by Jill Shalvis
Breaking off for air, Tag put his wet mouth to her ear and slowly exhaled, making her shiver. Making her want more. Now.
"Cassie."
"Yeah." A fog of sexual arousal had descended over her vision.
"Is it the same?"
She sighed. "Fine. Yes, you kiss me stupid with or without the uniform. Tag … tell me you have a condom in those pants on the grass over there."
He slowly shook his head, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "I do, but we're not going to have sex."
She stared at him, feeling a little befuddled. She looked at the hair lightly decorating his muscular chest. At the line of that same hair that divided his hard stomach and vanished with the rest of his good parts into the swirling water. Then she watched his tongue slick over his wet lower lip. Oh, God, she wanted him. Wanted him to obliterate all the emotional tension and get right to the physical. "We're not going to do it in here?"
"No." Leaning forward, he put his mouth to her throat and sucked.
Her head thunked back against the edge. "But…" The backs of his fingers brushed over her right breast as he reached up to touch her cheek. But she wanted his fingers back on her breasts. Wanted that so badly she was shaking. "Why not?"
His eyes were all over her, and their hot intensity as he stared at her told he did want her very much, so she could forget the sudden fear that he didn't.
"I want more than sex, Cassie. I want more, and I want it with you."
Her eyes widened, because … oh, God, if he used the L-word again right now—which would be the equivalent to an icy bucket of water being dumped on her hot, hot body—she was going to slug him.
Then probably start bawling again.
"I want you," he said again through very tight vocal cords. "More than I want my next breath, if you want the truth. I want to make love. Then I want to sit here with you in my arms and talk. I want to know why you were crying. I want to know your hopes and dreams. I want—"
"I get it," she said tightly, bitterly disappointed, and crossed her arms. "But I'm not up for that."
"Really? Or are you just scared?"
Her chin came up. "I am not."
"Prove it," he dared softly, his heart in his throat because this felt as though it was the most important moment of his life. He didn't know when exactly, or the where or the why of it, but this woman had become more important to him than anything or anyone else.
And he wanted to show it to her.
"You want me to prove you don't scare me," she said to herself, taking a deep breath that brought the very tips of her breasts out of the water. "Yeah, okay. I can do that." Eyes glittering, she climbed out of the water into the equally steamy night.
For a moment she simply looked at him, naked and gleaming by moonlight, and his chest ached just looking at her. Would she go through with it?
But his Cassie was nothing if not the bravest woman he'd ever met, and slowly her lips curved. "Come here," she said in a sultry voice that matched her body. She led him to the long, wide swing, which had a comfortable cotton cover and more pillows than his own bed. Standing in front of it, she twined her arms around his neck, tipped her head and kissed him. Kissed him with her lips, with her tongue, and when she made that helpless sound in the back of her throat again—the sound that assured him she was every bit as lost as he was—he knew she was kissing him with her heart.
His own opened. Flooded. "That's it," he murmured, stroking his hands down her back. "Oh, yeah, Cassie, that's it. Do you feel it?"
"I feel you. God, Tag, I feel you." One of her legs bent, hooked at his hip so that his engorged penis brushed at the very core of her. Her head fell back and she arched closer. "Please, Tag, please…"
"Oh, yeah." He sank with her onto the swing. "But we have all night."
"We've had all night before."
"This is going to be different. More." He reached out a reverent finger to the tip of one nipple, lightly circling it, watching it bead up tight beneath his touch until it distended out a good half inch, pouting for more. He shivered and brought his other still-wet hand up, dripping water over her skin. Waiting until a small rivulet ran down her breast to the very tip of the puckered nipple before he leaned in and licked it off.
With a little cry, she arched up and did her best to thrust her entire breast into his mouth. But he simply pulled back and repeated the feathery touch to her other nipple. She let out a little mewl, gripped his hair in her fists and held his mouth to her breast.
Tag growled and hauled her into his arms. Her mouth raised to his and he took it, groaning when she used her tongue in a blatant motion that mimicked what she wanted him to do to her. Holding her head, he gentled the kiss, sucking on her bottom lip, licking the corner of her mouth before slowly deepening the connection, making love to her mouth the way he was going to make love to her body.
Panting, she tore free and arched her body toward his. "I'm ready right now."
"Are you?" Holding her gaze, he slid his hands down her body to her hips, and slowly rocked them to his.
"Yes!" Spreading her legs, she managed to get the very tip of him inside her before he gripped her hips with a rough groan. His hands were shaking as he held her still. "Not yet." There was still more. He slid his fingers between her legs and nearly fell to a boneless heap when he felt how hot, how wet she was. It was impossible not to stroke her, not to get caught up in her rhythm.
"Oh, please," she whispered, rocking against him. "Please, Tag."
"Tell me." Laying her back, he looked down into her eyes, at her mouth still wet from his, at the body he wanted to make love to for the rest of his life. He skimmed a hand over her breasts, her stomach, lower. Past her belly button, over her mound so that the tips of his fingers divided slick feminine folds.
Her eyes went opaque and arching up, she cried out.
"You want this?" His middle finger feathered over her while he took her nipple into his mouth. "Or … this?" He slid that finger inside her now, then added another, while stroking her with his thumb.
"Tag … oh, Tag." She couldn't stop saying his name. She couldn't help it, sensations rocked and throbbed and demanded completion. Never in her life had she experienced anything like it. Oh, definitely she'd enjoyed sex, more than maybe she'd like to admit, but always … always, she'd kept her head at all times, even during a climax. And always, she'd been able to walk away.
But right this minute, under his knowing, tortuous administrations and his most amazing fingers, she couldn't keep her head. Couldn't walk away. Could hardly breathe. One desperate mass of flesh, she spread her thighs to take in more of the magic. Her fingers dug into his arms, his chest, wherever she could reach, in an attempt to get a grip, but with his mouth on her breast, his fingers buried in her, his voice echoing in her ears that he was going to make love to her until they couldn't take any more, there was no grip to be found.
"You're so wet," he murmured, his fingers playing in that wetness. "Wet for me."
She couldn't stand it, not the kisses, the erotic words, the careful, knowing strokes. Her muscles started to quiver and she was one heartbeat away from coming when he released her breast with an audible pop and took his fingers away, making her nearly scream.
"Not yet." He came up with a condom and tore it open with his teeth while his fingers stroked her one last time. Her toes curled.
"Don't come yet," he begged, pushing up onto his knees between her legs. For a moment he just stared down at her, with such heat and affection and need she nearly came from that alone.
"You're so sweet," he whispered.
Well, that was a new one, and it shouldn't have caught her breath, burned her eyes. Shouldn't have done anything but infuriate her because he was effortlessly holding her on the very edge as no one had ever dared to before.
Then, with just one finger he lightly circled her opening, not quite penetrating, bringing back the heat, the need in a flash.
Biting her lip to keep from begging, she arched her hips. H
is erection bumped just the right spot, and he inhaled sharply, letting her know he was as on the edge every bit as much as she was. The muscles of his arms quivered. His hips pressed forward. His face was tight with need. "Now," he said.
"Finally."
"Let me in, Cassie."
She pulled her knees back, opening herself, more vulnerable with him in this moment than she'd ever been with anyone, her surrender utter and complete. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed into her, his jaw tight, his eyes holding hers as her body closed tightly around him.
At the same time he slid a hand down her belly, put his thumb on her clitoris as he pulled out of her slightly, dragging against her needy flesh, ripping a cry of need out of her as she wrapped her ankles around his waist.
In and out. A stroke of his thumb. In and out again. "Here's the more," he murmured, and thrust inside deep.
She burst right out of herself. Vaguely, she heard his low, wrenching groan as he found his own release, but she couldn't stop shuddering.
Eventually, she became aware of his wonderful, warm weight. Of the night all around them. Of Tag's lips as he pressed them to her neck. It was shocking how her arms tightened, how she clung, wanting to hold on to this moment forever.
But after a moment he pulled away, obviously not feeling the same need. "I'll be right back," he said, and she nodded, telling herself she was relieved.
Get what you need, Flo had always said.
Well, she'd sure as hell gotten what she needed.
And now, she didn't need anything more.
* * *
Tag disposed of the condom and came right back out, but found the swing empty.
He turned in a full circle, his heart thudding because, damn it, he knew he shouldn't have left her when she'd been feeling so open, so raw. He'd felt every hit the same, and had wanted to hold on to her forever, but there'd been the little matter of the condom to deal with.
Still, he nearly sagged in relief when he saw her sitting on the edge of the hot tub, her feet in the water, a towel wrapped around her body.
She'd left another one out for him, which he slid around his hips before sinking to the edge right next to her. He hissed when his feet hit the hot water.
She smiled. "Wuss."
"I am not." But because her smile looked so good on her, he smiled back. "So."
"Yeah." She sighed and splashed with her toes. "So. The dreaded 'after'."
"You're only dreading it because you promised to cuddle and talk."
She looked as if she'd rather face the electric chair and he smiled again. God, he loved her grumpy, beautiful hide. "Here, I'll make it easy…" He spread out his arm and waited for her to move in close.
She stared at him, rolled her eyes and shuffled close, briefly losing her towel and giving him a bonus glimpse of her breasts. "Hmm, nice," he said, reaching in and stroking a nipple before she managed to cover herself back up.
"You just saw it less than two minutes ago." She fit her shoulder beneath him and shocked him by slipping an easy arm around his waist.
"Honey, the thing with men and breasts … we never get tired of them."
She let out a laugh. "That's pretty pathetic. I've always wondered … don't you men ever get over being a slave to your penis?"
"Afraid not."
She was comfortable, relaxed, swinging her feet and still smiling. He hated to ruin that, but he had to know. "Why were you crying?"
For a brief second she went really still, then sighed and sagged just a bit against him. "It's … complicated."
"So? What isn't?"
She shook her head and her hair clung to the stubble of his jaw. Stroking a finger over his skin, she pulled her hair free, then put her fingers back on his face. "That was amazing, you know. On the swing."
He looked into her eyes and spoke the utter truth. "I've never felt anything like it."
For a second she closed hers. "Me, either." Then she opened those fathomless eyes on his and they were damp. "It's going to sound really pitiful to you, a man who's so confident and respected, but … I've been thinking about this place, about the people in my life." She turned to stare into the water and shook her head. "And much as I would have denied this even yesterday, I…"
"You what? What changed before yesterday and today?"
She glanced at him. "It's pretty hard to admit."
"You can tell me. You can tell me anything."
"I know." She scrunched up her eyes. "I want to be liked, okay?"
When he just looked at her, she visibly relaxed. "I, um … I want people around me who care. I want a home." She let out a disparaging sound. "I know, it's so stupid. But the truth is, I'm falling for this ridiculously opulent house. I'm falling for the horribly spoiled cat that came with it. I'm falling for the steady job at Bare Essentials, where I don't have to take off my clothes and deal with grumpy managers and psycho photographers." She peeked at him. "Don't you dare laugh."
"Are you kidding?" He cupped her jaw, made her look at him, which she did so defiantly his heart ached. "Tell me you left something out of that list you're falling for. Like me. Are you falling for me, Cassie?"
Her mouth opened, then carefully closed. She dropped her gaze and pulled back just enough that his hands fell from her. "I hadn't quite taken it that far yet."
He stared at her profile while that sank in. "I see."
She winced, kicked at the water. "Tag, I—"
"No. You're being honest." He surged to his feet. "And it's late." He needed to go before he did something asinine, such as try to talk her into liking him. Now that would be pathetic. "Good night, Cassie."
He made it to the sliding-glass door before he realized he wore only a towel. Swearing, he dropped it to the ground and turned around, looking for his clothes, and bumped into Cassie who was holding them out for him.
"Thanks." He shoved one leg into his pants but because he was wet and frustrated, he nearly killed himself trying to get the other leg in.
"Tag."
At the soft plea in her voice, he gritted his teeth and looked at her. Ever since he'd known her, her eyes had been filled with intelligence, sharp, biting humor, and not a little cynicism. She'd seen and done it all, and it showed.
Not now. Now all he could see was anguish, and he took a deep breath. "It's okay."
"I never really gave a shit about anyone before, Tag. I mean, I love Kate, I love Aunt Edie and I love Flo, but other than that—"
"I know." And damn him for being such a jerk, because he did. Reaching out, he stroked her jaw. "I know."
"I think about you." She put her hand on his wrist and turned her face into his palm, pressing her lips there. "I can give you that."
"That's nice. It's really nice. But I want more, Cassie."
She closed her eyes. Turned away. "That I can't give you. Not right now."
"When?"
"I don't know. I need some time."
"Fine. I'll call you tomorrow."
"I need more time than that, Tag."
"Yeah." His heart hurt again, damn it. And he had no one to blame but himself. "Right."
* * *
Tag spent the next day in a rare form of frustration. He knew as he patrolled town that he was being particularly hard-assed, giving out tickets left and right, but he didn't much care. And when his cell phone rang, he barked into it. "What?"
"What's going on today, sweetie?" asked Annie.
"Why aren't you on dispatch?"
"I am."
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then why aren't you calling me through the radio?"
"Because I wanted to tell you that you're being a jerk, and I didn't think you wanted me to say that on the radio." This was said so cheerfully his head hurt.
"Now I know you're getting laid on a fairly regular basis," she said. "So—"
"What?"
"It's all over the gossip train," she said without apology. "So … what's up? You fall in love or something?"
"And why would th
at make me a jerk?"
"It makes all men jerks at first, until they get used to it. That's why I'm calling, to tell you it's okay and you'll get used to it. So why don't you just come on back to the station and I'll make you some iced tea."
"I don't need any iced tea," he said through his teeth.
"I think maybe you do. Do yourself and the town a favor, hon. Come on in."
* * *
Chapter 13
«^»
Bare Essentials opened with the hoopla of a cocktail party attended by nearly everyone in town. Kate was ecstatic. Cassie pretended to be.
Oh, she was beyond thrilled that the store had done well, and continued to do so the week following the opening. It had given her summer purpose while she waited out Crazy Pete. But she'd also done it in good part due to her yearning to hurt Pleasantville. She'd done it for revenge.
But where was the revenge exactly? What had happened? Somehow instead of fulfilling her list and making everyone sorry, she was the sorry one. Sorry in love with the life she'd made here.
Thinking about that life made her want more of it. Thinking about that life made her smile.
Smile, for God's sake.
But thinking about Tag made that smile fade. What did she feel for him? Hell if she knew, but she sure felt something. She felt it all the time; when she was sleeping, when she was driving—okay, speeding, with a half-hopeful glance in the rearview mirror.
Only Tag never pulled her over.
Kate had told her rumors were running rampant in town. Supposedly he'd been sullen and serious, so much so that people thought he'd turned into his father. People wished she'd sleep with him again so he'd cheer up.
Well, big surprise, she thought as she got into her car one morning. She did want to sleep with him again, wanted that more than she wanted anything, even her old life back.
Because when it came right down to it, she actually didn't want her old life back. How scary was that?
Suddenly she realized she'd stopped in front of the police station. Parked. Gotten out of the car and walked inside.
