Illicit: A Forbidden Romance (20 page)

T
he sight
of Joss at my doorstep knocked me back a step. “You’re not in Houston.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re supposed to be getting married in a few hours.”

Her smile grew. “Guess I’ll be late.” She smiled up at me, taking a step closer. “Can I come in?”

I stared at her, afraid to buckle under the weight of this moment. I had spent almost half a year trying to shut out any and all thoughts of Joss, and now here she was again, asking to be let back in. I’d have to be monumentally stupid to let that happen again.

But then again, I had always been a bit of a dumbass.

I stepped aside and allowed her to step through the threshold. “What are you doing here?”

“You asked me to come to Boston. So I came.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “What about Emerson?”

“I broke off the engagement when we got back to Houston.”

My eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

“I realized my heart was already taken.” She grabbed my hand and pressed something hard into it. When I looked down I found the African Blackwood heart I’d made for her a long time ago.

I turned the wood carving over and over in my hands, trying to collect my thoughts, feeling the walls I’d spent months rebuilding starting to crumble at my feet.

“It’s yours, if you still want it,” she said in a small, hopeful voice.

I squeezed my hand around the heart and finally looked up. Then I nodded, the words lodged in my throat.

Tears glistened at the edge of her eyes and overflowed onto her cheeks. “It’s always been yours,” she said, her lips trembling.

Unable to hold back any longer, I spanned the distance between us and took hold of her face, crushing my lips to hers. I groaned as she opened up and let me in, the taste of her frying my brain. I didn’t know until that moment how much I needed her, and now that she was back in my arms, I didn’t think I could ever let go again.

We only broke away when we ran out of breath. I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing hard, my heart beating an erratic, hopeful beat in my chest. “Tell me you’re here to stay,” I whispered against her lips.

Her face split apart in a wide smile. “You’re never going to get rid of me now.”

Laughing in relief, I swept her into my arms and carried her to my bedroom. Instead of the bed, I carried her to the bathroom, setting her down on the counter and turning on the shower.

She leaned back on her hands, biting back a curious smile as I took off my clothes. I stood between her legs and slipped the sweater over her head. In place of words I dropped a kiss on her shoulder and hoped she’d understand that we needed a clean slate.

She pulled away and unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. I held my breath, trailing a finger from her collarbone and down one breast, coming to a stop at the peak of her hard nipple. Then I slid her panties out from under her and took a step back to admire the view.

My eyes devoured her, took in every detail from the pulse ticking rapidly at her neck to the rise and fall of her breasts. “Damn, I’ve missed you.” I held her face and ravaged her mouth, her neck, and all the soft skin in between.

She wrapped her legs around me and slid closer, pressing her heat against my painfully hard shaft. We kissed for what seemed like forever as steam gathered in the bathroom, enveloping us in a cloud. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I cupped her ass with my hands and swung her off the counter straight to the walk-in shower, shielding her from the hot spray. I held her in my arms, staring at her in disbelief.

“I don’t know why I ever thought I could be happy without you,” she whispered.

“And are you? Happy?” I asked, reaching up to touch her lips.

She kissed my fingers. “More than.”

When she lifted her hips, I positioned my cock at her entrance and lowered her onto me one torturous inch at a time until I filled her entirely. A groan escaped my lips, my legs almost buckling from the pleasure.

Joss’s arms tightened around me as she buried her face in my neck. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said in a strangled voice. “I’m sorry I kept trying to push you away. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

I thrust upward. “You feel that?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“This, right here, is the right thing.” I ground into her, going as deep as our bodies would allow. “Just you and me with nothing between us.”

And there, under the cleansing spray of the water, we washed away all that had come between us, all the hurt and deceit, until all that was left was Joss and Jake and the love that refused to be swept away.

A
fter the shower
, I dried her off, leisurely rubbing the towel over every inch of her body. Then I carried her back to my room, throwing her onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

“I missed you so much,” she said as I stretched out beside her. “Every single day I thought about you, wondered what you were doing, if you were thinking of me.” She reached up and brushed her fingers through my damp hair.

“Always,” I said with a wry smile. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

We held hands and talked for hours. I told her about my work, how I’d managed to grow Rochester Furniture through word of mouth and hard work. And she told me about Houston, about her mother’s recovery and marriage. A glow came over her face when she talked about her writing, about how she overcame writer’s block after her trip from Miami.

“After Emerson moved out, I just started to write. The story just flowed out of me, like something got unstuck and there was this deluge of words. Before I knew it, I had finished the novel.” Her hands flew around excitedly as she talked, her face glowing with excitement. “And best of all, I have a literary agent now. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but she liked my manuscript and offered representation.”

“You finally did it,” I said, my chest swelling with pride. “You finally found your passion.”

“Yes.” The smile spread across the face, reaching all the way up to her eyes. “My third passion.” She leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose, a sweet gesture that had me instantly hard.

She noticed, looking down between us with a smile. I went to roll onto her but she pressed a palm on my chest and held me down, shaking her head. With mischief in her eyes, she started sliding down the bed, pressing her lips to my nipple, my stomach, hips, thighs. Finally, she set up camp between my legs, her lips so close but still so painfully far away.

I nudged her with one leg, flashing her a mischievous grin. “Just blow me already.”

She chuckled. “You’re so romantic.”

I grinned at her, opening my mouth to make a joke, but the words dried in my throat when she wrapped her lips around the head of my cock and sealed it tight. Her mouth was warm and wet as it slid down my shaft, sucking me in. My hips bucked involuntarily, driving deeper into her mouth.

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed with the sensations. I had dreamed of this countless times over the years, never really expecting it to happen again. But here she was, the literal woman of my dreams, moaning in pleasure as she worked me over.

Before it was too late, I clamped my legs around her and flipped her over. I leapt on top, caging her in with my arms. “My turn,” I growled and licked my way from the base of her throat to the swell between her breasts, down past her bellybutton. Finally, I slipped my tongue between her crease, finding her already wet and throbbing.

She grabbed hold of my hair as her hips rose up off the bed. Spurred on by her moans, I pushed her thighs apart and drew my tongue through the length of her folds, each stroke culminating at the top where I flicked at her clit.

I knew she was close when she held her breath, her entire body taut as she strained for release. Before she could come, I drew myself up over her and slid home in one solid stroke. That was all it took before she cried out, arms and legs trembling around me. I drew back and just as quickly thrust back in, closing my eyes against the exquisite pleasure of her tight sex quivering around my cock.

“God, Joss,” I bit out as I continued rocking my hips. Leaning on my elbows, I held her face in my hands, our eyes locked for what seemed like hours. Then I slid my arms under her back and sat up, taking her with me. She linked her hands behind my neck and kissed me, taking long draws with her tongue and biting my bottom lip.

Over and over I thrust into her, crushing her against me as we made love. When my body tensed, I buried my face in her neck and gripped her hips, my cock swelling and then surging.

“You came back,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“I’m here, Jake,” she said, squeezing me tight. “Without strings or conditions, I’m yours.”

“
Y
ou must be Joss
,” Mom said as soon as she opened the door. Without missing a beat, she stepped forward and wrapped the girl beside me in her bosomy embrace.

“That’s Myra. And I’m Peter,” Dad said, flashing Joss an apologetic smile as he tried to pry Mom away. “Honey, I think you’re cutting off her circulation.”

Mom swatted him away and held Joss a few seconds longer before finally letting go. “I’m just so glad to finally meet you.” She took hold of Joss’s hand and pulled her inside. “It’s been a month since Jake told me he was seeing someone. A month of keeping me in suspense!”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Joss said, throwing me a quick smile. “I’ve been keeping him busy.”

Mom’s eyes widened as she glanced at the both of us. “Oh. I see.”

“No,” I cut in with a laugh. “I was helping her move from Houston.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “To where?”

“To Boston,” I said, unable to contain the smile on my face. “She moved in with me.”

J
oss sat
across the table from me at the dinner table, occupying Tristan’s seat. But though I grew up with my brother kicking my leg under the table, this time it was Joss’s foot that nudged mine as she grinned at me.

“So Jake told me your mom is in remission from cancer?” Dad asked.

Joss nodded and began to tell the story, from the beginning of Amanda’s illness to her near death and, eventually, to her slow but remarkable recovery.

“So what do you do for a living, Joss?” Mom asked after she served the meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

“She’s a writer,” I said, winking at her across the table.

“Oh? What genre?” Dad asked.

Joss gave a shy sort of smile. “Romance.”

“Like the Fifty Shades book?” Dad asked. When my head whipped around to him in surprise, he added, “What? I can’t read a book in my own home?”

Joss chuckled. “No. Not exactly.”

“Oh. Have you had any books published?”

“Actually…” She fixed her eyes on me. Whatever news she had, it was something I hadn’t heard before. “My agent just sold my book to a publishing house. They’re looking at publication at the end of the year.”

The news brought me to my feet. “What?” I asked, realizing belatedly that I still had my fork in my hand. I set it down and asked, “When?”

She nodded, beaming. “I just got the official word this morning.”

“Congratulations. This is amazing.” I walked around the table and swept her up in my arms, kissing her with abandon.

She pulled back a few seconds later, throwing a shy look around the table. “Thanks,” she said, taking her seat.

I took my own seat, enjoying the blush in her cheeks. I couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t take my eyes off the woman before me. “Marry me,” I mouthed across the table.

Joss’s eyes grew wide. She glanced at my parents for confirmation but both appeared to be busy with their food. She faced me again, her lips falling open, her eyebrows drawing together. “What did you say?” she mouthed back.

I did nothing but grin even though my heart was pounding double time. I hadn’t meant to blurt those words out over Sunday dinner, but I wouldn’t have taken them back for anything.

“Well this is perfect timing,” Mom said, getting up. “I made my special blueberry and peach pie.”

“Better just put their slices in a tupperware, Myra,” Dad said, raising his eyebrows at me. “Looks like these two have some things to talk about.”

“
O
kay
, what did you say during dinner?” Joss asked as soon as we climbed into my truck.

“What? Oh, I said
many meats
. Mom gave me too much meatloaf,” I said with a shrug and stuck the key in the ignition. I could feel Joss’s eyes on me as I pulled out of the driveway, making it hard to keep a straight face. “What did you think I said?”

“I thought…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

I pursed my lips to keep from blurting out the words again, audibly this time. When I passed our turn and kept going toward Back Bay, Joss said, “Where are we going?”

“To the best place on earth.”

“You’re taking me to Disney World?” she asked incredulously.

I tickled her side. “No. Somewhere a little less crowded.” I looked over at the clock—ten p.m. “In fact, we’ve got the whole place to ourselves right now.”

I kept Joss guessing. When we drove past Copley Square and into the parking lot across the street from one of Boston’s most famous buildings, she twisted in her seat and faced me with her mouth open. “The Boston Public Library? Really?”

I held up a camping lantern. “Are you up for a private tour?”

“Always.”

We crossed the street and entered through a side door by the loading dock.

“Is this legal?” Joss whispered, keeping close as we walked through darkened halls. The lantern lit only so much; the rest of the place was still framed in shadows.

“Sure. Probably,” I said, not disclosing that I’d already asked permission earlier in the day.

I led her through the front lobby with its stately columns and arched ceilings, and up the grand staircase. We stopped on the landing between the two marble lions, looking around.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” Joss said, turning in place. She walked over to the banister, trying to read the inscription under the lion. “This is the most beautiful library I’ve ever seen.”

I nodded, proud of my hometown and its rich history.

I led her upstairs and into the main reading room, showing her some of the shelves I had replaced or repaired. I lifted the lantern, trying to shine light up to the impressive ceiling. “It’s hard to see, but this entire room has a barrel vaulted ceiling.”

Joss broke away from me, walking around with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. “This really is the best place on earth,” she said, running her fingers along spines of books.

She moved towards the wall of shelves on the other end of the room that divided the alcove from the rest of the area. It was my favorite area of the library, with its doorway in the middle of the wall and the clock on top, like an entrance to another place and time.

I followed her inside without hesitation.

Despite all the grandeur and beauty around us, I couldn’t take my eyes off Joss, couldn’t stop the surge of my pulse. Taking a deep breath, I took her hand and led her over to a table where a pale green cloth-covered book lay on top.

I set the lantern on the tabletop and allowed Joss to examine the first pages of the book. “It’s a first edition Jane Eyre,” she said with wide eyes. “Look at the typesetting on this, it’s so beautiful.”

With great care, she lifted the book up to her nose and sniffed between its pages. “God, I love the smell of old books.” As she did, a green silk ribbon slipped out from between the pages, and on its end dangled a sparkling object.

“What’s th—” She froze, her lips forming an O as her eyes followed the gently swinging ring. Her hand flew up to her mouth when I took a step forward and unfastened the ribbon, holding the delicate diamond ring between my fingers.

“I bought this the day you came to Boston,” I began, wishing I had written something down instead of winging it. I took a deep breath and forged on. “Because, despite all that’s happened between us, I knew that this time was it.”

She swallowed, her eyes twinkling like the diamond.

“And so, Jocelyn Blake, I ask you to pass through life at my side, to grow old with me in a house full of passion and books.”

A grin tugged at her lips. “I’ll write books and you’ll build shelves to put them in.”

I nodded, tipping my head down to hers. “And we can talk all night until we can’t keep our eyes open anymore.”

“That sounds absolutely perfect,” she whispered as I took her hand and slipped the ring on her finger.

And there, surrounded by history and books, we began our happily ever after.