Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

revealed. All her turbulent, needy emotions. She’d told him everything.
    He stared at her, and her face heated with humiliation.
    She almost stammered trying to get her words out. “I’ve got my car. I’ll see myself home.” She grappled with the door handle, wrestled it open, then almost fell out. “Thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would have done...” She was babbling.
    She dug in the pocket of her skirt where she’d stashed her car key and alarm remote, then slammed his truck door. Where was her minivan? There! She stumbled in the high heels, caught herself on the truck bumper, then took off like a mortified teenager.
    She fumbled with the remote. His truck door opened, and he called her name. Then she was in, thank you so very much, God. She slammed and locked the door, cranked the engine, and pulled out in a spray of gravel and dirt.
    “I can’t believe you did that,” she said to herself.
    She couldn’t believe he’d tasted so good, felt so good.
    She saw his headlights following her, at least she thought they were his. She hoped they were his and not Bubba’s. The drive took forever, absolutely forever, but finally she was in her own driveway, and the house key was under the doormat where she’d left it because she’d intended on traveling light, only a twenty-dollar bill, her license, and her car key in her pocket.
    Jace idled at the end of the driveway.
    She bumbled her way inside and slammed the front door.
    Lord, she’d just thrown herself at Jace. At her brother-in-law, whom she’d known for almost fifteen years. Since she was nineteen and he was sixteen. Since the first time Lou brought her home to meet the family.
    The worst part? Taylor was hoping Jace would get out of his truck and follow her in to finish what she’d started.

    * * * * *

    Jace white-knuckled the steering wheel as if that would somehow keep him from rushing in after her. He’d followed Taylor home to make sure she arrived safely. To make sure she actually went home. At least that’s what he’d told himself.
    But sitting there, his cock hard, his balls blue, her taste on his tongue, and remembering the sensation of her nipple between his fingers, he knew far more had driven him.
    God help him, he knew she was a woman. He’d always known.
    She’d been the woman in his wet dreams from the first time he met her. In youthful arrogance, he’d hoped she’d leave his brother. He’d been young enough and stupid enough to pray for it. She’d married Lou when she graduated from college, and Jace put away his fantasies about his brother’s wife.
    He’d stuffed them into the back of his mind for so many years, he’d almost forgotten the need that had practically crippled him. Even after Lou’s death, those fantasies hadn’t surfaced. Far from it. The responsibility he bore for his brother’s death kept them where they belonged, in the darkness of his soul.
    He’d tried his damndest to make it up to Taylor for what he’d done. Anything she needed around the house, he took care of it. He fathered the boys the best he could. He never partied, never more than one beer on a Saturday night with a couple of friends. He stopped dating entirely. He acted the part of role model for her kids. He tried to give them back what he’d stolen, their father’s closeness. He tried to give Taylor everything.
    Except the thing sometimes a woman wanted most. A touch. A caress. A rustle under the covers and a warm body to fill her up. To make her laugh again.
    Her laughter had always tied him in knots. But she hadn’t laughed like that in a long time, and he’d been safe.
    Until tonight. Until she’d laughed with another man.
    Until she’d thrown herself at him in the truck and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Like there was no Lou. Like Jace was the only man on earth she needed.
    He rammed the truck in gear and laid rubber before he succumbed to the memory of that kiss. His first, only, and last taste of her.

Chapter Two

    The night before Taylor had been embarrassed. Today she was mortified. Evelyn, her mother-in-law, had brought the kids home at about ten-thirty this morning, then stayed to help Taylor get ready for the family barbecue. Every Sunday, rain or shine, the family got together. Taylor, Evelyn, and Connie, Evelyn’s second daughter-in-law, took turns playing hostess. This week was Taylor’s turn.
    She’d put the high-heeled shoes in their box on the top shelf of the closet and hidden the