Skin Dive (31 page)

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Authors: Ava Gray

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You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, ladies.

When the song ended, she stood breathless and smiling. “You sure you weren’t in a boy band during your lost years?”

He grinned back. “Hm. Should we check the
Where Are They Now
files in case someone’s missing me?”

“No,” she said. “I’d rather keep you all to myself.”

It was a magical night, and the only downside came when she ran into Brandon. Beer in hand, he registered the intimacy between “Steve” and herself in one glance; though he wasn’t studying to be a cryptologist, he could decode body language just fine. Fortunately, he didn’t linger, instead heading to the bar with his buddies.

“He’s jealous,” Taye whispered into her ear. “All that time he spent playing the good ‘friend’ and
I’m
the one in your bed. Life’s not fair.”

She smiled up at him. The music had slowed, so he had both arms around her waist, hers about his neck, and they were shamelessly dirty dancing, old-school style. “But sometimes it works out exactly as it should.”

Sorrow flickered in his face, a shadow she’d seen before but couldn’t identify. “Sometimes. Sometimes it does.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Please. I deserve your secrets. You can trust me . . . I ought to have proven that by now.

“Just that you’re the prettiest one here.” By his avid expression, he believed it. Not empty words, and she took that desire in lieu of full confession.

Ah well. I’ll find out in time.

Before they left, she had to get onstage. She studied the music selection and gauged the mood of her drunken audience carefully before she made her choice. Taye winced and laughed all the way through her over-the-top rendition of Peter Cetera’s “You’re the Inspiration.” At one point, he covered his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her emotive crooning.
Hey, if you can’t sing, at least you can have fun.

When she finished, she pointed at him and said, “Your turn.”

He shook his head as he lifted her down from the small stage. “I worship you, Gillie-love. I do. I’d do anything for you. But not that. Never. Ever.”

He startled a laugh from her. “So karaoke is where you draw the line?”

“Absolutely. Be happy I can dance.”

“Oh, I
am
.”

“Can we go home, so I can show you how much I enjoy that up-and-down shimmy thing? Particularly when you do it right up against me.”

“I can’t think of anything I want more.”

CHAPTER 22

Taye silently blessed
the pills that let him get through the night. Without them, there was no way he could’ve danced as he had—and that would’ve been a crying shame, considering how happy it made Gillie. But it put questions in his head about where he’d learned those moves.
Maybe I was a club kid, before crazy got the best of me.
He liked the relative innocence of it.

They walked to the bus stop—so ridiculous to travel that way—but its simplicity suited her, and who was he to complain? Starry night, spring—Taye tried to memorize everything: the way the wind smelled, the sound of distant laughter, and the click of her heels on the sidewalk. She leaned back against him as they waited, and on the ride home, she rested her head on his chest.

He held her hand as they went through the apartment complex gates and followed the sidewalk to her apartment. Mockingbird had given him three weeks, and he had spent three of those days waiting for the all-clear. That left him eighteen, and two weeks had already flown by.

On Monday, he had to go.
Only four days left.
A devil lived in his head, counting down the time as if it were a doomsday clock—and maybe that was an apt analogy. Because his world would end when he left her.

Not thinking of that tonight. Go away, death. Go bother someone else.

The dress fit her like a second skin, both exquisite and erotic. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way other men looked at her. Hell, most of them wished they were him tonight. She led the way up the stairs, her hips swaying like a sexy metronome. In front of the apartment, she fumbled with the keys; she’d drunk more than he had.

Gillie smelled of apples when he leaned down to kiss the nape of her neck. As always, she reminded him of springtime, where everything was bright and green, burgeoning with potential, and she left him raw with her emotional honesty. He followed her in the door, admiring what she’d built here, wishing he could be a permanent part of it.

This apartment was the first home she had ever known, and it showed. He could tell how much care had gone into selecting the walnut brown furniture and the contrasting blond oak tables. Each abstract picture, every patterned throw pillow said something about her personality. As a whole, it was bright but comfortable, inviting but beautiful, completely Gillie. Remembering how they’d squatted in squalor, he felt a rush of shame that he’d denied her this.

If I’d said yes to MB sooner, she could’ve had this sooner. Of course you’d be dead by now. Always a trade-off.

“Did you have fun tonight?” she asked, as if it could be doubted.

He didn’t remember ever having
fun
; it wasn’t part of his lexicon. Sometimes fighting beside Hawk was satisfying, but it wasn’t fun, at least not in the way she meant. Not light and happy and carefree. Fuck,
nothing
was; it couldn’t be.

“Yeah. It was amazing.”

You
were amazing.
He loved that she didn’t care if she could sing . . . she couldn’t. Still, she gave everything to that stupid song and had a blast doing it. Life with Gillie Flynn would be fun as hell, and he ached that he wouldn’t see her old and gray, rocking a walker and maybe an artificial hip.

“I guess we have to go to bed and have sex now.” She tried for a mournful tone, but the sparkle in her eyes gave away the teasing.

Christ, she’s fantastic.

“I’m afraid so. I did the dishes today, and as I recall, we made a deal.”

“It’s fine. I can fake it again.”

At that, he grabbed her with a growl and wound his arms about her waist, lifting her for a long, delicious kiss. “You’re a wicked woman.”

“I’m glad you finally noticed.”

“Bed?” It wasn’t really a question, but he felt obligated to check as he carried her toward the bedroom.

“Please.”

That night, he took his time with her; hours kissing and nuzzling, teasing her breasts and making her writhe. She came three times before he fucked her, and she wept as she went for the fourth, her pussy pulsing sweetly on his cock. The drugs started to wear off then, making it hard for him to thrust without pain, and she saw it.

Rousing sleepily, she put a hand to his cheek and asked, “Are you all right?”

No. Oh, God, love, no. This is the beginning of the end.

He almost told her then. Almost. Because the love in her eyes was too much, and he didn’t think he could get through the next few days while encouraging her to believe everything would turn out just fine.

You’re not being fair to her, you bastard. She has a right to know.

But then she distracted him by gently nudging him onto his back and kissing her way down. Her mouth was hot and featherlight, teasing with every kiss. When she wrapped her lips around his cock, all thoughts of confession went away. She let him lay still and drink in the pleasure—and then she begged with silent looks for him to show her how he wanted it. God, that was the hottest thing ever. In response to his touches and gestures, her pace increased; the pressure grew. He blazed for her, such fierce need, it overpowered the pain, and then he came. She didn’t try to pull away, instead drinking him down.

Afterward, he drew her up and kissed her in sweet, lingering desire, not gone, merely banked. She tasted of him, of salt and sweet, irresistible. As soon as she slept, he’d take something, but for now, the endorphins made it bearable.

“I love you,” he said, because
not
saying it was unthinkable. If he could, he’d say it a thousand times, so if nothing else, she believed.

“Mmm. I feel like I should say something clever in response but my brain is sleepy.”

“G’night, Gillie.”

But she was already out. He waited a few more minutes before slipping from the bed and going in search of the meds in his coat pocket.
Up to three pills at a time, now. Not good.
But he couldn’t be sorry, if they let him function for this time with her. When he came back to bed, she stirred, turning into his arms with an instinctive movement that all but destroyed him. He drew her close and rested his chin against the top of her head, wishing he could preserve this moment in amber. Unfortunately, the drugs kicked in, and when he woke, she was gone—and he’d lost another eight hours with her.

By the time she came back from class, he had his mask in place
. Nothing to see here, no heartbreak.
Taye greeted her with a kiss and a question. “So what’re we doing this weekend?”

“The same thing we do every weekend.”

“Try to take over the world?”

She grinned. “Close.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I thought we’d take a trip.”

“That’s not what we do every weekend.” At least, they hadn’t the past two. For obvious reasons, plane travel was right out. Too many cameras, too many chances someone would see and recognize him. Though they had old pictures, aged via software, he couldn’t risk her safety.

“Come on, play along. Where would you like to go?”

“That we can get to in one day? From
Wichita
?”

“Quit caviling. We don’t like your kind here.”

“Cavilers?”

“Yep. Your funny feathered hats and rapiers won’t win you any points here, mister.”

God, she always could make him smile, even now. “Fine. Let’s go to Denver . . . it’s about eight hours away. We could be there by late evening, and then come back Sunday night. In time for your classes on Monday morning.”

“You get on my laptop and make some reservations. I’ll pack for us. We can be ready to roll in half an hour.” In a whirl of energy, she headed for the bedroom.

He always felt clumsy messing with computers, but they were simple enough to operate. He pulled up her browser and it opened automatically to her e-mail account. She had two unread . . . one from Brandon, whom he knew, and another from Will Reynolds. Though he knew it was a douche-y thing to do, he opened the first.

What the fuck, Grace. We spent all these months with you telling me you don’t want anything serious, because we’re in college. But you looked pretty damn serious at the club. So I guess it’s just that you didn’t want to be with
me
. Don’t bother replying. I get it.

Taye actually felt sorry for the poor bastard. Marking that one unread, he opened the next one. It wasn’t jealousy or even sheer nosiness, but more of an insatiable need to know her. He had to soak in as much of her as he could in this limited time.

Grace: First, I must reiterate this: what happened at the hospital wasn’t your fault. The autopsy revealed a sizable brain tumor, gone undiagnosed, and it likely caused the patient’s mental condition. I understand why you’re upset . . . it was a traumatic experience. If you need counseling, I’d be happy to help, or to recommend someone if you’re not comfortable with me in that capacity. On to other matters. I’d like to talk about an internship. When you come in on Monday, we’ll discuss some summer opportunities. Have a great weekend. Will.

Ah, this must be the guy she worked for.
Seems decent enough.
Too bad he would never understand her sense of guilt. She’d killed the bastard; Taye didn’t share her remorse because crazy or not, he had been threatening Gillie, which meant death was too good for him.

Quickly, he marked the e-mails unread and searched for a hotel. By the time she returned, bag in hand, he could say, “Got us a great room at the Oxford Hotel. They have a book lovers’ package . . . apparently you get valet parking, your room, and a certificate for the Tattered Cover, which I guess is some big-deal bookstore nearby.” He glanced around the living room, seeing the numerous shelves she’d already filled. Some were textbooks, but most she had bought for pleasure, books not screened and forced on her by Rowan. “I figured you’d like that.”

Her face lit. “You, sir, are a genius.”

“We can wander around downtown tomorrow. It’s supposed to be nice.”

“Let’s go rent a car.”

“Gillie,” he said as they went out the door. “I read your e-mails.”

“I figured you would.”

That gave him pause. “Really?”

“Of course. You had to know if I lied, if I’ve been conducting a passionate affair behind your back.” She smirked at him.

“No, it wasn’t that.”