She hadn't wanted to pull away, hadn't ever wanted to stop kissing him. But when another couple bumped into them on the dance floor, jolting them apart, she knew she couldn't get away with it twice. She hadn't even been able to look him in the eye. She'd let her words slur and pretended to be on the verge of passing out. He'd taken her home and tucked her in, then watched over her while she'd feigned sleep.
The next morning, he'd let her make lame excuses about drinking too much, until Grant had called with the news that Justin needed to get on the next plane to Frankfurt because they wanted to fund his research and start work immediately. Everything had moved so fast after that, as she helped him with packing and hasty good-byes. Fast enough that neither of them had brought up the kiss again.
Not until today.
She scrunched her eyes shut, as mortified five years later as she'd been the morning after. "I'd hoped you had forgotten," she whispered. "I never should have behaved that way. Never should have gotten drunk and forced myself on you."
"You didn't force yourself on me, Taylor. I'm the one who took advantage of you when you were drunk."
"You didn't!" Her eyes shot open in her shock that he could think such a thing. "You were a perfect gentleman, just like always."
"Not that night, I wasn't. And I'm still not. Because even though I've had five years to repent what I did, I still can't help wanting to do it again. Do you have any idea how many times I've replayed our kiss in my head? How much I want to kiss you again?"
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Taylor knew there was more than one rational reason why they shouldn't do this. But her desperate need for him didn't only push all of those reasons away, it also pushed her back into his arms...and her mouth against his.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Soft.
Sweet.
Perfect.
Justin had dreamed of kissing Taylor again at least a thousand times. But his dreams had nothing on the incredible reality of her mouth against his, her arms wound around his neck, her curves pressed along the front of his body. She radiated heat--and desire fierce enough to rival his own.
Their kiss years ago on the dance floor had been the best of his life. Tonight, by comparison, it seemed nothing more than a drunken fumble, a flash of pleasure that came so quickly he'd barely had time to enjoy it before it was ripped away.
This was what a kiss was meant to be. A slow, heady exploration. A taste of heaven. An endless gasp of pleasure. Anticipation of all that was yet to come.
He didn't know who closed the distance between them first, but it didn't matter. Only that the distance was finally gone.
He'd held Taylor enough times to know that she was his perfect fit, but a friendly arm around her shoulders was worlds away from pulling her so close that he could run his hands slowly down her back, then over the flare of her hips. And when she made a sound of surprised pleasure, one that made him feel as though he was the first man ever to touch her like this, instinct took over completely.
The instinct to possess--and to pleasure.
As he kissed her again, he let those dual instincts override anything else--any thoughts, any concerns, any hesitations--that might have tried to intrude. They hadn't talked through what they were doing, but they would. Later, when words mattered again.
Tonight, all that mattered was stoking the flames that had finally been allowed to burst into beautiful, sizzling life after all the years when deep emotion and desperate attraction had secretly burned between them.
Hand in hand, they headed toward her small cottage at the back of the property. Her other guests had made it clear during afternoon tea that they wouldn't need her assistance again until the following morning, so she was free for the rest of the night. But he didn't want to take her back to his room in the house and risk being disturbed--and he didn't want her to think she needed to be quiet either. He wanted to love her so well, so completely, that she went hoarse from calling out his name and begging him for more.
After only a few steps, they had to stop and kiss again. When he finally forced himself to pull away so that he could keep making progress toward her bed, she put her hand on the back of his head and drew his lips back down to hers.
Nothing could have pleased him more than knowing he wasn't the only one who couldn't get enough. He wouldn't allow himself to mourn all the wasted years they could have been loving each other. Instead, he would relish every single second he had with her from this moment forward, a future filled with hot sex and laughter, friendship and love.
When it might otherwise have taken him thirty seconds to cross the garden, constantly kissing the woman of his dreams multiplied the time by ten, at least.
Soft, sweet kisses quickly became raw and desperate. Justin didn't hold anything back in his kisses, just as he didn't plan to hold anything back in the stroke of his hands over her naked curves, or when he finally made love to her. Tonight, they would finally commit to each other on every level--as friends, as lovers, as partners in everything.
All these years, he'd been waiting for Taylor. Now that she was about to be his, he couldn't imagine a world in which he'd ever let her go.
At last, they reached her front door, nearly took it off the hinges in their haste to get inside, then locked it and headed through the open kitchen, dining and living rooms to the short hallway where he assumed her bedroom must be.
Her bed wasn't huge--a double as opposed to the luxurious king in his B&B suite--but he was glad for it. A
smaller bed meant they'd have to stay close to each other all night long, every night, from here on out.
After so much time and distance between them--and before, when he hadn't let himself tell her how he really felt, that he loved her as so much more than just a friend--all he wanted was to be close to her. Any way, every way he could. Justin had grown up with a mother and father who loved each other deeply. He'd always known that nothing but the deepest love would be enough for him.
With Taylor, love had always been there. And now, heat was there too. Such hot, high flames jumping between their bodies as they kissed that a part of him wondered if they'd survive the night.
Standing together at the foot of her bed, he realized she was tall enough that he didn't have to bend down far to take another sweet taste of her lips--something he knew he'd never, ever get enough of.
The first time he'd set eyes on her, he'd been hit with a vision of them together, just the way they were now. His hands tangled in her hair, her mouth crushed beneath his, her heart beating fast and hard against his. All those years of waiting should have made him impatient. But now that the moment was finally here, all he wanted was to savor.
Savor soft kisses that ran across the sensitive skin of her neck to the hollow of her collarbone.
Savor the play of his fingers through the silk of her hair, relishing the slip and slide of the soft strands along his skin.
Savor her fresh scent, a cross between the sweet innocence of the scones she'd baked this morning and the lush sensuality of the red wine they'd tasted that afternoon.
All the while, his hands roamed her body the way he'd longed to so many times before. From the indentation of her waist to the swell of her hips, then up her arms and shoulders, strong from the work she'd done painting and gardening.
Needing to get even closer, to know how it felt to touch her bare skin--everywhere--he quickly lifted her T-shirt and tossed it aside, then undid the snap and zipper of her jeans so that they pooled on the wide planks of the floor. Her slip-on shoes dropped from her feet as he lifted her and laid her on the bed.