Rhyannon Byrd - Waiting For It
WAITING FOR IT
An Ellora’s Cave Publication, March 2004
Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
PO Box787
Hudson,OH44236-0787
ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-849-9
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) HTML
WAITING FOR IT © 2004 RHYANNON BYRD
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Edited by
Pamela Campbell.
Cover art by
Darrell King
.
Waiting For It
Rhyannon Byrd
Chapter 1
The woman behind the counter had the largest set of breastsTaylorhad ever seen. They swayed with an endless jiggle, requiring a marvel of engineering to keep them contained—which she obviously didn’t possess. The tiny pink buttons on her uniform barely held her in as she flashed her most malicious smile. It was all teeth and red smeared lips the locals all claimed had been packed full of collagen.
Taylorfelt a little sick every time she saw them.
Not with jealousy. Not of Wanda Merton. No, it was just the image of those crimson colored things wrapped around her ex-husband’s cock that made her queasy as hell. It’d been over a year now, but she could still see the two of them writhing across her bed as if it had been only yesterday.
There were just some things a woman could never forget.Taylorassumed finding your husband in bed with the town whore must be one of them. Everyone in Westin knew Mitch had screwed around on her, but it was finding the two of them in her own bed that had finally given her the motivation to kiss his sorry ass goodbye.
She’d stayed married to the miserable jerk for seven years—seven years too long in her estimation.
And that was never as obvious as when she came face-to-face with Mason’s Groceries’ checkout clerk.
“Bet you didn’t know Jake Farrell’s back in town,” Wanda sneered, hitching her beefy hip against the register. “Tucker over at the Gas and Dash said he just filled up a shiny new truck ‘bout twenty minutes ago.”
For a split second,Taylor’s heart stopped. It hung heavily in her chest, a tight ball of warring confusion and lifelong desire, suspended in time. Then it kicked back in with a hearty vengeance, pumping blood through her thin frame in a dizzying rhythm. It was all she could do to hide her stunned reaction from the cruel bitch who was supposed to be ringing up her juice and eggs.
Trying to sound unaffected,Taylorstruggled to make a casual reply. “Jake Farrell back in Westin? I wonder what on earth could’ve brought him back to this place.”
“Aw, I don’t know,” Wanda drawled, smacking her lips around a huge, nauseating wad of grape- colored bubble gum. “Maybe he just came back to rub your snotty nose in the dirt some more? Never was anythin’ more entertainin’ back in school than listenin’ to Mitch tell everybody the latest Jake had said about you. That guy musta hated your skinny ass somethin’ fierce.”
Something inTaylor’s chest died a little at the spiteful words. Oh, she knew Jake hadn’t liked her back when they were in school, but she’d never really understood why. He’d left the summer after he graduated and she hadn’t seen him since. Not even her ex-husband Mitch—Jake’s best friend—had heard from him in all that time.
As far asTaylorknew, no one in the whole town ofWestinhad ever set eyes on him again. He’d lived with an uncle who had moved over to Pressmore when he left—so all ties to Westin had been broken the moment he’d driven away.
After ten years, it seemed beyond crazy that she could still feel so wounded by the fact that Jake Farrell hadn’t liked her, but she did. She’d tried to get beyond it—to forget him—but it killed her a bit more every time she thought about him.
As ridiculous as it was, she’d loved that gorgeous boy from the moment she’d first set eyes on him at the silly age of sixteen. She’d been mystified by the tall, dark-haired, green-eyed football player. Panting breath, damp palms, and red-faced every single time he’d looked at her. He was two years older, and back then—well, eighteen had seemed like a lifetime. He’d been the sinful, sexy, older man of her dreams and she’d never forgotten him.
Hah! Like she ever would. She’d spent the past ten years poring over all the delicious details of him imprinted in her memory, transforming them into life with her paint and brush.
Of course, it was going to be a cold day in hell beforeTaylorlet Wanda Merton catch so much as a whiff of her interest in the man. Talk about inviting trouble. Not that it was anything but blatantly obvious to anyone with half a brain who’d ever seen her work, but then she doubted Wanda had ever lain hands on one of her books. If she had, it’d probably been to toss it on the floor and stomp on it with her two big feet.
Swiping her check card,Taylormanaged to mumble, “Well, I’m sure you know more about him than I do.”
In fact, she knew she did, and it was a memory she’d wasted what seemed like forever trying to forget.
Wanda knew it too, but it didn’t stop a feral, Cheshire Cat smile from spreading slowly across her smug face. “Down to the last thick inch, Taylor Moore.”
She tried, but she couldn’t help it. She went absolutely breathless at the thought of Jake Farrell’s long, thick inches.
“How, uh, lucky for you then, Wanda,” she wheezed around the lump of lust in her throat, barely able
to draw enough air.
Then there was no breath at all as a deep, smoky voice behind her rumbled, “I must be luckier than I thought to have found you so quickly.”
Oh, Jesus.
Jake Farrell was standing at her back, the heat of his big body kissing the entire length of hers! His breath brushed the back of her neck through the heavy mass of her hair, sending chills racing across the surface of her skin. And when she looked down, his large, rugged hands were braced against the counter on either side of her, caging her in.
Holy ever-loving hell.
When she didn’t move or make any attempt to respond, he leaned closer and she heard him say,
“Taylor?”
Heaven help her. His lips actually brushed against her scalp that time. She could hear the question in his sexy voice.
She was going to have to do something, but what? What? In all the lovesick scenarios she’d concocted over the years, she’d never imagined this—having him standing at her back while Wanda Merton looked on with a vicious scowl on her sour face.
“Come on, Taylor Moore,” Jake teased over the fierce pounding of his heart, praying he could put her at ease before she ran from him. He could sense her indecision—her nervousness—while his senses ran wild in a chaotic, exhilarating jumble of need and lust and raging emotion. He was more than willing to chase after her if she made a break for it, but the fucking wait just might kill him.
Hell, it was all he could do not to toss her up on the checkout stand and bury himself in her sweet little body right then and there. “I know you haven’t forgotten me that easily, honey. Stop playin’ possum.”
Taylordidn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. He’d used her maiden name. Did that mean he knew about the divorce? Knew she was single? Geez, did he even know she’d ever been married?
Ignoring Wanda, she turned slowly within the circle of his strong, tanned, muscled arms, her heart stuttering at her first look at the man who’d stolen her heart a decade ago.
God help her. Please. Jake Farrell was everything she’d remembered and more. And any second now she was going to melt into a big, sopping puddle of need on the scarred linoleum floor. “No, I haven’t, um, forgotten you—Jake.”
How could I ever forget you?
Jake smiled down at her, his dark green eyes moving over everything at once. He seemed to drink her in, consuming her like a beast craving blood after a lifetime of tasteless water.
His avid gaze touched her hair and the delicate, almost fragile features of her face, from her small nose and wide set sable eyes, to her finely arched brows and lush pink mouth. He even studied her ears and the long, glossy strands of her hair all the way down to where the curled tips lay against her small breasts.
Beneath his hot stare,Taylorremained trapped in the moment. She swallowed again at the suffocating desire and her nipples went rock hard, spiking against the thin fabric of her shirt.
“I don’t believe it,” he rasped, deep voice full of wonder. “You’re even better than I remembered.”
Better!
Better than what?
Taylordidn’t know what she might’ve said to the strange comment, but Wanda suddenly gasped behind her, rearing her ugly head.
“What are you doin’ wastin’ your time with this little runt, Jake? Everyone round here knows how
much you’ve always hated her.”
Jake answered the vindictive woman without ever taking his eyes fromTaylor’s. “Wanda, for once in your bitter life, why don’t you try minding your own business?”
“What’s got up your ass, Jake?” she sneered, raising her hackles like a she-cat preparing to swipe her claws. “You used to know how to give a woman a good time. What are you throwin’ it away on her for now? Mitch’s told everybody in town she’s drier than sawdust.” Her pouting lips sneered like a sick rendition of a reptilian smile, cruel and menacing. “Said it was like fuckin’ a plank, sinkin’ between her skinny spread legs.”
Taylorhad finally had enough. Well, she’d had enough about a decade ago, when she had first moved to town with her mother, but having to listen to Wanda put her down in front of Jake Farrell was too much even for her. She opened her mouth to say God only knew what, comebacks having never really been her strong point—at least not in the heat of the moment. Give her an hour and she’d be raring to go, the perfect blend of wit and scorn poised on the tip of her tongue. Of course, by that time, she was usually the only person left to impress.
Thankfully, Jake had no such problem with spontaneity.
“If Mitch never got her dripping,” he drawled, “then it was his own pathetic fault for having a useless little prick. Something my uncle tells me you should know a lot about, Wanda. Didn’t your Mama ever teach you not to fuck around with another woman’s husband—even if he is the town sheriff?”
Wanda’s face mottled the same crimson shade as her blusher, completing the clown-like effect of her makeup beneath the bright ruby sheen of her hair. “Feelin’ jealous, Farrell? Mitch’s got a lot to offer a woman where it counts.”
Taylor watched the most sinfully sexy man she’d ever known, the one whose image haunted her dreams and still woke her in the dead of night with her panties slick—her aching pussy gone warm and creamy—flash the woman behind her a taunting smile.
“You call that a lot, Wan? Next time you’re pretending he can make you come with it—remember I’ve
got a helluva lot more.”
His attention shifted back toTaylor, not that it hadn’t been on her all along. His big, rough hands tunneled into the sides of her hair, holding her face still as he lowered his mouth toward her quivering lips.
He wasn’t finished putting Wanda Merton in her place, though, andTaylorcould feel the heady warmth of his breath as he spoke.
“And whenTaylor’s taking every inch of me, she won’t have to pretend. She’s gonna come till she’s
sticky sweet and my ears are ringing from the screaming.”
His intense gaze roamed over her face, sending a wave of pure heat to her already flushed features.Taylorknew she must look dumbstruck, staring up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
But there wasn’t anything else she could do. She
was
dumbstruck, shocked straight down to her toes.
She really couldn’t help herself. She’d been stunned mute by his presence and his bold, outrageous words. And they were only getting bolder.
Keep ‘em coming, baby, her Jake-starved body demanded.
Just keep ‘em coming
. There was a wild, rough ride of lust and want pounding through her veins that had been gaining momentum since the first time she’d ever set eyes on the man.