she was still the most exciting woman he’d ever known.
“You took the keys out of my pocket when you kissed me.”
Lucky still remembered that kiss. There had been nights in the desert and shittier places where that kiss had pulled him through to the dawn. The kiss had been way too short, with lots of tongue, a truckload of regret, and the bitter edge of good-bye. As always, the memory of her caused his body to react, and the arousal coursing through him battled the adrenaline to heighten the buzz in his brain.
It never mattered to him that she was wearing a wedding dress meant for another man when he’d held her close and tasted her passion. And it didn’t even factor into the equation that she was his best friend’s little sister and should have been off-limits.
Taylor shifted underneath him, one leg wrapping around his hip as her muscles softened and invited him closer. Her movement brought his hard-on into contact with the heat between her legs, and he fought the urge to rock against her and finish what had begun over a decade earlier. He should get up. He should let her go. This was crazy. This was still wrong.
They always did this to each other—pushed the limits of their sanity with this impossible lust. The only thing that ever came of it was stolen moments, sad good-byes, and regret. Time and distance were the only things that kept them from driving each other insane.
The times they’d hooked up after her flight from Elliott had been amazing, sexy, decadent, and addictive. They’d also been clandestine, in Hawaii or whatever place their paths crossed, which added a dirty little thrill to the whole affair.
The stroke of her fingers through his hair had him leaning into it, begging for more. Lucky closed his eyes and let her tug his head down until their foreheads rested against each other, her warm breath skimming across his skin and making him shiver. Her chest shook in silent laughter at his reaction, but he won the battle when he grazed the smooth skin at the edge of her boy shorts and slipped underneath, raising goose bumps on the sensitive skin along the crease between her hip and stomach. Taylor gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair until he saw sparks behind his eyes from the twinge of pain.
Opening his eyes, Taylor filled his vision. She was beautiful, her perfection marred only by the confusion lingering in the depths of her gaze. Lucky knew his expression mirrored hers. They were two sides of a twisted coin. She was the first to break the silence, her voice hushed and a little hoarse. “I heard you’re back in town for good.”
“Yes. My folks are in trouble with the farm and I’m going to buy them out.” He swallowed the lump of dread in this throat. He knew the answer to his question already, but had to hear it out loud to make it real. “Are you staying?”
The fierce truth of her words sparked in her eyes and tightened her lips into a thin line, even though her tone was just a little bit above a whisper. “No. Never.”
And there was the final rub.
They were always one step out of sync. In the same orbit, circling each other, but on separate paths. The problem was that somewhere along the way he’d started wanting more, wanting her for more than a few stolen days. She didn’t. And that was why he hadn’t gone back to her in the last two years. They were wrong for each other.
But it didn’t matter.
It was the pull of her gravity, the irresistible force of Taylor that caused him to lower his head and crush his lips against hers. Taylor never hesitated, opening her mouth to him, her tongue enticing him further as they ate at each other with eleven years of unquenched lust. She was warm and wet, and tasted as good as he remembered—sweet, rich, and complicated. That was his girl—one big complication.
His hands explored her skin, coasting along the length of her thigh, across the strip of silken flesh exposed by her tank top inching further up her body. A glancing brush against the lower swell of her breast had Taylor arching into him, her body a perfect fit with his erection and hinting of what could be if they lost the clothes. As if she read his mind, her nimble fingers inched under the hem of his T-shirt, rucking it