by Peggy Bird
“We have to get rid of this,” he said and shoved her sweater up over her head. It caught on the heavy necklace she was wearing, and untangling it momentarily dampened some of the mood as she giggled at his frustration. But once it was off and he could see the dark pink nipples waiting for him, his mouth watered in anticipation. And when he dropped to his knees and, holding her tightly by the hips, feasted on them, her laughter turned to sighs. Her moans of pleasure urged him on as he caressed, suckled, and licked first one breast then the other.
“Taylor, please. I don’t think I can stand up anymore,” she whispered as he indulged himself with her beautiful breasts.
Her eyes were glazed. Her body was arched toward him. Desire had taken up residence on her face, softening it, lighting it with pleasure. Seeing her like this, knowing he’d put the look there shot him from rock hard to solid steel.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.” He stood, holding her firmly with one arm, reaching around her with the other to pull down the comforter and sheet. Then he gently lowered her onto the bed. He pulled off her boots and, with her help, unsnapped and removed her jeans. The sight of her wild curls spread over the pillow, her brown eyes black with want, wearing only a bit of lace for panties and the heavy silver necklace was almost enough to push him over the edge.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I wish I were an artist. I would paint you like this so I could never forget you.”
She reached out to him. “I need you here. Please.”
He unbuttoned and shed his shirt as quickly as he could, followed by his shoes, socks, pants, and boxer briefs, all of which he carefully placed on a chair across the room. As he walked back toward her, he heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low moan. “It’s not me who’s beautiful. It’s you. You’re like a Viking god,” she said.
On his hands and knees he scrambled across the bed to where she was lying. “Not one drop of Scandinavian blood in me, but I’m happy you like what you see.”
• • •
Like what she saw? That was an understatement. He was even more delicious out of his clothes than he was in them. His shoulders were broad; his hips were slim. Dustings of golden hair were scattered over a chest with dips and valleys she wanted to run her tongue over. And the erection on display as he’d crossed the room was even more tempting. Her fingers ached, her mouth craved. She wanted to touch him, taste him.
But he had other ideas. He grabbed her hips with both hands and began to kiss his way from the valley between her breasts down to her navel, where he ran his tongue around it, then moved on to first one hipbone then across to the other, all the while kissing, licking, sucking, igniting sparks again, this time everywhere south of her waist.
Moving his hands around to her bottom, he traced more kisses down her body. As he reached her pubic hair, he stopped, looked up, and said, “If I do anything you don’t like, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”
She couldn’t get her brain cells to construct a sentence so she only nodded agreement.
“Good.” He gently pushed her legs apart and settled himself between them. Watching her the whole time, he touched, just touched, her sex on the outside of her panties, and she thought she’d die from the pleasure of it. He slipped a finger under the elastic and separated her labia. “You’re wet already. I like knowing you want me like this.”
“Please. I want you now.” Her breath was ragged; she was barely able to keep from grinding against him.
“Not yet. But soon.” He slipped her panties down over her bottom and, with her help, removed them. Then he lowered his head, and his tongue went straight to the place his finger had been. She could feel the tip of his tongue circling, could feel the orgasm beginning in her until finally, as his fingers joined his tongue, she felt the earthquake begin inside her as her world fell apart and her body shattered into shards of light.
As she came down from the most amazing climax of her life, she felt the bed shift as Taylor got up. Panicked, she whispered, “No, please, don’t go.” She was sure she sounded desperate.
“There’s no place I’m going except to get some protection from my wallet.” He returned to the bed, the packet held up for her to see. She reached for it and tore it open with her teeth as soon as he gave it to her. When he was back beside her, she nudged him onto his back and unrolled the condom onto him, enjoying the chance to get her hands, finally, on his erection.
“If you take much longer, there won’t be anything left to play with,” he said. Rather tensely, she thought.
“Believe me, I don’t plan to spoil things for either one of us,” she responded. As if to prove it to him, when she was finished with her task, she straddled him. “But it’s your turn now, don’t you think?”
He grinned up at her. “You know I can flip you any time I want to, don’t you?”
Rising up on her knees, she positioned herself over the tip of his penis. “Yes, but if you did, you’d miss this.” Slowly, very slowly, she began to lower herself onto him. The hiss of breath she heard as she finally seated him completely inside her told her he was quite happy about having the tables turned.
When he grabbed her hips again, she whispered, “You like holding me like that don’t you?”
“I like holding you any way I can.”
Still for a moment, she eventually began to rock back and forth, then slowly up and down, leaning over him, her hair falling against his chest. She could feel him deep inside her, filling her. And when he began to massage her clitoris, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she came again.
Which was enough to distract her so he could do as he had said he could. Still deep inside her, he flipped her over. As she felt her internal muscles pulse and throb around him and the world begin to shatter again, with one powerful thrust, and roaring her name, he came seconds after she did.
For a few moments, there was little heard in the room other than the sound of two people trying to catch their breath. Taylor had collapsed on her as soon as he climaxed, but eventually he moved off her. She made a small sound of protest, wanting to prolong the feeling of having him inside her, on her, surrounding her with his arms. His response was to look deeply into her eyes before rolling over so he was sitting up with his back to her. He looked stiff, tense, not at all like a man who had just had great sex.
“Taylor? Is something wrong?” she asked, afraid if she saw his face she’d see the only-too-familiar distant look.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I need to get rid of this condom.” He went into her bathroom without turning back to look at her and shut the door.
She pulled the comforter up over her still damp and rapidly chilling body. The scent of Taylor’s aftershave mixed with the smell of sex and sweat, which she inhaled, put a smile on her face. The man who had made love to her—and it had definitely been lovemaking, not merely sex—was all she could ask for in a lover. He was tender, passionate, and he cared as much about her pleasure as his own.
Then the smile faded as she wondered if the man who left her bed for the bathroom was someone else altogether.
Chapter Seventeen
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Taylor was staring at himself in a bathroom mirror wondering what the hell he was doing. He thought he’d buried his guilt about his role in the problems Break Up or Make Up had with the city by rationalizing that the whole mess had been sorted out. Everything was fine. He’d even begun to believe he could tell her and they’d joke about it.
Right. Like he could joke about his dysfunctional family.
How could he have been so stupid? The look she gave him after they’d made love brought back all the guilt and shame, multiplied now by the knowledge he’d taken her to bed when she didn’t really know who he was. Her big brown eyes had been full of trust and, God help him, an emotion he knew was much, much more than mere desire. He was the biggest ass in the city, in the state, if he thought he’d be able to blithely have sex with her without any
consequences. Now he had to face it—he was falling for her, and from that look in her eyes, she felt the same way.
There was no way around it. He had to tell her what he’d done. Had to get it over with. If she told him to get out of her apartment, out of her life, he’d at least have been kicked to the curb knowing he’d finally been honest with her.
He splashed his face with cold water, dried his hands and face, and went back into the bedroom.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You were gone a long time.” He could hear real concern in her voice, which made it much harder to do what he was about to do.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. “I’m fine. Really. But there’s something I have to tell you.” He turned around to face her while he confessed.
She held up her hand and shook her head. “Don’t. Please. From the look on your face, you feel like you have to tell me something bad. Unless you have some awful disease or have stashed a crazy wife in an institution someplace because you can’t divorce her or you’re a serial killer, I don’t want to know tonight.” She took his hand and kissed each knuckle individually. “This has been the most perfect night of my life, and I don’t want to come down from it yet. Whatever it is you want to tell me can wait until the morning.” She looked up into his face. “Can’t it?”
He knew he should say it couldn’t. Knew he shouldn’t allow her to let him off the hook. But he did. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“It is. Now come back to bed. I need some serious spooning.”
He held her the way she wanted to be held and listened as her breathing fell into a regular pattern of sleep. She was beautiful even when she slept. So beautiful it broke his heart. She deserved more than he’d given her. Hell, once he’d known who she worked for, he should never have given in to the attraction. But he had. Because for the first time in his life, doing something unexpected had felt so right.
Until it felt wrong. Like it did now.
Most of the night, for him, was spent either beating up on himself about how he’d handled things with her or crafting ways to tell her what he needed to tell her in a favorable way. He was only successful at the first. He was certainly not successful at getting any sleep.
Finally, at six thirty, he gave up, disentangled his arm from around her, and inched his way off the bed. Dressing quickly in the dark, he hoped to leave before she awakened, but she must have sensed his absence from her bed because as he was finishing tying his shoes, he heard, “Taylor? Why are you getting dressed? What time is it?”
“It’s almost seven. I need to go home. I was going to leave a note. It’s work. You don’t have to get up. I can find my way out. I’ll call you. Promise.” He left before she could try to convince him to stay.
• • •
“I swear to God I’m beginning to think Taylor Jordan has some kind of multiple personality disorder. One minute he’s Mr. Good Guy, the next he’s Mr. Gone Guy.” Bella and Summer had finished their weekly Skype session and transitioned into catching up with each other’s personal life.
“So the weekend didn’t go the way you wanted it to?” Summer asked.
“Well, technically, part of the weekend did. Saturday was wonderful. The dinner was delicious. We talked and talked. He was sweet and funny, even talked about his family a little. Not once did he disappear behind that look he gets sometimes. I thought we were making progress.”
“I hear no mention of the good stuff.”
“Oh, there was good stuff. While we were getting drinks before dinner, he kissed me so thoroughly I thought we were going to end up naked on the kitchen floor.” She hesitated, not sure how much she really wanted to share with her boss.
“From your hesitation, I’m guessing you are trying to figure out how to tell me you eventually did end up naked.”
“I keep forgetting how good you are at understanding what isn’t being said. Yes, he spent the night. It was amazing. I’m not the world’s most experienced woman when it comes to sex, but I’m pretty sure he’d be at the top of any woman’s list of fantastic lovers.”
“One point in his favor, a big one, at least in my book. If Saturday was so great, what happened Sunday to turn the weekend around?”
“I wish I knew. At some God awful early hour Sunday morning, he snuck out of bed and got dressed. I woke up as he was leaving, and all he said was he had work to do. He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.” She could feel the tears she’d been holding back for more than a day begin to well up. She sniffled. “Sorry. I need to get a tissue.” A few minutes later, she was back. “Didn’t mean to be so goopy about this. I just wish I understood him better.”
“Girlfriend, every woman alive has sung some verse of that song at least once in her life. Surely after all the clients you’ve seen come through our office, you know that.”
“I guess I do. But I didn’t ever think I’d be one of them.”
“We never do. Have you thought about confronting him with your questions and keeping at him until he answers them?”
“I’m not sure I’d call it confronting, but I have asked him about things—his family, mostly.”
“Maybe it’s time for a more serious intervention. If you want to keep this relationship going, I mean.”
“Yes, I want to keep it going. I’ve never been this attracted to a man in my life. And when things are good, they’re so good it makes me wonder how I got so lucky. In fact ...” She stopped before she revealed any more.
“In fact, if I’m reading your expression correctly, you’re falling for him, aren’t you?” Summer asked.
Something else Bella had apparently forgotten—they were Skyping and her boss could see her face.
“I think you have the tense of the verb wrong. It should be past tense. I’ve already fallen for him.”
“Then we better think of some ways to see if you can make this work. How about ...”
The front door to the BU/MU office opened, and Bella lost the rest of the advice her boss was giving her as the man in question walked in. He hesitated, then took a couple steps into the reception area before stopping again.
“Uh, Summer, someone’s here. Maybe we could continue this conversation later.”
“Sure, but don’t put off taking care of this. I don’t want to see you ...”
“Talk to you later.” She closed the Skype app before Summer could finish the sentence. “Taylor. What’re you doing here?”
Somehow the fact he looked embarrassed made her feel good. “Uh, well, I thought I’d drop in and say hello. See your new place.” He was actually shuffling his feet and glancing down at the floor as he spoke.
“How nice of you. Is this a service MBA offers to all its clients?”
He finally looked at her. “No, Isabella. This has nothing to do with MBA. Truthfully, it has nothing to do with seeing your new space, either. I came to apologize. And to talk to you.”
“Really? Apologize for what?” She knew she was being a little mean, but after all the uncertainty he’d put her through, she was going to make him say exactly what he meant.
“For Saturday night—well, actually Sunday morning, I guess. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. You deserve better.” He indicated a chair next to the desk where she was sitting. “Can I sit down?”
“Are you going to be here long? Or do you have to leave for some work reason?”
He grimaced. “I deserve the barb. Actually I deserve more. Because of ... well, what I want to tell you. There’s another part of why I’m here. I said Saturday night I needed to tell you something. I want to get it out on the table. It may change things between, us but I have to get it out.”
“Okay, sit then.”
He sat but didn’t look comfortable. “Would it be possible to get a cup of coffee? I need a little more caffeine than usual this morning.”
What could he possibly have to tell her that took caffeine courage? “Sure. I started the coffee brewing before my Skype meeting with Summer. It should be re
ady by now.”
• • •
He watched her as she walked to what had been the old dining room and pulled out two mugs. He was mesmerized by the grace with which she did everything including something as simple as pouring coffee or adjusting the volume on the radio. Which she was now doing, muting the sound of what he thought was a local radio advice columnist. He seemed to remember she liked to listen to that program.
Maybe she’d been listening hoping for advice on how to deal with him. He didn’t blame her if she was. He’d spent the entire time he’d known her going back and forth between being attracted to her beauty and easy grace, her enthusiasm for life, and her intelligence and trying to make himself run for the hills because of what he’d kept hidden from her.
No more. He was here to tell the truth. It had taken all the nerve he had to come to her office today because he knew he could be about to ruin his chances to be with her. It sucked to be honest, but it was worse to feel guilty.
“Taylor, do I remember right, you take one sugar with your coffee?” She sounded like she’d already asked the question at least once.
“Sorry. One sugar. Right.”
For the first time since he had walked into the building, he saw a smile on her face. It wasn’t much of one and was more sad than happy, as if she’d expected he wouldn’t be paying attention, but it was something. He hoped she’d still be wearing any smile at all when he was finished telling his story.
While he’d been chewing over the same shreds of guilt and fear he’d been working on all weekend, she’d apparently been standing in front of him with a mug of coffee extended to him, her sad look still in place. “Thanks,” he said. He took a huge swig and nearly choked on it.
She returned to her chair on the opposite side of what he assumed would one day be the receptionist’s desk. “So,” she started, “you had something you wanted to tell me.”
He took another gulp of coffee. “It’s kind of a long story,” he began. “A year or so ago ...”
