Her fingers on his mouth stopped him. "I ... I don't mind when you touch me." Her eyes widened, as if she was surprised by her own words.
He was touched by the admission. "A woman should enjoy her man's kiss, baby, not merely allow it."
With her face bathed in the soft light of the moon streaking in through the window, she looked indefinably vulnerable.
"I'm not sure I know how to enjoy." Her words were brutally honest. "C-could ... you..."
He leaned closer, enclosing her with his body. "What would you like, piccola?"
"A kiss. Like it's supposed to be," she whispered.
Her words betrayed that for her, kissing had never been a pleasure. One day soon, he'd find out who had abused her, but for tonight, he would kiss her as an innocent was meant to be kissed - with tenderness and just a stroke of passion. Just enough to tantalize.
WhileTaylor's heart pounded so hard that she could feel every beat in her throat,Jacksonmoved one big hand to cradle her head and lowered his mouth to hers. Braced for pressure, all she felt was a teasing graze of lips on lips that left her with no idea how to react.
"Just feel." He grazed her lips again but this time, lingered over the caress. "It feels good doesn't it?"
She nodded, throat dry. There was no pain, no force, nothing but the male scent ofJacksonand the burning heat of his almost naked body. Her hands were on his beautiful skin and she could feel the raw power barely contained beneath the surface. Despite the blatant evidence of male muscle, she let her lashes flutter shut. If he'd wanted to hurt her, he could've done so long before this moment. All those nights working alone with him, she'd never once felt less than safe. His old-fashioned sense of chivalry had even stopped him from inviting himself in for coffee when he'd followed her home.
"Then just feel. Sweet, sweet,Taylor." His hand tipped her head back and he dropped a single kiss on her neck. She whimpered in surprise.
"Relax for me, bellissima ," he cajoled, as his lips touched hers again, hot but undemanding. "Feel."
Seduced by that deep voice, she did as he asked. She just felt. Felt the soft-hard duality of his lips, felt the tenderness with which he was coaxing her to open her mouth for him, felt the shudder that ripped through him when she did. Yet, he didn't invade her mouth. Instead, he teased her with feather-light strokes of his tongue across her lips. As each slow lick built her desire, he whispered hot promises to her in Italian, his voice darkly smoky, teasing,tempting but not delivering.
At last, she gave a frustrated little moan and pressed closer, her hands clenching in his hair to hold him to her. Only then did he touch tongue to tongue, a quick foray that didn't remind her of the forceful kisses that had hurt and shamed her as a girl, because he invited rather than took. Curious, heart thudding, she followed. His arms tightened around her, chest muscles tensing as her breasts were crushed between them, barely covered by the shirt. Beneath her bottom, she could feel the hard ridge of his erection. Panic tried to rise but failed, because despite his obvious arousal, his touch remained heartbreakingly gentle.
Their lips parted with a silky wet sound, deeply intimate in the semidarkness of the room. The man holding her nipped at her full lower lip with his teeth. "You taste like you belong to me."
Instead of inciting fear, his possessiveness heated her blood. "I like touching you. Kissing you." She was talking with her lips on his, her hands deep in his hair. The pure, sensual pleasure she derived from touching him enthralled her.
"Good." There was a very satisfied glint in his eye, and the thumb he ran across the lip he'd bitten was nothing less than proprietary. When he pressed her down against his chest, she sighed and gave in.
Remnants of the passion that he'd aroused in herunawakened body glowed like embers, keeping her warm and relaxed. A new kind of trust took root in her heart, a woman's trust, a sexual trust, which dared her to take what her sexy ex-boss was offering and not look back to a young girl's easily bruised sensuality.
"Are you awake, cara?"
"Yes."
A pause. "Do you wish to tell me why you have such fear of men's desires?"
"I promise I will, but not tonight." She couldn't bear to taint the sweetness of that kiss, the almost unbearable tenderness of it, with such horrible memories.
"You must sleep then." He stood, with her in his arms.
At her door, he set her on her feet. She put a hand on his arm as he turned away. "Thank you for your help."
Something dark shaded through his eyes. "I do not want your gratitude,Taylor."
Somehow, she knew it wasn't rejection but a question. "It wasn't gratitude. It was trust." It took courage to confess that. Before she'd met JacksonSantorini , she'd never trusted a male in the prime of his life.
He touched her hair again, a softer curve to his unsmiling mouth. "Go to sleep, piccola . I will find a way to help you and your brother."
It was a measure of her trust that she slept the night through, without nightmares. Truth to tell, it scared her a little, this faith she had inJackson. A woman could be fooled into love with something as powerful as trust to lead her astray. And her love was the one thing thatTaylorwould never entrust to any man.
Not evenJackson.
Chapter 4
The next morning,JacksondroveTaylorhome.
Prior to starting the trip, he'd astounded her by producing her purse. Cole had dropped it off early that morning, whileJacksonhad been working out. His friend had also indicated that Donald Carson was now so terrified of being labeled a sexual offender by the police, it was a sure thing that he'd never assault a woman ever again.
Because the sleep-deprived detective hadn't stuck around,Jacksonhad had to explain toTaylorthat he hadn't left her in the night and done away withCarson. He knew his tone had been edgy, his instincts still raw from being unable to go after the bastard himself. He had a feelingTaylorhad seen that all too clearly, because she hadn't pressed him for anything other than Cole's name on the drive to her apartment.
Now, while she changed, he made several calls to his legal people. An idea was brewing in his gut, but he wanted to be certain he was right. As he'd told her the night before, he didn't want her gratitude.
Neither his heart, nor his pride, would ever settle for such a paltry emotion from this strong woman.
He was the child of a broken marriage, reared by nannies and the survivor of a loveless union. It was enough loneliness for a lifetime. This time, he needed a woman capable of endless loyalty and utter devotion.Taylorwas the only woman he wanted and he hungered for everything she had. He would fight for it, but he wouldn't steal it. Not when she'd gifted him with her trust.
AtJackson's request,Taylorpacked an overnight bag and accompanied him home after changing into clean clothes. Exhausted from weeks of trying to fight Lance, she couldn't resist leaning on him.
"I have to go to a meeting. Wait for me. We'll talk when I come back,"Jacksonsaid after brunch.
She fought her natural instinct to probe, aware that she'd already asked too much. "When will you be back?"
"As soon as I can." He touched his lips to hers in a light caress. "Stop bristling. I need to talk to some people who won't appreciate an audience."
She scowled at his perception. "Don't be too long."
"Try and relax. You might want to think about whether you want to work as my secretary again."
After he left, she did just that, quickly deciding to accept. After all, there was no longer any need for her to hide her desire for her sexy Italian boss.
Jacksondidn't return until it was almost dinnertime.
"Did you find out anything?" she asked.
"I am following something through."
She could see fatigue in his eyes and decided not to push for more information before he ate. Her heart, always fascinated by this man, became a little more his at the quiet way he was helping her. Several calls interrupted their meal but finally when there was silence she made some coffee and took it into the living room.
She handed him a cup. "Here you go."
"Thanks." Curiously remote, he walked over to stand facing the window, his gaze on the darkness outside.
Shunning the couch, she perched on the third step of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, her eyes on Jackson. He was such a big man, she thought, with wide shoulders and powerful arms. He'd shoved up the sleeves of his black sweater to bare thick forearms dusted with dark hair.
In the muted light of the room, his skin looked dusky but she knew it was warm golden brown, evidence of his Italian heritage.Jacksonwas a vibrant presence, powerful even when standing still. Silhouetted against the dark, he looked isolated and she couldn't bear to see him so alone. She knew what it was like to be separate, to not belong.
"What're you thinking?" she whispered.
He turned to face her, leaning one shoulder against the glass. "What would you say tomarrying me?"
"Marry you?" Her hands clamped around her coffee cup.
"Yes." Cool and calm,Jackson's eyes gave her no indication of the tenor of his offer.
"Why?" He was her dream man, but in her life dreams had a nasty way of turning into nightmares.
"I've talked to several lawyers and a judge I know. As Nick's biological father, Lance has strong rights."
She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. "No!"
"But," he continued, "to retain custody, you can argue abandonment and show the court your ability to provide a good home. Unfortunately, having a husband will count, especially since Nick will need a male role model."
Confusion and hope warred within her. "But what's in it for you?" He was a powerful, handsome man.
Why would he want to tie himself toa nobody like her?
"I want a wife - I've always known the value of family and loyalty, and I know you, too, understand those things. I need a hostess who I know will be exemplary. If Nick is still basically the same boy I met, we'll get along fine." He paused and then added, "Because of your love for Nick, I also don't have to worry about word of our arrangement ever being splashed across the tabloids, should we part ways."
