“Don’t run away, Tay,” Mom says. “Please. Talk to me. I know this is a shock, and I’m sorry…but I’m so very happy…”
“You’re happy. Well, that’s good. I guess that’s all that matters.” Her face tightens at my sharp words. “Was it all a lie? Your life before…before this? Did you ever love Dad?”
“Yes! Of course I loved him. I married him; we had a family together. I’ll always care for him, as the father of my beautiful girls. But things…changed.”
“Changed a hell of a lot, I guess.”
“I’m bisexual, Taylor.” Her bluntness makes me blink. “I’ve always been bi. And it’s true, I loved your father. But we grew apart…fell out of love—”
“Did he?” I ask. “Because he doesn’t seem very happy about this.”
Her mouth tightens, then droops. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “I have to go.”
She closes her eyes briefly. “Okay. You go. Talk to your dad. Think about it. We’ll talk again, when you’re ready.”
My throat feels like a fist is squeezing it, so I just nod again, grab my purse and my jacket, and open the door. I pause, look over my shoulder, and choke out, “Thanks for the dinner.”
Mom and Shirley both stand there, Shirley’s arm around Mom’s shoulders in a comforting gesture, and they share a look.
Wow. I stumble out to my car. Just…wow. I thought my life had been disrupted before…this really messes me up.
JP
I can’t drink much, since I’m driving home from Grandpa and Chelsea’s place in Santa Monica, but that’s probably a good thing, because otherwise the sniping Dad and Uncle Mark are doing with Grandpa and Chelsea might make me lose it.
Everyone feels the tension, I know. The room is thick with it and Mom’s face shows her discomfort. Somehow the rest of the family found out Everly’s been dating the mayor, and none of them are very pleased that she’s going out with an older man. Riley and Everly have never been exactly close, but when Grandpa says to Everly, “I guess it’s understandable that you’d date anyone you can, since your biological clock is ticking,” I think they’re both going to explode.
“Maybe she’s more than just a baby maker, Grandpa!” Riley shouts at him.
Everly shoots Riley a surprised and grateful glance. “Yeah. Maybe I don’t even want kids.”
“What?” Grandpa glares at her.
“Also, I don’t need a man to justify my worth,” Everly adds.
“Oh for Chrissake. Here we go with the feminist bullshit.”
Even I can’t take this. “Grandpa,” I say in a low, warning tone. “You don’t want to go there.”
“I suppose you’re a feminist too?” he says to me.
“Damn right.” I lift my chin.
Chelsea lays a hand on Grandpa’s arm and leans in to say something in his ear. He rolls his eyes. “My grandsons can’t be feminists.”
We all exchange glances.
“I am,” Théo says.
“Me too,” Harrison, his own son, adds.
“And me.” Asher grins.
“It just means that we think men and women deserve equal rights,” I tell Grandpa. “And women have the right to decide whether they want children or not.”
“Which means controlling their own reproductive health,” Riley adds.
Oh, here we go. I nearly grimace. This is a touchy subject in the family.
“Or who they’re going to date,” Everly adds, leaning over to bump my fist with hers.
Grandpa sighs.
“So, who’s going to win today, Cowboys or Chargers?” I ask loudly.
“How can you even ask that?” Théo jumps in to help. “We have to cheer for the Chargers.”
We start a debate about the game that is more heated than it would normally be, because most of us just don’t care that much about football, but it distracts Grandpa from his sexist views.
So yeah, this family dinner is about as much fun as a tornado in a trailer park. I need to get my ass out of here before I say something I’ll regret.
I’m so fucking proud of myself. Ha.
I have a good excuse for leaving early—I need to get back to Byron. I’m so damn grateful for that dog right now.
I turn the music up loud as I drive home, tapping my hand on the steering wheel. I’m wired and tense, and I’m doing my best not to stress over the traffic. Next year I’ll host Thanksgiving dinner at my place and everyone can come to me. Okay, that’s crazy thinking; as if I could cook a turkey. I remind myself I’m not really in a hurry to get home. Byron will be fine.
That makes me think of Taylor, of course, and how her family dinner is going, such as it is, after our texts this morning.
I know I shouldn’t think about her, but I almost enjoy torturing myself with it. Seeing her in my home, knowing she’s been there and done little things for me, is both sweet and painful. I can pat myself on the back for how I’ve behaved, keeping my hands off and my mouth shut, but the virtuous feeling doesn’t quite make up for the fact that I’m fucking frustrated and miserable.
I want her.
I wanted her the first time I saw her, but that was all physical. Okay, maybe not all physical. There was something about her smile that told me she was more than just a hot lay. And now that I’ve gotten to know her better…I absolutely know that. She’s so much more than that. She’s sweet and kind and fun.
I let out a billowing sigh as I park underground, then stride through the concrete structure toward the elevator. Maybe I should just bring some other chick home so we can bang our brains out and that’ll make me feel better.
I let myself into my apartment. I left the foyer light on so Byron wouldn’t be in the dark. As I lock the door behind me, I expect him to come clicking over the hardwood floor to greet me, but there’s silence. Frowning, I stride through the condo to look for him. I stop dead in my tracks in the living room at seeing Taylor on my couch, in the dark, Byron sitting next to her, her arms wrapped around him.
His eyes focus on me. He sees me. His tail wags. But he doesn’t move.
One corner of my mouth lifts. He’s where he wants to be…with the woman he loves. I can relate. Well, you know what I mean.
Taylor lifts her head. “Oh…you’re home. What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Eight?”
“You’re back earlier than I thought.”
“I had to get out of there before I said something that would get me ejected from the game.”
“That good, huh?” Her smile is crooked.
I advance into the room, playing with my keys. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at your mom’s.”
She bends her head, but now that I’m closer I see her face is flushed, her eyes swollen and glassy.
“What’s wrong?” I lower my ass to the couch next to her, my gut twisting.
“Oh my God.” She shakes her head, hair falling down over her face, still not looking at me. “I can’t even talk about it. Sorry. I’ll go. I needed to see Byron…” Her voice catches and my chest spasms. “And…I didn’t think you’d be home for a while.”
“You don’t have to go.” I lay my hand on her knee. She’s wearing black leggings and I feel her warmth through the thin fabric. “Now, what’s happened?”
She presses her head against Byron’s and doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t leave. My chest tightens and worry congeals in my stomach. I wait, even though I’m practically vibrating with the need to know who hurt her so I can go punch him. If it’s Anthony, I’m going to fuck that motherfucker’s face up.
“My mom,” she finally says in a thin voice.
“Is she okay?” My mind races.
She nods. “Yeah. She’s…she’s gay.”
<
br /> I go still. I tip my head back and squint at the ceiling. What did she just say?
“Well, bi,” she adds.
I swallow. “Uh…bisexual?”
“Yeah.” She draws in a quaking breath. “I found out tonight. She and Shirley aren’t ‘just friends.’ ”
“Oh.” I blink. “Um, wow.”
“I know, right? Oh my God.”
Well, this is not what I expected, and I have to say, I kind of feel like I just took a butt end in the solar plexus. I have no clue what to say. I search around for about an hour and finally say, “I guess that was a bit of a shock.”
“No shit.”
I slide my other arm behind her and rub her back in slow circles. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she mumbles into Byron’s fur. “That’s why I needed to see Byron. I needed doggy hugs.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I pause. “D’you want a drink?”
She hesitates, then nods.
I stand and head to the kitchen and the corner bar. I slosh rum into two glasses and carry them back. When I sit again, Taylor lifts her head. She releases Byron from the death grip, shoves her hair back off her face, and accepts the glass I hand her, tossing back a big slug.
Jesus.
“Whoa,” she says, looking at the glass. “What is this?”
“Rum. Shipwreck.”
“It’s delicious.” She takes another mouthful. “It tastes like vanilla. Sweet.”
“Yeah.” I sip the creamy, smooth spirit too.
Byron slides off the couch, pads over to me, and lays his chin on my knee. I rub his head.
“Want to tell me what happened?” I ask quietly.
She sighs, then spills everything: the story of how she saw the empty bedroom at her mom’s friend’s place, and put two and two together, and then her mom came clean. How her mom swore she hadn’t cheated on her dad. How her mom claimed to have loved her dad.
“Am I supposed to believe her?” Taylor asks, her voice full of anguish. “My dad’s heart is probably broken. He’s probably wondering the same thing…did she ever really love him?”
“Maybe they’ve worked all that out,” I offer gently. “But yeah, if the breakup was her choice, he could be hurting.”
She dashes a hand across her eyes. “I hate that. And now that I know it’s Mom’s fault, I hate her too.”
“No, you don’t.” Even as I say it, I recognize that telling a woman how she feels is not a good strategy. “You’re angry with her. You’re feeling betrayed yourself because you never knew this about her. But you don’t hate her.”
“You’re probably right.” She clasps her glass and stares down into it.
Whew.
“I don’t think she would lie to you. If she said she loved your dad, I think you should believe her. And they were together a long time.”
“They were waiting for me to leave so they could split up,” she says bitterly. “I mean, she was waiting.”
I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me. “You know that’s not true.”
She doesn’t pull away. Her soft warmth curves into me and my pulse speeds up. “It could be.”
“But she didn’t wait,” I point out. “It just happened. She met someone she cares about.”
“She was married.”
“I know, Sunshine. It happens. It sucks.” Jesus, when I’m the one offering wise (or not-so-wise) words about relationships, we’re in deep fucking shit.
Now she tucks her head onto my shoulder, snuggling into me like she was with Byron, who’s now lying on the rug at our feet. “Yeah. It guess. I never thought it would happen with my parents.”
“It sucks balls. And not the fun ones.”
She chokes out a little laugh. “Thanks for listening to me.”
“Anytime.” Having her nestled against me, her soft, warm curves, the fragrance of her hair teasing my nose, is making me…hard. Pressure builds inside me, pushing at my chest wall. It’s wanting. I want her. I want to comfort her every way I know, make her feel good, take her away from all the shitty stuff that’s happening in her life and make her happy.
I give her a little squeeze with the arm around her, and she sighs.
“Taylor?”
“Mmm?”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you go to Anthony?” I get that she loves her dog, but wouldn’t it make sense that she go to her boyfriend for comfort when something so significant has happened in her life?
She doesn’t answer. Her fingers drift to a button on my shirt and she rubs it. My abs contract in anticipation, imagining her opening the button…and another…and another…until her fingers are on my bare skin. Barely breathing, I wait for her answer. See how good I’m getting at being patient?
Finally she says, “I’m not seeing him anymore.”
My body tightens. My breathing shuts down. My mind empties. “Oh.” I take in a shallow respiration and let it out. Then another. “When did that happen?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
I think back. Last time I saw her…she wasn’t with him. And the time before that. And…
Christ.
“Why?” I croak.
She shifts against me in a little shrug. “I wasn’t feeling it.”
I nod slowly.
“He’s a nice guy. It wasn’t going anywhere, for me, anyway. I tried.” She sighs.
I suck my bottom lip in between my teeth.
A wave of emotion rolls through me, a feeling that’s totally caveman—possessive, claiming, protective.
I’ve wanted her for so long. Since that night at the rehearsal. I’ve tried to turn it off and tune her out, knowing I couldn’t go there, but now…there’s no reason not to.
Or is there?
I’m not sure how much time passes as I wrestle with myself internally.
I know she felt the chemistry too, when we were together. If it hadn’t been for that tool Martinez starting a fight at the wedding, we would have spent another night together…and another…Hell, we’d probably be married by now.
Whoa. That’s crazy thinking.
I know she felt it that night at Théo’s place, the night of his birthday party.
I don’t know if she still feels it.
Do I go for it? Or wait?
Fuck this being a “good boy.” I just want to go with my impulses. I want to do something fucking bad.
Something’s changed since she said those words; maybe she senses my turmoil. My arousal. My desire. The air around us is heavier. Hotter. Her body quivers against mine.
I lean forward and set my drink on the table. Slowly. Deliberately.
Then I take her glass and place it next to mine.
She shifts again, lifting her head, her long eyelashes sweeping up as her eyes meet mine. I cup her face, holding her gaze. Heat surrounds us and my skin tingles. “You’re beautiful,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for everything you’re going through.”
She gives a tiny nod. “Thanks.” She bites her lip briefly. “Thanks for listening. And…being here.”
I want to be here for her. All the time. I swallow the words and let my gaze roam over her face…her flushed cheeks and pink eyes, mascara smudged beneath them. So beautiful.
Our mouths are only inches apart. Her lips part. Electricity sparks around us.
“I want to kiss you,” I breathe.
Her eyelashes lower and her chin lifts, bringing her mouth closer to mine and…I dive in.
It’s a soft kiss at first, even though heat explodes in my belly and sweeps through me. My mouth clings to hers, once, twice…and the third time she moans and opens to me. I lick into her mout
h, my hand sliding to her neck, around and under her hair, bringing her closer still as I angle my head and deepen the kiss.
She tastes so fucking sweet, like smooth vanilla rum and temptation and longing. A groan rumbles in my chest as we kiss again and again, deeper, hotter. Her hands are on my shoulders, gripping me, curling into my shirt. My head spins and my dick thickens even more, my body straining toward her. I drag my hand from her neck down over her clavicle, slowly, until the full curve of her breast fills my hand.
She whimpers and pushes into my palm, her fingers slipping under the collar of my shirt, teasing the sensitive skin at the back of my neck. One hand glides into my hair, the other finds my skin in the opening of my shirt. I kiss her again, then skim my mouth over her cheek, her jaw. Her head falling to the side, I suck gently on the side of her neck, then lick her there tenderly.
Her breast in my hand makes me crazy. I squeeze it gently, her hard little nipple an irresistible enticement. “Taylor.” I clasp her waist with both hands and peer into her eyes, glowing in the dark room.
“Yes.”
Is she answering my unspoken question? Or just responding to her name?
Chapter 16
Taylor
Oh my God. My heart is hammering, my skin is hot everywhere, and I’m throbbing between my legs.
Yeah, this never happened with Anthony.
JP’s mouth is sin and seduction and sex. My body craves more of him. I’ve never forgotten how he feels against me, inside me, how hard he made me come. I crave that again, with a wicked, aching need. I can’t get close enough to him, digging my fingers into his shoulders. When he lifts his head and stares down at me, his blue eyes blazing with lust and a question, I answer him. “Yes.”
He watches me.
“Yes,” I say again, my voice a breeze. “Please.”
His eyes close briefly and his hands squeeze my waist. “I want you so much, Taylor.”
“Mmm. I want you too.” I brush my lips over his stubbled jaw. He’s so handsome, radiating masculine energy and strength.
“Thank Christ.” He stands, lifting me with him, then shocks me by picking me up.
In It to Win It Page 16
