My Killer Vacation(27)

She’s wife material.

She’s someone’s future wife.

That should be the reason I go back to my motel room and drink whiskey until the peppy apple scent of her dulls in my blood. Instead, the fact that she’s someone’s future wife is the reason I’m kicking open the rear screen door, with my cock already at full mast. I’m jealous. God, no wonder people do stupid shit when they’re feeling this way. It’s like my insides are all gummed up and functioning improperly. I’m sweating, muscles tense. And all I can think about is ruining her for anyone else.

Apparently jealousy goes hand in hand with selfishness.

That gives me pause.

Selfishness. Now that’s a sin I’m familiar with.

I don’t want to be that way to Taylor.

I can’t. I…like her. I like her sense of humor and the way she swings wildly from one extreme emotion to the next, as if she’s feeling too much of everything. She’s all bright splashes of color on the gray canvas I’ve been staring at while half awake. She’s mischievous and doesn’t let me get away with being rude. Why don’t I hate that? Shouldn’t I?

Bottom line, this is messy. This attraction between us is so fucking messy, I would be downright irresponsible—a bastard—for giving in. I’m the experienced one. When she says she won’t tie any of her strings to me, I shouldn’t take her word for it, nor should I want to commit cold-blooded murder to the man who earns those strings. Yet I know if the nameless, faceless son of a bitch was in front of me right now, I’d be doing a life sentence in no time.

No.

Pull back. I’m just in the moment, right?

I’m touching her. I’m hot as hell to swap orgasms.

I’ve never needed on this insane of a scale before, so my emotions are probably heightened. As soon as we work this out of our system, I’ll have my head back on straight.

I just have to make doubly sure she’s on the same page, so I don’t lead her on.

“Taylor,” I say, dragging her off my shoulder, her tits sliding over my shoulder and pressing up against my pecs. Damn. As soon as we’re eye level, I keep her there, which means her feet are dangling nearly a foot off the floor and I try really hard not to dwell on how protective that makes me feel. My hold tightens. Roughly. “Hey. You understand this is physical. Nothing more. Right?”

“Right.” She nods, those vivid green eyes trained on my mouth. “I promise. You’re a tool of self-discovery for me. That’s all.”

“Right.” Why am I suddenly made of stone? “Okay.”

My throat feels uncomfortable. Maybe I just need clarification.

“So when you say tool—”

“Should I take off my clothes?” Earnestly, she searches my face. “Or are you going to?”

Fine. Fuck it. I’m a tool of self-discovery. Sold. “Me. I’m taking them off.”

I don’t even know where we’re going. Only that I’m suddenly carrying her through the living room to the back of the house to get away from the multitude of windows that look out onto the street. We enter one of the bedrooms—one that doesn’t look to be occupied—and I kick the door shut behind us, settling Taylor on her feet.

My palms sweat as I look her over, taking in our height difference and her trusting expression. Her hard nipples, windblown hair and flushed cheeks. I’m a split-second from backing her onto the bed, hiking up her skirt and just ringing myself dry between her legs. But a quickie is not what we’re doing here, is it? She asked me for something.

Help me learn exactly what I want. And how to ask for it.

There is a purpose here. If I forget about it…

That’s too much proof that she’s getting to me.

She’s not, I reassure myself, while removing my weapon. Engaging the safety and setting it on the dresser. “Here’s the thing, Taylor,” I say, my voice sounding like a buzzsaw. “You won’t know what you like until you’ve had it. You might not even like it…”

Her lashes momentarily shield her eyes, like she’s shy. Fuck me for being so turned on by that. “Rough?” she asks.

The saliva in my mouth dries up. “Yeah. Rough.” I take a step in her direction, my pulse going from a gallop to a sprint. “I’ll show you a little. You tell me if and when I go too far.”

“Do we like…designate a safe word?”

“We don’t need a safe word. You just say stop.” The urge to comfort her wins before I have the chance to arrange a battle. Tugging her close by the front of her tank top, I keep pulling until my lips meet her forehead and I kiss her there. “I know what stop means, sweetheart.”

She nods. Trusting me.

My heart knocks faster.

This is getting too personal already. That’s not what she asked from me and I don’t have it to give anyway. With a lot more rigor than intended, I unzip her skirt and shove it down past her hips. The soft denim has barely pooled around her ankles when I grip two tight handfuls of her ass and yank her up onto her toes. The gasp she lets out against my throat burns me alive. Once again, I am this close to pinning her beneath me on the bed and fucking the tension out of us both, fast and furious, but somehow, even with my dick harder than iron, I restrain myself.

“Still think you want to be manhandled?”