Kiss Me...If You Dare

by Aurora Rose Lynn

  Celeste strolled over to the kitchen, poured the cold cocoa down the drain, and nuked more water. Truth is stranger than fiction, she told herself as she stirred the boiling water into the freshly washed mug.

  Someone rapped on the door. In the overwhelming silence, the sound rattled her so badly, she dropped the spoon on the floor.

  “Oh fudge,” she muttered, although she wanted to use a stronger expletive, but that kind of language wasn’t tolerated by folks who worked in the court. “Who is it?” she shouted, reluctant to open the door to yet another stranger. It was two a.m.

  “Taylor,” came the quiet reply.

  “I’m not letting you in again,” she managed from a dry throat. What did he want and why? Wasn’t it bad enough he’d left her without so much as a goodbye?

  “I’d slip these under the door, but they won’t fit,” he said in his deep, very masculine voice.

  “Are they diamonds?” she called out, half teasing. No one had ever bought her those before.

  “No. Try again.”

  “A new housecoat?” Pink would be nice.

  “Nope. You want to try again?”

  Three’s the lucky charm. She scrunched up her face, trying to guess even though she wasn’t much interested.

  “A condom?” she threw out then chortled. A condom indeed!

  “Nope. Your guesses are all used up,” came from the other side.

  Wiping the sudden tears of laughter from her eyes, Celeste asked, “Why can’t this wait until morning?” Not that it was that far away.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I want to tell you that. Without this piece of damned wood between us.”

  She rested her head against the door. Could she hear his breathing? She thought she detected his musky scent, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “Besides, I forgot, but I still need a place to stay for the weekend.”

  His deep drawl was so enticing, luring her into doing what she didn’t want to. He could be quite endearing when he had a mind to, she realised. “I thought you just wanted sex.”

  “That too. You’re gorgeous.”

  If he only knew the truth.

  “Celeste? Are you still there?” he asked, his voice more subdued.

  She stepped back and considered walking away, climbing into bed and reading her textbook. “Yeah.”

  “Let me in, and we can talk about this in private. Your neighbours on either side of you are opening up to hear the juicy details.”

  That would be Mrs. Myers, an older lady with a cocker spaniel she carried everywhere, and Mr. Beamer, whose eyeglasses were thicker than window panes. “Okay, but we’ll only talk for a few minutes.” Although I want to make love to you again. That would be nice.

  Stepping back, she opened the door. Taylor did exactly the same thing he’d done a few hours earlier. He stomped in, hauled her out of the way and slammed the door. The walls shuddered yet again. The only difference from last time was he carried a bouquet of early spring flowers. Like a child, he thrust them towards her.

  She pressed her lips together in a grimace then squared her fists on her hips. “Whose garden did you get those from?”

  He blinked and a sheepish look appeared on his face. “You could accept them gratefully then chew me out for ripping them out of someone’s garden.”

  Celeste simply shook her head. “What difference would that make?”

  He shrugged and set the small bouquet of purple streaked irises, yellow crocuses and pale purple hyacinths on the kitchen counter. His hair and jean jacket were wet with small drops of rain. Clasping his hands in front of him as if he were in detention, he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

  Celeste began to enjoy herself but frowned just in case Taylor thought she was too. “For what?”

  “Leaving like a thief in the night.” He took one step forward.

  He did look repentant, she decided, but she’d wanted him to go, hadn’t she? “Why did you leave if you’re in need of a place to stay?” She couldn’t say with any certainty, but maybe he was telling the truth, but until she knew more, she’d stick with her story, that he was using her.

  He cast his gaze to the floor then back up to her face before he responded in a low voice. “I want to make love to you again—without any obstructions this time.”

  “I don’t believe—”

  She found herself wrapped in his arms, against his broad chest and his beating heart. Celeste gasped.

  “Don’t believe me?” He kissed her again, not slowly and carefully as he had last time but with an ardour that would have embarrassed a chivalrous medieval knight.

  Hooking her arms around his neck, she leaned into him. It wouldn’t hurt to have sex with him again, would it? Her pulse pounded erratically, and she stood on tiptoe to return the kiss. She melted against him, turning into mush for the second time that evening.

  When he broke away, he left her dazzled and unsteady. How could she want a man she’d only met a few days ago with such intensity? When he was in her apartment, the rooms became small and inconsequential. Taylor swept aside every care, and all she could focus on was her body responding to his. She pushed her pelvis to his in a wanton mood, refusing to relinquish the contact between them.

  He stroked the back of her head. “Those damn pins again.” One by one, he pulled them out from her hair until it tumbled to her shoulders. “You’re beautiful with your hair down. Why don’t you wear it like that to work?” He saw her often enough at the Duck N Diner to know she always wore her hair up. His voice was soft.

  Celeste shook her head. “It wouldn’t be very businesslike. Long, flowing hair is only for models and prom queens.”

  He grazed a burning trail across her cheek. “You’re all of those, Celeste. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve met.”

  Incredulous, she pushed at his chest with the flat of her palms. “Don’t play cruel games with me, Taylor,” she whispered hoarsely. “You know that’s not true.” It never had been in her experience.

  Disbelief flickered in his eyes. “I’m telling you the truth. You need to believe me.”

  “No,” she moaned. If he knew what lay under her clothes, he’d run away as quickly as Mark had.

  “I want to sleep with you again.” Taylor’s voice was hardly loud enough to hear. “I want to feel your naked body against mine, your heart against my chest.”

  “You’re a sappy fool,” she muttered longingly. His words and his presence aroused her to a fevered pitch.

  “Maybe, but it’s better than the alternative.”

  At her raised eyebrow look, he added, “Being angry all the time with everything and everyone.” He scooped her closer. “Since I met you, I can’t think of anything else. My paintings of the woods and summer landscapes have gone by the wayside. I paint you, over and over.”

  Celeste grimaced. She’d be perfect in his paintings. Her body would be whole, without the rigid, long white scars. She couldn’t make love to him again. He’d discover her secret, then the hurt would spiral through her when he ran away from her.

  “Celeste?” he asked quietly, tenderly, giving her an earnest appeal. “What’s wrong?”

  “You have to leave,” she told him. The words grated and were like pulling wisdom teeth. I don’t want you to go, but I don’t want to share my secret with you either. If I do, I’ll die of shame.

  He didn’t move a muscle. “Leave? Why?”

  Unwilling to explain, she shook her head. It would cost her too much to strip out of her robe, to show him the scars.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take off all my clothes first then you can explore me.”

  I’ll never find on you what will drive you away from me.

  “No,” she said firmly, pushing at him again. If only he would leave, her secret would be safe. “I can’t.”

  She wouldn’t meet his eyes. He would see she was lying to him and to herself since she wanted to make love to him again without the barrier of clothes.

  He smiled warmly. “I’ll start
, so you know there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Taylor was misinterpreting her. She wasn’t afraid of him, only of herself her past that reared up to hurt her again and again.

  Celeste had been twelve when she and her dad had gone into the wilds for a picnic. They had shared the same liking for the outdoors. Back then, she’d gone out to the lake with him as often as she could, and they’d fished and taken along meals for picnics. Her father had been warned that there was a bear and her cub in the area, but he hadn’t relayed the message to her.

  In retrospect, he wasn’t a bad man, but he could have said something. A little girl Celeste had pegged as about five or six had come careening out from the thick forest, screaming in terror. A bear had been running after her. Without thinking twice of the consequences, Celeste had jumped to her feet to help the girl, and the next moment, the cub’s mother had been on top of her. Her father had finally scared it away, but not before it had mauled her.

  Celeste had been airlifted to the nearest hospital, and although the emergency doctors had saved her life, they hadn’t been able to fully repair her shoulder, her right breast, and abdomen. She had healed, but her legacy from the bear were several ugly and long scars.

  “Celeste?” Taylor whispered urgently, as if trying to wake her up. “Where did you go?”

  She shook her head, unwilling and unable to talk about the past, which should have been dead and buried but kept flaring up now that she was older and wanted a little sex. Yet that’s all it would be—sex with a good-looking hunk but no prospect of marriage or children.

  “You’re tired,” he said gently. “It must be close to three o’clock. Why don’t you go to bed?”

  She heard a hint of regret in his tone but ignored it and nodded. “Now will you leave?” She gave him some points with her for being a gentleman. Most men never thought of anyone but themselves, Numero Uno. She could respect him for that.

  “No.” His eyes narrowed. “If you have a nightmare then I’ll be right here.” He made eye contact with her. “On the couch.”

  She raked her fingers through her hair. “How do you know I have nightmares?” Of bears and being attacked.

  He shrugged. “You looked as if you were reliving something from the past, and it definitely wasn’t pleasant.” He traced his knuckles down her cheek to her mouth where they lingered, sensuous but non-threatening.

  “Oh,” was all she replied.

  Tenderly, he said, “I get them, too, but most of the time, I’m by myself so no one else gets to hear the torment and see the terrified sweating and heart pounding.”

  In a daze, she sat on the couch and patted the sagging cushion beside her. “Taylor? Sit down with me.”

  She didn’t think he’d refuse, and he didn’t. After shrugging from his jacket then carefully folding and setting it across the back of the armchair, he sat next to her. His short hair stuck up in endearing, little spikes all over his head.

  “What do you relive?” she asked in a muted whisper, dreading the answer. If she wanted to scare herself to death, all she had to do was turn on the TV and watch a late night horror movie.

  Taylor rubbed his palms along his thighs but didn’t sit all the way back against the cushions. It was as if he were alert for something, although she had no idea what.

  “When I was eighteen, I enlisted in the army.” At her querying expression, he added, “That was seven years ago.” He hesitated, giving her the impression he didn’t want to relate this particular life experience.

  Celeste patted his knee encouragingly.

  “It was to get away from my dad, to prove to him that I could do anything I wanted.”

  “You don’t get along?”

  The room was hushed with nightly quiet. Outside, the rain pounded heavier on the pavement and the wind picked up.

  “No. I think he was responsible for my mom leaving when my sisters and I were very young.” He licked his lips. “He’s always been one of these macho men who thinks stern discipline will remake people. That or a stint in prison.”

  “Right,” Celeste murmured, thinking of asking if his dad had written the textbook she was reading which advocated discipline from an early age.

  Taylor drew a breath. “I should have known better. The army wasn’t any better. I was only a few days from going home when I was wounded in Afghanistan. My dad didn’t even send me a get well card.”

  Celeste made sympathetic sounds. It appeared they’d both been wounded although she’d never have considered enlisting in the army.

  He grimaced. “Most nights I relive the bomb that damaged my arm. When I came home and realised that I could have died and my dad didn’t give a flying shit, I told myself I didn’t have to care about him anymore.”

  “You said you paint?” she asked softly.

  He nodded vigorously. “Yeah, mostly landscapes, but once in a while, I do a still life or portraits.”

  She couldn’t help herself. She leaned closer and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Does it still hurt? Your arm, I mean?” They both needed comfort, and even though her mother had always been there for her when she’d needed it, Celeste felt a deep void within her that didn’t go away no matter what she did.

  “Yeah. That’s when I take out my case of beer and drown myself in the stuff.” He chuckled quietly. “Doesn’t do much to kill the pain, but it helps me sleep through the night.”

  Gingerly, he lifted his hand and patted her cheek. “I’m lucky though. My buddies didn’t walk away.”

  “I don’t understand war,” she murmured against his shoulder. Oddly, she felt as if they shared a bond that transcended space and time.

  “Me either. I was angry and couldn’t understand why I was fighting for a cause I didn’t believe in. Even after all the indoctrination, I very much had a mind of my own.”

  “Good for you.” She threw her arms around his neck and held him close. Had she only known him a few hours, instead of years and years?

  “Is that why you don’t want to get undressed for me? You’re hiding your own demons?” he whispered, his voice tender and concerned.

  She lifted her head and gave him a piercing look. “How did you know?”

  He patted her shoulder. “We’re two war torn bodies, you know, each in our own way.” Taylor sighed. “You’re tired, Celeste.”

  In one quick movement, he scooped her up in his arms and headed towards the bedroom. She clung to him. He smelled nice, he posed no threat to her and he’d be in the next room if she had a nightmare.

  Taylor laid her on the bed, squirreled off her slippers and covered her up to her chin. “Sleep well, princess.”

  Her eyes were so heavy, she didn’t need much to close them. And she didn’t mind being tucked into bed like a kid.

  “I’ll be right here,” she heard him say soothingly.

  Taylor watched as Celeste conked out right away. She must have been tired, and he’d kept her awake talking about his short stint in the army. Quietly, doubting he would wake her, he pulled off his boots and slid over beside her on top of the sheets. Her features were peaceful, her long hair pushed to one side of the white pillow. He wondered what kind of emotional scars she had and if he’d be able to handle them.

  Grunting, he nestled his head on the pillow next to Celeste’s and told himself he could handle anything she threw at him. He left on the lamp on the nightstand just in case either one of them had a nightmare.

  Chapter Four

  Taylor smelled nice, Celeste decided as she reached for him, for his muscled shoulders and his sturdy arms. She needed more sex, too. She chuckled at her brazen behaviour. He was in the living room sleeping on the couch, but she could entice him into her bed. Or had she already?

  The whole bedroom was hazy, as if it were filled with misty fog, but that wouldn’t deter her from searching for Taylor. She’d discovered she liked him a great deal. He’d shared one of his secrets with her, one she felt certain he hadn’t easily shared with others. That fact alone raised
him in her book of respect. But sex wasn’t about respect, was it?

  Sighing, the mist enveloping her heavily, she put her hands out as if to get off the bed and stumbled on him. He had a hard-on, and she wondered if she should make apologies for hurting him with her palms.

  He said nothing, simply drew her into his arms.

  She wanted to undress for him. In her mind, the scars from the bear mauling were long gone, healed so magically and adeptly, she hadn’t noticed. Laughing softly, she caught him in her arms, and he hugged her affectionately. It was far too soon to wonder if they were soul mates, like the judge and her mother, Charlotte. They had found each other after many years of living on this earth, but Charlotte didn’t hesitate to say they were soul mates. The judge and the bailiff. Who would have guessed? Not Celeste. Now she had Taylor, and he was hers.

  She didn’t need to tell him that she wanted him to make love to her. Her robe and her worn nightie whispered as they each fell around her waist. She’d bared her breasts to him, and he was suckling each nipple in turn. His hands roamed her body expertly and deliciously. She groaned and plucked her robe and nightie from around her torso and carelessly tossed them on the floor.

  Taylor was naked now, too, and she enjoyed every part of him, especially his cock and his strong thighs. My, oh my, but he was hard. She said nothing but, with a pleading glance, asked him to lodge his cock in her pussy. The hushed silence was a little unnerving, and the mist hung on, but she didn’t care.

  Celeste heard him mutter that he shouldn’t, and she stopped to question him. Then her heated, aroused body met his. Oh, the bliss, she thought, her breath catching in her throat. The bliss of being completely naked with him in a way she’d never been with a man before. Now that the scars were healed in her mind, she no longer had to worry about being naked. Not ever again.

  Lying on her back, she took the full length of his rigid erection inside her wet sheath and caressed the rigid knots along his spine and his back with sure fingers. This was the way life was supposed to be. No secrets lurked in the darkness waiting to spring out and bring her to her knees in shame and terror.