The Pursuit of Passion (Taylor & Adam)

by Liv Bennett

  “Since the first day I met you? Yeah, it’s true.”

  “How about Pat? She was your girlfriend back then. You didn’t even…”

  “No, I didn’t have sex even with her. I couldn’t. It felt wrong having sex with her while thinking of you.”

  “I saw your pictures with some women on the net, all celebrities.”

  She googled me? “I was trying to get over you and forget the pain I caused to Pat. But, I didn’t touch those women. None of them.”

  “Why? What were you thinking would happen? You didn’t make a move on me because of Jack. And you couldn’t know Jack would die. Were you planning to become a monk at some point?” A flicker of smile spreads over her lips, and she stares at me intently, her eyes large with curiosity.

  “I don’t know. Maybe if I could somehow have managed to pull myself back together and Pat still wanted me back, I’d have gone back to her. Maybe not. I have no idea what I’d be doing if Jack was still alive.”

  “It almost sounds like you’re happy that he’s gone.”

  “Excuse me?” I jump on the bed, working to cool the anger boiling my blood. How can she, among all people, think that after I told her about Jack’s sacrifice for my mother? “Are you telling me that to hurt me? Because you’re succeeding it.” I spring up to my feet and head toward the door. “Things would have been very different if he’d lived. For one, you wouldn’t have attempted to commit suicide,” I say before slamming the door close behind me.

  I kick the bed in the guestroom, then throw myself on it, and bury my head in the pillow. It takes several hours of tossing and turning in the bed to fall asleep.

  I wake up with my head pounding with a headache. I grab a cup of coffee and head toward my bedroom to check Taylor, only to find her sleeping. Contrary to my sleepless night, her sleeping is deep and lasts several hours until three p.m. Worry over her empty stomach prompts me to finally decide to wake her up.

  She opens her eyes, taking her time to realize she’s in my bedroom, then gets up only to launch back on the bed because of dizziness. After a few seconds of resting, she gets to her feet and leaves for the bathroom. While she’s in the bathroom, I bring her lunch to the bed.

  Her face softens as soon as she spots the food on the side table. Waddling like a penguin, she sits on the bed and places the napkin on her lap.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says after she swallows a few spoons of the chicken soup I made for her. “I don’t know why I said that last night. It was just a silly observation. Even thinking someone might be happy for Jack’s absence is insane. He was such a good man in every sense.”

  I just nod and continue feeding her until, she eats up the rest of the soup, which she does obediently. When I put the empty bowl on the nightstand, she slides her arm over me to embrace me. Of course I don’t hold back and launch myself over her and kiss her.

  If she takes one step toward me, I’ll run to her.

  She squirms under my kiss, splits her lips apart for me to get a taste of the soup in her mouth ,and I savor it, licking and sucking her lips and tongue.

  When I tear my lips from hers to lie beside her, she makes little noises of objection.

  “Did you love Pat?” she asks out of the blue, catching me off-guard.

  Anything other than the truth would do unjust to me, to Taylor, and to Pat. “Yes, I did love her. Very much. I thought she’d be the woman I’d spend the rest of my life with. I even bought a ring for her before I met you, but never proposed.”

  “Are you telling all those details to make me jealous?”

  I examine her face for any hint of jealousy? To be jealous, she first has to have some feelings for me. Her face looks a little tense, spiced with a small amount of seriousness and contempt.

  “Are you… jealous?” I ask.

  She doesn’t reply and instead asks another question, “Why did you leave her? Frankly I don’t believe the reason is me.”

  “I wish I could say it wasn’t you, because then I could fix everything else to work it out for Pat. But, the day I met you, your beauty hit me like a train. I’m still suffering from the accident injuries that went way deep in my heart.”

  She snorts, shaking her head. “If I hadn’t seen how I look, listening to you I’d think I’m Miss Universe or something equivalent.”

  “You are for me, because you’re made for me. Every little detail of your face and body overwhelms and exhilarates me as if I’m in a speed car race.” Gently I lift her hand—which is cold like ice—and guide it over my pounding heart. “You do that to me.”

  She slides closer to me and captures my lips. If she could use her hands freely I’d be long gone.

  I pull away gently, before it’s going too fast for me to stop. “Rest now. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

  “Why do you have to leave? Stay with me.”

  Like it’s not obvious why. “If I stay I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

  She grins. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “A very, very bad thing.”

  “Maybe, I’ll like that very, very bad thing.”

  I make a move to get up, but she sneaks back into my arms before I can escape.

  “Please,” I plea, trying to keep my voice determined, my face straight. The last thing she needs right now is another round of rough sex followed by vomiting. “You’re not ready for it.”

  “You should check out the wetness in my panties to see how ready I am.” Her irises widen as they dilate. This is worse than helping her shower.

  I throw myself on my back, groaning. “I can’t touch you. You’re too weak.”

  “Then you can do all the work. I won’t complain.” Still resting on her side, she swings her leg over my groin and starts rubbing my semi-hard cock with her foot.

  Shit, how could I forget about her feet? I’m gonna have to tie her down to be able to keep her safe from me. “Look, there’s nothing I’d love to do more, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I won’t get hurt,” she says, pressing her foot harder on my cock, making it twitch and pulse.

  The only thing that’s curbing me from the temptation of launching over her, pulling down her pajama bottoms and panties, and burying myself inside of her panties are my jeans, and I intend to keep them zipped up and buttoned as long as possible. “Yes, you will, if you throw up again. And you did throw up the last two nights we had sex. Remember?” I don’t even need to remind her how she ended in the hospital after the third round. “You need all the energy you can get, not lose it with puking.”

  She pauses to consider awhile, pursing her lips, making me want to part them and unite our tongues again. “You’re right, but— ” Her chest heaves up and down. “I’m too hot to sleep.”

  She wasn’t talking about her body temperature for sure. As if her words weren’t torturous enough, her scent—must be abundant with sex pheromones right now—and the way she’s appraising my lips is making me lose my mind, driving me wild. Her hips pressed against my groin are naughtily torturing my deprived cock. I squeeze shut my eyes to block her from me. I’m not immune to being around her, no matter what health condition she’s in, and it’s worse when she’s making a move on me.

  Fuck!

  I focus on the memories of the violent way she threw up in my bathroom. She won’t be able to take it this time, if she ends up by the toilet bowl again. If only my cock listens. Or better yet, her pussy.

  A thought pops up. “Did you throw up that day at the police station?”

  I think she got my point, because her face beams up. “You mean after you finger-fucked me? No, I didn’t.”

  Her word choice makes me shake my head in a mocking disapproval. “Do you want to give it a try?”

  She doesn’t say a word but answers me with rolling on her back and spreading her legs, ready for me to extinguish her fire. The problem is it’ll only fuel mine.

  I position myself between her legs and prop on my elbows on eith
er side of her body. Her eyes follow me cautiously; her tongue brushes her lips, moistening them.

  “Sure you want this?” I ask.

  “Yes, yes, yes.”

  Just one yes would be enough. I smirk, satisfied by the need in her voice, and plant my lips on hers. My hands wander under her tank top and find her breasts. Hello rock-hard nipples! We men should have been created with at least two mouths to be able to suck lips and breasts at the same time to avoid the frustration I’m facing right now. I love the taste of her mouth, the way she shivers and shudders under my lips, but I can’t keep myself for much longer from mouthing those beautiful tits, so I slide down and take one breast into my mouth, gently biting it, while my hand kneads the other one. Her eyes roll back, and she moans loud enough for the neighbor next door to hear.

  I’ll have some envious neighbors. Hell, it’s about time.

  “Calm down,” I murmur, worried about the tenseness in her body. Maybe I should just hurry up, before she exhausts all her energy storage. Blowing air to her hard nipple, I move to the other one and run my hand down between her thighs. Her panties are soaking wet, as she’d said. How could she go from wanting to end her life to being so wet and hot with desire in a few days? As if the suicide thing had never taken place. I draw circles around her entrance, making her squirm, and she starts grinding her hips against my hand. “My needy, little wanton.”

  I’d have massaged her longer until she begged for more before I drove her into orgasm, but I can’t now for the sake of keeping her in one piece. Still, she seems intent on using up all her resources with moving her body around, like a snake. Even her arms don’t stay still.

  “Stop moving or I will stop,” I say a little loudly so she can hear me through her moans.

  She lifts her head and looks at me, confused, as if I’d spoken Chinese.

  “Don’t move,” I repeat and slide two fingers inside, stretching her, while rubbing her clitoris with my thumb. The snuggling tightness around my fingers—only two, that is—makes my cock twitch with envy and yearn for several rough thrusts in her soaking wet insides.

  Her body stiffens, and her mouth pops open and forms an O. Releasing a loud scream, she throws her head back on the pillows. How I wish I could mount my throbbing cock directly into that beautiful O. My fingers explore her swollen walls that are burning with heat. Wasn’t she ice-cold just a minute ago? Where did she get all that heat in such a short time? Really mind-boggling.

  I thrust my fingers all the way inside her, probing and teasing the sensitive walls, then begin pumping rhythmically. Her chest moves up and down, releasing short breaths. She tilts her head from one side to another, her lower lip snagged between her teeth. My cock is so hard it feels like it’ll explode any second. I curve the tip of my fingers only slightly to grate the swollen bump close to her entrance, setting off her muscles to clamp around my fingers. She arches her back and cries out my name. I keep on thrusting until I feel no more spasms and then pull my fingers out.

  I’m torn between licking her juices off of my fingers and making her do it. The possibility of her throwing up prompts me to go with the former, so I suck her sweet juices under her sleepy gaze.

  “The only thing that’d top this would be having you in me,” she says.

  I jerk out of the bed, fearing the possibility of her jumping on me. “Don’t push me.” I throw the covers over to her and give her a small peck on the forehead, before leaving for the bathroom to tend my own unfinished business.

  CHAPTER 18 - TAYLOR

  Protected and cared for. That’s how I feel around Adam. He provides everything I need, even before I realize I need it. A long-forgotten feeling of happiness is blooming in my heart and spreading throughout my body. It annoys me to think that I could have had this sooner. It is what Adam has been trying to show me all this time. That he could make me happy again.

  As I’m sitting here in the kitchen and watching Adam cook breakfast for me after three beautiful nights in his home, I finally feel peaceful. The grief and the gloomy thoughts have long abandoned me, and I don’t see Jack’s face floating in the air, blaming me or judging me for my wrongdoings. The Jack I know would never do that. It was me, my own obstinate self, who was pulling me down into the deep pit of depression.

  “I’ll be gone for only two hours, and Bree will be here for you,” Adam says, glancing at me over the breakfast island. He’s breathtakingly handsome in the plain, black t-shirt and sweatpants. I’d rather have him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner than real food, but he won’t bend until I get my health back. The strange thing is I feel healthy, well expect for my wrists. They still feel tender when I move them, but nothing too worrisome.

  “I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll just sleep until you come back.” Perhaps he fears that I’ll attempt to kill myself again. Even the thought of it is sickening enough to make me nauseous. “If you worry that I’ll try it again you can stop now, because I won’t.” I try to sound reassuring, but my voice cracks with an unexpected sob. How I could do it in the first place is beyond me. I get ever so annoyed at myself for putting Adam and myself in such a complicated situation because of a moment of madness.

  Adam walks around the kitchen island and curves down to kiss me. “I know you won’t. You’re too horny to be suicidal.”

  He should recite it to the skeptical nurse who wanted to lock me down in the psychiatric ward at the hospital. My sob turns into laughter, and I place my arms around his neck to pull him closer.

  The doorbell buzzes, interrupting our kiss. Has Bree come an hour too early?

  “I’ll see who it is,” Adam says and walks to the door. I tighten the bathrobe around me and follow him, my eyes hypnotized by his round butt.

  A man and woman appear at the door, flashing a police badge toward us. “Adam Garnett?” the man asks and Adam nods. “I’m Detective Perez, and this is Detective Costa. We’re from the LAPD. Can we come in for a minute?”

  “Yes, sure.” Adam stands aside to let them pass but doesn’t invite them to the living room. “What can I do for you?” he asks as he closes the door

  “Where were you on Tuesday the 12th between three a.m. and five a.m.?” Detective Perez asks, while Detective Costa examines me up and down. That’s the night of my suicide attempt.

  “Um, I was here at my home, sleeping.”

  “Do you have an alibi that can prove it?”

  “Yes.” Adam nods. “Can you please tell me what it’s about?”

  Detective Perez doesn’t answer him, instead turns to me. “How about you? Ms. Doheny, right?”

  I nod, confused by the sudden focus of attention. I look at Adam as if he knows the answer. “I was at the hospital…” My voice trails off, and for some reason I feel like a liar.

  Adam comes to my rescue. “You can check the hospital records at Cedar-Sinai. She was admitted on Monday evening and was discharged three days ago.”

  “We’ll look into that,” Detective Perez says. “Mr. Garnett, we’ll have to take you to the station to ask you a few more questions.”

  “I’ll come if you tell me what’s going on. Why are you here?”

  “A man named Case Huggins was found dead in his apartment, killed with the same gun that killed the two assailants related to your shooting.”

  Oh, my God! Isn’t that the guy who filmed Adam and me while having sex and then blackmailed us? He’s dead. And his death is connected with the murders of the two attackers in the parking lot of my apartment building? I tremble and lean my arm against the wall for support. Were the blackmailer and the attackers murdered by the same person? And, why do the police think Adam might have something to do with the murders.

  Adam cups his chin with his hand. “Why, exactly, am I being questioned?”

  Detective Perez turns to his partner, and the partner replies, “We found a video where you and Ms. Doheny appear having sex and the messages Case Huggins sent to Ms. Doheny the following day, asking for money in exchange for his silence.” Suddenly
I feel too embarrassed to look at their faces, so I drop my gaze and wrap my arms tightly around the bathrobe. Detective Costa continues, “We know about the deal and the fact that he was going to ask for more money, because we found a new message of him asking for another twenty thousand dollars in the draft folder.”

  Adam was right. Case wouldn’t leave me alone and would shamelessly press for more. What a parasitic excuse for a man. He must have annoyed someone else so badly that that person ended up killing him. I wonder if the killer happened to find out about my video. Maybe he, too, will come to me asking for money. Crap!

  “Am I a suspect?” Adam asks. My eyes flick to Detective Perez, then to Detective Costa to see their reaction. Their faces reveal nothing, though I can guess they consider every one with a small association as a prime suspect. Oh, my god. A man as caring and loving as Adam, a murderer? Although he was overly angry on the day of the blackmailing, he’d never consider killing that guy. Maybe beating him up, but definitely not murdering him.

  “At the moment you’re the only one who’s related to both cases. So yes, you’re a suspect until you can prove us otherwise. Can you give us the name of your alibi?”

  Adam eyes me briefly, his thick lips pursued in a thin line, and then faces Detective Perez. “Isn’t it that everyone is innocent unless proven otherwise? But, anyway. Lynn Gilman can confirm I was here. She spent the night with me in my apartment.”

  My body goes numb in a matter of milliseconds, as the shock of his words takes over. Just three days ago, he swore he hadn’t slept with another woman for several years and yet he’s just confessing to the contrary. He was lying to my face without even blinking an eye. What else did he lie to me about?

  “I’ll call my lawyer and get ready. Can you wait for me outside, please?” Adam asks to the detectives.

  After walking them out, Adam comes to me and grabs my elbow. “I haven’t slept with her, if that’s why you look so shocked. She just needed a place to crash. I swear, nothing happened between us.”