Sweetest Taboo Page 7

  But it would feel so damn good.

  He closed his eyes and pulled the woman he loved closer. If it weren't for Jane, he doubted he'd even try to rein himself in. But because he knew it would wound her even more, he battled back the urge. Nothing was more important than Jane. Protecting her. Loving her.

  Even if that meant letting a worm like Colin live.

  After a moment, she pushed gently away from him, her head down. He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. "I'm so sorry."

  Her thin smile just about broke his heart. "I've known the truth for days now. But it's different hearing it--or not hearing it." She hugged herself, her shoulders rising and falling as she sighed so heavily he felt her breath on his face. "I guess I thought he'd be honest with me."

  "Would that matter?"

  "Maybe. No. I don't know." She sighed. "I didn't even cross-examine him." Her shoulder lifted in a shrug, as if she wasn't sure where she was or what she was doing. "I know everything you told me. Where he's been. When he traveled. I could have demanded explanations. But I just couldn't stand to hear his bullshit."

  "Oh, baby. It's okay. What do you need now? Mom?" If she said yes, he'd find a way, no matter how much it pissed off their father. "Brody?" he asked, thinking that as much as it might sting, maybe she needed her best friend. Someone not in their fucked-up family. He twisted slightly, searching for Liam who had quietly slipped away the moment Dallas had taken her in his arms. Maybe she'd want him, their friend who'd stood like a rock with the two of them throughout childhood, but wasn't a man she was in love with.

  But then she said, "Just you," and he thought his heart was going to melt.

  He lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed her palm. "Home," he said. "I'm taking you home."

  "I'm sorry," he said once they were in a taxi and on their way.

  She tilted her head. "For what?"

  "What he did to us. That he didn't own up to it today."

  The corner of her mouth rose ironically. "That's hardly something you need to apologize for. And honestly, I don't think it matters what he said today. It doesn't really change anything, does it? Whether he tells us the truth or not, there's still some psycho bitch after us."

  Pressing her fingertips to her brow, she shook her head. "Oh, hell. Now I'm the one who's sorry. It's just that..." She stopped herself, then sighed. "I was just thinking about, well, everything. And sometimes I wonder if I should have kept quiet that day the press saw us kiss. Maybe we should have let them believe that bullshit story you made up about it being a dare. Because that was the beginning, Dallas. That's when the psycho bitch came out of the woodwork. Whether she's the Woman or some crazed female you got naked with, that very public kiss and my very public statement are what set her off."

  He didn't argue. How could he when she was right?

  "And it's not just her," Jane added. She glanced toward the Plexiglas barrier between them and the driver, then turned back to Dallas, apparently satisfied that the driver either couldn't hear or wasn't interested.

  "That kiss brought the press swarming in," she continued. "I mean, let's face it. I wasn't that interesting before. And while you've been a regular on Page Six for ages, the news that you're fucking your sister pretty much kicked your social media stock into overdrive. How much do you want to bet they'll be waiting for us when we get home?"

  "I'm going to pass on that bet. I'm not flush enough lately to risk losing."

  As he hoped, she smiled. "Yeah, my bank account's a little thin these days, too." She sighed, then shook her head as if exasperated with herself. "I'm just frustrated. I want a life together--a real life. And I'm starting to wonder how the hell we're ever going to make that happen."

  "But we will," he promised, though he had no idea how. He slid close to her and put his arm around her shoulders. She curled against him, and he sighed, relishing the way they fit perfectly together. "Somehow, we're going to make it happen."

  She tilted her head up to his. "Do you really believe that?"

  "I do," he said, then bent to kiss her. Immediately, she opened to him, and in that moment he truly felt as if he really was the one thing she needed in all the universe, and if they could just figure out a way to make the rest of the world go away, then everything would be all right.

  "I want you now," she murmured, trailing her fingertip back and forth over his thigh and making him just a little crazy. "I need you inside me. Please, Dallas. I want to feel you next to me, and then I want to fall asleep in your arms and sleep away the whole rest of the day."

  "The whole day?" he teased. "It's barely nine in the morning."

  "Then you'll just have to tire me out, because I'm done. When I wake up, I want it to be tomorrow."

  He slid his hand along her inner thigh, then felt his cock twitch at the sharp sound of her breath as she gasped with anticipation.

  He pulled his hand away, and watched her eyes narrow. "Any more, and I won't be able to stop."

  "I don't want you to stop. Not ever."

  "You do want me to stop," he said as he gently brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Because we're almost home. And we both know the vultures are going to surround us the minute this car pulls up in front of the building."

  For a moment, he thought she was going to protest that she didn't care.

  For a moment, he almost wished that she would.

  Then the spell broke and she nodded once, then slid out of his embrace and over to the far side of the bench seat. For a second, he fantasized about pulling her back and kissing her so hard they'd trend all the way to the number one spot on Twitter.

  But that was only a fantasy.

  He'd find a way, though. Somehow, he was going to find a way to be with Jane. Truly and completely and openly.

  And on that day, he'd tell the damn reporters to all go to hell.

  Today, he just kept his head down as they emerged from the taxi. As he'd predicted, the second the vehicle had pulled up, the reporters and paparazzi who'd been casually leaning up against trees and parked cars rushed forward, so many of them that Dallas swore some must have emerged from the sewers like rats.

  "Jane! Dallas!" Their names echoed in the crisp morning air, underscored by the honk of taxi horns, the squeal of brakes, and the general din that was Manhattan during rush hour.

  "Dallas! What are you going to do now that you're no longer the CEO of Sykes Retail?"

  "Jane! Are you still speaking with your parents? What about Colin West? Was your birth father aware of your relationship with your brother?"

  "Are you going to stay in New York?"

  "Is it true that Lyle Tarpin turned down the lead in The Price of Ransom? Is it true that the studio has pulled the plug on the movie altogether?"

  Beside him, Jane winced. Dallas frowned; that was a new rumor, and one he could tell from her expression that Jane hadn't heard. He hooked an arm around her, lowered his head, and dove into the throng, resolved to get them both through the gauntlet without any more bombs landing squarely on top of them. By the time they reached Howard, the doorman who'd come out to meet them, his arms held wide in an effort to shield them, Dallas was in a foul mood.

  "They've been loitering all morning," Howard said. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sykes, so long as they stayed in the street and away from the entrance there was nothing I could do."

  "You were great," Dallas assured him. "And I'm sorry about it. I imagine we're the most unpopular people in the building right now."

  Howard immediately assured him otherwise, but the expression on the older man's face suggested that Dallas was one-hundred-percent right. Damn celebrity chasers.

  He kept his head down and Jane tight against him as Howard ushered them the rest of the way into the building, and he kept her close as he guided them onto the elevator and then punched the number for their floor.

  Only when the doors closed and the car was moving did he relax his hold on her. He turned to see her face, expecting her expression to be guarded, his
own anger and frustration in her eyes.

  But when she lifted her head, all he saw was need, and he had only an instant to process that reality before she flew into his arms so violently that he stumbled backward against the elevator's glass wall.

  The intensity of her kiss burned through him like wildfire, and he pulled her tight against him, his mouth claiming hers, one hand cupping her rear as the fingers of his other hand wound tight in her hair so that he could have her where he wanted her. But what really got him hard was the knowledge that this was exactly where she wanted to be, too. In his arms, finishing what they'd started, erasing the whole goddamn world, if only for a little while.

  "Please." The pure passion of her voice rocked him, and when her hand cupped his crotch, he thought he would explode right then. But when she started to tug down the zipper of his jeans, he caught her wrist in his hand.

  She tilted her head back to look at him, her lips swollen, her face flushed.

  "Cameras," he said, hating that they had to be so damned rational, because god knew he'd been sucked off in elevators before. But he couldn't risk security cam footage of him and Jane suddenly showing up on Gawker.

  For a moment, he regretted his words, afraid that the reminder of the eyes that were constantly on them would push her back into herself. But then she smiled, slow and sexy, before pressing her body hard against his, her pelvis tight against his cock, as she whispered, "Then you damn well better strip me naked the second we're inside the apartment."

  He was fighting the urge to do exactly that despite the damn cameras when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open--and there was Bill Martin, standing right outside the door.

  "Finally," Jane said in that same moment, her back still to the door. "I need you to fu--"

  He pressed a finger to her lips even as he plastered on a false smile. "Hello, Bill," he said, and watched Jane's eyes go wide as she spun around to face her ex-husband. "You want to tell me what the hell you're doing here?"

  Dallas eased his arm around Jane's waist and led her into the hall. "For that matter, how did you get in here?"

  Bill opened his wallet and flashed his badge. "It's not as impressive as when I worked at the US Attorneys office, but it's official."

  "WORR's not the FBI," Dallas said, referring to the World Organization for Rescue and Rehabilitation. "It doesn't have investigative power in the United States." He kept his words tight. Focused. He couldn't show fear, only irritation. Bill had to be here because he wanted to investigate the Sykes kidnapping against the family's specific request that he back off. This wasn't about Deliverance. It wasn't about Colin.

  At least he hoped to hell it wasn't.

  Bill shrugged. "All I did was show your doorman the badge. He didn't ask questions, just let me up. Talk to him if you have a problem."

  "My problem is with you," Dallas said. "Now get the fuck away from our front door."

  "I need to talk to you." He turned to Jane. "To you both."

  "Not a good time, counselor. Now I'm going to ask you politely again, and then I'm going to get testy. You don't want to see me when I'm testy, so I suggest you get out of my way. She needs to sit down."

  "Where the hell have you been? It's the crack of dawn, Dallas. You two decide to just pop out to watch the sunrise? Grab a really fresh bagel?"

  "Bill, please." Jane's voice was so thin that Dallas could barely hear it. Bill did, though. That much was obvious by the way his combative expression faded to sympathy.

  "Oh, shit. Jane, I'm sorry." He stepped aside, and Dallas inserted his key in the lock, then held the door open for Jane. "Wait," Bill called. "Please. I talked to Lisa. She told me about the attack. That's the only reason I showed the badge. I just needed--I just needed to know she was okay. You were okay," he added when Jane turned to look at him.

  "I--" she began, but Dallas cut her off.

  "Go inside, baby. Let me talk to Bill for a second." When she hesitated, he cupped the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Sweetheart, please. I'll be right behind you."

  He hated seeing the fear that flooded her eyes, and Dallas wished that he could reassure her. But they both knew the stakes. Knew who Bill was and what he might figure out. Right then, though, Dallas had to gamble that Bill was still clueless about Deliverance.

  For a moment, he thought she was going to argue, but she acquiesced, and with one final glance toward Bill, she went inside.

  Bill took a step, as if he intended to follow, and Dallas neatly parried. "Not happening."

  "Dallas, I just--"

  "What? Want to see her? You saw her. Christ, Bill, she was attacked and beaten and dumped at the curb like garbage. She's hanging on by a thread." She was doing a hell of a lot better than that, but Jane's emotional state was no longer Bill's business.

  Bill's eyes dipped down to Dallas's crotch. "Is that what she was hanging on to?"

  "Do not go there," Dallas said. "You think this is a joke? All for the publicity? This is our life, hers and mine, and you have fucked with it royally."

  "Now, wait a minute. I--"

  "No. You wait a minute. What the hell were you doing, telling her that the FBI and WORR were looking to arrest Colin for my kidnapping? And then telling her that he's disappeared? Did you think that would be easy on her? Did you think that she could just deal with it, because what's one more thing piled on top of all the rest?"

  He was playing a dangerous game, and he knew it. As far as bad ideas went, pissing off the man who was trying both to prosecute your kidnapping without your consent and track you down because, unbeknownst to him, you happened to have abducted his prime suspect...well, that was just wrong in about a dozen different ways. But somehow, Dallas couldn't make himself shut up. His emotions were so damn pent up after days of holding them in, that now that the surface had cracked, everything was spewing out. Even things against his better judgment.

  "You know what, Sykes," Bill countered, real irritation flashing across his face as he stepped closer to Dallas. "I'll own that--sure. I made it harder on her. I guess I thought she needed to know the truth about what was going on. But you still haven't answered my question. If she's so fragile, where the hell have you two been? You just decide to go for an early morning stroll?"

  Fuck.

  "Where we go and what we do isn't any business of yours anymore, Bill," Dallas said, as calmly as he could manage.

  "I guess not," Bill said coldly. "I'm just her ex-husband. You're her brother. It's not like I could legally marry her. Sleep with her without risking a felony charge. Oh, wait," he said, cocking his head like he'd just remembered something. "I could do all that. You're the one who can't ever really have her."

  Ice shot through Dallas's veins, and the only reason--the only reason--Bill wasn't facedown, unconscious on the floor that very second was that Jane was mere feet away behind that door, and she'd dealt with enough already.

  From his sharp intake of breath and the quick step backward, it was clear that Bill knew he was lucky to be standing.

  "I think you need to leave now, Bill."

  "Shit, Dallas," Bill said, his entire body seeming to deflate. "I just want a few minutes."

  "Bill," Dallas repeated, "it's time for you to leave."

  As soon as I'm inside the apartment, I close the door behind me and force myself not to shake. Bill shouldn't scare me--he shouldn't. I know the man. Once upon a time, I even loved him, or at least I thought I did.

  But now not only is he hurt, he's certain he's got the moral high ground on his side. And I'm afraid that Dallas is so intent on taunting the man who used to sleep with me that he's going to make some verbal misstep and somehow reveal to Bill his role in all of this.

  What will Bill do when he finds out that Dallas is behind Deliverance? That Dallas and his team are interrogating Colin in an East Harlem cell?

  I cringe, realizing that my concern isn't if Bill will make that discovery, but when.

  Oh, god, I hate this. I truly hate it. />
  And right now, I want to move, but to where? I want to act, but how? It's all well and good for Dallas and me to say that we will carve out a life together in the world, but we still have to attack that fundamental question of how exactly that's going to happen.

  Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure that taunting Bill isn't getting us closer to that goal.

  Frustrated, I move away from the door, my entire body feeling like lead pushing through pudding. I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. Apparently being unconscious for more than twenty-four hours doesn't count as quality sleep. Couple that with the fact that I've been up all night, and I guess my bone-deep weariness makes sense.

  I don't want to sleep, though. I want Dallas, and I'm heading for the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee when my phone rings. Liam gave it back to me as Dallas and I left Deliverance, and the sound, so unfamiliar after a few days without it, makes me jump.

  I fumble inside the small purse I've been carrying with me, then frown when I see the caller is Joel, who is producing the adaptation of my book, The Price of Ransom, for film. I consider ignoring it, but then take the plunge and answer. At the moment, dealing with Hollywood is probably a hell of a lot easier than dealing with reality.

  "Joel?"

  "Janie, sweetheart, where the fuck have you been? I've left messages? I've sent emails? What? You fall off the planet or something?"

  "Or something," I admit as I set the phone on speaker and put a cup under the Keurig. I glance again at the time. "Why are you calling so early?" It's three hours earlier in LA, and I know from experience that Joel rarely rolls into the office before ten.

  "What? I can't touch base with my favorite writer?" He chuckles, as if that is the cleverest thing ever said. Then he clears his throat. "Seriously, Janie, the new pages are brilliant, absolutely brilliant. I only have a few notes."

  "Great." I don't actually mean that. I've learned that in Hollywood, everything is said in code and double-talk, and a "few notes" probably means a massive rewrite.

  "And Lyle may have a few issues, too."

  I'd been reaching for my freshly brewed coffee, but now I pull my hand back as slowly as if a snake were coiled in front of me. "Issues?" I repeat, remembering what one of the reporters had shouted about Lyle turning down the lead. Which, considering Lyle is rising fast in Hollywood and is already one of the most bankable stars, would be disastrous.