Irresistible Knight (21 page)

“Hang on, babe. I'm coming. Fuck!” He stopped thrusting. Instead, he grounded his hips.

All tension released, Taylor met Bors's gaze. A wicked smile pasted on his face as he slowly lowered his body to give her another wet hot kiss. Slowly, Taylor came back down to earth. And with her was a handsome hunk with a last name Knight.

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Chapter Eleven

Bors woke up to the sound of Taylor playing her violin with vibrato that had him enthralled. He recognized the piece.
Edelweiss.
Kirsten had watched the movie
Sound of Music
maybe a hundred times when she was sixteen and played the soundtrack over and over until Gawain threatened to break the disk in half.

He stretched on the bed, locked his hands behind his head, and listened. Rays of sunshine penetrated the white blinds. Bors looked at the clock. What?
Eleven forty-five? Damn, it's late.
When was the last time he stayed in bed this late? During his high school days, maybe. But he and Taylor had stayed up until almost six in the morning making love. She had been a virgin, but a hellcat in bed. He'd never had a woman with such uninhibited exuberance, happy and eager to return the pleasure.

He'd made love to the daughter of the man he hated the most and lost himself in her. How in the world did that happen? Since he had lost his virginity at the age of fourteen, he couldn't count how many times he had a woman. But he couldn't remember waking up simmering from the passion of last night and still half-aroused. The satiation he had with her the first time he reached his orgasm surpassed that of the number of times he reached his peak with other women. But with Taylor, his release seemed to go on forever and he wanted more. God, he fucked her last night as if he was a teenager taking a bite of Eve's apple for the first time. His orgasm reached his soul.

Thinking about the hot and wild sex quickly made his body grow warm. His dick swelled. Bors raised his head to look down at the sheet that covered half of his body. It looked like a mini tent. He wished Taylor had stayed in bed. He'd love to have her fingers wrapped around him right now instead of the neck of her violin.

Something changed. The moment he saw her sitting across from him, his well-laid path had changed, altered. He just hoped his relationship with Taylor would not cause a problem when he clamped his handcuffs on Jean's wrists.

In one swift move, Bors got off the bed, taking the sheet with him. He wrapped it around his waist and walked out the room. Barefoot, he didn't make a sound as he walked in the living room. How many times had he walked out here since he finished building this house? Many times. But this time, finding a woman, a beautiful sensual and uninhibited creature sitting in the room, made this particular morning different. He bet that even if the room were unfinished, without furniture, and bare, the room would still look complete. Why was that?

Bors rubbed his eyes. God, he needed a strong cup of coffee.

Taylor sat in front of the glass window facing the water. He couldn't see her face, but if he would make a guess, her eyes were closed. He waited until she hit the last note then took another step toward her line of vision.

Taylor raised one brow, smiling. “Good morning. Nice outfit.”

“Morning. Awesome playing.”

“Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I always play in the morning.”

“Don't be. This is the best morning I've ever had. Although,” he walked behind Taylor, leaned down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I'd rather have you in bed with me. Right now.”

“Playing while lying down is kind of hard.”

Bors nuzzled Taylor's neck. “Baby, the kind of playing I have in mind wouldn't be hard, but fun.”

“Silly. You know what I mean.”

“Let's go back to bed.”

“Why? It's already morning.”

“Because that's where I want you to be. Where you should be. Where you ... should be resting.”

Taylor sighed her body slumping in her seat. She looked defeated. “Last night, last night was ... I don't know what happened with me. I just—I attacked you, didn't I? Like a deranged woman who never had sex in her life and finally found the opportunity.”

“Baby, you never had sex before last night. But yeah, you were a hellcat. I think I have scratches on my back to prove it.”

Taylor covered her face with her hand. Still, he could see her ears turning bright red. “God, I'm so embarrassed.”

“Don't be.”

“We didn't use protection the first time.”

“You worried?”

“No.”

“Me either.” It was the truth. “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”

“I'm fine. How about you? I didn't hurt your arm, did I?”

“No.”

“Nice of your brother to stitch you up.”

“Yeah.” He looked at his arm and tried to pry the bandage open. “I sure am glad he's a doctor. Otherwise, I would have to go to a hospital, and I hate hospitals.”

“Because the nurses go nuts when they see you?”

Bors grinned. “That, too. But primarily, what it represents to me. When I go to a hospital it's because something bad came down.”

“What do you mean?”

Bors realized where the conversation was heading and quickly remedied it. “I'm just talking about what happened in the past with my sibs. Kirsten ate something she was allergic to and nearly died because of it. Luckily Julie, my sister-in-law was smart enough to use the epipen on her. That was how their friendship started. But Kirsten was taken to the hospital anyway. Tristan ended up in the hospital, too, when he landed on a sharp part of a broken tree. The thing was like a sword as it pierced his side. He survived and woke up in the hospital. See? Hospitals mean something bad happened.”

“Were you even taken to a hospital?”

“Yeah, but for minor stuff. Broken ankle, wrist, cuts.”

“Poor baby. You must have been a rapscallion growing up.”

“Made me tougher. So, Miss Jean, we could go shopping for what you need and then maybe go for a walk down to the beach. The sun's shining. I'd hate to waste a beautiful day.”

“I don't know about shopping, but I'm good on walking. Maybe the view would help me think about what to tell Judge Knight about my dad.”

“That's what I'm thinking.”

“I need to figure out my problem. When I left Jean's home, I thought my plan was as tight as
Ocean's Eleven.
Talk to your dad and Jean would be out of the hole he dug for himself and then I could start living without having to worry that someone is out there waiting for a chance to trap dad or hurt him. How stupid I am to think that a simple talk with a judge would fix my problem right away.”

“You're not stupid. Just not George Clooney.”

“Or Julia Roberts.”

“You're prettier than her though.”
Fuck.
For the first time since he started working on Jean's case, he hated the topic about the man. Bors squatted in front of Taylor, pushed the wayward lock of hair out of her face, and placed his fingers beneath her chin. “Baby, don't you think Jean should at least pay for what he's done or still doing right now? He is selling girls.”

“I know that, Bors. That's why I need your dad's help. I don't want him to go to jail. He'll die there. God, I don't know. Maybe a house arrest or something, but not jail time. Bors, Jean is a good dad. I want the world to know that. I want them to see him as that.”

Too fucking late and impossible to happen.
Wrapping his arms around Taylor's waist, he rested his cheek on her lap. How could he tell her Jean didn't need help, he needed to be punished. And he, of all the people, was first in line to see it from happening. “Baby, Dad is just. What he can give you is a sound advice. But I am telling you now, Jean's fate is out of his hands. You need to prepare yourself for this—good or bad, he will serve his time.”

“If that's the case, I'm willing to go back to living with him. If keeping him out of jail means rotting in his home, living my mundane life, I'll do it. I love my father that much. I'll do what I can to make him stop. Maybe pester him every day, make him crazy.”

“And what about your conscience? Can you live your life knowing your father is stealing daughters away from their homes, their parents?”

“I'm sorry that Dad's business is hurting other people, but blood is thicker than water. I wouldn't let my father go to jail. Bors, I already lost a mother, I won't lose a father, too.”

“Be reasonable. If Jean's in jail, then that means you know where he is. So technically, you didn't lose him.”

“But he'll be in my conscience, too. And if he dies in there? What then? I don't know if the public knows this, but when he went to Thailand, he had triple bypass surgery there.”

“No, I never heard about that.” It was true. Jean must have spent tons of money to keep the surgery under the rug. Shit, the man was as good as Bin Laden when it came to hiding information.

Bors looked up. He stared at Taylor's eyes. The pain he saw in there hit him in the gut. He didn't like it. He wanted to erase the pain. Worse, the words to promise to give what she wanted balanced at the tip of his mouth.

Fucking hell.

“What's wrong? You know, you don't have to get involved in this.”

Oh, God.
He was very much involved in this as she was. “Nothing's wrong, babe.”

“Bors, if watching me, which you keep on insisting, will affect your job, then maybe you should—”

“Don't worry about my job. I took a leave of absence.”

“Really? Why?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Bors...”

“Taylor...” he said, mimicking her tone, making her laugh. “So how come you're not excited about shopping? Women love to shop, I thought.”

“Do your mom, sister, and sister-in-law love to shop?”

“I don't think so. Julie likes to stay home and write, Kirsten is addicted to designing, and my mom hardly goes out.”

“So your idea that women love to shop came from...”

“Teta.”

“Ha! I talked to her last night. She told me she plays bingo, likes to visit pawnshops for guns, and the shooting range.”

“Okay, fine. Forget that I said women love to shop. Tell me why you don't like the idea. Last night you were wishing that you had another pair of jeans with you.”

“Not that I don't want to go shopping. It's just that I don't have money to spend. I'm poor.”

“Very. You're homeless, unemployed, penniless, shoeless, chauffeurless ... tsk, tsk. Poor, poor, Taylor.”

“Stop it. I'm being serious here.”

“Me, too.”

Taylor pinched his arm.

“Yeoww!”

“Ouch! Troll, I'll get a bruise.”

“Sorry.” He kissed the spot that he bit. It was already red. “You were saying?”

“I know how difficult it is to be poor, but knowing is far different than experiencing it. To think about where to get my next meal ... is really hard.”

“Babe, as long as I'm here, you won't go hungry. I'll get anything that you want as long as I could afford it.”

“That's very nice of you, but I can't depend on your charity.”

“Who says I'm giving you food, transportation, shopping spree for free. You have to earn them.”

“How?”

“Since you are poor and unemployed, you could work as my housemaid. Keep this house clean.”

“And warm up your bed.”

“You want to add that to your job description?”

Taylor chewed her bottom lip and crinkled her brows. “I don't know. Maybe I should post that at Craig's List. I might get a better—” Taylor screamed when Bors grabbed her sides and tickled her.

“The hell you will.”

“Stop! Okay, be serious.”

“I'm serious.”

“About the job description?”

“Everything.”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“You already know the answer to that. I like you. So I think we should get ready. Unless you want to go back to bed and forgo the walk through the woods to see the alcove down the beach.”

“As much as I love your heavenly bed, I'd like to feel the sun on my skin and get a nice tan. I don't want Paige from Tweed's to see me looking as pale as a bag of flour. She likes my tan, you know.”

“Tan? You're kidding, right. This is your natural skin color.”

“It is. But I told Paige ... oh never mind. It's a woman thing.”

“She assumed you are a fan of tanning salons. Good hearted as you are, you decided to go along.”

“Kind of like that.”

“Hmm ... I know this light brown caramel-colored skin is real.” He began inching his hands inside her shirt until he reached her breasts. What he found hardened his dick instantly. “Not a big fan of bras?”

“Confining. Mine aren't like papayas that need support anyway.”

“Oh, baby, yours are perfect.” To prove his words, he cupped her breasts, gently squeezing the mounds he wanted so badly to leave. “Firm enough to fill my hands and with beautiful nipples.” He lifted her shirt and licked one hard pink nipple.

“Bors ... ohhh...”

He sucked her hard enjoying the feel of her nipple rolling in between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. “Hmm ... like that, beautiful?”

“Yes.”

It was what he wanted. Bors looked up to gaze at Taylor's flush face. Her eyes were already glazed from banked heat. He stood and took her violin and bow and placed it on the nearby table. Before Taylor could protest, he was back kneeling in front of her. “We'll make it to the beach before the sun goes down.”

* * * *

Dressed in Bors's plaid long sleeved shirt and sweatpants with rolled up hems, Taylor kept her hold on Bors's hand as they walk side by side along the grass-covered path. The smell of pine needles, wet grass, Puget Sound, and dirt mingled in the air, and she loved it. Critters skittered from one tree to the next. Bird mating calls came from different directions. They all sound wonderful.

Taylor plucked a leaf from a rhododendron so tall and bushy it looked like a tree and not a bush. She let go of Bors's hand and stopped to admire the white bells blooming beneath a wild bush. “I could almost imagine fairies living here.”

“Hmm. Kirsten said that, too, when she was little and found a patch of those white bells. Girls think alike, huh?” Bors adjusted the sling pack he carried.