Every Breath She Takes (33 page)

He opened his eyes. The sight of her, eyes closed, so intent on her sensual exploration, gave him a jolt he feared might leave his nerve endings permanently singed. Then she released him.

He groaned, part relief, part regret, but it was premature. She wasn’t finished with him. She closed her lips around him again, but this time she opened her eyes. Their gazes locked as she took as much of him as she could into her mouth.

“Jesus, Lauren!” He gripped her head with both hands, torn between the desire to stop her and the need to hold her there, imposing on her the rhythm his body cried out for. Somehow he managed to do the former, pushing her away.

Her eyes, dilated with arousal, were clouded. “What’s the matter?”

Yeah, Taggart, what
was
the matter? Why’d he stop her when he burned to feel her mouth on him? His chest heaved with the effort of control. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, but I
want
to. You wouldn’t believe how much I want to.” He watched a shiver pass through her as she gazed up at him.

His heart gave a jerk in his chest. It’s not that he hadn’t had women go down on him. Hell, he’d been a rodeo star, and there’d been no shortage of buckle bunnies anxious to please. But Lauren was nothing like those women. She was so smart and good and fine and—oh God!—
incredibly talented with her mouth
.

She released him for a moment and looked up at him, her eyes blazing brighter blue than he’d ever seen them. “We okay with this?”

“God, yes!” He sank his hand in her short, glossy hair and guided her to him again.

This time when she took him into the warm wetness of her mouth, he surrendered to it, telling her in broken words how much he loved what she was doing, begging her not to stop.

Too soon he could stand no more, and he pushed her down on the bed. Her bathrobe came off with one sweep, exposing her silky skin, fragrant from the bath.
Perfect
, he marveled, even as
part of him wondered when his tastes had changed so radically. Small breasts, boyishly slender hips, long, long legs.

Mine!
On that fierce thought, he proceeded to brand her with his mouth. Her neck, her breasts, the indentation of her waist. Then he started again at her feet, kissing his way up toned calves, past sensitive knees to the silk of her trembling thighs. She allowed it, welcomed it, if her ragged breathing was any indication, but when he parted the folds of her femininity with questing fingers, she squeezed her thighs together to prevent the ultimate intimacy, trapping him in a viselike grip.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d never shared this intimacy with a man. His rational mind told him it couldn’t be so, but the maidenly clasp of her thighs told another story. Or wait—maybe she just didn’t enjoy it. That would be a crying shame. Time to find out which it was.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got me in a leg lock here. Do you think you could relax ’em a little?”

“I’m sorry.” She relaxed her grip on him only slightly.

He stroked the outside of her thighs with his calloused hands, marveling at their silky softness. “Don’t you want me to love you the way you loved me?”

Her legs positively vibrated with tension. “I don’t know,” came her strangled reply.

His hands stilled. “Are you saying you’ve never, um…never let…had a man—”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Her words were muffled by her hands, which she’d lifted to cover her face. Was she embarrassed?

“But how is that possible? How does a woman learn to give pleasure like you just gave me and not get it back in return?”

She laughed silently, and he felt her body shake with it.

“What’s so funny?”

She lifted her hands away from her face. “He was claustrophobic.”

“I’m sorry,
what?
”

“I never did anything like that until my last boyfriend. I mean, I’ve had boyfriends since high school. Lots of boyfriends. But never a super-serious one until Garrett.” She groaned, covering her face again. “Just my luck, I finally found a guy I want to do it with and he turned out to be too claustrophobic.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Well, it’s not like he didn’t want to or didn’t try, but he just couldn’t.”

“Oh, the poor sonofabitch.” The sentiment was heartfelt. So was the thrill that went through him at the prospect of being the first man to love her like this. He turned his smile into her warm thigh. “I’m not claustrophobic. Not even a little bit.”

Her thighs tightened on him and he smiled. “Was that a claustrophobia test?”

She groaned. “No, cowboy, that was a maybe.”

“How do I turn maybe into a yes?” He opened his mouth on her thigh and tasted her skin with his tongue.

Her legs trembled. “That’s a good start.”

His smile widened. This was so going to happen. “Did you like putting your mouth on me?”

“You know I did.”

“Did you like having me at your mercy, pushing me higher, making me crazy?”

“Yes!”

“Did it excite you?”

“Oh God, yes.” Her voice was high and thin.

“Then how can you deny me the same pleasure? You’ll like it. I’ll make sure you do.” He felt her legs slacken another few millimeters. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

Her instant, unqualified response roughened his voice. “Then relax for me, baby. I’ll go slow.”

And so he did. By the time he’d worked his way down to the soles of her feet and back up to the apex of her thighs, she was whimpering with need. This time when he homed in on her sex, she clutched the bedclothes but offered no resistance. Her hips jerked when he closed his mouth over her, but he knew she wasn’t trying to elude him. It was involuntary, as was her choked half-scream. Then she was moving against him, her cries of delight echoing around him as his fingers joined the dance of lips and tongue. Within minutes she found her release, bucking and straining beneath him, her breath a harsh sobbing in the otherwise silent cabin.

Cal told himself a gentleman would have held her then and soothed her, but unappeased desire had burned him clean down to pure need. Even as the aftershocks rippled through her, he searched the bed frantically and found the condom. Sheathing himself, he moved between her legs again, poised himself over her, nudged into her. God, she was so tight, her muscles still clenching. Could she take him?

“Cal?”

Oh, please, don’t ask me to stop.
“What?”

“Make it hard. Make it wild.”

As her words sank in, he relinquished thought. With a rasping cry, he buried himself in her blazing, impossible tightness. She cried out at the invasion, but lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. Mindlessly he pounded himself into her—all that he’d been, all that he was, all that he might be—and she took it willingly, greedily, until her long, rolling climax triggered his, sending them both into oblivion.

Lauren rolled over, dragging a hand through her hair as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. She was still tingling
in places she barely knew she had, and she’d probably be sore tomorrow, but she was also happy. “That was the most…
incredible
sex I have ever had.”

“Hmmmm, me too.” Cal rolled onto his side, supporting his head with one hand while tenderly tracing patterns on her rib cage with his free hand.

“Really?” She lifted her own fingers to stroke his arm, so brown against her white flesh.

“
Really
,” he said, his calloused fingers circling her belly button. She sucked her breath in. “But I’m guessing it means something vastly different to you than it does to me.”

The words stilled her fingers. It was true. No doubt it
was
different for her. Unlike him, she’d probably still be taking these memories out years from now. She rolled away swiftly. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she struggled into her bathrobe. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, cowboy. Women don’t confuse sex and love nearly as often as men imagine.”

“Hell, Lauren, that’s not what I meant.”

He’d crawled to the edge of the bed to sit there beside her, and she turned to face him with cool eyes. She wasn’t prepared for the warmth in his eyes. She looked away again. “Then what
did
you mean?”

“I meant the term
best sex ever
is relative,” he said. “Which was supposed to be my very clumsy segue into asking you about your experience base. After what just happened, I’m thinking it might be a little bit—thinner—than I imagined. Particularly for an erotica writer.”

Oh, hell! She’d just made a complete fool of herself, jumping to the wrong conclusion and getting all weird. Well, it couldn’t be helped now.

But his observation did present an opportunity to come clean on at least one point. And she was
so
ready to be done with the erotica writing thing.

“I’m afraid I lied about that.” She glanced sideways at him to observe his reaction. “I don’t write erotica.”

His face went slack with surprise. “You don’t?”

She shook her head no.

He blinked. “Do you write
at all?
”

“No. Well, actually I wrote an article once for a veterinary magazine…”

“I don’t understand. Why’d you lie about something like that?”

“Because I wanted an excuse to keep you talking that first day.” Well, that part was certainly true. Truer than he would ever know. “And because I wanted you to be interested in me.” And
that
part, she now knew, was truer than she would have allowed herself to acknowledge back then.

He blinked. “Five foot nine with legs that go on forever…you thought you had to embellish on
that
to get my attention?”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Cal. Even I can see I’m not what anybody would call your usual type. Even before I laid eyes on your ex-wife, I knew that. And you have to admit that that little fiction set the table nicely for a hot summer fling, didn’t it?”

“You got me there,” he admitted. “I probably would have left you alone if you hadn’t said that. Or tried to.” His eyes darkened with…what? Sorrow? Regret? “I tend to stick to women who…well, a different kind of woman.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice tighter than she would have liked. “Well, no harm done. I’m a big girl. I can take our little vacation romance in stride.”

“Can you?” His eyes bored into hers, searching for the answer.

God, had her stupid lie sucked him into this relationship against his better judgment? Her throat tightened to the point of aching. “What? Are you afraid I’ll fall in love with you? Is that it?”

Dark spots of color flagged his hard cheekbones. “Of course not. But I do have a healthy respect for the power of sex.”

Belatedly Lauren remembered Marlena’s sexual addiction and the agonies he must have suffered over it. She groaned. “Cal, let’s not argue.” She placed a hand on his bare chest and felt a tiny bit of the tension go out of him. “I’ll keep a cool head about this, I promise. Scout’s honor. I can handle myself.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Lauren was afraid it was too late for that, but she smiled confidently. “No one’s going to get hurt. We both know the rules. Now, could we have a quick shower before we hit the hay? You’ll want to be rested when you make peace with Zane tomorrow.”

His gaze sharpened. “What makes you think I’m going to make peace with that old buzzard?”

Lauren’s smile was real this time. “Because you’re a
good man
, Cal Taggart.”

How did I come to be here?

Cal slumped in a worn chair in the antiseptic waiting room of the outpatients’ department, reflecting on how much his nice, ordered life had changed in a matter of weeks. Marlena had turned up on his doorstep like a bad penny; his father had materialized out of the blue; his guest ranch business had been scuttled by an unseen enemy and he had no idea how to fight back.

And then there was Lauren.

He didn’t know how it happened, but somehow she’d wormed her way right into his heart. He’d lain in bed last night with her body cradled against his and faced the truth. He loved her. She was smart and generous and wise, but most of all, she’d seen him at his absolute worst—time and again—and hadn’t turned away.

Of course, the realization was bittersweet. She’d made it plain that this was nothing more than a walk on the wild side for her, that she was in no danger of falling in love with him.

A door opened and Zane walked out. Street clothes replaced the blue johnny shirt he’d been wearing most of the morning.

Cal stood. “You ready?”

“Damned right I am,” he growled.

“Any word on the tests?”

Zane waved a hand. “Bah! They won’t tell me nothin’. Seems to me, somebody sticks a camera down your throat or up some other orifice, they oughta tell you what they saw.”

“They probably want to go over it up, down, and sideways before they commit themselves.”

“Well, I can tell you there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“I’d agree with you if I hadn’t seen you flopping around on my floor like a fish,” Cal said pleasantly.

“Insolent pup!”