by Jo Davis
Shrugging, she fished the truck’s keys from her pocket and handed them over. They got in and Taylor fired up the ignition, with Cara seating herself in the middle, and again his wonderful scent assailed her. Trying to ignore it, she turned to Blake on her other side.
“Taylor’s going to drop you off at my place first. Then I’ll take Taylor home. I won’t be long.”
Blake’s knowing grin was visible in the dark. “Uh-huh. I’ll bet you won’t.”
“Shut up, twerp.” Taylor reached across her to give him a playful shove, and the two of them scuffled a bit.
“Hey! I’m in the middle here!”
The two guys finally settled down, but all three of them were smiling by the time they did.
All the way home, she had to remind herself that the cop was the enemy.
But already, that was becoming almost impossible to remember.
4
Taylor chose to wait outside while Cara got Blake situated in her house. If it were anyone besides that boy, Taylor would never have trusted him alone with her or her belongings. But this was Blake, and he knew the young man was a good soul.
Besides, Taylor wanted to take a look at her truck. A black newer-model Ford, just like the one that had hit him earlier in the week. His hip was still bruised, but at least he could walk now without pain.
Casting an eye toward the house, he got out of the truck and walked around to the front bumper. The light being emitted from the lamppost above illuminated the area just enough to see what he was looking for. And then he wished he hadn’t.
On the right side, above the front bumper, was a dent. It wasn’t that big, but it was large enough to have resulted from smacking into a person. His heart sank as he positioned his body the way it had been just before he’d been struck, and he lined up perfectly.
“Fuck.” How could this possibly be a coincidence?
And yet how could she be after him? He and Cara had only just met. He’d approached her at the bar, not the other way around. Hell, she wasn’t going to give him the time of day, but somehow he’d managed to finagle a second glance. This didn’t scream setup to him.
But his instincts had been wrong before.
“Well, Blake is settled in the guest room,” her voice said, startling him. He turned to see her coming down the walk. “He’s beat and is getting ready for bed.”
“That’s good.”
“You were looking at my new dent, huh?” She pointed, a frown marring her pretty face. “That totally sucks. Somebody must’ve backed into me earlier this week, and they didn’t even leave a note.”
He hesitated. If she already knew how the damage happened, that meant she was the one who’d struck Taylor, on purpose. That she’d known his identity before they met—and she would’ve realized he’d figure that out immediately. The ruse would be exposed. Yet she looked and sounded sincerely mystified by how the damage had happened. What were the odds it wasn’t Cara behind the wheel? Or that this wasn’t even the same truck?
“You don’t remember hitting anything?” he asked carefully. Or anyone.
“Of course not. I’d remember that,” she said, looking at him as though he was an idiot. If she was acting, she was good.
“Right.” He’d have to look into this more closely, but he’d do it discreetly. For now, he changed the subject. “You sure Blake will be okay here by himself?” She seemed to understand that he meant emotionally.
“Yeah. He’s uncomfortable accepting help, but, like we told him, he’ll have to get over that to get on his feet. And I’m fine with leaving him alone, because he’s not truly alone, if you know what I mean.”
“He’s not on the street, worried about survival.”
“Exactly.” She gestured toward the truck. “Ready for me to take you home?”
“Sure.”
He gave her back the keys to the truck and told her the address. “I’m just three streets over, so we’re practically neighbors.”
She smiled a little. “Who would’ve thought?”
Again with the secretive edge to her tone. What was with that? When they arrived on the street in front of his house, she let the truck idle.
“Nice street.”
“Thanks. I love it here. We have block parties once in a while with food, music, raffle drawings, and such. We even have a competition with a prize for the best yard.”
“Sounds like fun,” she said thoughtfully. “Have you ever won?”
“Couple of times.” He was kind of proud of that, stupid as it sounded. “Don’t know if you got the flier, but we’re having another one in a month or so, if you’d like to come.”
“I don’t remember seeing it, but I might just do that.”
He shifted awkwardly, unable to remember when he’d ever felt so out of his depth with a woman, even with his sorry track record. The silence stretched taut between them, the night and its blanket of stars closing in. His cock, half-hard the whole evening since they’d met, swelled in his jeans. He wanted to touch, taste, get lost in her softness. Maybe he’d been too long without a woman, but the strange pull in his gut told him it was something more than lust. Though there was plenty of that.
Man up, old boy. What’s the worst she can do?
Reject him, sure. It would sting, but he’d live. Nothing ventured, as they say.
Cara was studying him, making no move to leave. Taking that as an encouraging sign, he moved forward, so close their bodies were almost touching. Tentatively, he reached out and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. When she didn’t move away or protest, he cupped her face and brought their bodies together.
Fire. She scorched him from chest to groin, setting him ablaze. The firmness of her breasts pushed into him as she tilted her head up and met his gaze. He hoped the hunger he read there matched his own, because he was done waiting to find out.
Lowering his head, he captured her lips with his. He could swear he felt the shock of pleasure rush from his brain to his toes. So good. Electric. Wrapping her arms around his back, she urged him closer, opened for him. Happy to oblige, he slipped his tongue into the moist heat of her mouth, exploring. She met his searching eagerly, her response so passionate it made him dizzy.
Breaking the kiss, he slid a hand down to the curve of her ass. “I want you, Cara. I know it’s way soon, but—”
“I want you, too,” she breathed. A hand slipped under his shirt, rubbed his abdomen. “But I have to go.”
“Stay? Just for a little while?”
“Taylor . . .”
“Don’t make me beg. It’s not pretty.”
“Don’t give me that damned lopsided smile,” she said in a low, husky voice. “It won’t work.”
“I think it already has.”
“It’s almost three in the morning. I should go.”
Should wasn’t have to. He smothered her weakening protests with another kiss, this one as hot as the first. Her lips were velvet, devouring him in return, and she writhed against him. He wanted more of the same, only with no annoying clothes to get in the way.
“Stay,” he pleaded, nipping at her lips.
Crickets chirped around them. Somewhere a cat screeched. It seemed an eternity before she nodded, and his blood sang.
“For a while, I’ll stay.”
• • •
For a while, I’ll stay.
The instant the words were out of her mouth, Cara cursed herself for being a moron.
Not that she didn’t want his gorgeous body—oh no, that definitely wasn’t the problem. With that shaggy blond hair falling into those beautiful, earnest green eyes, hard muscles tensed and ready to pounce . . . the man was her fantasy in the flesh.
He was the enemy. And right now the woman in her didn’t care.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, voice husky.
Taking her
hand, he led her to the porch steps. Fished out a key and let them in. After he’d locked the door behind him and flipped on a lamp, he pushed her against the door and ate her mouth again. A whimper escaped her throat and she was too aroused to be ashamed of her response. She needed him like she needed air. It had been far too long.
“My bedroom?”
“Yes.”
Quickly, he led her up the stairs and down a hallway to his bedroom, switching on a lamp on the nightstand. It was a nice room with a big, attractive four-poster bed, but, frankly, her attention was on other things besides the decor. Her mouth watered as he yanked off his T-shirt to reveal a sculpted chest that was lightly hairy. Manly and just right. He had a nice six-pack going, and a treasure trail of dusky hair that ran from his belly button, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans.
“Take off the rest,” she said. “I want to watch.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’ve got myself a voyeur? Sweet.”
“Only when it comes to crazy-hot men undressing just for me.”
His expression sobered some. “I don’t do this often. Haven’t in ages, so I don’t want you to think I’m some man-slut who trolls the Waterin’ Hole on a weekly basis.”
“Good to know. But what if I’m a girl-slut?”
“Well, honey, I don’t judge.” His grin told her that he was teasing.
She smiled back, and it felt foreign on her face. What was it about this man that had her relaxing her guard when she damned well shouldn’t? Now wasn’t the time to analyze, though. She pointed to his lower half. “The rest, cop.”
“Ooh, I love when you say cop like that. Sounds dirty.”
“Have a fetish about that, do we?”
“Among other things.” He unfastened the jeans, then worked down the zipper.
“Do tell.”
“Even better, I’ll show you sometime.”
They’d see about that. For now, she feasted her eyes on him as he pushed his jeans and boxer briefs down his legs, then stepped out of them. His thighs were hard, just as toned as his torso, and he had well-shaped calves. His cock was thick and long, a good eight or nine inches, and was curved upward, purplish red and weeping precum. She caught herself about to lick her lips in anticipation of tasting him.
“Your turn.”
His gaze was hot as she pulled off her tank top and discarded it. Next came her lacy bra with the front clasp, something she knew men liked. Flicking it open, she watched his expression darken as she parted the cups and let herself spill free.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
She was glad the room was a bit dim and hopefully hid her blush. “I’m not very big.”
“You’re just right,” he said reverently. “Perfect.”
“Thank you.” The compliment was unexpected and very nice. She wasn’t used to lovers saying sweet things. Even when she and Jinx, her lead guitarist, had been an item and burning up the sheets, he’d never wasted time with gentleness or sweet nothings.
After kicking off her shoes, she peeled off the trendy designer jeans that hugged her like a second skin. He took in her every move, especially attentive when she saved the purple thong underwear for last.
“It matches the streaks in your hair,” he observed.
“You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” Slowly, she pushed down her panties and his mouth fell open. His eyes widened as he stared at her trimmed black landing strip streaked with purple. She grinned. “I like for the carpet to match the drapes.”
“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Somebody in heaven really does love me.”
“You like?”
“Come here and let me show you how much.”
Taking her hand, he pulled her to the bed and urged her onto her back. As he climbed over her, she spread her legs to accommodate him. He kissed her senseless, his erection trapped between them, pulsing and hot, burrowing into her stomach. This was the part she’d always loved best—a strong man covering her body with his, showering her with attention.
And that was an area in which Taylor clearly excelled. He was very skilled in using his teeth, tongue, and hands. Bending his head, he nibbled along her jaw to her neck, and the tiny bites raised goose bumps on her skin. She liked the sensation and squirmed underneath him, which in turn made him growl and rub his cock against her even more.
Reaching between them, he rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, using just enough pressure to send a delicious sting of pain singing to her nerve endings. Heat flared between her legs and she knew she was already wet for him. She liked some edge to her play, and he didn’t disappoint.
After twirling one nipple and then the other with his fingers, he moved lower to pleasure them with his mouth. He licked the tip of the first, which was now standing at a tight peak. She savored how his tongue rasped against the nub and then how he sucked it, making sure to graze it with his teeth. Once he’d repeated the process on the other nipple, she was moaning her approval.
Without a word, he began to kiss his way lower. Finally—thank God—he was lying between her thighs, face practically buried in her mound.
“I’m gonna feast on you, baby,” he murmured.
“Please.” She spread wider.
Maybe she loved this part best. Being completely exposed, spread for her lover. Offering herself to his lips and tongue, fingers and cock. She loved how powerful this made her feel. How wanted. Needed.
“So pretty. I love when a woman is bare here,” he said, laving the slick lips of her folds.
Most men did, in her experience. They liked a trimmed bush above, but the labia waxed bare was a sensual playground during sex. Taylor sure seemed to agree.
The man licked her like a cat lapping cream, and she arched into him, burying her fingers in his silky hair. His tongue worked between her folds, too, and he fucked her like that, stroking the appendage in and out of her slick channel. Waves of heat pooled in her core and rippled outward to her limbs. He began to eat her in earnest, driving her out of her mind.
“I don’t want to come yet,” she panted, yanking on his hair. “Need you in me.”
Nodding, he wiped his face on the sheets and rose. She almost protested until she saw that he was just moving to the nightstand to fish for protection. Removing a foil square from the drawer, he ripped it open and deftly sheathed his rod. Then he returned to his spot between her thighs and remained on his knees, positioning himself at her entrance. Cupping her bottom with his hands, he lifted her slightly.
Then he worked his thick cock into her, careful not to cause any pain. Not that he could have. She was so overheated she was ready to combust. “Fuck me,” she begged.
“Hard and fast, honey?” A thin bead of sweat rolled from his temple, down his jaw. She wanted to lick it.
“Yes!”
She didn’t have to ask twice. He plunged in to the hilt, held steady for a moment, letting her adjust. Then slid out, slammed in again. As he increased the strength and tempo of his thrusts, his eyes never left hers. The intensity of his gaze, his raw sexuality and comfort level in his own skin, was damned arousing. She’d never felt anything like the shudder than ran to her soul as he looked into her eyes. Watching her reaction. Seeing his male satisfaction at pleasing her.
Soon he was pounding deep, the sounds of rhythmic fucking like music. He was a skilled lover, his cock angled to rub her clit, bringing her to the edge of orgasm. She staved it off as long as she could, but not nearly long enough. Once release was imminent, she shattered with a cry, her walls clenching around his length, hands clutching his back.
In seconds he followed her over, plunging one last time, his cock jerking and twitching until at last he was spent. Body still draped over hers, he lowered his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder, breathing hard. Sated, she let her palms roam over his spine and downward to squeeze his tight ass.
Very nice.
After a couple of minutes, he moved to the side, his spent cock slipping out. She had to squelch a bout of disappointment at his loss, and wondered at that. She’d never really felt that way before. Sadly, she was usually glad for the guy to be done and get the heck off her. With Taylor, it was different.
That wasn’t good. At all.
When the bed dipped, she realized she’d been so caught up in her thoughts she’d missed him going to the bathroom. He’d discarded the condom and cleaned up some. He held out a damp cloth.
“A clean one for you.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the cloth. No one had ever taken care of her afterward, she was certain. It was a sweet gesture that confounded everything she’d believed about Taylor.
For some reason, wiping off with the cloth under his watchful eye was somewhat embarrassing where the actual sex hadn’t been. Probably due to coming down from the rush of hormones or something. After she was done, he took the cloth, tossed it into the bathroom, and crawled back into bed.
Snuggling in, he pulled her close so that her head was on his chest. “Is this okay?”
“This is just fine.” She smiled to herself, determined to think of the complications of getting involved with this man tomorrow. Or later today. “Do you have to work today?”
“No, I’m off.” He laughed softly. “This old man can’t handle partying all night, then showing up for work at eight in the morning anymore. Did that plenty in my twenties, but now it would probably kill me.”
“You are not old.” She trailed a finger through his chest hair.
“I’ve got a few years on that guitarist of yours. The one who was stuck to you like plastic wrap on your set breaks.”
She snickered. Men were so transparent. “That was Jay, or Jinx, as we call him, because he’s got the worst karma of anybody we’ve ever met.”
“He seemed into you.”
“Nah, not so much anymore. He’s a friend and watches over me.”
“Yeah, I could see that.” He didn’t sound thrilled about it.
