Waiting For It

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Taylor licked her lips. “Think about what?”

  “Taking it back. You said it, now you’re going to have to back it up.”

  Her spine went straight, shoulders back, eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’m ready to back it up.” Hah! So there!

  She was feeling pretty proud of herself till he grunted, “Then hold that thought,” and promptly disappeared through her front door. Well hell, now what? Her eyes flew across her room in a near state of panic, wondering what to do. Geez, why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? She really did have every intention of going through with this thing and throwing herself all over the gorgeous man tonight, but she’d been planning on working up to it over dinner. Not to mention having a few heady glasses of wine to help her along.

  Her frantic gaze finally landed on her bed, where she’d laid out her new outfit for tonight. Yes! But she was too late. She made a mad grab for the clothes just as Jake appeared in her doorway, and he just kept right on coming, not stopping until he was standing over her.

  God, the man was tall. She bent back her head and looked up, higher and higher, finding herself trapped by his brilliant green eyes. They—burned on her. There was no other word for it. “What are you doing?” she squeaked, wincing at the ridiculous sound.

  He took a step closer.

  She took a quick step back and felt the bed hit the backs of her knees. He wasn’t even touching her yet, just staring down at her, but his look told her exactly what he was thinking about, down to the last slippery, delicious detail. She flushed and felt herself go hot and wet between her trembling legs, her pussy eagerly readying itself for him. His nostrils flared the tiniest bit, and she moaned at the thought that he might actually be able to smell the need on her.

  Jake took another deep breath and nearly died. She smelled so damn good. Good enough to eat. To lick. To tongue fuck for hours on end. His voice emerged as little more than a husky growl. “Your cunt’s already getting wet for me, isn’t it, Taylor?”

  She groaned this time, her eyes snapping shut, as if she could block him out simply by taking away the incredible sight of him. It didn’t work. She could still smell his own delicious scent; still feel the waves of heat and lust coming off of him, crashing against her. “Jake, I have to get ready.” Her voice felt thick, everything within her going heavy with want.

  His big hands covered her small ones where they still clasped the front of her robe together. “Like I said, I’ll help you, sweetheart.”

  His voice seemed to shake as much as her fingers and he felt a violent rush of love flow through him, sharp and indescribably sweet. He couldn’t believe he was here. He’d wanted her for so long, and here he was, standing in her bedroom with her, while she trembled before him, barely dressed and smelling sweetly of desire. This was it. The best moment of his life. Right here, right now. And he could hardly wait for all the ones just like it to come.

  She cracked her lids enough to catch a peek of him through the thick fringe of her lashes. Oh, man. The way he looked at her, as if she were the most desirable woman in all the world, made her want to run to her mirror and look to check if she was still the same ol’ Taylor. Maybe some childhood wish had been granted and she’d finally grown boobs and hips. Maybe hell had frozen over and she’d been transformed into a Victoria’s Secret model without even realizing it.

  She did a quick mental inventory, but everything still felt the same. Well, hell. What was wrong with this guy? He could have any woman he wanted, and yet, here he was with her, looking as if he wanted to eat her alive. Was there something she’d never seen, maybe? Some hidden allure that she’d never recognized? Or was he just crazy? Blind as a bat?

  Then he smiled, and her eyes narrowed with suspicion. That was more like it. Taylor could easily imagine him finding her less-than-perfect curves—okay, pretty much nonexistent curves something to laugh at. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing’s funny, babe. I’m just happy. I’ve never had to coax a woman out of her clothes before, and it’s a hell of a lot more fun than I’ve ever thought it’d be.” His green eyes crinkled at the corners, looking sexy as sin. “Then again, I think it’s just the idea of getting you outta your clothes that makes it fun.”

  Taylor groaned. “Jake, why do you keep saying these things?”

  “Because they’re true, honey,” he replied in the kind of tone a parent might use on a reluctant child. “And after tonight, you’re not ever going to have any trouble believing me again. Now let go and let me see what you’re hiding under there.”

  She laughed softly; a sound more pain than humor. “Nothing, Jake. That’s the problem. I’m not hiding anything. What you see is what you get.”

  “Good, because it’s exactly what I want.” His hands tightened on hers, forcing them away. “Stop teasing me, Taylor. Let me see you.”

  He sounded so sincere, so tortured; she couldn’t help but look up at him in wonder. And she just kept watching him as she felt the satin soft fabric part and the cool air of the early evening hit her skin. But she wasn’t cold. There was enough heat in Jake’s stare to make her sweat. His work-rough hands moved to her shoulders, pushing the robe away until it fell to the floor in a silent swoosh of fabric. Then his fingers tightened, biting into the smooth slope of her shoulder, almost hard enough to make her wince.

  “Aw, damn,” he whispered into the heavy, breath filled silence. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  This time it was a moan that escaped her. “Jake, you really are blind.”

  Though his hands stayed on her shoulders, his eyes touched her everywhere. He couldn’t get enough of her perfect, upturned breasts. They were small, yes, but couldn’t she see how sexy they were, their tiny nipples tilted up, just begging to be sucked and licked and scraped with his teeth? “I love the bra, babe, but I’d rather see what’s underneath it.”

  His eyes locked with hers, filled with an eagerness she couldn’t help but respond to. He looked like a little boy on Christmas morning getting ready to unwrap his favorite present.

  “Can I take it off you?”

  She was surprised he even asked, but then, his look told her this would be the only time. Once she gave him permission, she was going to be his to do with as he pleased, however and whenever he wanted. She licked her lips again and gave a slight nod of her head.

  Before her next breath, the front clasp between the pert mounds was released and Jake’s warm, rough palms were molding over her naked flesh. He squeezed, then slowly rotated his hands so that her swollen nipples chafed against his calloused skin. Oh, God help her. That felt so good. A strange, jungle cat sound purred in the back of her throat, shocking them both. Jake’s hands tightened, and she felt the shudder that shot straight through him.

  “You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  Something like a sob, or maybe a wail, whimpered from her throat. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to sink to the floor in embarrassment or grab his hands and hold them to her tighter. Then he leaned down, nuzzling the side of her neck, and asked, “Do you want more?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She felt his smile against her skin, his warm breath sending a shiver through her increasingly heavy limbs. It was almost like floating, this feeling, and yet she was anchored in place, unwilling to move and miss so much as a second of it. His hands shifted so that his palms cupped the tender undersides, testing their weight. “Mmm,” she moaned, thinking that felt heavenly. Then his thumbs flicked over her rigid nipples and a sharp cry burst from her throat. “Oh, God.”

  “I agree,” he groaned, grasping the hard, pink tips and twisting with his fingertips, using just enough pressure to make her gasp. He opened his mouth against the side of her neck and flicked his tongue against her dewy skin, growling from the taste of her. Damn, he wanted to do so many fucking things—everything to this woman, but he already felt on the verge of losing it and all he’d done was touch her beautiful, precious breasts.

  For a split second,
Jake considered shoving her back on the bed and starting their marathon night of fucking right now, this very second. God only knew his cock was ready, pounding against the fly of his pants the way it was, begging to be let out to play, but his heart knew this needed to be done right. He’d promised her dinner and answers, and he was going to give them to her even if it killed him to have to wait. And it just might.

  Obviously, the first priority was to get her covered up again, or they’d never even make it out of the room. What had he been thinking, torturing himself with this little peek at paradise? Huh! He’d been thinking with the wrong head, that’s what, and now he was just going to have to force himself to stop copping the best damn feel of his life and cover the woman back up. A turtleneck would’ve been handy, considering his maddening state of lust, but he made do with what was available. Cursing beneath his breath, Jake fumbled with the clasp of her bra. As soon as it clicked back into place, he grabbed blindly at the clothes he’d seen lying on the bed behind her.

  “Here,” he grunted, pulling back from her enough to look at what he held in his hands. “We need to get you dressed or I’m gonna be crammed deep before you even know what hit you.”

  Sensing the urgency in his words, Taylor grabbed at her top and quickly pulled it over her head, while Jake struggled to keep his eyes away from the smooth expanse of her pale belly and the delectable little patch of lace barely concealing the dark curls between her legs. He tried, but failed miserably, leaning back to get a clearer view of the neat little triangle barely visible through the blue lace. His nostrils flared. He could smell the warm, subtle scent of her cunt, like cinnamon and vanilla, and any second now his face was going to be shoved right there, his tongue searching for her flavor, but then she bent over to pull on her skirt.

  All he could think about was pulling it right back off of her.

  When she straightened again, completely dressed but for her narrow feet, he cursed some more beneath his breath, then not so beneath his breath as he muttered, “What the fuck is that?”

  Taylor noted his narrowed glare, wondering what the problem was. “This? It’s just something I picked up for tonight. I drove over to the mall today and bought it.”

  He looked—stunned. Pained, even. Taylor looked down at herself, but couldn’t figure it out. The dark blue matching silk skirt and tank looked just as it had when she’d tried it on earlier at the department store. She couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It was maybe a bit more revealing than she felt comfortable with, but certainly nothing that should’ve shocked Jake. “What’s wrong with it?”

  He grunted at her. Actually grunted. “Jesus, Taylor. I told you not to wear anything sexy and you go and buy this!”

  She didn’t care for his tone. The outfit wasn’t that revealing, for crying out loud. “What’s wrong with this?”

  Jake sent her a pained look. “I don’t even know where to start.” His hand motioned toward to her chest, and he muttered, “The fabric’s so soft that I can clearly see the outline of your nipples.” His eyes dropped to the thin strip of flesh visible between the hem of her top and the waist of her full-length poet’s skirt. “And I can see your belly,” he added in a grumble. “And that damn skirt’s so sexy—I just want to toss it over your head and fuck you senseless while you’re still wearing it!”

  She couldn’t help it; she smiled.

  “You think this is funny?” he gritted through his teeth, reaching out for her hand and pressing it over the enormous mass of his cock straining against the front of his pants. She sucked her breath in sharply, but didn’t try to pull her hand away, curling her fingers around him instead. “I don’t know how funny you’re going to find it when I have to walk through the restaurant with a fucking boner trying to bust through my pants?”

  A startled laugh escaped her, but Jake only groaned in answer, pushing her hand away. Then he grabbed hold of it and dragged her along with him. He needed to get the hell away from her bed and quickly or he really was going to lose it. They’d already made it to the top of the stairs before she managed to stop laughing and say, “Jake, wait, I need my shoes.”

  He stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, and counted to ten. Without looking back at her, he mumbled, “You go back and grab ‘em and I’ll wait for you out front.”

  Her fingers slipped from his, and he asked, “Where’s your bags?”

  Here it was, do or die time. “I, ah, left them in the kitchen.”

  The breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding released in a burst of intense relief. He forced himself down the stairs, struggling to keep his body from turning around and following her right back into that room, locking the door, and keeping her in bed for the next sixty or so years, trapped beneath his body and his cock.

  Food first, man. Food, then the fucking, and then forever.

  Chapter 5

  “So, Jake Farrell, what have you done with your life?”

  He smiled and leaned back to get as comfortable as a man his size could get in such a small chair. The restaurant was perfect, their cozy private corner ideal for the conversation he had in mind. The ride over had been quick and quiet, thick with sexual tension, but the soothing ambience of Angelo’s was slowly helping Taylor to relax. And the table was small enough to have her easily within his reach. Considering all that, Jake would’ve been happy sitting on a crate. “Where would you like me to start?”

  She took a small sip of wine to cover her nerves. Of course, it would’ve helped if her hand weren’t shaking so badly. “Start at the beginning, from the moment you left.”

  From the moment you left me.

  His jaw tightened, his eyes eating hers. “I didn’t want to go.” His tone was low, but forceful with the honesty of his words.

  She gave a small smile, unaware of the sadness—the loneliness that shone through. “But you did. Where to?”

  He studied her for a moment, and then he said, “You know my parents died when I was ten.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but just kept talking. “I lived here with my father’s brother, my Uncle Mark. I have another uncle, this one my mother’s little brother, who lives in upstate Washington. His name’s Frank. Anyway, I drove my old pickup outta town and went to live with him, worked my way through college, and then started my own business with a loan from both of them.” He smiled. “Which I paid back within two years.”

  He’d given her only the bones of his existence, leaving out the lonely years of longing. For her. It was going to take time to convince her, he knew—but there was no denying the impatience to make her understand now.

  She laughed softly. “Jake Farrell’s life in thirty seconds, huh? Somehow,” she drawled, clucking her tongue, “I think there’s a lot you’re not telling me.”

  One dark brow rose. “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh. For instance, what kind of business do you own?”

  “I’m a contractor.”

  “Really? What do you contract?”

  Jake laughed, loving everything about her. “Houses, honey.” He held out his calloused palms. “I build houses.”

  “Ooh!” She looked so excited, scooting closer in her chair. “That’s so wonderful. I mean—how fascinating. God, I bet you’re wonderful at it.”

  Her faith in him was staggering. With his head cocked to the side, his eyes trying to read her, he said, “Why would you say that?”

  “A fellow artist’s instincts,” she replied with a warm smile, completely at ease for the moment. “They zing every time I look at you, Jake.”

  His eyes flared with heat and she suddenly realized what she’d just said. Oh, God, she groaned. Her instincts zinging? She might as well come right out and tell the blasted man she was completely fascinated with him—obsessed with him—head over heels in love with him! She needed to change the subject. Quick! “Where do you live?” she asked too brightly, wincing at the desperate sound of her voice.

  Jake took pity on her for the moment, but he wasn’t going to let her avoid the subject
forever. “I’m still living in Washington, but I might be moving soon.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Really? Where?”

  Wherever you decide you want me to build our house.

  He waited while their waiter brought out fresh, mouthwatering breadsticks and their salads, refilled their glasses, and then murmured, “It hasn’t been decided yet.” She gave him a questioning look, but he didn’t offer to elaborate. “And what about you?” he asked around a bite of crisp romaine and croutons.

  She smiled. “You already know where I live and that I paint.”

  And that’s all you’re going to know.

  No way in hell was she going to tell him about her books. Oh, she’d have loved to be able to share her success, but the truth he’d see on those pages would be too humiliating to endure.

  Jake took a long swallow of wine, waiting for her to open up even though he knew she wasn’t going to. This was going to be the hardest wall to scale, but the most rewarding in the end. And God, he was scared to death of her reaction. If she panicked and ran out on him, he didn’t know what in the hell he’d do. Chase after her, of course, but then what? How do you convince a woman that you love her more than anything in the world? How do you make her understand that you can’t live another day without her? He had a good idea how to prove his point physically, but would it be enough emotionally?

  They dropped the topic for the moment, making casual talk about the restaurant and Sandy and Angelo’s success while they dug into the food. But as soon as their plates were cleared and their entrees served, Jake cut right to the heart of what he wanted to know. “So,” he murmured, scooping up a forkful of steaming lasagna, “why’d you marry him?”

  Taylor laughed, but not because the question was funny. No, she laughed at herself. Why had she married Mitch? Lord if she knew. Yeah, her sorry excuse for a mother had pushed her into it, wanting her hands cleared of a daughter so she could hit the road, but there had to have been more to it than that. Maybe she’d done it out of fear, or anger, or hell—she really didn’t know why she’d done it. Instead of answering, she asked, “Why’d you leave?”