Sweetest Taboo Read online

  "The drama," I say, feeling a little sick. I remember how she was when she tied me down so she could go torture Dallas. I recall what Dallas has told me about what she did to him, the sick games she made him play. The way she got off on it.

  "You nailed it," I say, meeting Brody's eyes. "She's definitely playing a game."

  "I know." His voice is low, as serious as I've ever heard it. "Let's hope to hell she loses."

  Dallas stood on the back porch looking out at the Pacific, breathing in the sea air and listening to the waves crash onto the beach. In the distance, he could see Brody and Jane returning, and he watched their progress. The view was peaceful, even beautiful, and it pissed him off that they'd come to this perfect location not for a romantic getaway but as an escape from a tabloid hell. Not to mention a damn stalker.

  Fucking bullshit.

  On the beach, Brody veered off toward the Stark bungalow, and Jane picked up speed until she was jogging toward Dallas.

  "Hey," she said, peering at his face. "We've got this. We can handle this."

  He lifted a brow. "Handle it? Our deepest secrets spewed all over the goddamn media like it's entertainment?"

  For a moment, she just stared at him. Then she surprised the hell out of him and burst out laughing. She was laughing so hard, in fact, that she had to back up and lean against the wall.

  "Christ, Jane." He practically growled the words. But the more she laughed--the more she held up her hand to indicate that she just couldn't talk yet--the more he calmed down. And by the time he actually pulled her still-hiccupping body into his arms, he was actually smiling. Although that was more in response to her than to any humor in the situation.

  "Talk to me," he said, when she finally relaxed in his arms.

  She tilted her head back, her eyes lit with amusement. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. But come on, Dallas. Our secrets are already all over the media. We already are entertainment. And hell, maybe all the idiots who've been saying we're vile will take a step back now that they know more about what happened."

  "Do you want them to know more?"

  She shook her head. "No--god no. I want this all to go away. But..."

  "But what?"

  "It's not going to go away. We're stuck with the cameras and the gossip and it's horrible, but it's there."

  "I know," he said. "But that's not the point."

  "Then what is?"

  He shook his head, then took a step back as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. Hell, trying to fully understand his reaction himself. Because the truth was, she was right. This was just one more thing. One more burden. One more bone for the media dogs to chew on.

  Except this wasn't about the media. This was about them. Or, more specifically, it was about the spotlight always shining on them. And not because Jane looked hot in a gown when she walked down the red carpet at some Hollywood charity event. Not even because Dallas was rumored to be fucking the latest A-list actress, not anymore anyway.

  On the contrary, the gossip centered around their doomed relationship. A brother and a sister in love and disinherited. A tragedy played out across the Internet.

  And every screen impression, every headline, every mention on some celebrity gossip show shouted out to the world that the way Dallas and Jane felt about each other was doomed. And worse.

  Wrong.

  Dirty.

  Sinful.

  She was the best part of his life, and yet all that the world reflected back to them was dirt and shame. Even in his own goddamn family.

  And he fucking hated that.

  Roughly, he took her hand and pulled her hard to him. She gasped, stumbling a little. He could see the question in her eyes and so he claimed her mouth before she could avoid it. The kiss was hard, almost desperate. It was a magic potion, a ticket, a window to a world without his dark thoughts, his taunting frustrations. A world where it was just Dallas and Jane. Love without all the goddamn strings and hurdles.

  "I need you," he whispered as he broke the kiss long enough to pull her tank top over her head. She wore nothing under it, and now she stood before him in just a pair of running shorts, her breasts heavy and her skin flushed. Her lips plump from kissing. She stood with her legs slightly spread, and he idly rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, imagining how slick she was, how sweet she'd taste. His cock, already rock hard inside the cheap pair of athletic shorts he'd tossed on as soon as they'd arrived at the bungalow, throbbed almost painfully.

  Roughly, he tugged her head to the side, making her gasp. Then he kissed his way down the side of her throat, relishing the small noises she made as she grew more and more needy.

  "Tell me," he demanded as he kissed her lower still, then flicked his tongue over her nipple. "Tell me you know that you're mine." He bit her nipple as he slid his fingers down into her shorts and under her panties, moaning at just how wet she was.

  "Yes." Her word was barely a moan. "Yes, Dallas, I know. Oh, god!" The word ripped out of her as he thrust his fingers inside her, and her muscles clenched tighter around him.

  "Tell me you want me to fuck you." He moved his fingers in and out, brushing her clit with each long, deep stroke.

  "Yes. Please, please, Dallas. Yes."

  "Oh, holy hell." He'd wanted to tease her. To make it build. But there was so much pure need in her voice that he couldn't wait any longer. He had to be inside her.

  He pulled his fingers from her, eliciting a frustrated groan. But that turned quickly into a gasp when he yanked down her shorts and panties. "Step out of them," he said, and as soon as she complied, he cupped his hands around her ass and lifted her. "Ride me," he demanded. "Hook your legs around my hips and ride my cock."

  He held her weight as she lowered herself so that the tip of his cock teased her pussy. And it was all he could do not to come right then. Christ, he wanted to be inside her, and for just a moment the fear that he would lose his erection tormented him. Fuck no. Not now. Not tonight.

  And as if he had to prove the point, he took a step forward so that part of her weight was supported by the side of the house, then urged her body lower, impaling her fully on his cock.

  "Kiss me," he demanded, then took her mouth roughly, his tongue warring with hers, as hot and hard and wild as the thrusts of his cock. "Touch yourself," he told her when he could feel her body tightening. She was close, so close, and he wanted to feel her explode around him. He wanted her to completely shatter in his arms. "Slide your hand between us and stroke your clit."

  She did, and he kissed her again, tugging on her lip, diving deep with his tongue. Teasing the corner of her mouth even as the rhythmic motion of her hand on her clit set his skin on fire, the way her fingers brushed over him simply from the proximity of their bodies.

  "Tell me you're close," he said, when he knew he couldn't last much longer.

  "Yes." Her voice was like a breath. "God, yes."

  "That's it, baby. Come for me." He felt her body tighten around his cock, the way her legs shook with mounting pleasure, and her satisfaction pushed him to the edge. "Now," he cried. "Oh, god, Jane, now."

  She tightened around him as he exploded inside her, and they rode the wave together, hard and deep, until they both stopped trembling and his legs couldn't take it anymore and they slid, sated and helpless, to the porch.

  They stayed there, breathing hard, for what felt like hours, but was really only minutes. Then she shifted and propped herself up on her elbow. "That was incredible," she said. "You gonna tell me what started it?"

  "Maybe you just drove me a little wild in that cute top."

  "Uh-uh. Try again."

  "Take a wild guess."

  She sighed. "Fuck the world, Dallas. What is it to us?"

  He cocked his head. "You really believe that?"

  She considered the question, then sighed as she shook her head. "No, but I'm trying to believe it. But come on, Dallas, you've been living like the poster boy for hedonism for years. Some of this should be fami
liar."

  "It is," he admitted. "And it's not the attention per se that bothers me. It's what they say about us. And honestly, I think I could stand even that if only--" He cut himself off.

  "Mom's behind us," she said softly, because of course she knew where he'd been heading. "And maybe Dad will come around in time."

  "I'm not going to bet the ranch."

  Her brow rose. "We have a ranch?"

  He bit back a laugh, then took her hand and pulled her close, and held her in the circle of his arms.

  "At any rate, I guess it is more than just Mom and Dad. Maybe I just don't like to share our history with the world." He kissed her softly, thinking that he could hold her like this forever. "You were my dirtiest secret, down there in the dark where nobody knew."

  "But they do know. So what does that make me?"

  "Now you're my sweetest taboo."

  Laughter danced in her eyes. "Good," she said, "because you're mine, too."

  He pulled her to her feet and led her inside where they both laid down, sprawling lengthwise on the couch. He breathed in, calmed by the fresh, familiar scent of her shampoo. "Adele was right," he said thoughtfully. "She predicted that someone would eventually leak the whole sex-in-captivity thing, and she was one-hundred-percent fucking right. But in a way this is good."

  "Good? How?"

  "It proves what we've already suspected. That Colin's been lying about the Woman being dead. She's not dead, she's very much alive. She's the leak, baby. The only other people who know are people we trust. Which means that if we can trace the leak back to its source, we've got her. All we need now is time."

  --

  The next morning, Dallas looked out at the great ocean that filled his vision. He was barefoot, and the sand felt cool and firm beneath his feet, and yet each time the waves tumbled in, the foundation below him shifted a little. Maybe not enough to knock him down, but enough so that he had to keep readjusting his balance.

  And wasn't that a metaphor for his life?

  Here on the island, everything was perfect. But they couldn't stay here, and soon he and Jane were going to have to go back to the real world.

  Dammit, he wasn't ready. He'd never be ready until he knew Jane would be safe.

  He drew a breath and pushed the thoughts from his mind. Then he stood a few more moments, simply enjoying the sound of the surf, the smell of the salt water. A pair of seagulls dive-bombed the water just past where the waves broke, and when one emerged with a wriggling fish, the other cawed in either approval or irritation that it had failed to get breakfast as well.

  He was facing west, and so the sunrise was less vibrant, but still dramatic. The gray of dawn had succumbed to a deep blue that was now cut through by bands of gold and yellow and orange, all of which would give way to a vibrant sky blue as the hour grew later.

  Dallas glanced at his watch and shifted his feet out of the pockets of sand into which he had sunk. He'd gone out on a mission to bring back breakfast tacos, but the morning had been so clear that he'd decided to walk the long way to the restaurant, following the beach from his private backyard all the way around to the main resort area.

  He'd thought about waking Jane to join him, but she'd looked too peaceful. Better to rouse her gently with breakfast. And maybe even a mimosa. Surely he could grab a bottle of champagne from the restaurant.

  Besides, he wanted to catch up with Liam and the guys. And that was a conversation he didn't want to have in front of Jane. Not that he intended to keep the investigation into her attack from her, but this island was supposed to be about escaping, not about reliving the horror.

  Escaping. He smiled a little to himself as he walked. That was true. He'd come here wanting to escape everything. Everything, that is, except Jane. He could never escape her, even if he wanted to. She was the key to his life, to his heart. Hell, maybe even to his sanity.

  She'd told him that she would go into the dark with him, and that promise had the power to drop him to his knees. But what he was starting to realize was that he didn't need the dark anymore. All he needed was her. All of the other shit that he'd craved fizzled away when she was around, no match for the pure intensity of what he felt for her.

  Sure, he still enjoyed sex rough. Still got hard at the thought of knowing that she would bend to his will. That she would give herself over to his enjoyment and, more, that he was responsible for hers. That she was surrendering everything to him. That she was trusting him completely.

  But it wasn't kink that he craved--it was Jane. The pleasure of feeling her against him. The heat of her skin. The allure of her touch. Wild, gentle, rough, easy. He wanted it all. Hell, with Jane he craved it. Needed her touch, the way she gave herself over to him, as much as he needed to breathe. Not as punishment, but as pleasure. As a gift for the both of them, every intimate act taking them higher and making them closer.

  And yes, they both still fought their demons--hell, they probably always would--but for the most part, they'd weathered the storm.

  Pretty fucking amazing.

  And yet there was still a hole in his heart. Because no matter how much they'd conquered and how much they overcame, at the end of the day, they couldn't be together. He would never stand at an altar and watch her come toward him in a white dress. He'd never see their grandmother's face light up as they cut the cake at their reception. He'd never see Jane dance the first dance with their father.

  And he'd damn sure never see Eli give her away to him.

  Fuck.

  He wanted those things--he did. But he knew well enough that they'd never be his.

  His phone buzzed, and he stopped walking as he pulled it from his back pocket, expecting Jane. Instead, he realized that a call from Liam had gone to voicemail and he brought the phone up to his ear, listening to Liam's update as he walked.

  In the message Liam ran through all the dead ends. The attempts to track who might have released Carol Lucas's dog from the kennel. The update on searching for the van in various security and traffic camera footage in an attempt to get a photograph of the driver and passenger. Quince's progress with Colin, which was pretty damn minimal. In other words, nada.

  "That's pretty much it," Liam's message continued. "We're still pulling at threads. Analyzing the paper those letters to you were written on. Comparing guest lists to all your parties over the years and checking the names against their social media accounts to see if any crazy shows up. But it's not going to be fast. We're dealing with an extremely intelligent psychopath. So watch your back. And take care of Jane."

  Dallas frowned, wishing the news were better. He started to type out a text response to Liam, then decided not to. Liam hardly needed Dallas's input, and for one more day Dallas craved escape.

  When he looked up, the women on the beach had gotten close enough to recognize, and he waved. The tall brunette with the vibrant tattoo of a bird on her arm and shoulder was Cass, Sylvia's best friend. Sylvia was Stark's former assistant and now the project manager for The Resort at Cortez. But it wasn't Syl who walked beside Cass, but a lean redhead who he recognized as her girlfriend, Siobhan.

  "I didn't realize you two were on the island."

  Cass shook her head. "We weren't supposed to be here at all. Syl and Jackson had intended to come last night with the kids for a few days of R & R, but then Jeffery got an ear infection, so they're staying home." She reached for Siobhan's hand and grinned. "Worked out well, though. No better place to celebrate than here, right?"

  "What are you celebrating?"

  As if they'd both been waiting for him to ask the question, they each thrust out their left hands, revealing matching silver bands ringed with Celtic symbols. "You got married. That's wonderful. Congratulations."

  "Not yet. But we did get engaged."

  "She popped the question," Siobhan added, grinning. "Got down on her knees and everything, it was totally corny and incredibly awesome."

  "I didn't have a ring, but I didn't want to wait. We were playing miniature golf
of all things, and she just looked so perfect."

  "So she used one of the hoops from her ear," Siobhan continued. "It didn't even really fit, but I wore it anyway on the tip of my pinkie until we could go buy matching rings." She lifted Cass's hand to her lips and kissed it. "And so here we are."

  "When's the date?"

  "Haven't set it yet. You'll come?"

  "Wouldn't miss it."

  They exchanged glances. "Is Jane here?"

  He felt his gut tighten. Cass had never met Jane, but the fact that she knew of her made it all too clear that she'd seen the media reports. "She's back at the bungalow."

  "Oh, good. We'd love to meet her." Once again, she took Siobhan's hand. "Listen, I hope this isn't out of line, but I just want to say I feel for you. I mean, you should be able to be with the person you love, you know?"

  Wasn't that the god's honest truth?

  And as he watched them walk away, he realized that maybe--just maybe--he'd finally figured out how. Even if his father continued to refuse to help.

  Dallas has set up a small picnic on the private section of the beach that makes up our bungalow's backyard. Since I'm in full picnic mode, I'm wearing a little black bikini that was definitely designed to soak up a maximum amount of sun. I have a sarong tied at my waist, but it's for fashion more than coverage, as the slit at the side reveals more than a little hip and one entire thigh.

  Dallas is dressed casually, too, in khaki shorts and a white short-sleeved Henley that accentuates both his tan and the toned muscles of his arms. Honestly, the picnic is nice, but I'd be content to just lay here and soak up the view.

  A blanket serves as our dining area, and we're enjoying an incredible lunch of fresh fruit and stuffed fillets of salmon that Dallas actually made himself. I take a bite, then sigh with pleasure before taking another sip of my wine mixed with Diet Sprite, a drink Dallas thinks is the devil, but I think is totally refreshing and beach-worthy.

  Dallas meets my eyes, and for some reason I laugh.

  "All right," he says. "Tell me."

  "I don't know what's funny. Maybe I'm just grateful I have a boyfriend who can cook."

  "Boyfriend," he says, as if he's turning the word over and examining it from all sides. "I don't think you've called me that before."