Always

by Deb Stover

  He chuckled, sounding far too much like the boy Taylor had once adored. She loved hearing him laugh. She always had. That ache commenced again in her chest and her belly did a triple spinach lasagna flip. Her gaze rested on Gordon's silver hair, pulled into a ponytail at his nape. His face and neck were bronze from the sun, and the muscles in his forearms rippled beneath his blue and white rugby shirt.

  "No more wheezing since he came home?" Straightening, Gordon looked at Ryan and Sue for his answer.

  "Not a bit." Ryan beamed as he dropped to the floor beside his dog, whose tail swept the wood floor in rhythmic strokes. "He's well now. I think he likes the warmer weather."

  "We all like the warmer weather." Gordon stroked his chin and nodded. "I hope he stays that way, but call me right away if he starts wheezing again."

  "He won't," Ryan said, burying his face in the dog's furry neck. "Will you, Patch?"

  "Will do, Gordon," Sue said, moving toward the door. "Thanks."

  Taylor followed Gordon to the door. "Thank you for dinner, Sue. It was delicious."

  Sue met her gaze and her smile was sad. "I hope you'll come again sometime, Taylor. It's good to have you home."

  Taylor's belly did a number on the salad, and she gave a non-committal nod. "Good-night to you all."

  "Good-night, dear," Priscilla said. "Gordon, you take Taylor straight home, and none of that parking you two used to do along the way. She's a doctor now."

  Gordon's cheeks blazed as he reached for the doorknob, and Taylor swallowed her grin. She should be embarrassed, but watching him blush freed her to enjoy the moment.

  She followed him down the sidewalk and slid into the passenger seat of his Jeep, allowing her fingertip to trail along the seat cover. Memories forced their way out of the mental vault where she'd tried to lock them away. She and Gordon had spent so much time in this old Jeep. Her face warmed as she recalled some of their more intimate moments. Glancing up, she noticed the way the floodlight bathed his silver hair as he walked around the front of the Jeep. A shiver chased itself through her that had nothing to do with air temperature. Gordon was her first love, and–God help her–her only love. What she felt for Jeremy could hardly be called love. Yet.

  The wine she'd consumed mingled with desire and warmed her from within. She leaned against the seat with a sigh.

  "Comfy?" he asked, sliding in and firing up the engine. It sputtered a few times, then roared to life. "Good car." He patted the steering wheel and Taylor giggled.

  "I think your Jeep is developing Alzheimer's."

  He revved the engine and glowered at her. "Sometimer's."

  She laughed and fastened her seat belt. "Okay, Sometimer's then. It is getting old, huh?"

  Gordon sighed and nodded in the semi-darkness. "I'm afraid so. I sure hate to part with her, though."

  "Her?"

  He looked away and buckled his seat belt, then dropped the Jeep into reverse. "Of course. Ships are always her, aren't they? You don't remember helping me name her?"

  "Oh..." Taylor swallowed hard. "Henrietta."

  "Right, Henrietta." Silence enveloped them in a cocoon so private, Taylor could hear the thud of her own heart. Riding slowly through the small town in Gordon's Jeep brought a flood of memories to the surface. Exhaustion and wine had lowered her defenses and as they passed Al's Dog-n-Malt, her eyes stung and blurred.

  "We sure ate our share of onion rings and french fries there," Gordon said, stopping at the only traffic signal in town.

  "It's a miracle our arteries didn't clog before graduation." Taylor smiled to herself and turned her gaze on the dark silhouette of the man beside her. "It was nice to see your mother again. She looks good."

  "Mom has the constitution of a twelve-year-old and never lets me forget it." He chuckled, then sighed. "It was hard on her when Dad died, though."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  "Of course you didn't." He looked right at her in the darkness. "You ran away."

  "I–" She bit her lip to silence her retort. It was true, after all. She had run away, but for a very good reason. How dare he blame it all on her? "I think you know why I left, Gordon, so let's stop pretending you don't."

  "Do I?" The light turned green and Gordon eased the Jeep into motion. A barricade loomed before them, blocking Digby Boulevard. The street was flooded with water and several uniformed men were working on the problem. "Looks like a broken water main. We'll have to skirt around the edge of town to get to your place."

  "Don't change the subject." Taylor folded her arms across her abdomen and searched for the right words. "You know why I left."

  Gordon drove in silence down the narrow county road that circled about a mile into the country. Eventually, it would horseshoe back to the far end of town.

  There were no other vehicles on the road, and a half-moon hung in the sky as if it had been painted on black velvet. She had forgotten how bright the moon and stars were at nine thousand feet above sea level.

  But watching the stars couldn't prevent her irritation at Gordon's prolonged silence. "Gordon Lane, you know why I left," she repeated without looking at him.

  He hit the brakes so hard, she was thrown against the seat belt and shoulder strap. "What–"

  "A deer."

  She turned to see the buck staring into the headlights. Gordon tapped the horn lightly. The deer vaulted into the trees.

  She faced Gordon, prepared to confront him again. Just as she opened her mouth, Henrietta sputtered and rumbled, then fell silent.

  "Uh-oh," he said.

  "Uh-oh?"

  "Could be the carburetor again. I'll have a look." He set the brake, then unfolded himself from the Jeep and raised the hood. The headlights and the moon were his only light.

  Taylor dug through her bag and removed her penlight. It wasn't much, but it might help. Besides, she needed to get home and away from Gordon's charm immediately. Yesterday, in fact.

  Determined to extricate herself from this situation immediately, she climbed from the vehicle and walked around to the front. She flashed her penlight. "Tell me where to point this thing."

  He turned to stare at her and she aimed it at his face. His grin was infectious and she returned it. "All right, just find my hands," he said.

  She located his hands in the engine and aimed the narrow beam there. "How's that?"

  "A little lower. Perfect." He tinkered with the whatever it was, then sidled closer to her. "I need a different angle. See where I'm working?"

  Taylor squinted and reached over Gordon's back to aim the light from the opposite side. Unfortunately, she was practically draped over him. "I'll move to the other side."

  "No, I've almost got it." His voice crawled around inside her and did the tango.

  She could barely breathe with her breasts pressed against his muscular back. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard, she suspected he felt it, too. Warmth oozed through her, pooling low and deliberately between her legs.

  Her nipples hardened and her breasts swelled against him. Perspiration trickled down the sides of her neck and a cool mountain breeze soughed through the pines and made her shiver.

  "Are you...almost finished?" she asked, her voice unnaturally husky.

  "Yeah." He sounded gruff and out of breath as he backed away from the vehicle, freeing Taylor from her duty.

  Cool air rushed across her breasts, which had been so very warm a moment ago. The contrast transformed her nipples into twin compass needles seeking magnetic north.

  Gordon faced her, moonlight gleaming off his hair in patterns of brilliant silver as he reached out to brush the backs of his fingers against her cheek. She sighed and closed her eyes for an instant as memories deepened her physical and emotional response. She tried to summon the image of Jeremy's face, but drew a blank. So much for "practically engaged."

  "Thanks for helping," he whispered, dropping his hand to his side.

  "You're welcome."

  "But I think you should know something, Taylor.
"

  He must've noticed.... "Wh-what?" She swallowed hard, preparing herself for humiliation.

  He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight. "I finished about the time you offered to move."

  Chapter 5

  Gordon's dreams were filled with memories of Taylor's body against his out on Vista Road last night. Her nipples boring into his shoulder blade while he worked on the engine had driven him crazy. Unfortunately, that small sample had only whetted his appetite, so dreams of the summer between their junior and senior years in high school provided the balance of his torture.

  One incident in particular replayed again and again on Morpheus's VCR. Their first time. God, he would never forget that afternoon. They'd been dating for almost a year by then, and necking in the back seat of his Jeep had grown daring enough to involve total nudity.

  What happened next was a rite of passage.

  Gordon had known it would happen. They both had. Fourth of July. The fireworks display in Digby couldn't come close to competing with what had happened earlier that day in Silas Canyon. He remembered every delectable detail....

  Taylor met him at Spring Park with a picnic basket, then they drove up to the canyon to eat by the waterfall. Amazingly, he even remembered her clothes–a pair of white shorts with a red belt and a blue tank top for the holiday. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail that bobbed when she walked, curls spiraling toward her cheeks.

  From the moment he pulled the parking brake on his Jeep and cut the engine, making love with Taylor became inevitable. Destined. The picnic lunch was the farthest thing from both their minds. And hearts.

  "Come on, Gordon." With sunlight shining through the pines, she jumped out of the Jeep and gave him an inviting smile that nearly killed him. She pulled the ribbon from her hair and let it cascade down her back. "Last one in's a rotten egg." Still watching him, her expression grew solemn as she pulled her tank top over her head and hung it over the open window. Her sandals landed in the seat, followed by her shorts and a pair of plain white panties.

  Nothing had ever looked sexier than Taylor's panties on the front seat of his Jeep. Except for Taylor herself, and the come hither expression in her eyes.

  Even at seventeen she had the shape of a woman. She looked like a wood nymph or some kind of goddess standing there with her curves kissed by dappled sunshine. They'd talked about going all the way, and now it looked as if it would finally happen.

  Gordon's young body stood at attention. Every muscle tensed and his hands trembled as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. Watching Taylor walk toward him, he pulled off his sneakers and tube socks and tossed them into the Jeep with his shirt. By the time she paused in front of him, he wore only his cut-offs and briefs, and the biggest hard-on of his young life.

  She placed both hands on his shoulders and stepped closer, the pink tips of her breasts brushing against his rib-cage. He was dizzy, crazed, mad with desire.

  "Kiss me, Gordon," she whispered, raising on tiptoe to meet his lips.

  His arms went around her and she opened her mouth for his tongue. The only sexual experience they had was with each other, and they'd spent a lot of time practicing for this day. He knew how to kiss her, where to touch her. And he loved her with all his heart. Nothing was as important to him as Taylor. Nothing.

  He buried his fingers in her silky hair as he tasted her. Her arms went around his neck and she trembled against him, her nipples flattened against his chest. Slowly, he eased his hands down her back, relishing her softness, savoring her bare skin. Emboldened, he cupped her bare bottom and pressed her hips against his.

  She pulled back, her lips red and swollen, her green eyes drugged with passion. Then a wicked smile curved her mouth and she bolted for the falls, giggling all the way.

  Breathless, Gordon stripped off his remaining clothing, grabbed a blanket, then chased after her, only somewhat self-conscious about his nudity and his blatant erection. Taylor had seen that part of him–touched him there–before. Even so, he was more aware of his engorged state today than ever.

  What would it be like inside her? He stumbled at the thought, remembering the hot slickness of his tongue in her mouth. Warm. Wet. Wonderful.

  Taylor shrieked as she slipped behind the cold sheet of water pouring down the canyon wall. Even in mid-summer, the water up here was frigid. He slowed his pace on the slippery rocks and ducked beneath an outcropping, then emerged behind the falls.

  With Taylor.

  A cool mist surrounded them and the roar of the water spilling to the creek below created a world all their own. They were as isolated as two people could be. Together.

  The cold spray from the falls did nothing to diminish his enthusiasm. In fact, the water enhanced the erotic urges pulsing through him. His gaze feasted on the sight of her standing there, her bare flesh damp and glistening, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked at him. All of him.

  They didn't speak as they came together, all mouths, hands, gasping, kneading. His erection pressed against her lower abdomen, aching, throbbing, wanting. He dropped the blanket to the damp stone, then eased her down. She held her arms up to him invitingly.

  Gordon thought once, briefly, of the condoms in his glove compartment, until she rose up on her knees and took him in her hands. Gazing upward, her expression banished further thought of anything even remotely practical.

  He dropped to his knees before her, his penis throbbing in her hands, her breasts brushing tantalizingly against his chest. Fearing he would lose control, he reached down and grasped her wrists, pulling her hands away. He kissed her mouth, suckled the lobe of her ear, still holding her hands in both of his out to their sides.

  Finally, he eased her down onto the damp blanket and hovered over her. Her breasts thrust upward, rising and falling with her rapid breathing. For a few minutes, all he could do was look at her, vowing to never forget a single precious detail.

  She reached for him and he kissed her again, wild and deep. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he lowered his mouth to her nipple, drawing her deeply into his mouth. So soft. So sweet. She moaned and arched against him, and he hungrily sampled her other breast.

  "Make love to me, Gordon," she whispered.

  He rose onto his elbows and met her gaze. "Are you sure? Very sure?"

  "Don't you want to?" An impish grin curved her full lips.

  "More than anything. You know that." He kissed her again, dipping his fingers into her honeyed core, knowing the time had come. He'd read an article in Playboy about how to get a woman ready for sex. The article had suggested a man use his mouth, but he wasn't sure either of them were ready for that just yet. Instead, he sought and found the small nub between her thighs and rotated it with the pad of his finger. Her response was more than he'd dreamed. She moaned and pushed herself upward against his hand.

  As desperately as he wanted this, he was determined to make it as wonderful for Taylor as he knew it would be for him. She cried out his name and her body went stiff for a few silent moments.

  "That was..."

  "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

  Her eyes were half-closed as she reached for him, shaking her head. "Wonderful."

  "I..." He looked down at himself, the red tip of his penis ready and waiting. "I..."

  She reached for him, wrapping her fingers around his shaft. "Now."

  A shudder of anticipation and apprehension rippled through him as she guided him to her soft folds. She was slick and wet and hot, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from plunging deep and hard and fast.

  She eased her legs behind his and held him against her, easing him into her one torturous millimeter at a time. Gordon held his breath, allowing her to set the pace.

  Her expression was a cross between wonder and pain. He'd heard it was always painful for a woman the first time. "I...I think I have to push harder now."

  She nodded and bit her lower lip.

  "Taylor." He held himself back and kissed her, then stared deepl
y into her eyes, summoning his courage. "We can stop now...if you want." Even if it kills me.

  She shook her head and wrapped her legs around him tighter, drawing him inward. "I want you to do it."

  He buried himself inside her, aware of something hot and wet running between them. Pleasure like he'd never known before coiled within him, urging him to drive into her again and again, but he held himself frozen and searched her eyes. "Did I hurt you?" He could barely breathe, let alone speak.

  "A little." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "But it's better now."

  Better was a weak word to describe what he felt with his body buried deeply inside Taylor's. Ecstasy came close, but still couldn't do this miracle justice. She clung to him as he stroked the length of her, urging him to move harder and faster. The muscles inside her massaged and held him, torturing him with the promise of something he could barely imagine.

  Everything he had culminated where their bodies were joined. A molten rush exploded from him and he stiffened and spasmed against and into her.

  Breathless and dripping with sweat, he slumped over her. "Wow." Bracing his hands on either side of her, he looked down and saw tears in her eyes. "I hurt you."

  She shook her head and buried her face against his chest. "I just love you so much," she murmured. "So much it scares me."

  "I love you, too." He stood and saw the huge stain of her virgin's blood on the blanket, magnifying the significance of what they'd just shared. A woman only gave herself once this way. He could never return what she'd given him today, and it was a gift he would always cherish.

  Afterward, he bathed her in the creek as the sun slowly sank behind the mountain. Then they dressed and drove back to town for the fireworks, vowing to always love one another.

  No matter what...

  Gordon awoke with a start, sunlight streaming through the slats on his shutters. He glanced down at the tented sheet and realized he needed his ritual swim for more reasons than one this morning. Raking his fingers through his hair, he padded barefoot to his closet and retrieved a large box from the top shelf. Carefully, he sat it on his bed and lifted the lid, revealing an envelope of photos–all of Taylor–and a piece of ribbon she'd worn in her hair. Then he folded back the tissue paper to reveal the old blanket. He'd washed it many times, terrified his mother would see the stain and demand an explanation.