by Wade, Dani
Standing together in the middle of the shower, Michael adjusted the water and turned on the sprays, making sure the little nozzles in the shower walls hit Taylor in all the right places. She jumped when he directed one right over that delectable mound between her thighs.
“Cold?” he murmured.
“No,” she whispered.
“Good girl.”
He took his time soaping her down, rinsing her clean, enjoying the slickness of the water between their bodies. His fingers explored every crevice, ignoring her moans and sighs. Even her muffled squeaks of embarrassment. He ached for there to be no more secrets between them.
No more vague details about her grandmother and her life away from here, no more phone calls and texts she left unanswered—at least while he was nearby.
He’d told her he would trust her, and he wouldn’t back away from that. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, questioning the motive behind the mystery.
Standing before her, he sandwiched his erection between their bodies. Her skin was pale in the soft glow of the shower lights, her hair a pile of golden curls secured on top of her head. “So sexy.” She panted between open lips, her need displayed for him to see clearly on her face.
He bent closer. “Now you will do something for me.”
She moaned her acquiescence until he started to bend her over the biggest curve. Resistance straightened her spine. “Michael,” she whined.
His slap on her ass sounded harder than it was, echoing off the walls, stinging his palm. “Do it,” he said, eager arousal deepening his voice. He'd quickly discovered her dislike for this position, avoiding it in every way possible unless the room was pitch black. Then the shy schoolteacher transformed into a sexed-up porn star.
Another reason he'd blindfolded her. She could pretend the room was dark if she wanted, but he would enjoy every breathtaking sight.
With a firm hand at the nape of her neck, he guided her over the curve where water ran down to warm her breasts. The sight of her alabaster skin against the copper curve was art in motion.
He followed the water to where it pooled in the bowl made by her bound arms, then lower to the curves of her ass. With a hand on each cheek, he spread her wide, ignoring her mews of distress. “So beautiful.”
His cock fit perfectly between the globes and he slid through the narrow valley, the head nudging her knuckles where her fingers tangled together. Her slick skin was heavenly. He could watch as he thrust against her ass, squeezing her flesh around him, seeing his dickhead turn from red to dusky purple as his excitement rose.
Within a minute she was arching back against him. “Please, Michael, please.”
“Are you wet, Taylor?”
She choked, then a strangled “yes” emerged.
“Good girl. I'll just check for myself, okay?”
He reached between her trembling thighs with questing fingers and found her naked lips plumped and slick with juice. “Ah, baby, I bet you'd taste sweet.”
Another strangled groan had him grinning. She was so easy to torture. What idiot would think a woman like Taylor would thrive under the lash of pain? A little love, a little force, and a little control were enough to shoot her off like a firecracker.
Michael didn't need to torture her with whips and chains; words and withholding were more than enough.
Finding the hard little nub of her clit, he flicked back and forth. His favorite game. Her breathing changed, faster than before. Cries mingled with the tempo. She played better than his favorite Les Paul guitar. Her clit hardened even more. Her juices slipped over his fingers with the water.
“Do you need some relief, baby?” he asked. Taylor was incredibly multi-orgasmic, which had been a surprise to them both. One to take the edge off. Two to have her screaming. Three to leave her limp and sated.
She whined low in her throat, encouraging him to do his worst. Or best. Grasping the little nub between his fingers, he squeezed while keeping the friction steady.
Her body bowed with her release, but her breath only eased a little. He smiled. She never demanded more. Never complained about not getting enough. And he found it a joy to see just how far he could push her, to learn just when she needed him to stop.
Now was not that time.
Lifting one of her legs, he bent his knees and found her core with his cock. He slid all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion, pausing to let her body adjust. Man, he felt the ripples around his hard flesh all the way to his balls, dragging his own orgasm closer and closer.
After long moments, he slowly guided her leg back down. The tightness surrounding his cock almost blinded him—so snug and juicy. He breathed through the moment, willing himself not to go down in flames too soon.
Then he moved, and heaven descended right in the midst of his shower. He pounded her in hard, short bursts, listening to her cries as he hit the perfect spot. The sound of her moans and his groans echoed off the walls and in his ears.
When she reached the highest note, he forced himself home. Her milking muscles clamped down, and he barely managed to keep from sliding into oblivion as an incredible orgasm engulfed him from head to toes.
When he opened his eyes, the edges of reality were more than a little fuzzy.
Locking his knees, he held on until he could orient himself. Then he withdrew and folded her into his arms. She didn't protest as he washed them both this time then dried her and carried her to bed.
When he returned from turning off the lights, she opened her eyes a bare inch and spread her arms wide.
Settling his head against her naked breasts, his arms around her waist, he heard the faintest of notes in his mind. The song she inspired every time they were in the same room together. As he drifted off to sleep, he smiled.
Taylor wasn’t just sexy, capable, and loveable. She was his next number one hit.
* * *
“Taylor, why the hell wouldn't you answer my calls?”
Taylor glanced around the car even though she knew Michael wasn't with her. Still, she couldn't stop herself. The man had peeled back her armor layer by layer. Even though he knew the most intimate details about her, she couldn’t bring herself to admit her mistakes had gained her a stalker.
“I'm sorry, Stephen. I've just been busy.”
“What if I'd been calling about Bradley? Or your granny?”
She knew Granny was okay, because she'd checked in with the nursing home every day. The fever her grandmother had run before kept returning on and off, so they were monitoring her closely.
“I texted you back. What more do you want?”
“I'm worried. Bradley made bail for his latest stupidity and has disappeared. My nose is grateful, but that doesn’t make me worry less. Even the PI I use for my client work hasn't been able to find him. And he's the best there is.”
She thought for long, silent moments. “But this could be good, right? Maybe he left town? Maybe he didn’t want any more trouble with the law?”
“Maybe. But I don't trust it. I just want you to stay at the house for now.”
Guess she shouldn’t mention where she was. “How am I supposed to do that without explaining my refusal to leave?”
“You haven't told him yet?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She wasn’t entirely sure why she couldn’t bring herself to tell Michael the truth, but she mumbled, “Maybe I don't want him to know how bad it is…how crazy Bradley is. What if he sends me away, because he thinks I’m a danger to him or the kids?”
Stephen sighed. “It’s not safe, Taylor. You have to tell him.”
Not a conversation she looked forward to having, even with a man who had learned to play her body like a true musician. “Okay. I'll do it tonight.”
“Wait, are you in your car?”
“Well, yes. Today's my day off, Michael's jamming with Daniel—whatever that means—and I've got errands to run. Don't worry, I haven’t seen anything weird.”
“I don't
know, Taylor—”
“Look, I just have to check my PO box and then I'll be back to the estate. Easy-peasy, okay?”
“Good Lord, you are as hard to control as my four-year-old.”
“Well, it isn't my fault she uses her Shirley Temple curls and blue, blue eyes for evil and not for good.”
Stephen groaned while Taylor laughed.
“Just take care of yourself, okay?” he finally said.
“Sure thing.”
That's exactly what she planned to do. If only life didn't have other plans. She knew as soon as she picked the envelope out of the mail in her post office box a few minutes later that it was bad. Very bad. She sat trembling in her car, afraid to open it. The block letters on the front didn't disguise Bradley's handwriting.
Maybe she should take it to Stephen?
Then she remembered the anxious tone in his voice. She'd caused enough trouble at this point. Whatever it was, she would handle it herself.
YOU THINK YOU'RE SOMETHING ELSE, RUNNING AWAY. DON'T YOU, TAYLOR? BUT ONLY BAD GIRLS RUN SCARED. BAD GIRLS WHO NEED TO BE PUNISHED.
Taylor's heart pounded in the base of her throat, leaving her feeling like she couldn't breathe.
THOSE ARE SOME CUTE KIDS THAT ROCKER HAS. BET THEY'RE WORTH A PRETTY PENNY. AND THAT GIRL, SHE MIGHT BE RIGHT UP SOME GUY'S ALLEY. WOULDN'T MIND A TASTE OF TAMING THAT ONE MYSELF. AFTER ALL, YOU CAN'T STAY BEHIND THOSE WALLS FOREVER…
No no no. Would this nightmare never end? Taylor bent her head, tears welling up, but then fear struck again. Was Bradley here? Had he hung around the post office to catch her? He had to have tracked down location somehow.
A quick scope didn't show his car or him skulking around, but she wasn't taking any chances. She pealed out of the parking lot and drove to nowhere in particular, watching carefully for anyone following her.
Sure she was alone, only then did she head back to the estate. Then laughed at her hysteria. Obviously Bradley knew she was living with Michael Korvello, he just couldn't get inside.
The tension draining from her shoulders as she passed through the gates was incredible. But Bradley was right. She couldn't stay locked up here forever.
Neither could the kids.
School would start again in two weeks. Other than drop-off and pickup, she wasn't sure how tight security was at the upscale private school. Bradley no longer had a clean record, but there were probably ways to lie about it. He could show up with a cleaning crew, sneak onto the soccer field after Matthew's practice. Ambush them at the mall. She couldn't keep them safe 24-7.
Michael had been both father and mother to those kids from the moment they were born. He wasn't a perfect parent, but who was? He tried, way more than his late wife had. It would kill him if anything happened to Matthew and McKayla.
And it would be all her fault.
She’d often thought about the danger she might put the family in since she’d come to work for them, but lying low for a few months should have been enough to kill this problem. With this threat, Bradley had gone off the deep end—he was obviously mentally unstable if he could threaten a child. He’d risen to a whole new level of crazy.
She'd never be able to face Michael if she brought harm to Matthew and McKayla. Hell, she'd never be able to face herself either.
But how could she leave the family she'd come to love as her own?
Chapter Fourteen
Michael held the door open for Matthew and McKayla to roll their luggage through, all the while hearing the house phone ring over and over. It went blessedly silent just as he entered the kitchen.
“Taylor? Where are you?” he called, but nothing stirred.
“Isn't she here, Dad?” McKayla asked. She'd been really disappointed when Taylor hadn't been with him at the airport, but he'd assured her they would see Taylor when they got home.
“She should be,” he mused.
“Her car wasn't in the garage,” Matthew said.
Michael automatically asked, “Are you sure?” but Matthew would know. He noticed everything about the cars in the garage, even the very end stall where Taylor's little economy sedan had taken up residence.
“Wonder where she went?” Michael said. “Maybe to get something special for dinner since Susan is off. Why don't you two go put your stuff in your rooms while I give her a call? K?”
The inevitable whining started. “Do we have to unpack now? We just walked in the door.”
“I didn't say unpack,” he playfully groused. “I said pull the mess to your rooms so I don't have to trip over it. Capeesh?”
“Capeesh,” they said in unison before trudging off with suitcases in tow.
A quick call to Taylor's cell phone didn't get answered, so he walked up to his room. She'd all but moved in—at his insistence. He wanted her there at night, and when they woke up in the morning. Heck, all day wasn't a bad deal either. He couldn't believe how much he'd wished she was with him while he stood outside security, waiting for the kids to deplane. And they had missed her too. He had a feeling his announcement that he wanted Taylor to be more of a family member than paid employee would go over very well with these two.
Glancing around his room, Michael spotted a folded card on the dresser. Good. It just wasn't like Taylor to leave without letting him know, and for some reason anxiety had settled at the base of his spine.
There was probably a perfectly logical explanation—
Dear Michael, I know it’s the coward's way out to say good-bye this way, but I'll admit I didn't have the courage to face you with the truth.
No. Not his Taylor.
This just isn't the best place for me right now.
All those nights. How could it not be right?
You're such an incredible man. Your kids are very lucky to have you as a father. One day a woman will be lucky enough to have you in her life too.
But not you, huh, sweetheart?
I'm so sorry, Michael. I wish it didn't have to be this way, that I didn't have to go. But it’s the best move for everyone.
As he heard his kids in the hall, he sneered. Best for everyone? Or best for Taylor?
But then he thought back to everything they'd done, everything they’d said to each other. All the guidance and encouragement she'd given him as a father. All the intimacies she'd trusted him with as a lover.
This wasn't right. Something was very wrong. He’d listen to his heart this time…not his past. He started reading the note one more time.
When his cell rang, he snatched it out of his pocket. To his disappointment the screen didn't say Taylor, but maybe Stephen could help him instead.
“Where is she?” he barked into the phone.
“Um, Michael?” Stephen asked.
“Yes. Where is she?”
The other man's words sped up. “She's already gone?”
“What the hell is going on, Stephen? I'm having a really hard time buying the ‘it's me not you’ crap she left me in this Dear John letter.”
“If it doesn't include the name Bradley Sandoval, it’s a whole crock of bull anyway.”
“Bradley? You mean that guy she was involved with after her parents died?” He dropped onto the edge of the bed. Where had she gone?
“That's the one. I was afraid when he got out of jail something would happen—”
“He went to jail for hurting Taylor?” She hadn't mentioned that part.
“Yes, but that was only the first time. He went to jail most recently for breaking into my office, but he was released on bail.”
Whoa, wait a minute. “Come again?”
“Hmm.” Silence reined on the other end for a moment, grating on Michael's nerves, then Stephen asked, “What exactly did Taylor tell you about Bradley?”
“Just that she dated him not long after her parents died.” He decided to keep the sexual details to himself. “And that he ended up being scary abusive before she broke it off.”
“I was afraid of th—”
“Afraid of what?” Michael gr
ound out through clenched teeth.
Stephen suffered from some frustration himself. “If you'd quit interrupting, I could explain.”
The first unprofessional words Stephen had ever spoken to him shut Michael up quick, because he wanted answers.
“Taylor did break it off with Bradley,” Stephen explained, slowly down for a minute. “Then the son of a bitch decided he owned her and wasn't going to let her get away.”
Owned her? What kind of crazy whacko was this guy?
“He stalked her for almost six months before I got her to your place. Showed up at her job at the middle school. She had to change her cell phone number several times. But it was him breaking into her apartment… holy shit, that was scary. It was the last straw.”
He broke into her—God have mercy on this man's soul, because Michael sure as hell wouldn't once he got ahold of him.
“We only had a short time to hide her before he got out on bail. I helped. I moved her grandmother to a new nursing facility and changed her name. Then I got Taylor the job as your nanny, because I knew she'd be safe there.”
“You knew her all along?”
“We grew up together. What Bradley did to her—tearing her down, criticizing her weight, her teaching—he didn't care who heard him. But it wasn't until he got physically rough that she found the courage to get out. Of course, that was only the beginning.”
“Sounds like.”
“I'm sorry, Michael. I know I didn't give you all the facts, but she was perfect for the job. I just wanted her to be safe.”
So did Michael. Please God, let her be safe. “I understand,” he said.
The tension in Stephen’s voice ramped up again. “She left me a message saying she'd received a letter from Bradley in her PO box. He's been watching her come and go from your estate, and he threatened her.”
“Why didn't she just tell me? We have bodyguards—”
“He didn't just threaten her, Michael.”
