Shake It Up

by J. Kenner

  Fear-soaked cotton seemed to fill her throat, blocking the words that wanted to burst out. She wanted to tell him everything--the whole sordid, horrible tale. But it wouldn't come. Instead, she just shook her head. She couldn't do it. Couldn't stand the thought that he'd see another version of her.

  A Taylor who wasn't a Taylor at all.

  She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and then slowly shook her head. "I've told you," she finally whispered. "He's bad. No," she corrected. "He's evil. And if he finds me, I swear to God, he'll kill me."

  He slammed the gearshift back into Park and turned to her. "Dammit, Taylor, you need to trust me."

  "I do." Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, fueled by fear and anger and frustration. She wanted to tell him--she did. But he didn't truly need to know any of it, and telling him would just open doors that were better off closed.

  She sucked in a long breath. "But if you really want to help me, then please, just help me stop him. He's bad, Landon. That's the long and the short of it. There's nothing else you need to know."

  "Isn't there?"

  She shook her head.

  "So there's no reason to get to know you?" He reached for her, then pressed his hand against her thigh. She closed her eyes as the warmth from his touch seeped through her. "Don't you get it, Taylor? I don't just want to help you. I want--"

  "What?" Her word was barely a whisper.

  A beat, then, "I want to know you."

  She lifted her chin until she was looking straight at him. "Then we want the same thing. Because you do know me. That girl from before? The girl who left Arkansas? That girl isn't me, Landon. Even I don't know her anymore."

  Now, his kind eyes looked sad. But it was true. It was all true.

  Bottom line, if he wanted to help her, all he had to do was stop Beau. The rest was just noise.

  For a moment, he just looked at her, and she sat stiff in anticipation of his words. Fortunately, the sharp ring of his phone broke the moment. He answered it, glanced at her, then said, "Glad to hear it. Thanks."

  When he hung up, she cocked her head. "What?"

  "Your security system. It's installed and ready to go."

  "That's great. So I can stay at my apartment tonight?"

  "Looks that way."

  She exhaled in relief. "Not that it wasn't a fun experience, but I prefer being in my own space. Can you take me to the hotel? I left a few things in the bathroom that Mina brought. Plus, I should probably check out, then get my car. I left it in a lot near The Fix."

  "I'll take you," he said. "But I want to go through your apartment first. No sense checking out of the hotel if everything's not copacetic."

  Since she couldn't argue with that, she nodded, then leaned back as he navigated to her West Campus apartment. A small building, it had five units and was on a narrow lot between two larger complexes.

  He pulled into the slot near her unit. Once he killed the engine, she started to open her door, then paused. "You don't have to go in, you know. I can go over everything with Martin," she added, referring to her manager.

  His brows rose, but he said nothing.

  "I just mean, you know. You've done so much already." That wasn't it, though. That wasn't even close to it. Just the opposite, really. Because it wasn't how much he'd done, but how comfortable she'd become around him. And how much he was pushing. Because what if he pushed harder? And what if she caved?

  She could almost see that terrifying future unfolding. Her telling him all those secrets she'd kept locked up for years. Truths that could land her in so much trouble she'd never manage to claw her way out again.

  Truths that could get her killed.

  Except Landon already knew that piece of the truth, because it was Beau who'd be doing the killing.

  Anyway you sliced it, the problem was the same--she'd let Landon get too close. And even though a very big part of her wanted him even closer, it was safer to push him away.

  Silence hung thick in the air between them, crowding the already cramped interior of the car.

  "You're suggesting I just drop you and leave?"

  "You've already given up a lot of your time. I'm supposed to be a side project, right? And Martin knows the system. He must since he supervised the install."

  "Uh-huh." He opened the door, then started to slide out of the car. "Come on. We're going."

  "Landon," she began, but he was already out. She frowned, scooted out, too, then circled the car and met him. "Dammit, I--"

  "No." He held up a finger, silencing her. "You either let me check out the apartment, or you come sleep at my house. Your choice. But you're not going in there without me beside you. And for the record, Martin doesn't know the system as well as I do. I ordered it. I arranged it with the installation team. I gave them the initial settings. You want to understand all the bells and whistles? How to stay safe? I'm the guy you need."

  "Okay, but--"

  "No buts. You say you're supposed to be a side project? Like that's all you are to me? Then fine. Have it your way." She could hear the frustration--maybe even anger--in his voice. "But I'm doing this because Brent asked. And I'm not taking risks with you. He'd have my ass if something happened to you."

  "Brent's not the boss of me." Taylor pushed back her hair, trying to sound calm. "Is that the only reason you've been helping me? Because Brent asked you to?"

  He made an exasperated noise. "You're an idiot if you think that." His soft tone, as gentle as a caress, washed over her.

  He took a single step closer, then spoke even more softly. As if she was a frightened kitten, and he was afraid of startling her. "I don't know what spooked you between our break outside the library and the walk back to the car. Maybe you remembered something. Maybe you saw something. Maybe you're just rolling around too much in your own head. But the bottom line is that I'm watching over you. That's it. The end. So deal the fuck with it, okay?"

  She rocked back on her heels, so surprised by such strong words in that soft tone that she couldn't help but laugh. "Okay," she said, out of reflex as much as acquiescence.

  "Good. Then let's go in." He put his hand on her shoulder as she inserted her key, and she stiffened, hyperaware of the contact between them, and the way his touch lit a fire inside her.

  "Wait here," he said once they'd stepped inside, closed the door behind them, and he'd punched in the code to disarm the alarm. Then he pulled a small gun from his pocket--she hadn't even realized he had it--and proceeded slowly through the place. She watched him move through the living room and kitchen, then heard him opening the closet doors in her bedroom and bathroom.

  Finally, he called to her. "Taylor?"

  "I'm here. I'm good. But can you--ah!" She leaped backward, surprised by a flying brown blob.

  Landon was back by her side in an instant, his gun drawn and ready. "What?"

  "I--I don't know."

  "Maybe you imagined it?"

  She wanted to argue, but then she saw the movement again, and she leapt into his arms, clinging tight. Her chest was pressed to those rock-hard abs as his free strong arm curved around her. She felt his position change as he slipped the gun back into the holster that she now saw clipped to the inside of his jeans. And she heard his soft, reassuring voice telling her it was only a cat. Mr. Patches, some part of her mind realized. A stray that tended to wander into her place.

  Landon still spoke soothing words, but she barely heard them. Instead, all she could hear was the beat of her own blood pounding in her ears. All she could feel was the heat of him pressed hard against her.

  She lifted her head, then leaned back enough so that she could look up into his eyes. "Landon," was all she said.

  It was enough.

  And with one wild, claiming motion, he drew her even tighter against him, so close that she could feel his rock-hard erection pressing against her through his jeans.

  At the same time, she heard his low, almost desperate groan. And then, before she even had time to think, his mouth closed h
ard and hot over hers, taking her in a violent, wonderful, maddening kiss that stripped away all of her defenses, and left only one demanding word in her mind:

  More.

  Chapter Eight

  Landon wasn't thinking as he crushed his mouth against hers, pulling her tight against him. Her shriek had cut through him like a hot blade, and in the split second before he'd reached her, cold terror had cut through him. The fear that he'd lost her when he'd only just found her, and all he'd have left was a hole in his heart.

  Roughly, he pulled her tighter against him until he could feel her breasts hard against her chest. One hand cupped the back of her head, and the other slid down, holding her in place with a flat palm at her lower back. She felt like heaven in his arms, but it was the taste of her that drove him wild, not to mention her own enthusiastic response to his kiss.

  "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to taste you?" he asked, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke.

  "Me, too," she murmured, the truth in those words cutting into him, making him even harder than he could imagine.

  "I want to feel you. I want to see you again--you're a work of art, baby. Will you strip for me?"

  He watched her swallow. Saw her teeth play across her lower lip. He could hear the quiver in her breath before she spoke. "I've never done anything like that."

  "Good," he said. "Do it only for me."

  "Oh." The word was little more than an exhale, and as he watched, a slow blush rose on her cheeks. But she did as he asked. She moved slowly, not intentionally teasing, but the mere act of watching her undress--of baring herself to her bra and panties simply because he asked her to--well, that was a tease and a turn-on combined, and it made him feel powerful.

  More, the fact that she'd obeyed--the trust that revealed--made him feel humble.

  And looking at her like that, her smooth skin tinged with the faintest blush, made him harder than he could ever remember being.

  "More?"

  He nodded, almost too numb to form words. As he did, he noticed that her eyes had dipped to his crotch, and he realized that he was stroking himself through his jeans.

  Swallowing, he met her eyes, and almost came right then when he saw her lick her lips, as if silently telling him exactly what she could do with that tongue.

  "Take it out," she said. "I want to see you stroke your cock."

  He tilted his head. "I don't think so."

  "No?" Slowly, her hand dipped inside her panties, and he saw a tremor cut through her as she fingered herself. "Then I guess you don't get to see what's behind the curtain either."

  Fuck. He unzipped, freed his cock. And oh, holy hell, he was so damn close.

  She looked a little surprised that he'd complied, but she played the game and slowly slid her panties down then unfastened her bra. His cock jumped in his hand as he watched her stroke her own breasts, then tease her nipples to hard nubs.

  And when she walked toward him--slowly, like a runway model--it took every ounce of his willpower not to come right then. "Kiss me," she begged. "Please, kiss me."

  He pulled her naked body against him, his mouth closing over hers, claiming her with such wild ferocity their teeth clashed as their bodies rubbed together. His cock was so hard he thought he would come right then, and the feel of his erection rubbing against her bare skin right above her pussy had to be one of the most erotic sensations of his life.

  "Sit." The word was barely a breath, and he only understood her because she'd pushed him backward toward the couch.

  He did as she asked, and she straddled him. He was still fully clothed except for his unzipped jeans and freed cock, and now she straddled it, rubbing her wet pussy over his hard length as if she was determined to make him completely lose his mind.

  It was working.

  He closed his hands over her breasts, then pinched her nipples, making her cry out. Making her pussy clench so that the intimate movements teased his tumescence, taking him that much closer to exploding.

  "Please," she begged, her own hand slipping down to tease her clit--something that was so fucking hot he thought he'd lose it right then. "Please tell me you have a condom."

  He did. He had two in his wallet, and he reached back and pulled the wallet free, then managed to find one, all the while making a mental note to buy a jumbo-size box the next time he was at the grocery store.

  "Put it on," she said.

  "I'm still dressed."

  "I know. I like this. I didn't think I would, but I do."

  He tilted his head. "What?"

  "It being uneven. You seeing me, but me not seeing you. Being naked for you. Open for you." For a moment, uncertainty flashed on her face. "You do like it?"

  "Dear God, yes. But Taylor..." He almost forced himself to shut up. To let this keep going and talk later. But he had to be smart with her. With Taylor, he didn't want to screw anything up, and he was too goddamn old for her. And he sure wasn't looking for a relationship. But he wanted her. Oh, damn, how he wanted her.

  She shook her head, then pressed a finger to his lips. "Whatever you're going to say, don't. We both want this. And right now, I don't care about tomorrow. Tonight, all I want is you."

  * * *

  She meant every word she said. She wanted him. Landon. She wanted his hands on her, his cock inside her. She wanted his kisses and his soft words.

  Right then, she craved him like a drug, and when she held the velvet steel of his cock and positioned the head at her core--when she lowered herself onto him and felt him fill her--well, that's when she knew that she'd discovered what heaven felt like.

  Honestly, it felt like Landon.

  He did things to her. Incredible things.

  Empowering things.

  God knew she'd been bolder with him than any other man she'd ever been with, and it had felt incredible to strip for him. To order him to touch himself. To ride him now when he was fully clothed.

  "You make me wild," she said.

  "Baby, it's mutual. And you make me too damn hot. I need you to ride me hard. I'm so close. So damn close. Come with me."

  "Touch me. Take me with you."

  His groan was low and passion-filled, and he did as she asked, his fingers finder her clit and stroking her as she clutched his shoulders and rode him hard, impaling him so deep inside her that with each thrust she was teasing her G-spot as he teased her clit, and the sensations swirled through her, building and growing until she couldn't take it anymore.

  The prickles of electricity started in the thighs, then seemed to converge on her sex, faster and hotter, until she exploded, her core convulsing, milking him, taking him over with her, his low groan of release so incredibly hot that the sound of his passion alone almost made her come all over again.

  When they were both spent, they spooned together on the sofa, his chest to her back so his lips brushed her shoulder and one hand gently teased her sex. "Careful, or you'll find yourself naked this time, and in my bed."

  "I can live with that," he said, then sat up. He pulled her up, too, then kissed her. "Where's your phone?"

  "Oooh, what sexy pillow talk."

  He lifted a brow, and she hurried to pass him her phone from the coffee table.

  He pulled out his, too, then fiddled a bit.

  "What are you doing?"

  "A present," he said, then passed it back, a tracking app now open on the screen. "Now we can find each other."

  "Yeah?" She smiled, warmed that he'd thought of something so simple. "But in case you were wondering, I don't want to have to go looking. I want you to stay right at my side."

  He held her eyes for a full beat, and she started to worry that she'd said too much. Then he smiled, slow and sexy. "Baby," he said, "that's exactly what I want, too."

  Chapter Nine

  Taylor woke in heaven. Or, more accurately, to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying. Which, as far as she was concerned, was the same thing.

  She slipped on a robe, then padded into her kitchen
to find Landon poking at a huge skillet of bacon with rubber tongs.

  "This is a lovely domestic sight," she said, coming behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

  He turned around to face her, his eyes roaming over her as a slow smile touched his lips. "Good morning, beautiful. I could get used to this."

  "Me, too," she admitted, her body flushing under the intensity of his gaze. The words were scary, but true. This man had shifted things inside her somehow. As if there'd been a chemical reaction between them, and everything she'd been--and feared--had changed its pattern in the night. Now it felt like she had a path through the darkness with Landon beside her. Scary and tentative, but nice. A small blossom forcing its way up through a crack in the concrete.

  He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Kiss for your thoughts?"

  "That's pretty much what I was thinking about," she admitted, then tilted her face up for a slow, deep kiss.

  When they broke apart, she was grinning. "Cheater," she said. "You've been picking at the bacon."

  "I have," he admitted, then reached for a piece and fed it to her. He kissed her quick afterwards, then pulled back with a twinkle in his eyes. "Delicious."

  "Right back at you."

  He turned back to the stove to flip the bacon and stir a skillet of scrambled eggs. "I have calls in about Beau," he said. "I should hear back this morning. In the meantime, I thought we could--"

  "Wait," she said, putting her hand on his back. "I have a request."

  He flipped the heat off under the skillets, then turned to face her.

  "I just want--I mean, could we--oh, hell. Can we just pretend like none of this is happening? At least until after you hear back. I want to ... well, the truth is I just want to hang out with you. Eat that breakfast you made, cuddle on the couch, maybe read. Watch TV. And then later we could go to The Fix and get my car. You know, normal stuff. Could we? I mean, you know, if you were planning on staying with me, and..."

  She trailed off, fearing that she'd presumed too much. But when she saw the slow grin that was lighting those amazing eyes, she knew what his answer would be, and her own smile bloomed wide when he said, "Sweetheart, I think that sounds just about perfect."

  Because they'd slept so late, it was past ten when they ended up on the couch with their breakfast plates on the coffee table in front of them. And because he'd been sitting on the doormat when Landon went outside to grab the morning paper, Mr. Patches sat between them, eating the bits of bacon that both Landon and Taylor were sneaking to him.