He's the One Jane Beckenham (best book recommendations .txt) 📖

she unlaced her fingers from his and moved his other hand from her breast. He let out a snuffled snore. Taylor stilled, her breath halting in her throat as she looked at her dark knight. He seemed so at peace. So sexy.

His long dark lashes fanned angled cheeks, the brush of stubble across his chin only adding to his devilish charm.

He rolled to lie on his stomach, and the sheet covering them slipped, baring his powerful frame, wide shoulders and narrowed hips, the rise and fall of his muscular buttocks.

Taylor colored, remembering how she'd cupped them, forcing him closer to her, deeper.

Shifting her gaze, she slipped from the bed and gathered up the closest piece of clothing. Cade's T-shirt. She pulled it over her head. The hem of it came half way down her thighs, but it felt cozy, familiar even. She dropped her chin toward the fabric, inhaling his scent, a heady fragrance of spice and cinnamon, evocative of the Orient.

Stealing away, she stumbled her way in the half-light of dawn into the lounge and slunk down on the sofa, pulling a throw around her shoulders to keep the early morning chill at bay. She could have stayed in bed with Cade, nestled in his arms, warm from the afterglow of their love making, but that was just it. It wasn't making love, but sex.

They'd had sex.

Cade had taught her what she'd wanted to know, and now she could go and live her life.

But just the thought of doing that wrought a sadness so sharp and inexplicably deep it frightened Taylor. She didn't understand it, and confusion lit a fear nearing panic deep down inside her. She should go—right now. All she had to do was get dressed, slip out, and walk away.

Too hard, Taylor Sullivan. Far too hard.

* * * *

Taylor sat huddled beneath the brown blanket his sister called a “throw", and had informed him with an air of barely composed “superior” knowledge was “a rich chocolate” and not simply brown.

Seemingly deep in thought, Cade hesitated to interrupt. But he needed her, wanted her beside him, with him.

That his feelings were so intense, so desperate should have worried him. Instead, he battened down such thoughts, or any need to analyze them.

"For someone who's kept me awake most of the night, you look mighty good,” he said as he stepped into the room. He came to stand in front of her. She looked up at him, slowly, eyes round as saucers. He traced a finger beneath her right eye. “Those dark smudges are my fault. Sorry.” He grinned, and she smiled back—a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and a slither of wary concern skittered across his brain.

Something was wrong?

"Come back to bed, Taylor."

"It's morning,” she said, still not really looking at him, and his panic escalated.

"Not quite. The sun hasn't officially hit the day, so I figure we've got at least another ten minutes. Besides, it's Saturday."

"My busiest day of the week,” she countered.

"Do you have a wedding?” He really hoped not.

"No.” She shook her head. “It's my only weekend free for three months,” she added.

"I'm glad."

Taylor went to speak then, but seemed to hesitate and Cade made an instant decision. He wouldn't let her go. Not yet.

"You surprised me, Taylor Sullivan,” he said taking both her hands in his. He pulled her upright and wrapped her in his arms, silently pleased she came so willingly. Cade uttered a sigh of relief, the panic of only seconds ago lessening by degrees. Leaning into her, his eyes shuttered as his cheek grazed along her silken tresses. “You smell good."

"Perfume,” she said simply.

He nuzzled at her neck, inhaling her fragrance. “Roses,” he murmured against her sweet skin. “Roses—and sex."

Taylor shuddered, and her body pressed against his, and his erection strained for release.

"You're one sexy lady, Taylor."

"Me?"

"Yeah. You can tell what you do to me. Even now.” And he guided her right hand to where his arousal was already making itself well and truly known.

He kissed her, slow and lingering, using all his skill to woo her back to him. He could tell she was skittery, ready to bolt. Yet in his arms, she had come alive, and the prim young woman who'd walked into his bar a few nights ago had dissolved.

"I know this is scary, Taylor. I can see it in your eyes, the way they twitch and dart around."

Her blue eyes widened, lightening to the color of a field of summer cornflowers.

When did you get poetic, Harper?

He kissed one eyelid, then the other. “See, like right now. You want to take off. Yet you haven't. You're still here, so it's definitely is time to go back to bed. I want you to stay, Taylor. I know we said only once, but right now that doesn't seem nearly enough"

"I should be going,” she said, trying to distract him.

He kissed her again, trailing butterfly-soft kisses up the enticing curve of her neck, brushing aside the heavy curtain of her hair. “Later, hmm. Right now, I have other plans for us."

"Plans?” her question came almost a croak..

"Like this.” And he cupped her bottom through the warmth of the throw, lifting her slightly. She moved with ease, and he smiled. Her legs hooked around his hips, holding on fast.

With Taylor cradled in his arms, Cade turned toward the bedroom. “By the way, did I tell you how sexy you look in my T-shirt?"

She pulled back then and looked at him directly through heavy-lidded eyes. “Better than my underwear?"

A throaty chuckle leapt from deep down in Cade's belly. “Nothing, sweetheart, is better than those sexy bits of fluff. You can turn me on with hose any time.” He kicked the bedroom door open, anticipation roaring through every part of him.

"And the stockings?” she asked as he sat back on the bed and brought her with him. Her sex rubbed against him, a warm invitation he definitely intended replying to.

"As long as I get to take them off.” And with that, Cade