He remembered hearing something about a similar campaign. "You found one?"
"I knew there was one just around the corner. By the time he caught up, I was halfway up the drive. For a while, I thought he'd follow me but then the door opened and Mrs. Willis took me in."Taylorsmiled at the memory.
Mrs. Willis had been the only good thing to come out of that day. The kindly widow had made her stay and drink several cups of tea until she'd stopped sobbing. "She rang the police. The man was hanging around nearby - probably thought he'd get me when I left." She could still remember the bone-crunching, nerve-flaying fear she'd felt that day.
"Did he staylocked up this time?"Jackson's body was taut against hers.
She found herself trying to comfort him . "For a lot longer. I think he got hurt in jail. He never came back."
He didn't back off under her soothing but his tonegentled . "Was he the only one?"
"Yes. But the whole time, I kept thinking that one day it could just as well be Nick taking the brunt of some man's anger." The blinding fear had been a mother's for her child. "From then on, when our mother went out, I left with Nick and spent the night at Mrs. Willis's house."
"You care for this woman."
Her nod was sharp. "She treats me like a daughter."
"Do you keep in touch with her?"
"Yes. But, her health isn't so good anymore." Her voice was less than a whisper. Unlike her mother, this Mrs. Willis meant a lot to her. "I worry. That neighborhood isn't the greatest but she refuses to move."
Jacksonmarveled at her. She'd told him of a terrifying experience, one that she must've been constantly afraid would be repeated, and all she was worried about was an old woman's health. He would ensure that her savior received the best care, because he was in Mrs. Willis's debt for saving her from unbearable suffering.
"Taylor?"
She looked up, lingering traces of memory turning her blue eyes cloudy. "Yes?"
"Thank you for telling me." For trusting me, he thought, with bittersweet joy.
Her smile was forced. "You needed to know." She swallowed and he could see that she was gathering the courage to say something. He waited. When it came, it was so unexpected that he just stared.
"Did you just ask me if I was going to keep a mistress?" he repeated, dumbfounded.
She sat up in his lap, arms folded. "What's so silly about that? I won't be providing ... what you need and you're a man." Her tone was belligerent.
He tried to tell himself that she knew only one kind of man and it wasn't personal. He shouldn't feel so hurt because she could be so blase about giving him to another woman. If she ever touched another man, that man wouldn't live to regret his mistake. AndTaylor? He might just handcuff her to his bed forever.
"I can control myself. I don't feel the need to have sex with complete strangers and that's what it would be." He made no attempt to hide the growling edge to his voice.
"I've put my foot in it, haven't I? You're angry."
Her honesty made his lips curve. "I hardly think it'll be the last time." Tipping her chin up, he said, "Tell me one thing. Do you find me personally disgusting or repulsive?" He knew that his big body could be considered brutish and after hearing what she'd been through, he was surprised at the amount of trust she'd already shown him.
She immediately shook her head. "Of course not! I told you, you're gorgeous. And ... I like the way you kiss me."
"Then, we will try, piccola ." He moved the hand on her back, subtly coaxing her awareness of him.
"Try?" It was a whisper but he could hear the faintest trace of intrigue.
"What could it hurt?" Even as he spoke, he realized that it might shatter his heart. It would be worth it if Taylorlooked at him with passion in those vibrant eyes.
She lowered her head, uncertain. "What if I can't?"
"I'll turn into a monk." He didn't bring up their one-year agreement.
There was wariness in her eyes, but she let him hold her. And the next day, she married him, in a ceremony that was quietly beautiful, just like her.
Dressed in a gown that kissed every womanly curve with a lover's tenderness, her wild black hair tumbling down her back, and her blue eyes fixed on him alone, she was his every dream come true.
When he slid the plain gold wedding band onto her finger, she beamed at him and something deep within him started to whisper in hope.
He would rather have spent his life alone than have a string of meaningless marriages like his parents, or a replay of the deceitful and hurtful first marriage he'd barely survived. Some kinds of loneliness were worse than others. But, withTaylorsmiling at him like that, he believed that, this time, it would be different.
It would be forever.
Understanding at last just how deeply she lived in his heart, he decided that the one-year time limit on their marriage was totally unacceptable. The thought of her in another man's arms, even unwillingly, had almost killed him - he would never let her go by choice. Unless his bride repudiated him, he was in this for life. He'd let her know that when she was feeling a little less overwhelmed by the speed at which he'd pushed for their union.
Perhaps, with this woman who made his heart awaken and body rejoice, he might find a way out of the darkness of his past and into the sunshine of her smile.
It was his wedding night.
The location was an exclusive resort on an island off the coast ofFiji. It was his wedding night and he was all alone in his bed, while his sexy new bride slept across the hall, in the other room of this luxurious seaside cabin. An erotic fantasy involving black lace and soft white skin had been tormenting him for the past hour.
Desperate, he went down to the floor and began doing push-ups, clad only in white boxer shorts.
Exhaustion might allow him to catch a few hours sleep.
The gentle knock came when he was on his fiftieth push-up and more aroused than he'd thought humanly possible. Groaning at his pretty little wife's timing, he growled, "Come." The single word sent a cascade of sensual imagery flooding through his mind. He could imagine teasingTaylorto that final edge and then ordering her to "come."
The door opened and the enticing scent of woman whispered over him. Dio! A hundred more, he decided grimly and kept going. His peripheral vision showed small feminine feet, toes painted bright pink, padding closer. The edge of an eyelet lace nightgown fluttered around her ankles.
He wanted to reach out a hand, grab onto one slim ankle and lick his way up his wife's gorgeous legs.
His wife. She belonged to him and he wanted to stake his claim.
"What're you doing?"
Grunt. "Exercising."
"It's almostmidnight." She didn't sound disapproving. He frowned. She seemed ... fascinated. But, by what?
"I like it." He pushed down, feeling his biceps start to burn.
"I can see that." Feminine interest laced her tone.
He almost jerked to a standstill but something forced him to continue. To his surprise, he saw her move around to sit on the edge of his bed. Her pretty little feet were flat on the floor, inches away from him.
"Can I stay and talk?"
She wanted to talk? "Sure."
He waited for her to say something but she remained silent. He didn't dare break the moment. He had Taylorin his bedroom and at ease with him. That was a huge step. He just wished he knew what the hell she was thinking.
Taylorwas mesmerized by the rhythmic bunch and release ofJackson's muscles. Her cheeks flushed. She waved a hand in front of her face to cool herself down. The man was built . All strong lines and corded muscle that she wanted to sink her teeth into. Her sleeveless, Victorian-inspired gown was suddenly too hot. She undid the top two buttons. His back muscles had her fascinated but his arms rated a mention.
And those powerful thighs...
She shook her head. What was she doing? Why was she alone withJackson, with him almost naked?
Big and gloriously naked. Why was she feeling hot and needy, when no man had ever been able to touch the sexual core of her?
Because she was lonely.
And it was her wedding night.
And she'd missed him.
And, she'd wondered if he'd really meant it when he'd said that they could try. Wondered if the courage her therapist had kept saying she had, in their long-distance phone call tonight, was real, and not a figment of her imagination.
Now, she wondered if this aggressively male creature in front of her would be patient. She wondered if he'd be tender. Most of all, she wondered if a wife who'd been married for convenience was allowed to stroke her husband's beautiful body without consequences.
Have the courage to fight for him, she ordered herself. He's never hurt you. And ... he never will.
Mouth dry, heart in her throat, she reached out and ran a single finger down the bunched muscles of his back when he rose on his arms. Smooth, hot skin and rippling strength. She shivered.
Jacksonfroze and just about stopped breathing. "What are you doing?"
Silence. Had he blown it?
"T-touching you."
The slight hesitation got him back on even ground. "I'm sweaty." Why the hell had he said that? That wasn't how you seduced a woman.
"I don't mind,"came the very quick response.
He lowered himself to the varnished wooden floor, not caring about dust or the comfort of his heavily aroused body. Resting his head on his arms, he silently gave her permission and wondered what she'd do.
After a pause that seemed to last forever, she knelt beside him, the fine material of her nightgown fluttering against his heated skin. He could feel the soft warmth of her, hear the whisper of her breath, almost smell her desire. The wait had his instincts tugging at the reins, fighting for the freedom to devour her.
Then she touched him.
Hesitant, exploratory strokes that tipped him into sweet insanity. When he remained quiescent under her, she put her hands flat on his back and stroked harder. Kneaded. Played. He could imagine those hands on other parts of his anatomy, all soft heat and soft pain. He wanted to tell her to use her mouth on him, to nibble and caress and kiss. Sweat beaded across his brow when he felt her straddle him, her gown resting atop his back and thighs.