Sweetest Taboo (SIN 3)

She tightened around him as he exploded inside her, and they rode the wave together, hard and deep, until they both stopped trembling and his legs couldn't take it anymore and they slid, sated and helpless, to the porch.

They stayed there, breathing hard, for what felt like hours, but was really only minutes. Then she shifted and propped herself up on her elbow. "That was incredible," she said. "You gonna tell me what started it?"

"Maybe you just drove me a little wild in that cute top."

"Uh-uh. Try again."

"Take a wild guess."

She sighed. "Fuck the world, Dallas. What is it to us?"

He cocked his head. "You really believe that?"

She considered the question, then sighed as she shook her head. "No, but I'm trying to believe it. But come on, Dallas, you've been living like the poster boy for hedonism for years. Some of this should be fami

liar."

"It is," he admitted. "And it's not the attention per se that bothers me. It's what they say about us. And honestly, I think I could stand even that if only--" He cut himself off.

"Mom's behind us," she said softly, because of course she knew where he'd been heading. "And maybe Dad will come around in time."

"I'm not going to bet the ranch."

Her brow rose. "We have a ranch?"

He bit back a laugh, then took her hand and pulled her close, and held her in the circle of his arms.

"At any rate, I guess it is more than just Mom and Dad. Maybe I just don't like to share our history with the world." He kissed her softly, thinking that he could hold her like this forever. "You were my dirtiest secret, down there in the dark where nobody knew."

"But they do know. So what does that make me?"

"Now you're my sweetest taboo."

Laughter danced in her eyes. "Good," she said, "because you're mine, too."

He pulled her to her feet and led her inside where they both laid down, sprawling lengthwise on the couch. He breathed in, calmed by the fresh, familiar scent of her shampoo. "Adele was right," he said thoughtfully. "She predicted that someone would eventually leak the whole sex-in-captivity thing, and she was one-hundred-percent fucking right. But in a way this is good."

"Good? How?"

"It proves what we've already suspected. That Colin's been lying about the Woman being dead. She's not dead, she's very much alive. She's the leak, baby. The only other people who know are people we trust. Which means that if we can trace the leak back to its source, we've got her. All we need now is time."

--

The next morning, Dallas looked out at the great ocean that filled his vision. He was barefoot, and the sand felt cool and firm beneath his feet, and yet each time the waves tumbled in, the foundation below him shifted a little. Maybe not enough to knock him down, but enough so that he had to keep readjusting his balance.

And wasn't that a metaphor for his life?

Here on the island, everything was perfect. But they couldn't stay here, and soon he and Jane were going to have to go back to the real world.

Dammit, he wasn't ready. He'd never be ready until he knew Jane would be safe.

He drew a breath and pushed the thoughts from his mind. Then he stood a few more moments, simply enjoying the sound of the surf, the smell of the salt water. A pair of seagulls dive-bombed the water just past where the waves broke, and when one emerged with a wriggling fish, the other cawed in either approval or irritation that it had failed to get breakfast as well.

He was facing west, and so the sunrise was less vibrant, but still dramatic. The gray of dawn had succumbed to a deep blue that was now cut through by bands of gold and yellow and orange, all of which would give way to a vibrant sky blue as the hour grew later.

Dallas glanced at his watch and shifted his feet out of the pockets of sand into which he had sunk. He'd gone out on a mission to bring back breakfast tacos, but the morning had been so clear that he'd decided to walk the long way to the restaurant, following the beach from his private backyard all the way around to the main resort area.

He'd thought about waking Jane to join him, but she'd looked too peaceful. Better to rouse her gently with breakfast. And maybe even a mimosa. Surely he could grab a bottle of champagne from the restaurant.