Hidden Scars (14 page)

       Her hand aching, she shut down her computer for the day and tossed her phone and mp3 player into her bag. Taylor had promised her dinner. So she’d have dinner with him and see how the evening developed.

       Taylor was putting on his coat when she stepped into his office. He smiled as he came toward her. “You ready?”

       She nodded. Needing to touch him, she held out her uninjured hand, hoping he’d take it. He did. He laced their fingers together and they hurried out the door and down the hall to the elevator.

       Heart thundering, she watched the doors close. If she wanted anything tonight beyond what he’d offered, she’d have to ask for it. She just needed to decide if she wanted anything more.

       Weeks of getting to know Sara clued Taylor in to the gradual change in her as they got closer to his apartment. She was nervous. Maybe a little afraid, but definitely nervous. Asking her to his place for dinner might not have been such a great idea. He’d meant it, though. He wanted to make her dinner. Nothing else was going to happen unless she wanted it, and he was starting to wonder if he should draw a line, leave it at dinner.

       There was no doubt they’d end up in bed. He could wait as long as it took.

       He led her through the parking lot of his building to the lobby, taking her hand for the simple pleasure of it. It was small, yet fit his perfectly. He bypassed the elevator for the stairs, trying to keep temptation at bay by climbing them beside her instead of allowing her to go in front of him. No need to torture himself by staring at her ass.

       Her sweet, perfect ass.

       Her hand tightened on his as they entered the hallway, walking down until they were at his door. Squeezing it once, he let them inside.

       She took in the living room as she shrugged out of her coat, then faced him, her nerves still evident, but mixed with something else. A couple of something elses. Desire. Determination. She stepped into him and slid her hands up his chest, tipping her head back. “Taylor?”

       He splayed his hands across her back, the warm silk of her hair tickling his skin. “Yeah?”

       She dropped her gaze to his mouth, flicked it back up to his eyes. “I don’t want to go slow.”

       
Jesus
. He’d known it would happen. He honestly didn’t believe it would be tonight, not even after the kisses they’d shared in her office. He glided a hand up to cup the back of her head. “Sara—”

       She rose on her toes and cut off his protest with her mouth. “I want this,” she whispered against his lips. “I don’t want to go slow. Not anymore.”

       It’d be easy to take her at her word. But she’d been cautious for so long, he had to be certain. “We can wait. Just dinner, remember?”

       She kissed him again, harder, hotter, her tongue darting out to probe at the seam of his lips. Before he could respond, she broke the kiss on a pant. “Now. I want you now. I’m not going to break, so don’t you
dare
hold back on me.”

       The way she was vibrating against him, her mouth teasing and seeking, stretched his control to the limits. If she wanted this, he’d give it to her. He crushed his mouth to hers, her taste ripping through him as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. Hot and tart and quintessentially
Sara.
He traced her curves with his hands as she met him kiss for kiss, the sinful heat of them clouding his brain. Her body was fantastic. Full, high breasts he wanted to see uncovered. A slightly rounded belly, the curve of her waist flaring out. His hands continued their journey, skimming down to her hips, cupping her ass. She needed to get out of the skirt. He vaguely remembered it hampering her movements earlier, sitting on the edge of her desk. Sliding his hands over the thin material, he found the zipper and drew it down, groaning as her tongue completed a particularly clever maneuver.

       He was going to take his time. He was greedy, wanting to know what would make her sigh. What would make her scream.

       The skirt slipped down her legs, and as soon as she’d stepped out of it, he grabbed her hips and picked her up, bracing her against the wall. She met heat with heat, need with a towering one of her own, her mouth working over his jaw and up to his ear as her fingers plucked at the buttons on his shirt. She lifted her head, lips swollen from his, and smiled darkly. Her hands slid over his shoulders and pushed the shirt down his arms.

       He had to touch her. Had to have her skin heating under his hands. Capturing her mouth, feeding off her moans, he stumbled down the hall and into the bedroom, lowering her to the bed. Then he yanked her up, whipped her sweater off, and urged her down again, pinning her to the bed.

       She felt so damn good under him. Soft and curvy and warm, the spicy scent of her perfume surrounding him, her body fitting to his in all the right places. Her arms and legs locked around him as her hips tilted up. It shoved him onto the edge, his dick aching, and he had to drop his head to her shoulder to keep from tearing the rest of his clothes off and plunging into her right then.

       Sara, on the other hand, didn’t share his desires to slow down. Her hands wiggled between them and down to his belt, and he lifted his hips so she could undo it, along with the fly of his slacks. Using her feet, and fuck if that wasn’t sexy, she pushed the material over his hips, and he toed off his shoes and kicked free.

       Fuck, he was still wearing his socks.

       Swearing, he sat up, dragged them off, and picked her up and brought her to straddle his lap. They both groaned at the contact as their hips rocked together. Once. Twice, settling into an urgent rhythm. Their mouths locked once more as his hands slid up to her breasts, encased in the cups of her bra. He was not going to embarrass himself. He was going to get the damn contraption off her with style and skill.

       His reward when the bra slid away was her glorious tits.

       Palming them, he thumbed her nipples, lips curving in a small smile at her gasp. He laved one with his tongue. Over and over, until it hardened, and then he latched on and sucked hard. From the way she was rubbing herself against him, she had to like it. So he kissed his way over to the other and repeated the process, molding and squeezing the soft flesh as he did so.

       She went wild against him, writhing and pleading with him to stop, for him to go lower, kissing and licking any part of him she could reach. When his hand slid between them, under the band of her panties, she froze as he brushed over her clit. His thumb moving in slow, lazy circles, he slid his fingers into the slick, welcoming heat of her.

       At the first thrust of his fingers, she arched into him, whimpering. Christ, she felt tight, even around his fingers. Tight and wet and hot. He wouldn’t last long once he got inside her. He plied her, felt her grow slicker, felt her tensing around him, those tiny flutters an indicator of the implosion to come.

       Her inner muscles clamped hard on his fingers, the pulses strong. In that moment, she was beautiful, her head thrown back, hips grinding down onto his hand, mouth open on a soundless scream. He eased her down and onto her side. Her pleasure had temporarily sated the beast raging inside, and he slid his hand free and grasped the sides of her panties, drawing them down her legs.

       Her smile was pleasure-drunk and fuzzy, and he trailed kisses over her belly, pleased with the feminine roundness of it. Her hands in his hair stopped him from going further. He lifted his head. “Let me up, Taylor.”

       Confused, he drew back, wondering what the hell she was going to do as she scooted around him on the bed. And hissed as her slim fingers began tracing the lines of his tattoo.

       “The moment I saw this,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, “I wanted to touch it.” Stroke, stroke, stroke along the bleeding edges. He had no idea he could get so hard from someone tracing his tattoo. He squeezed his cock, wishing it were her hand, the pressure distracting him momentarily from her exploration of his back. “Wanted to taste it.” The tip of her tongue hit the middle of his spine, and she followed every tiny line of the figure etched into his flesh. By the time she was done, he was hard as granite and losing patience, his control hanging by a few threads.

       She curled around him, her smile feline and smug, her kiss a seduction all its own. He couldn’t wait any longer. He fumbled open the drawer in his bedside table and pulled out a condom. Watching as she stretched out on her back, he stripped off his boxers, rolled the latex down his shaft and pushed her legs apart.

       The first thrust was brutal. She closed around him like a vise, back arched so her breasts presented themselves for his pleasure. Later. Later he would take his time. Right now he was almost out of his mind, but he had to make sure she was okay. She hadn’t said anything, and she was so damn tight, strangling him. “Sara?” His voice was raspy with barely contained desire.

       Her answer was to rear up and bite him on the shoulder. As her teeth sank in, it broke the thread of his control, and he withdrew, plunged again, knowing this first round wouldn’t last long and needing her to come with him. As the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping flesh and harsh pants, she took his hand and sucked two fingers into her mouth, tongue swirling around the tips. He pulled them free on a groan, reaching down to circle her clit. The first press of his fingers on the hard little bud drew a small keening sound from her, and he kept it up, desperate to get her off. Their rhythm sped up, faster, faster still, sweat breaking out, and her muscles rippled around him. The sight of her body bowing up as the climax ripped through her pushed him headlong into release, hips jerking erratically as he rode out the orgasm.

       He was pretty sure his brain was fried. Collapsing, he rolled onto his side, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close. He’d thought he’d been prepared after their first kiss. He had never been more wrong. Nothing could have prepared him for that.

       “Shit,” she whispered into his neck. She stretched, her body rubbing along his as their skin suctioned together in places damp from exertion. “We should shower.” The suggestion was followed by a nip to his earlobe.

       Sara in his shower, water slicking over her skin, legs wound around him as her eyes glowed, pleas tumbling from her lips. Yeah, he could get behind that. Or in front of it. In fact, that sounded like an outstanding idea.

       He followed her into the bathroom and tossed the condom into the trash. Reaching behind the shower curtain, he flipped on the tap, hunting up an extra towel before he dragged her under the spray.

       They soaped each other lazily, and a part of him crowed in triumph as the scent of his soap rose from her skin. Marking her. She leaned into him, her body loose, her earlier nerves forgotten, and he ran his hands along her hips, smiling when she kissed his chest.

       After she’d dried off, she wound the towel around her hair, turban-style, some mysterious thing women did. She followed him into the bedroom and retrieved her underwear. “Can I borrow a shirt?” Her nose wrinkled. “I’d rather not get dressed in that skirt. Constricting.”

       Sara in his clothes. He was going to have a hell of a time keeping his hands off her. Crossing to his dresser, he pulled a shirt out of a drawer and handed it to her. The towel came off and she slipped the shirt over her head. It skimmed over her hips and brushed her thighs, almost to her knees, her damp hair trailing in ropes over her shoulders.

       Her stomach rumbled and she grinned ruefully. “You said something about dinner?”

       His mouth quirked. “Hope you like pork chops.” He held out a hand and she took it without hesitation, letting him lead her down the hall to the kitchen.

       She sat at the kitchen table while he pan fried the chops. “Color me surprised. You cook.”

       “Too expensive to eat take out all the time, and living on cereal and ramen noodles leads to high blood sugar and sodium levels.” He shook the pan to unstick the meat, then grabbed the potatoes he’d set out and scrubbed them. They went in the microwave and he flipped the pork chops, pausing to open his fridge and pass her a beer. “Unless you’d rather have wine.” He leaned against the counter and took a long pull from his own.

       “I’m good with the beer.” She tipped the bottle up. “Mmm.” Licking her lips, she set it aside. “Gonna be sore tomorrow. Not that I mind.” Her grin was quick and full of fun.

       “Not done with you yet.”

       She rolled her eyes. “Hon, I’ve gone seven years without sex. Do you think I’m going to let a little soreness get in the way?”

       Holy. Fuck.

       The timer dinged on the microwave. He ignored it. He’d rammed right into her, with no finesse, and she hadn’t said a word. “Are you okay?”

       Her head came up, eyes flashing, and she was out of her chair and across the kitchen like a shot. “Get one thing straight: I wanted you
exactly
like that. I
asked
for it. You understand the meaning of the word ‘no,’ so I have no doubt you would have stopped if I’d asked.” Placing her hands on his shoulders, she hopped up and wound her legs around his waist, claiming his mouth. “I asked for it,” she repeated quietly. “I didn’t want slow. You gave me what I needed.” She leaned back, her legs tightening around his waist. “You didn’t hurt me, Taylor. And after dinner, I’m really hoping we can do it again.” She slid down his body and walked to the table and her beer, butt swaying gently beneath the long hem of his shirt.

       This was going to be a very quick dinner.

       Once again, though, Sara had other ideas, and he found himself relaxing into their meal, the fluid, flexible camaraderie they’d developed over the past weeks sliding into place. As they ate, as she teased him, laughing while she recounted some mishap the sales exec in the last office had with a new client, a new plan formed. Slow. He was going to take his time, do all the things he’d wanted to the first time around and hadn’t. He was going to take her, just like she’d told him to. Only he was going to do it his way.