Taste Page 7

  I forgot what it was like to be in someone’s arms.

  But as the memory came rushing back, I realized something.

  It had never felt like this.

  I’d never in my life felt such warring emotion. He assaulted me and protected me at the same time.

  The fierce desire that wound its way through my body threatened to take me down, threatened to consume me. It was scary how just a kiss could make me feel so vulnerable.

  Yet.

  Yet at the same time, he made it feel okay. Okay that I was exposed to him, like he was a shield and anything that came at me would be deflected by him.

  His mouth was totally gentle as it completely consumed me.

  Heat suffused my insides and drowned out my thoughts. My body pushed against him, wanting even more, and he was only too happy to give it to me.

  His hands traveled down to cup my butt and squeeze. Spence tilted his pelvis in to me and the steely rod between his legs could not be ignored. My God, he was hard. Rigid and unbending. What would it feel like to have that kind of strength between my legs?

  Spencer’s hands did not stay still; they slid upward, under the hem of my tank and T-shirt, and dragged over the skin of my lower back.

  Abruptly, he pulled back, staring down at me with eyes that glowed with embers of need and stared at me with sort of an awed expression on his face.

  Then, barely three seconds later, he kissed me again.

  Reeling, I held on, letting the onslaught of emotions take over as his large palms moved up and around to cup my bare breasts. I gasped and he kissed me deeper, sweeping his tongue into the depths of my mouth and rubbing his thumbs over my erect nipples, causing a zing of pleasure to shoot down my body and into my core.

  He ripped his mouth off mine again, and my head fell forward to rest against his chest. I gulped in great mouthfuls of air as he continued to play with my breasts.

  My vagina ached. It was almost painful how much I wanted him.

  The massaging movement of his hands grew gentler and then he was slipping around to my back and easing himself away so we no longer touched.

  Thankfully, he kept his hands on my hips, holding me steady and saving me the embarrassment of sliding right onto the floor.

  “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice totally hoarse. “I didn’t come here to take you to bed. But if we don’t stop, that’s exactly what I will do.”

  “Then,” I said, drawing in another breath, “why did you come here?”

  “You need me,” he answered simply. There was no smug arrogance in his voice or any kind of challenge.

  Before I could tell him I certainly did not need him, he swept me off my feet.

  Literally.

  One minute, I was standing on still trembling legs, and the next, he was holding me. “You need sleep. The only way you’re going to get it is if I make sure.”

  With one strong pull, he peeled the covers of the bed away and laid me against the cool sheets. My body melted against the mattress because it felt so wonderful to lie down.

  I started to sit up. “I can’t.”

  He pushed me back down. “You can.”

  I shook my head. “I’m going to sleep in Jack’s room.”

  “No,” he said firmly, pulling the covers over me. “You aren’t.”

  “Don’t you tell me what to do!” I snapped.

  He grinned. “I like a feisty woman.”

  I glared at him. I couldn’t help but stare at the way his hair was flopping in his eyes.

  “I’ll sleep in his room,” Spencer said.

  “You can’t.”

  “Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Jack doesn’t know you. You’ll scare him.”

  “I didn’t realize Jack would see me.”

  “Jack isn’t your responsibility.” I argued.

  “You are,” he retorted.

  Shock rendered me speechless. Why would he think that? Spencer lowered himself on the side of the bed beside me. “Get some sleep, Elle. You need it.” He brushed the back of his hand over my cheek as he spoke.

  I yawned.

  He smiled.

  “I’ll make sure everything is safe.”

  Maybe I’d just lie here a few minutes. This bed really was comfortable…

  Beside the bed, Spencer switched off the lamp, and I felt his lips brush over my hairline. Not once, but twice.

  Maybe I was just so exhausted I couldn’t fight sleep another second, or maybe it was knowing he was there that made me slip into blissful oblivion.

  9

  Blissful oblivion is overrated.

  At least murderous criminals seemed to think so.

  My body was heavy. Sleep was like a drug rendering me immobile, when a tiny noise first echoed through the room.

  It wasn’t enough to alert me that something could be wrong.

  The soft footfalls across the carpet intruded on the heavy curtain of slumber that draped me, yet it didn’t seem to be enough.

  I slept on, not knowing how close danger really was.

  A rough hand assaulted my shoulder, squeezing until the bone felt like it might break. I woke with a sudden start, like I spent too long without oxygen and my body gulped it in with desperation.

  As my brain was trying to assimilate what was happening, he flipped me over and pinned me to the mattress. Pain lanced through me like the sharp cut of a sword, and I opened my mouth to scream, to alert Spencer.

  But a heavy hand beat me to it.

  He slapped his palm over my mouth and dug his fingers into the sides of my face. I felt his nails dig into my flesh, and my eyes opened in horror when he straddled me on the bed.

  I tried to buck him off, to kick and yell, but he was entirely too heavy, and then he pulled out a blade.

  The moonlight filtering through the now open window glinted off the steel blade and caught my attention. How something so shiny and smooth could be so deadly I didn’t understand.

  The man held it up for me to see, a silent threat. His heavy weight pinned me and his hand was suffocating. So much so, I began to panic. My lungs began to seize, so I pleaded with him, trying to put every ounce of desperation I felt into my eyes.

  Beneath the black ski mask, his teeth flashed white with his nasty smile.

  “I told you to kill him,” he growled, leaning in close. It was dark in my room, but even still I could see the blue in his eyes.

  I always associated the color blue with the cloudless sky and an endless ocean. From this moment on, it would always be the color of death.

  I shook my head, trying to make some excuse for the reason I had to commit murder, but his beefy hand blocked my mouth.

  Once again, I remembered I couldn’t breathe.

  In desperation, I bit down, catching the fleshy part of his finger. He gave a roar and lifted his hand. Greedily, I sucked in air as I silently thanked him for making such a loud noise.

  Spencer would barrel through the doorway any minute.

  Spencer would help me.

  Spencer never came.

  “If you won’t do the job,” the man growled, “then there is no reason to let you live.”

  He raised the blade high above his head, with the wicked-looking end pointing down at my chest.

  I started to scream. The guttural sounds ripped through my vocal chords, vibrating everything in my throat.

  My shriek didn’t deter him.

  In fact, I think it excited him.

  The blade slashed down, and I closed my eyes, not wanting to witness my own bloody murder.

  “Elle!” Spencer called my name urgently. My body was flopping around like a lifeless ragdoll.

  My eyes shot open and my body registered two large hands digging into my shoulders, pinning me down.

  I started screaming again.

  “Fuck,” he swore.

  He released my body, and I fell against the bed, but I didn’t stay there. He lifted me completely and began walking with me in his arms. He
strode across the hallway and into the bathroom, where he reached behind the shower to turn on the water.

  The sound of water pressure seemed to break through my panic.

  My eyesight seemed to clear just as Spencer flung back the curtain to step under the spray.

  “Wait!” I gasped, stiffening in his arms. “I don’t want to go in there!”

  I stopped and looked down. His entire face was grim and shadowed.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, mortified. “I must have been having a nightmare.”

  “That was some fucking nightmare,” he muttered, turning off the water and moving out of the bathroom.

  Without me asking, he carried me into Jack’s room and stood beside the crib so I could stare down at my sleeping son.

  At least someone was still experiencing blissful oblivion. Thank God I hadn’t woken him.

  When I sagged back against Spencer, he left Jack’s room and carried me back into mine.

  “I thought you were being fucking murdered in here,” he muttered. “You started screaming, and I almost jumped out of my skin.”

  “It felt so real,” I whispered, still seeing the blue eyes of my killer so clearly.

  “I know, darlin’,” he said, low, his voice taking on a buttery tone.

  Instead of putting me back in bed, he sat down with me in his lap and scooted so he was leaning against the headboard and I was leaning against him.

  “Want to tell me about it?” he asked, rubbing my back.

  I shuddered. “No.”

  “Fair enough,” he rumbled.

  I curled into his chest, my body automatically seeking out his shelter. By the time I realized what I’d done, I was already snuggled against him with his arm holding me in place.

  After long silent moments, I said, “You can go home, try and catch some sleep if you want. I doubt I will be getting any more sleep tonight.”

  He grunted. “Yes, you will.”

  “How do you know?”

  He used his free arm to reach around behind us. He arched his back a little, then withdrew it. In his hand was a black pistol. His hand gripped it skillfully, his finger just shy of the trigger. “Because this gun says so,” he murmured, laying it on the bed right beside his leg. “If anyone comes close to this house, to you or to Jack, I will fucking shoot them dead.”

  “You say the F-word a lot,” I muttered, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

  “Yep,” Spence agreed.

  I felt sleep slowly reach out to me, pulling me back into its clutches. My body jerked suddenly, protesting the attempt.

  Spencer wrapped his other arm around me so he totally encompassed me, and his chin rested on the top of my head. “I got you,” he murmured.

  It was all he needed to say…

  The next thing I knew, my alarm was chirping at me. I groaned and reached for it, shutting it off and then snuggling back into the pillow.

  Another day. The thought drifted through my mind gloomily before I remembered last night.

  And Spencer.

  I sprang up like a Jack-in-the-box, sending my covers flying, and raced out of my room and into Jack’s.

  His room was dim because of the blackout curtains over his window, so I couldn’t see inside his crib until I was right beside it.

  It was empty.

  My knees almost buckled as I whimpered.

  Not again.

  No, no, no. Not again.

  I raced down the stairs and grabbed my keys by the door. It took me a minute to unlatch all the locks, but when I did, I threw the door open so hard it banged against the wall.

  Please, let him be in the car again.

  “Elle.” Spencer’s voice stopped me cold. I spun around, ready to tell him about Jack.

  But I didn’t have to.

  Spencer was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding Jack. Both of them were staring at me.

  I gave a cry of relief and rushed through the room and scooped Jack out of Spencer’s arms, hugging him tight.

  Jack wasn’t impressed. He began to wiggle and squirm, trying to get out of my tight hold.

  “I guess I should have woken you,” Spencer said, watching me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

  Jack gave a shout, pulling my attention toward him. “No,” he said, telling me his favorite word. Then he held his arms out to Spencer and leaned toward him.

  Shock rippled through me.

  He wanted Spencer?

  Spencer gave Jack a grin and then glanced at me. “He woke up. I was going to get you, but he didn’t seem to mind me so I brought him downstairs with me while I was making coffee.”

  Jack was still trying to get to Spencer so I nodded. Spencer grabbed him and tucked his arm under Jack’s diaper-clad butt and held him up. Jack looked up at Spence with a toothless grin.

  “I think I’m in trouble with Mom,” Spencer told my son.

  Jack grinned.

  He liked him.

  Jack liked Spencer.

  He was staring up at him like Spencer hung the moon or something. It made this tight knot form in my throat. I always told myself Jack not having a father, or any kind of father figure in his life, was no big deal. I told myself that having my mom and me as caretakers was more than enough and the love we gave him would overshadow the lack of a man in his life.

  I always believed that.

  Until now.

  There was no way I could see Jack and Spencer standing there grinning at each other, rumpled sleep clothes and mussed hair, and not be affected.

  I was a horrible mother. My son was going to grow up with a void in his life that could only be filled by a father.

  I hated the man who got me pregnant in that moment. Well, okay, I hated him every moment of the day. But right this second, it was way more intense.

  How could he walk away from such a beautiful little boy? His dark hair and hazel eyes were practically sinful. And his chubby cheeks and easy grin infected you with nothing but love and warmth.

  “Elle?” Spencer said, a frown marring his face.

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry,” I muttered. “It just scared me.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you would sleep a little longer. I was going to bring him back upstairs.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, still feeling the grip of mom guilt as I strode farther into the kitchen for a mug. I needed coffee.

  I took a deep breath of the intense aroma and felt a little bit of release in my already tight muscles. After I poured myself and Spencer a mug, I turned.

  Jack was sitting in his booster seat, picking up Cheerios off the table and sticking them into his mouth.

  “I hope it’s okay,” Spencer said, sheepish. He grabbed the mug I poured him and took a sip. “He pointed at them.”

  “You’re good with kids?” I asked, mildly surprised.

  He shrugged. “My sister has a couple little rug rats. Hers all eat Cheerios, too.” Spencer’s voice held a note of fondness when he talked about his family, and it made my stomach do a little flip.

  “It’s fine,” I said, still watching Jack shovel in the dry cereal.

  I abandoned my coffee to get Jack a sippy full of milk. Once he was drinking it happily, I turned back to Spencer. “You like scrambled eggs?”

  “I like anything you’re making.” He ambled over to the coffee pot and refilled his mug. I couldn’t help but notice his feet were bare and his shirt was rumpled. It was sexy as hell.

  “Did you sleep at all?” I asked, trying to focus on getting out everything I needed for breakfast.

  “Yep. I’m good,” he replied. “Can I help with anything?”

  I handed him a banana and a knife. “Here, feed some of this to Jack. Cut it up small so he doesn’t choke.”

  I waited for him to protest.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he settled beside Jack with his coffee, propping his bare feet up on the chair across from him, and began to feed my son.


  When I failed to do anything but stand there and smile, I earned a lazy grin. “You want a bite?” Spencer said, lifting his eyebrow.

  For some reason, I didn’t think he meant of the banana.

  I spun swiftly and worked quickly. In no time, I had eggs scrambling, bread toasting, and bacon sizzling.

  Once it was all heaped onto a plate, I sat it in front of Spencer and handed him a fork. “I- I’m not used to seeing a man here. Or with Jack.”

  I started back to the island, but he caught my wrist. I looked at him.

  “How long you been single, Elle?” he asked quietly.

  “Since he left us.”

  “You haven’t dated at all?” Why did he seem surprised?

  “Of course not,” I said, going back to make myself a much smaller plate. My stomach revolted at the idea of food, but I was going to eat it. I needed fuel to get through the day. “I don’t have time to date. And as soon as most guys figure out I’m not exactly alone, they don’t hang around.”

  “What the hell kind of men are you meeting?” Spencer muttered as he shoved an epically large bite into his mouth.

  “I’m not meeting any,” I retorted, watching him chew. “I don’t have time for a man. My son and my career are all I have room for.”

  He looked up. His amber eyes focused on mine. “What if the right guy came along?”

  Was he saying he was the right guy?

  My heart screamed, Yes, yes, yes!

  I reminded it that this was not some weird commercial for shampoo.

  I was saved from answering when Spencer’s cell went off.

  “Yeah?” he said into the line.

  He listened for a moment and then glanced at me. “I’m doing it now.”

  Another pause.

  “Yeah, I know. It wasn’t a good time.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder who he was talking to.

  “Yeah, I did,” Spencer said, an underlying threat to his words. “It was necessary.”

  A few minutes and a few grunts later, he hung up.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked when he started eating again.

  “Nope.”

  Jack reached for the remaining half of the banana, and Spencer snatched it up before I could and cut it swiftly into small chunks. Jack started shoveling it into his mouth with gusto.