Irresistible Knight (15 page)
“Taylor, baby,” he breathed. “I want you. I want to feel you. Taste you. Please say you want this, too. I'm not going to force you if you say no.”
“Yes,” she replied in a soft whisper. Her eyes opened and locked with his. They were glowing with passion, with arousal he knew too well. “More, please. This is good.”
Thank you for small blessings.
“Oh, yeah. I'll give you more. Are you ready for a good late night ride to ecstasy?” he asked hoarsely. He didn't wait for an answer. He reached down to cup her pussy through her jeans. She felt hot and almost wet.
“Hmmm...”
“Like it? How about this?” He unbuttoned her jeans, unzipped the short zipper, opened it wide, then snaked his hand inside her smooth underwear.
Taylor's reply was a short gasp followed by a moan as he brushed his fingers against the pubic hair between her thighs. Watching her, he dipped his middle finger inside her. Taylor's teeth clamped her lower lip. She was slick and so fucking ready.
Too fast. His body told him not to slow down, and he didn't want to. But he would pleasure her, make sure she reached her orgasm first. Deeper, he inched his finger slowly inside her heat. She felt so tight and hot. “Fuck, babe. You feel so good.”
Taylor's fingers dug his shoulders. “Bors, oh God.”
“Yeah, I know. Good, huh?” He began to pump his finger in and out while kissing the column of her neck. She tasted good. “Lift your blouse. I want to suck your breasts.”
Taylor let go of her hold on his shoulders, then lifted her blouse. “Bors.”
“Higher, baby. That's it.”
“Bors,” she repeated. “I—”
He didn't let her finish. Through her white silk bra, he sucked her nipple. He nearly lost his control.
“Oh, God.”
“Fuck.” He couldn't take another minute of standing there, kissing Taylor. He pulled his finger out of her, and in one swift move, picked her up and took her to his room in a few quick strides.
The bed was made. The housekeeper he hired came yesterday to clean up. What perfect timing. Carefully, he lowered her on the bed and he followed. He took possession of her mouth and once again touched her heat. This time he penetrated her not with one, but two fingers, and buried them inside. Or at least he tried.
Taylor cried in pain. The sound, like a cold rain dripping down his back, made him stop. He looked at her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
She couldn't be.
Hoping he wouldn't hurt her again, he moved his fingers, searching for the proof of her virginity. Her hymen prevented him from moving further. “Fuck!”
“I, it's just—”
“Why didn't you tell me?” He shot off the bed like a catapult. “I could have hurt—no, I hurt you.”
“Not really.”
Shit. In the hallway, their position prevented his fingers from moving deeper. That was why he didn't feel her still intact maidenhead. But in bed ... damn it. No wonder she responded to his touch like a flame licking gasoline. She was a freaking virgin in heat.
“You should have told me.”
“I tried, but we were kissing and ... and I didn't want you to stop.”
No wonder she acted so uninhibited.
She'd never fucked a man before
. “You've been kissed before?”
“Yes,” she pouted. “I'm not that ugly.”
“Then how? Why? You are too damn beautiful to stay innocent. Men should have been all over you, showing you pleasures in bed.”
“Not easy if you're Jean's daughter, being watched twenty-four-seven.” Taylor buttoned her jeans, then sat up. “I'll go to my room now.”
Bors noticed her wrapped ankle. Going upstairs would be difficult for her, and no way in hell he was going to carry her. Not without taking her to another bed where he could have his way with her. “Use this room until your ankle is better. I'll get your bag.”
He didn't wait for her to protest. He left the room in a hurry. Knowing Taylor, she would protest until she won. Bors opened the back door to calm his nerves and his raging dick. The cool wind helped, but as soon as he stepped back in, his body came to a full alert. Fudge it, he was in for a good fucking night. Why in hell did he ask if he could stay? Well, because he wanted to. And in all honesty, he liked what had happened. Only it shouldn't.
Chapter Eight
Morning came too soon. Or was it already afternoon? Taylor stretched on the huge comfortable bed. Last night, after depositing her bag and violin on top of the dresser, Bors left the room. He didn't say where he planned on sleeping, but she figured it wouldn't be a problem with him.
She stared at the white ceiling as memories of what happened in the living room came back vividly by humiliation. Lord, how could she act like a harlot? With a simple touch and kiss ... no, it wasn't just a simple kiss. It was a hot, consuming, and heart-stopping one. But still, she nearly gave up her virginity to a man she just met. Ugh! What was wrong with her? Fine, Bors had an irresistible charm that she couldn't stop herself from responding to, but couldn't she use restraint?
I want you. Feel you. Touch you.
Those were the words of a wicked earl or duke or a scoundrel she often read in her romance books. And each time, the ladies would respond with a sigh and give everything to the hero because she was in love or halfway in love with him. How many times did she dream of hearing those words uttered while in the arms of her hero? Too many times to count. Last night, it finally happened—but for all the wrong reasons. Bors ... well, he could be her hero. He saved her from starving all night, and offered his home. Yeah, he could be her hero, but she wasn't in love, only lusting.
Darn it all. How was she going to corroborate with Judge Knight if she was intimate or close to becoming intimate with his son? In her twenty-three years, she'd never been as close to a man as she was last night with Bors. Yeah, heavy necking and petting with the second chair violinist, but he kissed so methodically, as if he was playing his violin, afraid to make mistakes. Bors, on the other hand, burned her with his touch in a matter of seconds. He touched her skillfully as if he knew her body already.
Of course. The man was experienced and he wasn't ashamed to admit that he liked women. She wondered how many virgins he had bedded in the past and recently.
Gah! Well, she made a mistake. It wouldn't happen again.
The sound of a door closing turned her mind back to where she was. Bors's home. Taylor sat up. Her gaze wandered around the room. Everything spoke of masculinity ... from the wood headboard to the wood paneling above the fireplace. The sitting area faced the curtained wall. Taylor got off the bed. She had a feeling she already knew what was behind the curtain.
Taylor looked for the pull. It wasn't hard to find. She pulled the rope and watched as the curtain revealed a view she could only describe as God's paradise. Unlocking the glass door, she stepped onto a private view balcony, which sat at the edge of the bluff overlooking the water. A table with a glass top and two chairs occupied the balcony. This could be a unique and romantic dining spot, she thought.
The sun afforded her the view of the water, lush green mountains and painted sky. She could stand here all day and never tire of looking at the panorama. Taylor wondered if Bors spent many hours here taking in God's wonderful creation.
Sighing, she went back inside the room and closed the door. Well, time to face Bors. She couldn't very well hide here all day simply because she was too embarrassed about what transpired last night. Besides, they were both mature adults and both knew not to mention anything worth not mentioning. Maybe they could talk about his job of catching vermin. Not in a million years would she have guessed his profession. He walked like a predator with a swagger. More like a ... a what? An agent. Like the handsome guy in the movie Quantum of Solace. What was his name?
Without bothering to wear her slippers, she went out to the living room while combing her hair with her fingers, then tied it with a hair tie she found in her bag. The open rafters and seven skylights welcomed the sunlight, adding bright cheeriness to the home. Taylor looked around. In broad daylight, she understood what Bors was talking about. No one could come in and out of this place without going through the circular drive. From where she stood, all she could see was the open view of the water. The house was indeed sitting on a bluff.
Bors's truck was parked in the driveway. She could hear him talking. Taylor followed his voice. It was coming from the direction of the kitchen. Or she thought it was the kitchen.
She didn't want to listen, but for some reason, she had a feeling that whoever Bors was talking to, they were discussing her. Just outside the door to the kitchen, Taylor stood.
“How is she, bro? Good. I agree. She won't get any rest if you guys stay at Mom and Dad's. I can imagine Teta giving you a hard time. Julie's her baby. So you heard, huh? No. We're in my house now. What? Of course not. Fuck you.” Bors laughed. “I'm not that bad.”
Taylor noticed he put a stress on the word bad.
“Goddess divine, bro. Without a doubt. No. Shut the fuck up. Too complicated.” Bors's laughter bounced around the room. The sound was as sunny as the living room.
Taylor cleared her throat to let Bors know her presence before he said anything that would make her burn from embarrassment. “Good morning,” she greeted and walked into the room. She found Bors leaning against the kitchen counter, holding a cell phone.
“Hey, gotta go. Stop. You're a pervert. Love you, too, ugly fuck. Give my love to Julie.”
Bors hung up the phone and slid it inside his jean pocket and then braced his hands on the counter.
His eyes, Taylor noticed, changed from looking merry to glowing. She recognized the savage inner fire she saw there last night when he touched her. But that was last night. He stared at her for a long moment as if memorizing her, as if he liked what he was seeing.
Dear, she hoped she was right, because his perusal made her feel beautiful. Raising a brow, she studied him back. Beautifully muscled, well-built, the very picture of health, attractive, and he exuded masculinity. His jeans rode low on his hips and she could almost see his hipbones. His dark blue shirt with a round collar was a bit snug on his chest and shoulders. He looked powerful. Taylor slowly lowered her gaze. His muscled thighs seemed to go on forever. When she reached the hem of his bootleg jeans, she noticed they were frayed and touching the floor. Frayed or not, his jeans looked good on him. God, he should be an Abercrombie and Fitch model. Bors just stood there, devilishly handsome and obviously enjoying the attention.
She couldn't believe they came so close to making love last night. A part of her reveled at the thought, while the other part suffered from emotional discomfort. Taylor sighed. There was no denying it, she was attracted to Bors.
The silence lengthened between them, making her even more uneasy. Finally, he broke the silence with his short, “Morning.”
The huskiness and sensuality in his tone reached her heart, soul, and that part of her that was presently getting warmer by the minute. When she found her voice, she asked in a low and throaty tone, “Who's the ugly fuck?”
* * * *
He wanted her. After a long cold shower and waking up last night, sweaty, groaning, and, spurting seed on the bed sheet, he still wanted her. What was he going to do about it? Bors stared at the woman standing by the kitchen doorway. His gaze roved and appraised her. With her rumpled shirt, yoga pants hugging her long slender legs, and mussed hair, she had all the self-consciousness of a woman who just had a fantastic tumble in bed. Except, they didn't exactly tumble last night.
His dick pulsed at the thought of their missed union. Damn, he wanted her so badly, it hurt, even though he knew it was wrong. He never mixed work and pleasure, especially with the daughter of the man he wanted to toss in jail or kill.
He'd had women in the past, but never felt this kind of craving—if he could call what he was going through right now that. Yes, Taylor was one hot woman with compelling, magnetic eyes. But so what? The last woman he dated won the Miss July title. So why was he acting like a teenager walking with a boner toward Taylor? Was it because she was fun to be with, immune to his charms, a virgin? Or did it have to do with the enchanting animation of her character, the way she carried herself with confidence, and those beautiful big eyes? Whatever the cause, his strong physical attraction with her had his cock turned hard as a rod.
Bors shifted his position before he embarrassed himself. “I was talking to Tristan.”
“And you call him that. Is it because his name sounds better than yours?”
“My, my. Are you always like this in the morning? Trying to pick a fight?”
Taylor laughed. “No.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Good at least one of them did, he thought. Last night, it took him hours of tossing and turning before sleep finally took him. He quickly found out that sleeping alone when a beautiful woman occupied another room downstairs was the toughest test he had ever faced. At one point, he waited in the dark, expecting Taylor to knock on his door. But she never did. That, too, was a first.
“Your bed is the most comfortable bed I've ever slept on. It's huge and firm, smooth, and smelled nice.”
Huge, smooth, and firm. Oh, yeah. You're a dumbass. She's talking about your bed not your dick.
Bors groaned.
“You can have it back. My foot is not as sore as it looks. I can climb up and down the stairs with ease.”
She misunderstood his reaction. But he wasn't going to share his thoughts. Not this time. Bors nodded. He noticed she wasn't rambling anymore. Instead, she walked as if approaching her lover, her hips gently swaying.
Boy, I would give everything to feel those hips move against mine.
He was fully aroused now.
Oi! Too damn early, Bors.
“I'm glad to hear you're feeling better.”
“How about you? You look in pain?”
Wrap those lips around me and I wouldn't be.
Those lips of hers were distracting him. They were full and the color of cherry red. Perfect for kissing and sucking. She said she'd been kissed before. He wondered how many men had done it to her. Maybe a handful? Were they good? Did she enjoy the kiss and did it make her hot?