by Freya Barker
“It doesn’t,” she admits. “Not really.”
“Then what is it? I know something’s going on in that head of yours. Talk to me.”
She pulls her hands free. “Fine, I’m scared, okay? Of this…” she waves one back and forth, “…between us. Of crossing that line and if something goes wrong, never being able to go back to how we are now.”
“Why would you assume we wouldn’t work out?” I challenge her, knowing we’re getting to the heart of her concerns, and wanting it all out there.
She throws both hands up. “Oh, I don’t know: our differences, the kids, Nicky, my parents, there are so many potential pitfalls in this scenario. Do you really want me to list them all?”
“I’m well aware of the risks, but—” I don’t get to finish my thought.
“Rafe, what if we’re not nearly as compatible as we think we are?”
I bark out a laugh as I hook a hand behind her neck and pull her close, our faces inches apart. “Bullshit,” I whisper, right before I take her mouth. Her hand comes up and slides around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, only further proving my point. When I lift my head, she slowly blinks her eyes open. “The sooner we get those groceries, the sooner we can be back home,” I point out.
I let her go, turn back in my seat, and put the truck in gear.
We’re almost down the driveway when she surprises me.
“Promise me, no matter what happens, I won’t lose the kids. That’s what scares me most of all,” she whispers, and I blindly grab for her hand.
“Never.”
She was right; looks like most of the town gets groceries after church on Sunday.
I took over driving the cart when Taz was wielding it almost like a battering ram, carving a path through the busy aisles. Ten minutes into this ordeal and my cheeks are hurting from smiling at the curious greetings—ranging from mild to overt—we receive along the way.
We’re almost home free, working our way down the last aisle, when a woman comes trotting up the other end, waving her hand.
“Jesus,” she pants, out of breath when she reaches us. “Been chasing you around the store, but this place is mayhem.”
“Hey, Meredith.” Taz smiles the first genuine smile of the day at the sight of the woman, who barely spares me a glance.
“I think I found it,” she announces, handing Taz the can in her hand. “Is this what you were looking for? Palm nut concentrate?”
“Yes! I can’t believe you carried it after all. Look,” Taz says, showing the can to me. I have no fucking clue what they’re on about, but I give her what I hope is an encouraging nod.
“I actually had to order it,” the woman clarifies. “A box of twenty-four cans. I hope that dish you cook is good and you do it often, because I don’t think there’s much call for the stuff in this town.”
Taz grins at her before turning to me. “Any objections to a regular diet of that Moambe Chicken I made when Mom and Dad were over for dinner?”
“Fuck no,” I answer instantly and her smile widens.
“Oh,” she suddenly swings back to the other woman. “Meredith, this is Rafe—Rafe, this is Meredith.”
“Nice to meet you,” the friendly brunette says before focusing her attention back on Taz. “Now that we’ve got introductions out of the way, am I getting an invitation for next time you make that…whatever chicken? I’m getting sick of my own cooking and Buck, my husband, would eat the ass out of a rhinoceros as long as you put in front of him.”
“I’m sorry,” Taz apologizes grinning. “I don’t think I have a recipe for rhinoceros, but I’d love to have you over for Moambe Chicken. If that’s okay with you,” she suddenly adds, throwing a tentative glance my way.
“Of course it is.”
After the two girls exchange phone numbers, Taz and I make our way over to the lineup at the cash register.
“Sorry for putting you on the spot, I probably should’ve checked with you first,” she says in front of me.
I lean down so my head is next to hers. “I thought I’d made it clear; it’s your home too.”
I can’t help notice her little shiver when my lips brush the shell of her ear.
Two excited pups greet us when we walk in the house, and Taz seems eager to take them out back for a little relief. To say she’s been tense on the way home is an understatement.
While she’s looking after the dogs, I haul the rest of the groceries into the house and put them away. When she still hasn’t come in once that task is complete, I head outside.
She’s sitting on the bottom step, her arms folded protectively around her knees, while watching Lilo, who appears to be chasing something in the grass. Stitch is lying at her feet, his little tail wagging when he sees me.
Taz doesn’t move when I make my way down the steps and take a seat right behind her, stretching my legs on either side of her. Sliding both hands under that heavy mane of hers, I feel the tension in her shoulders and neck. Without saying a word, I start working on the knots until her body relaxes under my hands.
“Thanks.” She tilts her head back to smile up at me. “I feel like Jell-O now.”
“Perfect,” I mumble, even as I open my mouth over hers.
Taz
Is it possible to taste desire?
I swear, when Rafe slides his tongue in my mouth it’s all I can taste.
No tentative probe, or dominant claim, but a confident, purposeful message I instinctively recognize in the deep bold strokes.
I turn my body slightly so my back is braced against one of his thighs, reaching up to curl my fingers around his neck. A soft growl against my mouth is his response.
With one hand he cups the back of my head, while sliding the other down the stretched column of my neck to spread wide and possessively on my chest. I almost whimper, wanting to feel his touch reach my breast, but Rafe doesn’t appear to be in any hurry.
When he finally lifts his head, I look up into his eyes—dark indigo with want—and a deep satisfaction settles over me.
That look is for me. His need is for me.
“God, you’re beautiful.” The words just fall from my mouth and he almost looks surprised.
“That’s supposed to be my line,” he rumbles with a soft smile, as he bends his head toward me.
Unfortunately Stitch picks that moment to tug the rubber flip-flop off my foot and takes off running, his sister on his heels. I jump up and give chase, to Rafe’s great hilarity. He laughs when I dive to rescue my footwear from those sharp little teeth, and end up on my face in the grass.
The little bugger is fast, every now and then stopping to fiercely shake his newfound toy, before darting off again. Lilo happily follows him, ears flopping and tongue lolling, content to toddle behind.
When I finally give up and lie back on the grass, listening to Rafe’s chuckle, Stitch runs over and drops his trophy on my stomach.
“You’re a little turd,” I scold him. It makes no impression at all, his little body is wiggling with excitement as he tries to lick my face.
“All right, enough of that,” Rafe announces.
I twist my head and watch as he walks up, extending a hand. “Jealous?” I tease, and he grins at me as he pulls me to my feet.
“I can take him. I just don’t want to taste puppy slobber when I kiss you again.”
Instantly the playful, lighthearted interlude is gone, the air suddenly heavy with anticipation.
While I shove my foot in my soggy flip-flop, Rafe scoops up both pups, cradling them in one arm. He grabs my hand and almost drags me behind him up the steps and inside. He heads straight for the living room, almost distractedly setting the dogs on their feet before pulling me down on the couch with him.
My breath is choppy as he deftly settles me on my back, his bigger body looming over me.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, bending down as his lips settle against my neck, kissing the rapid pulse of my heart.
“I didn’t do anythi
ng,” I protest hoarsely.
“You’re breathing.”
Uncertain what to say, I stay silent and focus instead on the weight of his body pinning me down.
Delicious.
Arousing.
I shift restlessly underneath him as my hands explore from his wide shoulders down to the rise of his rather spectacular ass. I’ve looked plenty, but there’s nothing like the intimate pleasure of feeling the clench of muscle under your hands.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters, his lips sliding down my chest, as his hand pulls at the droopy neck of my ancient shirt, clearing the way.
“Rafe…” I inhale sharply when my breast pops free of its confines and I feel the warm heat of his mouth close over the tip.
Months—no, years—of build-up converged in this moment. I feel like I’ll burst out of my skin when he presses his hips between mine, grinding the hard evidence of his own passion against the already damp apex of my thighs.
His hand roughly yanks on my shirt to free my other breast, tearing the worn material in the process. I don’t care. He can rip every stitch of clothing from my body in this moment and I wouldn’t even blink.
I’m too busy feeling.
A groan vibrates against my skin when he switches attention to the other side, a hand sliding down the back of my pants to squeeze the ample flesh of my butt cheek. My toes curl as I tilt my hips for better friction.
“God…please.”
The moment the plea leaves my lips, he rolls away, letting go of my nipple with a soft plop, before softly blowing on the wetness his mouth leaves behind. He props himself up on an elbow and looks down on me.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his free hand whispering over my naked skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
His eyes find mine as he brushes his palm down my belly, sliding his fingers under the waistband of my jeans, and I belatedly realize my lack of grooming in that area. It doesn’t seem to faze him when his fingertips encounter the damp curls. In fact, the blue of his eyes impossibly deepen a shade as he brushes the turgid little bundle of nerves hidden there.
My body arches off the couch, my mouth falling open, at the charge his touch sets off. So sensitized it’s like I can feel every ridge of his fingerprint as he rolls my clit with his pad.
Hungry for a deeper connection, I hook a hand around his neck and pull his mouth down on mine. The moment his tongue darts between my lips, the heel of his hand presses down on my sweet spot as a long digit slides inside me, followed by a second one.
Primed for months, it’s all it takes for me to fly apart, fragmenting into a million little pieces.
My ears still echo with the rush of my own blood, when I faintly detect the sound of a ringing phone.
The next instant I feel Rafe shift before hearing him answer with a curt, “Hello?”
Chapter Eighteen
Rafe
Magnificent.
The way her body unapologetically asked for what it needed.
Full abandonment on her face as she careened over the ledge of her climax. The memory of that kept playing over and over, keeping me awake most of the night.
Unfortunately, Sarah’s untimely call to inform us they’d arrived safely at their stop for the night put an instant chill in the air. I talked briefly to each of the children, who wanted to talk to Taz as well. When I went in search of her, she was in the kitchen chopping vegetables. Her clothes were back in place, and aside from the tear in her shirt collar, you never would’ve guessed she came apart underneath me just minutes ago.
When I handed her the phone and she glanced at me, her eyes were guarded.
I took over dinner prep, listening with half an ear to her side of the conversation with the kids. When she finally put the phone down, I could tell by the way she immediately went about getting dinner ready, without affording me another look, she needed some distance.
I took it as a good sign when I tucked her in the crook of my arm as we watched a bit of TV after dinner, and yet I didn’t stop her when she tilted her face up and kissed the underside of my jaw, announcing she was going to bed.
No need to rush things—or so I’d convinced myself—but in the lonely hours of the night, sporting blue balls I couldn’t recall having since my adolescent years, I wished I’d pushed a little harder. I much rather would’ve had her end the day in my bed, or me in hers.
In hindsight I wonder if I made a mistake, giving her space.
When I glance at the clock, I note it’s already four in the morning. I’m going to have to do something, if I want any chance of getting some sleep.
I toss back the covers and get out of bed, aiming for the bathroom. Maybe taking matters in my own hands in the shower will do the trick, but at the last minute I turn and head for the hallway.
Her back is to me when I ease open her door. I don’t give myself time to think before carefully sliding under the covers behind her. She doesn’t stir until I wrap an arm around her, fitting myself closely to her back.
“Rafe?”
“I can’t sleep,” I confess when she turns her head. “I can’t stop thinking about you in a different bed when I want you in mine.”
My hand slips under the tank top she’s wearing and finds the soft swell of her breast, plucking her nipple between my fingers. The little hitch in her voice has me press my hips against her ass. For a moment she freezes at the feel of me, but then snuggles her butt firmly against my erection.
I take it as the invitation I hope it’s intended as and drop my mouth to her neck, while sliding my hand down her belly, and into her panties, where I find her already wet. In seconds I have both of us stripped naked. With a hand behind her knee, I lift her top leg and slide my straining cock between the lush globes of her ass.
“Say yes,” I whisper hoarsely against her neck, as she takes in a sharp breath at the feel of me probing her entrance. “Please.”
“Yes.”
A deep groan escapes me as I slide inside her, sinking deep into the tight, warm heat. With only my hand for company for longer than I care to admit, the feel of her soft, pliant skin against me and the snug fit of her body almost has me come on the spot. I press my face into her neck and wrap her tightly in my arms, holding her still while I try to hold on to my control.
“Please move,” she moans, wiggling in my hold.
“Sweets, I move now it’ll all be over. Give me your mouth.”
She twists her head on the pillow and I don’t waste any time taking her plump lips in a hungry kiss. Slipping a hand between her legs, I strum her clit until she whimpers down my throat. Then I move, with short, fierce strokes, my slick fingers keeping up their friction.
“God, Rafe…” she mumbles, as she rips her mouth from mine and shoves her face in the pillow, her body going taut against me.
“Let go,” I growl into her neck, my hips furiously pumping as I feel the first ripples of her release triggering my own.
Taz’s heart is pounding against my hand and matches the racing of my own, as we both try to catch our breath. My nose is buried in her dreadlocks and my arms hold her close as I feel myself softening and slipping from her body.
“You are perfection,” I whisper, feeling her jar in response. “Let me look at you.”
She doesn’t resist when I roll her on her back. Her shining brown eyes speak volumes as they focus on mine. I don’t need to hear words to know she’s as affected as I am at what just happened.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, feathering my fingers over her flushed face and swollen lips. She arches her neck as I trace its length and down her chest.
Her breasts are full, with dark plum nipples, and I can’t resist leaning down to taste first one and then the other. Taz shivers in response and her hand comes up to trace my face.
Time doesn’t matter while we leisurely explore, getting familiar with the tastes and textures of each other’s bodies. When I position myself between her spread thighs this time, our eyes are locked and unguarded, every
emotion exposed as we make love.
“We didn’t use anything.”
Taz sets down the coffee pot and turns to face me. “I know.”
“I haven’t…I mean, not since…” I run a frustrated hand through my hair at my bumbled attempt. “There hasn’t been anyone else for a long time, but still I should’ve—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts, the tug of a smile on her mouth. “I’ve always been careful.”
I note she doesn’t say there hasn’t been anyone and I feel that in my gut. I have no right—fuck, I know I don’t—but the thought of her with someone else…
“Stop that,” she snaps, closing the distance between us. She puts a hand in the middle of my chest and lifts her face up to me. “If we start looking back instead of moving forward, we don’t stand a chance.”
She’s right. Of course she is.
I stroke her chin with the backs of my fingers. “Point taken.” My eyes scan her face before I get us back on topic. “What about pregnancy?”
Taz lowers her gaze as a blush deepens on her cheeks. “What about it?” she whispers.
“Taz…”
Her eyes snap back to mine. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I should still be covered by my last Depo injection.”
“Well, that’s good, right?” I try, not fully understanding her snippy tone. But I clue in when she turns away again, biting her lower lip. “Sweets…” With my index finger under her chin, I coax her to look at me. “It’s not that I wouldn’t be happy to find out you were pregnant with my child. I’d be over the fucking moon. What I am saying is we might want to time it better. Get everyone used to the fact there is an us, before we think about adding siblings and grandchildren.”
Taz
“Before you go, Charlton could do with a bath.”
I try not to roll my eyes at Mrs. Myers’ request. Monday it was a walk he needed, and if not for the dog’s adorable face when she mentioned the magic word, I would’ve refused her.
