that Mitch might be crazy enough to run him over. He laughed at himself as his muscles tensed, like he was going to have a chance in hell if Mitch went fucking nuts on him, but the Bronco pulled into the road and stopped. Through the open passenger’s side window, Mitch said, “I don’t suppose I have to tell you to get the hell outta town?”

  “Shit,” Jake drawled, knowing this was Mitch’s strange ass way of saying goodbye. “Like you could pay us to stay.”

  He watched the Bronco pull away, feeling like he’d just closed that last remaining door to his past. For the first time in his entire adult life, he was looking forward to his future, instead of behind him.

  There was just one remaining detail.

  He needed to go and grab hold of the woman who made him whole.

  And this time, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

  Chapter 17

  Because of his run in with Mitch, Taylor had already showered by the time Jake was pounding his fist on her front door, all but shaking the frame of the house. When she opened it, she was fresh and sweet smelling, with her long hair damp around her flushed face.

  His chest clenched tight. It was nuts, the things this woman did to him. He wanted to roll himself all over her until he’d marked her with his scent again, wanted her claimed as his in the most basic, elemental way two animals could connect. He wanted her to smell like him, coated in his cum, with her own juices smeared all over his body.

  He’d never felt so savagely primitive before, like a red raging beast of possessiveness. And what made it human was the heart buried beneath the lust. The heart that wanted to be claimed just as strongly as it wanted to conquer. The human heart married with the needs of the flesh, secured by love and trust and commitment. Shit, he was waxing poetic here, but there was no help for it. Any moment now he was going to be on his knees begging, and he figured he might as well get it said right the first time.

  Then the crazy woman had the nerve to say, “Jake, what are you doing here?” His noble intentions flew right out the window. Wild man surged forward in all his ruthless glory, and he knew she could see it in his eyes, the set of his mouth. She stepped back, moved away from him, but at least she didn’t slam the door in his face. Jake stalked into the house before she changed her mind.

  She kept backing up, but he just kept moving in on her. He took a step toward her, then another, advancing with the predatory skill of a dark, dangerous animal preparing to strike. Her eyes were swollen and red, as if she’d been crying, and the sight ripped a tear of pain right through him. He reached her in three long strides, backing her against the wall, pinning her there with the delicious strength of his long, muscle-hard body. She trembled as he cupped her cheek, holding her in place with his legs braced on either side of her own.

  His eyes searched hers, desperate for answers. “Why’d you run out on me, Taylor?”

  She bit her lip, trying to stop its ridiculous trembling. She wasn’t afraid of Jake. She was afraid of herself—afraid of making an absolute fool of herself over him. Each time he’d come into her, he’d taken a little more away when he withdrew. He’d possessed her, staked a claim, and her mind had recognized the fact as clearly as her body. If she’d stayed another day, there wouldn’t have been any fight left in her and she would have given in. She’d have given him anything he wanted, including her heart, and even though it’d always belonged to him, she still couldn’t find the strength to acknowledge his claim.

  That was why she’d run, fleeing like a coward. One short taxi ride home, and she’d thought she’d cut her ties to him forever.

  She was holding the pain tight to her chest like a bitter old woman living off of fear and worry and regret. She was too young to have even lived her life yet and here she was, already throwing it away because she was too terrified to take a chance on love. It was pathetic, and she hated herself for this inherent weakness and insecurity.

  She tried for a smile, but knew she failed big time. “Come on, Jake. Did you really want me there this morning? You got—what you wanted.” She shrugged, swallowing down the uneasy pain. “I didn’t see the point in going through an awkward goodbye.”

  His hand moved from her cheek, back into her hair, fingers spearing through the silken mass to hold her in place. “Jesus, you just don’t get it, do you, woman? I didn’t come back to settle some old score with Mitch, you little idiot. And I didn’t come back just to get your sweet ass in the sack, though God knows that’s exactly where I want it, every single day and night. I came back for a hell of a lot more than that, Taylor.”

  Her lips thinned, eyes suddenly flaring with fury. “And you thought what, Jake? That I was just going to run from one womanizing bastard to another?” She crossed her arms, hugging them against her body in a desperate attempt to hold herself together. “Give me a little more credit than that. I know what men like you want. Variety, Jake. Lots and lots of variety.”

  The sound that burst from his throat was part outrage, part laughter. “Hell, he really did a number on you, didn’t he, babe? You don’t have a fuckin’ clue what kind of man I am. Not if you can compare me to Mitch. Mitch is a spineless, sniveling coward. That’s why he ran around screwing any and every damn thing that moved. He knew he wasn’t man enough for you, Taylor, and he blew the best thing in his life because he was so afraid of losing it.”

  “To who, Jake? You expect me to believe Mitch has been worrying about the day you’d come back to town?” she scoffed, finding the idea too ridiculous to even credit. “That’s why he threw our marriage away? Because he knew you were going to come back for me? He was just waiting to get screwed over, so he screwed me over instead?”

  “Damn straight. And he was right. Not that your marriage had a chance in hell of lasting anyway, because you married the wrong guy, sweetheart. I already knew I’d wasted enough time waiting for you to come to your senses. When my uncle called, I was already on my way here. I already had my bags packed, Taylor.”

  “And you knew I’d just be waiting here with open arms? How, Jake? What’d you do, read my mind from thousands of miles away?”

  Green sparks of passion lit his eyes, his mouth going grim with determination. “No, I read your book. All of them, actually.”

  Taylor groaned, mortified all the way down to her toes. Oh, God. It was like a great gaping hole opening at her feet. He’d looked and seen just how obsessed with him she’d always been. Rainier, her King of the Faeries, was the spitting image of Jake, as were Nashtash the Warlock and Ivanor the Gaul. God, she wanted to crawl into a little ball on the floor and die right then and there.

  How was she going to explain this one without coming right out and admitting that she’d been more than just attracted to him all this time? It was too much, after everything else she’d so stupidly ‘fessed up to. She couldn’t take it. This was supposed to have been all about sex for him, wasn’t it? Scratching an old itch and all that. Why was he trying to turn it into more?

  His body pressed closer, cutting off any chance of escape. “I’ve seen them all, sweetheart. One day I was cruising through this Barnes and Noble and there you were. A picture of you and your pretty little books spread out all around it. I bought every single one of them. That was six months ago, and I’ve pored over them every day since then trying to figure out what they meant. When I finally thought I’d got it, I came back. And one look at you told me I’d been right.”

  “Well hooray for you, Jake. I’m sure that’s just what your enormous ego needed, more fuel for the fire.” She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head bang back against the wall, thankful for the distracting pain. God, she couldn’t look at him. She must seem so pathetic to someone as strong as Jake—like a broken little waif too homely for anyone to want, aching for love from someone as gorgeous and sexy and vibrant as him. He was all the bold colors she’d ever painted him w
ith, while she was small and washed out.

  Invisible.

  Transparent.

  She could feel his stare like a lick of fire across her skin. She was shivering, but she wasn’t cold. Maybe it was that strange tremble that came before shock. Any second now and her world would go mercifully black. It was so odd, like floating, if only Jake would stop shaking her shoulders, demanding her attention.

  “Taylor, don’t you dare pass out on me. Take a deep breath and open your damn eyes, woman.”

  Tiny pinpricks of cold were dancing against the backs of her lids, across the tingling flesh of her lips. “I can’t,” she moaned. “This is so horrible. Please, Jake. Just leave me alone.”

  “Like hell I will,” he growled. “What do you think I’m going to do, Taylor? Laugh at you? Make fun of you? Don’t you know what I saw when I opened those books and found my own fucking face staring back at me from every single page, over and over again? Don’t you?”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer, just pressed his mouth against her own and ate his way inside. His head moved from one angle to another, its only intention to get deeper inside that sweet, moist recess till he’d touched and tasted every part of it. It was a consuming kiss. Hungry and demanding, worshipping her mouth with pleasure. And she was right there with him, pulling him in, stroking his tongue with the hungry need of her own.

  No one, she thought. There couldn’t be anyone else in the entire world that kissed the way Jake Farrell did. It was as if he were making love to her mouth, the same way she’d felt when he’d spent all those long, drugging moments with his head pressed between her legs—with his cock claiming possession of her pussy.

  When he had to come up for air, he kept his lips against hers, unwilling to break the physical contact. “It made me crazy,” he growled against them. “Drove me out of my mind to see those books because I knew you’d been just as crazy for me all these miserable fucking years. I knew it, Taylor. It was painted right there on every single friggin’ page, screaming that you loved me. That you loved me, damn it, and I’d left you here! I’d left you with that lying bastard when you belonged with me!”