Games of Zeus 02- Silent Echoes

by Aimee Laine

  “No, no, sorry. I’m just really dirty,” she said. “You could be right. I just wish … I wish I knew more.”

  “I’ve done a lot of research in the last week. Ish. I already knew about the design. We have the photos. We have stories. We have an infinite number of possibilities. Maybe instead of pushing it, we just see what happens in this life and roll with it. Be a little spontaneous. Like, for example, would you like to take a bath? This room has a Jacuzzi.”

  Her eyes widened. “I would, but maybe a shower would be better. You know … to keep myself from drowning again.”

  “I didn’t mean alone.” Ian stood.

  Taylor followed, her heart lurching at the insinuation in his tone. Spontaneous? Despite her aggressiveness when it came to their kiss at Lexi and Tripp’s house, Taylor rarely jumped in with both feet unless she knew what would happen. When it came to men, in fact, she took her time like no other of her friends.

  Ian continued walking backward, her hand in his. She made each step with him. Their gazes stayed locked on each other. In what Taylor had expected to be a standard bathroom, she found a whirlpool tub, just as Ian had said.

  It would easily fit two.

  Seeing really meant believing, and in that instance, all impropriety vanished. “Ian?” Taylor undid the top three buttons of her ruined silk blouse, attempting to mask the pain from moving her arm.

  He started the waterfall. “Yeah?” With his glance back, she let the silk fall to the ground. His eyes took on those of a hungry tiger.

  She reached behind to undo her bra and failed to hide the wince as tearing pain swept through her right arm. “Dammit.”

  Ian stood at her toes while the river of water raged on in the circular tub. “Let me.” He moved around her, his fingers working against her spine until the cotton loosened and fell along the length of her arms. His hands slid around her side, rubbing against her skin and bringing the hairs there to a stand.

  He ran a finger along the underside of her breast until his hands cupped her and pulled her against him.

  “I so hope you’re not expecting to get in that tub alone.” Hot breath hit her ear.

  “No. I wasn’t.”

  His hands slid lower until his fingertips graced the edges of her jeans and made their way to the center. Button. Zipper. Undone. He pushed down until fabric no longer covered her hips.

  She lifted her foot at the touch on her ankle. Repeated with the other.

  He kicked the jeans to the side and stood in front of her again. “This is going to need some TLC.” His fingers rested against the gauze, peeling from the top in slow, deliberate actions. “Luckily, I had my dad as my coach for the healing of all things human, and the EMT handed me strict instructions to wash and rewrap it. I think now is as good a time as any. Don’t you?”

  Water spurted as the jets kicked in. Ian stopped the flow, leaving bubbles to froth.

  Taylor held out her arm. “Just … be gentle.”

  He took hold of the top layer and unwrapped from her shoulder to her elbow. On the second layer, a line of red had etched a path of whatever had run along her arm.

  “Eww,” Taylor said. “I deal with cuts and stuff all the time, but that is just gross. It looks like a snake.”

  Ian tugged the layer closest to her skin.

  Taylor cringed. “No, keep going.” The gauze pulled at her wound, yanking at hairs where the skin and blood had matted to it. “Ow. Shit. Keep going.”

  Over. Under. Over. Under. Each unwind added to the torment until Ian unraveled the last of it, and her arm no longer throbbed just burned.

  Heat ran through her at the press of his lips to the wound. She closed her eyes as he inched his way up, never touching the line that she knew would scar. Up, farther until he reached her shoulder, each kiss brought a mix of fire and cool. Of desire and worry. Pleasure and pain.

  Ian continued up to her neck, adding the imprint of his lips. Each nerve ending woke under his caress. His hands found their home at her hips but roamed their way up and down as his tongue teased.

  Water grumbled in the tub, and he maneuvered them to the edge, continuing the exploration of her body—of every inch.

  Taylor wanted more. She reached low, and he pushed her hands away. “Hey—”

  His lips silenced hers, though their smiles merged. “Not your turn right now.”

  Fingertips danced along her spine, reached down and trailed back up. Instinct pushed her hips against his, their only separation the fabric still around his body. She closed her eyes, picturing the feel of his skin under hers as if they were one, as if they’d been together forever. Her imagination roamed, taking what her hands couldn’t reach and bringing the softness of his skin, the hardness of his muscles, the indentation in his thigh where he’d fallen off his bike and been scarred.

  She pulled back with a jerk.

  “You feel it, too?” he asked.

  “Wha—what … exactly?”

  “You have a freckle on the side of your hip.” His hand reached down, skimming over the side. “I didn’t see it. Yet, I know it’s there.” His lips started anew, descending from her breasts to her belly button. “And here, you have a scar from when you had your appendix out.”

  She shivered under his touch. How can he know?

  Ian went lower until his fingertips ran along the inside of her thigh, lighting a fire in her core. “And here, you—” He stopped, rose again until their eyes met. “You had stitches from falling off a horse and landing on a rock.” His eyes glazed for a moment before he seemed to refocus.

  She’d never fallen off a horse, but she did have a scar in just the place he’d noted.

  Taylor didn’t understand, but she also didn’t care. Whether her current life or a previous one, she wanted him. She wrapped her good arm around Ian’s neck and pulled him in so their lips merged. With what little flexibility she had with her other arm, she yanked at the buttons on his shirt, slipped it off his shoulders, and with eyes closed, ran her hands along the smooth skin of chest.

  The wind kicked up around them, the trees whispering as skin to skin, her entire body heated. The pond’s water lapped at the sides of the grass where they stood, he shirtless and she wishing she could be. If only her mama hadn’t tied her corset that morning.

  “May I?” he asked.

  She arched back as he kissed a line down her neck. “Please, kind sir,” she said, bemused by his formality. He’d always been that way, so serene and demure, following her lead.

  Their lips played along each other’s as he undid the strings he’d learned how to retie to prevent anyone suspecting their trysts. With her breasts exposed to the night sky, he suckled them, massaging and cupping her as she liked so.

  “’Tis your turn, my darling,” she said.

  One leg and another slipped from his pants, and she reached for what she wanted most.

  His groan came as approval. His hip thrust added to the torment against her own body. Another tug toward the water and he proceeded. She stepped in. He did the same. She lowered. He, too. One leading. One following. A ballet of desire, drawing each other down and into the water.

  The warmth rushed over her. As her arm sank into the liquid, she tensed, the liquid seeping into the wound.

  “You continue to suffer.”

  She forced her arm farther down. “It is nothing that time will not heal.”

  He reversed their positions, sitting behind her and holding her against his muscular body, his erection pressing into her spine. “You’ll take care, this time, to return the leathers?”

  “I will. You are not at fault for my transgressions, my love.”

  He draped her arm along the edge of land where water wouldn’t reach and entwined his fingers with hers, keeping it from being immersed.

  “You are so kind to me, John.”

  “And you to me, Claire. So many days I pray for our circumstances to be different.”

  She rested against him, the natural ebb of water caressing her wit
h feathery touches as his lips did the same, building within her the need for release. “Our lives are given us by God. I will never stop loving you.”

  “Nor will I.” His hands slid down her side, caressing and soothing with each pass as the water did the same.

  “Then by night, we shall share, and by day, we are nothing more than daughter of the tailor and beautiful farmer—no! Land owner.” She closed her eyes, letting the warmth take over. Rather than wait for him to acquiesce, she lifted up, turned and straddled him. “Shall I entice you further, my love? Will you cease to worry about our futures and simply love me with your whole heart today?” She slipped farther forward, encompassing him with her body but not yet consuming him.

  His jaw worked in his silence. “I will never stop. You are my destiny whether anyone can know or not.”

  A rise brought them in contact with each other and a descent filled her with him, sending pleasure through her body the likes of which a fire master couldn’t have created in the sky. She closed her eyes, drawing him in fully and savoring the moment she’d craved for what seemed like lifetimes but had only just been a fortnight since their last.

  Opening her eyes, she stared deep into his. His hands found her hips. She breathed in as she rocked against him with a gentleness that sent flutters along the surface of the water. Beneath her, his need for completion built, visible in the set of his jaw and repeated clench of his hands against her hips. She kept their pace languid but jostling the crystal clear liquid with each thrust.

  Pleasure rippled through her, a lifetime of pure ecstasy where she could believe in a lack of physical and mental anguish, or torment of the heart, and simply be with the man over whom she loomed. The man she loved. The man who loved her. A man who knew his worth whether or not the world understood.

  One hand stayed attached to her thigh while the other roamed her skin, slick and heated with desire. She kept up their pace, pulling and pressing, jostling them and water with an increase in speed. Their rhythm matched, creating a small wave that bounced against her back.

  The muscles in his chest jumped as she continued their merging, the blending of two lives into one.

  In sync. Together. Forever.

  With his intense stare, the fierce grip on her hips and the flutter of his lids, she let herself go, taking her moment of release along with him and savoring in a secret moment.

  • • •

  Taylor woke to darkness.

  As her mind cleared, and her eyes adjusted, she flipped from her side to the other and collided with Ian. Her pounding heart calmed as his slow and regular breathing filled her mind with ease.

  “You okay?” His groggy voice whispered in her ear. “You yelled out John a second ago.”

  She switched back to her other side, snuggled in, pressing against him, and murmured, “Just a dream. A dream.” She tensed as her throbbing arm reminded her of her night, of what she’d shared with Ian in the tub, and of the vision she’d had that seemed as real as life. “I have no idea who John is.”

  It had been surreal. Vivid and vibrant. Emotional. It had caused her to crave him again and again.

  Why haven’t I told him?

  “Go back to sleep. Everything’s better with the sunlight.” Ian’s arm snaked out, wrapping around her torso in a comforting hug.

  Just a dream.

  I want what I had before.

  19

  Taylor bolted upright for the second time. She spun to the left and found Ian gone. Her heart raced. She ripped the covers off and jumped from the bed, sending a pang through her chest and arm. Her race to the bathroom ended in a collision with him mid-exit.

  His hands reached out and grabbed her biceps, sending a wave of torturous fire through her. Her stomach curdled, and she cried out.

  He released her as if his clutch had branded his hands.

  She fell backward against the wall, rubbing up and down her arm. A ridge raised along the surface.

  Ian caught her chin before she could study it more. “Come in here.” A deep breath of air escaped him.

  Taylor stepped with him into the blinding light. He wore nothing but a towel around his waist. One half of her wanted to grab the edge and make it fall to the ground. The other part of her wanted to scream at whatever had happened to her arm.

  “Oh.” Ian’s single word did not infuse confidence.

  “Please tell me I don’t have to go to the hospital. Please, Ian.”

  His head bounced left and right. “Let me call my dad and see if he can help. I doubt he has any privileges in Rochester, but he actually went to school here. Just don’t look, and … let me call him.”

  Taylor forced herself not to turn.

  The triple knock took both their attentions. “Housekeeping,” Michael said through the door.

  Ian’s snarl came out with a laugh. “Get ready, and let me know if you need anything.”

  She nodded.

  He laid a kiss to her forehead, which only made her heart flip-flop worse than it had as she’d laid against him. Ian’s voice trailed off as he closed the bathroom door behind him. Despite his suggestion otherwise, Taylor turned her arm toward the mirror.

  The gauze had come loose, and what had once been red had turned a deep, purply blue. Her stomach cramped, sending bile up her throat. She dropped to the toilet, prepared to toss her last meal. She’d seen her crew sever fingers and even once watched a femoral artery spray at the beat of a heart. None of them affected her the way her own injuries did. With one hand, she spun the shower knob. As steam filled the room, her stomach calmed. She stripped the gauze and basked in the warmth of the spray, hoping it would wash out whatever infection brewed.

  Fifteen minutes later, she walked out, a towel wrapped around her hair, another around her body.

  Ian sat on the edge of the bed, flipping channels on the television. He turned toward her as she approached her bag. “Can I help?”

  “I’m good.” Though she wished she’d packed more than the dinner outfit Ian had made her promise to bring—for a dinner than never happened. “Just …” She fiddled with the zipper and failed.

  Ian gave it one good yank. “My dad’s coming over here to look at you, and we’ll all go over to Grams’. Though, if you want something other than your black dress, I can offer you these.” Ian pulled out a teal T-shirt with a spiral pattern over the sleeve and a pair of jeans Taylor recognized as her own. “The top comes from the gift shop, and the jeans I had washed this morning before you woke.” He handed them to her. “And, since you slept naked with me, I was able to have your extras—” He held up her black, lace panties with a finger. “—carefully cleaned. Michael brought them back.”

  Taylor snatched them with her free hand, though she smiled and leaned up. The light kiss she’d meant to give him he took with abandon. When he let her go, she swayed, and he caught her.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just a little … head rush.” With a wink, she took her clothes and headed back to the bathroom.

  “You’re probably going to need help with that, you know.”

  “I can manage.”

  After three tries with her bra, in which she failed with greater results each time, Ian appeared within the frame of the door. “Want me to help you now?”

  Taylor’s shoulders fell. “Yes. Please.”

  He moved behind her, pulled and clipped. “I can’t remember a time where I added one of these back.”

  “There’s a first for everything.” Taylor managed the rest of her clothes with little difficulty.

  Another knock had Ian backing up.

  “It’s your dad!” A cheery voice sang out.

  He nodded to Taylor and opened the door as she relocated to the interior again. The man who entered was mid-fifties, maybe early sixties, if even. Behind him, his spitting image followed.

  “Hi, Michael,” Taylor said from her spot on the edge of the bed. “Thanks for playing laundry man.”

  He waved in return.

&nbs
p; “You must be Taylor.” Ian’s dad came in, traditional black bag in hand.

  She held out her right arm but pulled back at the shooting pain. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m—”

  “In some trouble, I think.” He took the desk chair, pushed it up to her. “I’m Reggie. Ian and Michael’s dad.” The skin tone matched Ian’s lighter coloring and eyes, but he duplicated Michael’s face. “So, what happened here?”

  “I’m in construction and was looking at a house. Instead of fixing it up, it came down around me.”

  Reggie stopped his work. “You’re in construction? Like, get your hands dirty kind of work?”

  “Yes.” The stereotypical jock-as-construction attitude and need-to-put-men-down-to-the-right-rung-on-the-ladder gene activated.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Reggie turned toward Ian. “This boy wouldn’t get his hands dirty if you promised him he’d be doing work in the ocean.”

  “I’ll go in the ocean, Dad. Just not in the dirt.” Ian stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the far wall. Michael slouched on the bed.

  Facing Taylor, Reggie circled a finger around his ear. “Don’t listen to him. Now, Tetanus shot?”

  “Three years ago, I believe.”

  His fingers ran up the edge. “That’s probably good then. May need to get you on some antibiotics. Allergic to anything?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Good. I think it’s just gotten infected. I wouldn’t recommend stitches … we don’t want to close in any bacteria. And, it’s not deep, just long. Probably will be just fine and nothing to worry about. Now, Ian here, he’s a whole ‘nother barrel of problems.”

  “Wha—” Ian started.

  Reggie waved him off. “He thinks he’s going to get away with me checking you out and not giving you any advice about him.”

  “Da—”

  “So, all I gotta say is, I hope you know he’s never once brought a girl home to meet us. Not even for prom. Headed there and never came back.”

  Taylor pinched her lips together to hide the smile, though she expected her actions did no good.

  “And—” Reggie withdrew a tube of some antibiotic cream and rubbed it along the gash. “He’s never talked about anyone like he has you. His mom would be up here telling you all these things if she didn’t get queasy at the sight of a bug bite.” His deft hands added to the soothing sensation along her skin. “She made me promise to embarrass him on her behalf.”