Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

couch.
    “Hey, Mom, you sound out of breath.”
    “I was trying to find the phone because someone didn’t put it back in the cradle.” Half-truths came so easily now.
    “Jamey used it last.”
    Then she heard Jamey’s little voice in the background, “I did not, he did, Mom. Brian did it.”
    “Are you all having fun?”
    “Peter got a cool new PlayStation game. But Rina keeps wanting to play and messes everything up.”
    “Men have to learn tolerance around women, Brian.”
    “Uncle Jace always says that.”
    “Uncle Jace is right.”
    Uncle Jace came up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, then sucked on her neck.
    “What’s that noise, Mom?”
    “The phone’s crackling.” She wriggled against him, trying to get loose. Jace pulled the towel from her death grip and threw it across the couch.
    “Do you miss us?”
    “Of course, I miss you, sweetheart.”
    Jace cupped her breasts and tweaked both nipples. She almost squeaked.
    “What time are you picking us up in the morning?”
    “Noon. Don’t stay up too late.” They’d be up past midnight telling scary stories in Peter’s room.
    Jace slid both hands over her belly and between her legs.
    She bit her lip as Brian promised not to stay up too late.
    “Jamey wants to say good-night.”
    “All right, sweetheart. Sleep tight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She clamped her thighs on Jace’s questing hand and tried to elbow him.
    “Mom?” Jamey, her baby.
    “Hi, sweetie. Are you having fun?”
    “Girls suck, Mom.”
    “Jamey!” Where on earth had he heard that? “You don’t say that about girls.”
    Standing so close he could hear everything, Jace whispered in her other ear. “Girls do suck, Mom.”
    This time, her elbow connected.
    “I’m sorry, Mom,” Jamey muttered.
    “Promise you won’t say that again. Did you say it to Rina?”
    “No. Peter said it to Aunt Connie when Rina jumped in the middle of the checkerboard.”
    She tried not to laugh. Then Jace put his hand through her legs from behind to find her clitoris with unerring accuracy. Lord. “You didn’t promise, Jamey.”
    “I promise.”
    “Now say good-night, Mom,” Jace whispered, his breath hot in her ear.
    “Good-night, Jamey. I love you, honey. Bye.”
    Jace grabbed the phone and tossed it onto the couch. And didn’t miss a beat of his sweet massage between her legs.
    “You’re hot down here. And wet. Really, really wet.”
    “You’re terrible doing that to me when I’m talking to the kids.” God save her soul, she’d loved it, the play, the uniqueness of being touched in secret. Something totally apart from the boys. Something more than simply being their mother.
    “I’ll try to do better,” Jace said, then pushed his fingers up hard and fast inside her. She gasped, teetering on the edge.
    “Ready to fuck me, Taylor?”
    “I like it when you say the word fuck ,” then felt her face heat after she said it.
    “Fuck.” Then he laughed, withdrew his fingers, turned her around, and pitched her backward onto the sofa, landing on top. “So you like dirty talk, huh?”
    She buried her face against his throat. “Yeah. Am I bad?”
    Bracing himself on his elbows above her, he held her face in his hands. “Say it. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
    Something broke loose inside her. “Fuck me, Jace. Hard.”
    His eyes were dark wells except for a single point of light from God knew where. “Christ, you make me so fucking hot and insane.”
    “Please fuck me now , Jace.”
    “You’re killing me, woman. Clothes on or off,” he murmured in her ear.
    “Off.” She wanted every inch of his skin against hers.
    “If it’s a no clothes affair, then we better take this in the bedroom where I can spread you out like a feast.” He rose, snuffed the candles, then led her down the hall to her bed.
    Lord. There were so many things they hadn’t felt and done yet. But they had all night. She wanted to savor every moment.

Chapter Twelve

    Jace lay for long minutes before opening his eyes, savoring the feel of Taylor’s skin against his. Always getting out the night before, he’d never woken up beside a woman in the morning.
    Taylor was his first.
    Blue jays squawked in the front yard trees, and a squirrel or some other small animal scampered across the roof. Boneyard the cat mewled from the window ledge outside.
    “She always does that,” Taylor muttered. “My little alarm clock. What time is it?”
    An ache started above his eye, a stab of