Sweetest Taboo (5 page)

It was two-fifteen in the morning, and Dallas couldn't sleep. He poured another glass of bourbon, knowing damn well it would do nothing, and tossed it back.

The liquor burned his throat and clouded his head, but that's what he wanted. Punishment and forgetfulness. To just fucking erase all of it.

Not possible though, and so he turned to alcohol to take the edge off. And right then, there were a lot of goddamn edges.

Fuck
.

Liam had rightfully pulled him away from Colin, then Jane had rightfully sent him away from her. He didn't have a place with the man he now despised, and he didn't have a place with the woman he loved.

He was alone and he was drunk and he couldn't sleep and the whole situation was just too goddamned fucked up for him to wrap his head around.

A soft tap at the door startled him, and he cringed.
Adele
.

Goddammit, he'd told her he didn't want to see her when she'd called earlier to tell him she'd visited Jane. “She's doing well, but I worry about you two. Are you sure you're prepared for this? Living in the spotlight?”

“I've always been in the spotlight,” he'd countered.

“Not like this.”

He'd almost tossed back a sarcastic comment—something about how his sex life had always been front and center. But she was right. This was different. With Jane, he wasn't in the spotlight because he was a player, but because of who he was playing with.

“And it's not just the fact that you're sleeping with your sister,” Adele had continued. “Eventually they'll find out what happened between you two. Innocent children trapped in a horrible situation, and they'll make it seem dirty.”

“It won't come out.”

“I hope you're right,” she'd said. “But secrets have a way of being discovered.”

She'd told him she was on her way over to keep him company, but he'd shut that down quickly. But Adele was Adele, and apparently she'd decided to come anyway, probably bribing the doorman to let her into the elevator.

“Dammit, Adele,” he said as his hand closed over the knob. “I told you I didn't want you to—
Jane
.”

She was wearing hospital scrubs, and her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. The bruise on her cheek had turned a sick shade of yellow, and the dark circles under her eyes were large enough to get lost in.

She looked exhausted, shattered.

She looked beautiful.

He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he forced himself to stay still, not sure where this moment was leading, but praying that it was leading her back to him.

Right then, her hands were deep in her pockets, and she lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I don't have a key. For that matter, I don't have a purse.”

“You don't need one,” he said, stepping aside even as he made a mental note to change the lock. “Come in.”

Her teeth grazed her lower lip as she crossed the threshold, her eyes darting quickly to his face and then back again. God, they were being so tentative with each other, and that awkwardness was killing him.

“How did you get past all the reporters camped outside?”

An actual smile flickered. “I guess they work bankers' hours. There was only one guy out there, and he didn't even look twice at me.” She gestured to her scrubs. “Maybe he figured I was a doctor coming home late.”

“Still, it was a risk coming here alone. There might have been more. They might have recognized you. Mobbed you.”

“Some risks you have to take.” She lifted her head, met his eyes. “Don't you?”

He couldn't take it any longer. He'd even shoved his hands into his pockets so that he wouldn't reach out and touch her. “Jane. Please. Why are you here?”

For a moment, she looked confused. Then a single tear spilled down her cheek. “Oh, god, Dallas. Where else would I be?”

“I don't know. With Brody. In a hotel. Anyplace but here with me.”

“Did you think I could leave you? Really? Ever? Don't you know what we are to each other?” She flashed a mischievous smile. “Haven't you been paying attention?”

“I thought I'd screwed it up.”

Again, she lifted a shoulder. “You did.” She took a step toward him, and it was all he could do not to pull her closer, to hold her tight. “You did,” she repeated. “And you didn't.”

He tilted his head, afraid to get his hopes up. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying I love you,” she said, her words filling his heart. “And I understand why you didn't tell me.”

He tilted his head slowly to the side, surprised by this second simple statement. “Do you?”

She licked her lips, then told him about her conversation with their mom. About how Lisa was worried about Colin. “I wanted to tell her,” Jane concluded. “I thought she deserved to know what you say he did. But I couldn't.”

Her eyes were wet with tears. “She was so worried about why no one was able to find Colin, and I couldn't say a word to her. Because even the slightest hint that he had anything to do with our kidnapping would have killed her.” With a sigh she shoved her hands into the pockets of her scrubs. “She would have blamed herself. She would have second-guessed her decision to marry him in the first place. Every decision she made over a huge chunk of her life. So I couldn't tell her. Not yet, anyway.”

He stared at her, and then, very slowly, he nodded. “You do get it.”

“Yeah, well, I'm still pissed.”

“I wouldn't do it any differently if I had to do it all over again,” he admitted.

“I know. I told you I get it. Just tell me one thing.”

“Anything,” he said, and he meant it.

“Are you absolutely certain about Colin? You have evidence? Solid evidence?”

“I told you we did.” He spoke gently, because he knew the truth hurt her. But at the same time, he wasn't willing to sugarcoat it.

She nodded, hugging herself. “That's what you said before. I believe you—hell, I believed you then. But I don't want it to be true.”

He moved closer, then gently tugged her hands free from her pockets and held them in his. “Do you want me to tell you?”

“I—no. I mean, yes. I have to hear it all. I know that. It's just…” She trailed off, then met his eyes. “There are so many things to say. Important things. Essential things.”

“Jane—”

“But not now. I don't want to talk about any of it right now.”

Hope warred with fear inside him.

“I just want—oh, please, Dallas. I don't want to talk. Right now, I just want you to kiss me.”

And that was it—that was the moment she broke him. He felt himself shatter, the fear that had hardened inside him like glass breaking into a million tiny pieces. He reached for her, then cupped her head and closed his mouth gently over hers.

Immediately, he became drunk on the taste of her, aroused by the feel of her.

He wanted to crush her body against his, to feel her heat, her heart. He wanted to bruise her mouth with his kisses and close his hands tight around her arms. He'd come so damn close to losing her, and he couldn't stand the thought of ever letting her go.

But he didn't—he couldn't. She was too fragile, and the possibility that he might hurt her—more, again—ate at him. So instead, he littered soft kisses on her face, her neck. He stroked her. Touched her. Hell, he worshipped her.

“Dallas?” Tentatively, her fingers brushed his face.

He blinked and focused on a space over her shoulder, knowing that he'd come completely undone if he looked into her eyes. “I thought I'd lost you. First, when you walked out. And then—and then—”

The words caught in his throat, too horrible to even voice. “Christ, Jane. I can't lose you.”

Gently, her fingertip stroked his lower lip. Even more gently, she took his chin and forced him to look at her. “I'm right here.”

“And thank God for that.”

Their eyes met and held, and for a moment there was no time, no space, no world that judged them. There was just them.

Then she lunged, her mouth closing over his with such firm finality that it both broke the moment and had him laughing. “This is how I want you,” she said, and he answered her silently but enthusiastically, pulling her hard against him, slamming his mouth against hers. Taking. Consuming. Until he was nothing but heat and need, an ache building in him that he couldn't quench no matter how tight he held her, how hard he kissed her.

He was lost in her, drowning in the sensuality of her fingernails digging into his back. Of her teeth claiming his lips. Of the way her pelvis ground hard against his erection.

With a low, needful groan, he slid his hands down and grabbed her hips, craving an even closer contact. He tightened his grip, pulled her toward him, then immediately released her and stepped back when she released a soft, sharp, “Oh!”

“Jane?”

She stood before him, breathing hard. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He frowned. “I hurt you.”

“No. No, I'm fine.” She shook her head, but he knew better. “Dallas, please. I don't want—”

“What?”

“Distance.” She dragged her teeth over her lower lip as if she was unsure about how he felt.

“Oh, baby. No. Never.” He held out his hand. “Come here.”

She cocked her head, then narrowed her eyes. “Where?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The speed of her reply sang in his heart. “Then let me take care of you.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “If you're thinking about putting me to bed, you can just stop that nonsense right now. I've been in a hospital for almost two days. Between boredom and sedatives, I'm all caught up on my sleep.”

“I promise, sleep is the last thing on my mind.”

That was a little bit of a lie. She'd protest, he knew, but she needed more sleep. Good sleep, not with nurses popping in and out and a sterile bed with the scent of hospital disinfectant permeating the room.

She'd sleep, all right. But he intended to make sure she was ready for it. That she would drift under, safe and warm and content in his arms.

Gently, he drew her into the bathroom, her favorite room in the apartment. The previous owners had knocked out a wall, turned the small second bedroom into a closet, and used part of that space to make room for a steam shower and an oversize whirlpool tub. The day they'd moved in, Jane had told him this bathroom was a little slice of heaven.

He turned the water on, cranking up the heat the way he knew she liked it, then he stood her on the dense, white rug that filled most of the space.

“Are you tending me?” Her voice was as teasing as her expression, and it was all he could do not to gather her close and sigh with contentment. Yes, he knew she was still aching and sore. No, they didn't know who her attacker was. Yes, her birth father was locked in a cell, and Dallas was the one keeping him there.

But none of that mattered. Not then. All he cared about—all he could hold in his head—was Jane. That she was alive. That she was his.

That she'd come back to him.

“Damn right I'm tending you. Now put your hands up,” he added with mock sternness.

She complied, and he peeled off her scrub top, delighted to find that she wore nothing beneath it. Her breasts were perfect, round and firm, and as he watched, her nipples tightened and her areolae puckered. He wanted to roll her nipples between his fingers. He wanted to taste her breasts and feel her arch back and moan, her tits hard and hot in his hands as he licked and sucked, taking her so far that she came in his arms simply from the pressure of the desire building between her legs.

Not now. Not yet.

Instead, he met her eyes. Then he lowered his gaze to her chest, watching it rise and fall as her desire heightened to match his. Her pulse quickened in her throat, another spot that he wanted to lick and tease.