Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

suddenly tensed and ached.
    She spoke before his eyes touched her breasts. “I’ll get my stuff organized while the coffee finishes.” Then she rushed out of the kitchen all the way to her office and closed the door. She leaned against the wood to catch her breath.
    He’d looked at her. Not in any way he’d ever looked before. It didn’t mean anything. He was probably wondering if she’d bring up Saturday night at the bar. In his truck. That look might have been curiosity as to how she’d handle the situation. Maybe he was wondering how he should handle it.
    It was obvious they couldn’t ignore it.
    All right, buck up, kiddo. Get out there and deal with the mess you made of a very nice relationship.

    * * * * *

    He should have hightailed it out of there the minute he realized Taylor was home. He’d been ready to leave a strong note telling her she forgot to lock the damn front door again. But then he’d found her standing there in the kitchen. In a shaft of sunlight that made her hair glow with tones of red and gold.
    He’d lost his voice and started thinking with his dick. Pretending to look for the right tools while she made coffee, he’d watched her legs, her butt in those shorts, the soft rise and fall of her breasts beneath the shirt. His gaze got caught on the outline of her nipples. He’d stayed in a squat beside the toolbox so she wouldn’t notice the raging hard-on in his jeans.
    God had been looking down on him when she said she’d take care of stuff in her office. He didn’t want coffee, all he wanted to do was fix the damn faucet and get the hell out.
    Before he put his hands on her.
    She was right. The faucet needed only a new washer, but he’d bought the whole assembly in case, so he wouldn’t have to make a second trip. A second time might be his undoing. If this first trip wasn’t.
    He tensed as her sandals pattered on the linoleum, but he didn’t turn. “It’s okay, I don’t need any coffee. Almost done here. It was a washer, like you thought.” The job complete, he turned the water on and off. “See, no drip.”
    “Jace, I think we need to talk.”
    The wrench slipped from his hand and hit the sink with a metal twang.
    “Uh, yeah, sure.” He picked up the wrench, then hunkered down by the toolbox on the floor. “What about?” He didn’t look at her, instead futzing with the tools. Refitting stuff that already fit fine.
    “About the other night.”
    He almost crushed his thumb as he slammed the lid closed.
    “I don’t want this to be an uncomfortable thing that sits between us.”
    The thing that sat between them was the way he wanted her. The way he’d always wanted her. Saturday night in his truck had merely proven that. While he’d pretended he didn’t feel that way anymore, the need had rumbled around in his gut waiting for the right moment to burst forth. This time, he wasn’t going to be able to put it away again.
    “Don’t worry about it, Taylor.” He hefted the box back under the sink, then stood, brushing the dust off his hands in a simple gesture. He’d never brush her out of his system as easily.
    “I embarrassed you, and I’m sorry.”
    She’d made him want to push up her skirt and drag down her panties. She turned him inside out, with her firm legs, that bit of skin showing beneath her shirt, and the slight peak of her nipples. His mouth went dry as a dust bowl.
    “I want you to know that I’m over it.” She spoke to her toes. “I’m not going to do anything weird like that again. So you don’t need to worry.”
    Did that mean she’d stop being a woman who needed a man, or that she simply didn’t need him ? He couldn’t stand the thought. “You’re not going out to bars anymore?”
    She wrapped her arms around her waist, plumping her breasts. Did she know what she did to him?
    “No, I’m not going to bars anymore,” she answered softly.
    “Maybe you ought to look at me when you promise that.”
    He’d told her to look at him, but he was the one who couldn’t meet her gaze once she did. He couldn’t tear his own off her luscious nipples. He could swear they were tighter and harder than they had been a moment before. Bursting. Begging him to touch, to taste.
    “Jace.” Low, husky, hot, her voice reached inside him.
    His cock took on a life of its own. So did his feet as he walked to her until he could breathe her in. She tipped her head back to look at him.
    “You’re lying,” he murmured. “You’ll do it again.