Page 23

23

TAYLOR

“Do you want to see Byron?”

I asked Dad to drop me off at JP’s instead of my place, which we have to basically pass by anyway, and when we get there I realize he hasn’t seen Byron since we moved out.

“Yeah, I would.” He puts his car in park. “Haven’t seen the mongrel for a while. I’ll get to meet this hockey player you’re seeing, too.”

Eeeep.

I’ve texted JP so he knows this. I have a key, so we head right up and I knock on his door.

He opens it and my heart sighs at the sight of him. He’s wearing soft, faded jeans and a navy long-sleeved Henley. He looks . . . tired. Huh. “Hi.”

“Hey, Sunshine.” He curls an arm around my neck and kisses my temple. Then his gaze shifts behind me to my dad.

“This is my dad, Carlos. Dad, this is JP Wynn. Dad wanted to see Byron.”

“Hope it’s not any trouble,” Dad says, extending a hand to JP.

They shake hands, sizing each other up.

“Not at all. Come in.” JP steps aside and we walk into his condo.

Dad checks the place out, nodding, apparently satisfied.

Byron’s on the couch. He lifts his head and his tail moves, but he doesn’t come bounding to greet me. I frown and speed right over to him. “Hey, Byron, my boy.” I caress his head and look up at JP. “Is he sick?”

“Um.” He swallows. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?” Panic has my heart lodging in my throat. I cup Byron’s head in both hands and peer at him.

“He got into some food last night. I took him over to Grandpa and Chelsea’s place.”

“Oh no.” I turn to JP. “What did he eat?”

“Er, he got hold of a box of chocolates.”

“Oh no!” I stare first at JP, then at Byron, in horror. Chocolate can kill a dog! “Are you okay, my guy?” I rub his head again.

Dad crouches down beside me. “He seems quiet.”

“Yes.”

“We called the vet,” JP says, his voice rough. He fills me in on the details. “So I’ve been keeping an eye on him. I think his stomach doesn’t feel well. Besides the chocolates, he also ate a bunch of cheese and salami and bread.” He clears his throat. “He’s had some diarrhea. But none of the other signs they mentioned.”

“Oh my God. You poor pup.”

“How the hell did that happen?” Dad stands and gives JP an accusatory stare.

“I told you he likes to eat weird things!” I say.

“Yes, you did.” JP holds his hands up, palms out. “I take full responsibility. It was a dumb idea to take him. We’re a big family and there was a lot going on, and I took my attention off him for a few minutes.”

I’m . . . upset. My dog! How could this have happened? For a few seconds, I’m pissed at JP. He should have watched him better!

But I can see how distressed JP is, how he’s beating himself up over this. I take a deep, calming breath, then move over to JP. “It’s okay. Byron’s okay.” I think I’m telling myself as much as him.

“I feel terrible about it,” JP says. “I’m so sorry.”

Dad returns to Byron and gets a hand lick. “Miss you, Byron.”

“He misses you too,” I say.

“Guess it’s a good thing I’ll be able to take him at my new place,” Dad says.

I sense JP tensing. “I’m sorry,” he says again shortly. “But yeah, it’s probably a good thing.”

Right. Byron won’t be living here anymore.

I don’t think I like that.

I remember the first day I brought him here, how dismayed I was about him living in a high-rise condo without a yard. But he’s been fine. JP takes good care of him, despite what just happened, and I’m around too and . . . I don’t know what to say about this. I rub the faint ache in my chest, watching Dad interact with Byron.

I turn back to JP and meet his eyes. “It’s okay,” I say again quietly.

Dad doesn’t stay long, and I hate the tension between him and JP. Clearly Dad blames him for not looking after Byron and that’s not going to help JP’s guilt at all. Also, I want Dad to like the man I . . . care about.

Okay, the man I’m falling in love with. I’ve thought about it a lot the last couple of days, when I wasn’t playing with my nieces or visiting with Amy and Jeff and Dad. I’m falling in love with JP.

It’s scary and yet right. I guess I can tell myself that I don’t believe in love anymore, but . . . somehow it snuck up on me.

After Dad leaves, JP assuring him he’ll get me home, JP throws himself down onto the couch and sprawls out, resting a hand on Byron’s back. “Jesus. Your dad hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“I don’t blame him. You should hate me too.”

I sit next to him. “Byron’s going to be fine. You look worse than he does.”

He scrubs a hand over the dark stubble on his jaw. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I was afraid he was going to die if I didn’t watch him. Man, I’m a shitty dog sitter.”

“No, you’re not.” I lay my cheek on his chest, arms around his waist.

“How can you even say that? And I didn’t tell you what else happened last night.”

“Uh-oh.”

“He peed on Chelsea’s designer Christmas tree and shorted out the lights.”

My head jerks up. “No!”

“Yes.”

I give Byron a slitty-eyed look. “Byron! Why would you do that?”

“Duh. It was a tree.”

I laugh. “Oh my God. That’s so awful. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about? I’m the one who took him there.”

“He’s my dog. He doesn’t usually pee in other people’s houses.”

“It was a tree. He pees on trees.”

“Well, yeah. But still. Oh, Byron.”

He looks back at me with big, sad eyes.

“Yeah, I know, you’re not feeling well. You did that to yourself, you rascal.” I stroke his fur again.

“How was your Christmas?” JP reaches out and takes my free hand. “Did you have fun with your sister?”

“Yes! And the munchkins. I have pictures.” I jump up to grab my phone and show him all the pics I took. I scroll through them quickly, not wanting to bore him, but he stops me a few times and asks questions, wanting to know which little girl is Penelope and which is Mia. There are even a few of me with the nieces that Dad took using my phone, and a selfie I took with Amy, heads together, big smiles.

“You two look alike.”

“Yeah, apparently we do.” I set down the phone. “It was great to spend some time with them. Amy and I managed to get a little alone time so we could talk about Mom and Dad. And you.”

“Me?”

I smile and smooch his lips. “Of course you. I missed you.”

“Mmm.” He kisses me again. “Missed you too, Sunshine. Although I was pretty traumafied last night, thinking that I’d killed your dog.”

“Traumafied?”

“Yes.” His lips twitch. “Seriously, I think I would have packed up and emigrated to Kazakhstan if he didn’t make it. I could never face you again.”

“Oh.” My heart squeezes, both at the thought of Byron so sick and JP being so . . . “traumafied.” “Are you . . . going to miss Byron?”

He frowns and doesn’t immediately answer. “Maybe.”

I give his broad chest a little shove. “Yes, you are. You love him.”

“Eh. I’m kind of used to having him around now.”

I can’t stop my smile. He does love Byron. Look how upset he is about Byron being sick. “When Dad reminded me that he’ll be able to take him again, I realized that I’m going to miss him too. This house he’s looking at is in Mar Vista, which isn’t that close. But, Dad misses him now, so . . .”

“Hmm. We may have a custody battle on our hands.”

I laugh, but it’s not really funny.

I want to tell him how I feel about him. I’m bursting with it, bursting with love and affection for him . . . also lust. Maybe I can show him how I feel about him . . .

I shift so I can kiss him, my mouth lingering on his. He makes a happy noise, his hand coming up to cup the back of my head. He tilts his head and kisses me back, deeper, his tongue sliding into my mouth.

“Missed you, Sunshine.”

“Missed you too, Killer.”

I feel his smile before he kisses me once more, lifting me onto his lap. His hands slide under my sweater and my skin reacts, tingling everywhere. My belly flips and my breasts ache where I press them against his chest.

I want to feel his skin too. I slide off his lap, off the couch, and onto my knees between his thighs. I skate my hands up under his tee, enjoying the ridges of his abs, the firmness of his pecs. I brush over his nipples and he groans. Leaning lower, I press a kiss to his stomach, a slow, open-mouthed kiss, letting my tongue brush there. I kiss him again, working open the button of his jeans.

His cock is hard and straining behind his fly. I press there before I undo the zipper, and JP makes another low noise of pleasure. I kiss the soft skin I reveal as I lower the zipper and part his jeans. “I love this place on a man.”

His hand is gentle in my hair. “What place? My dick?”

“Well, yeah, that too. But this place . . .” I tug the elastic of his boxer briefs lower. The head of his cock is already poking above them and it springs up. I wrap a hand around his shaft and move it so I can kiss him below his navel. “Right here.” I lick him there. “It’s so soft and sensitive and . . . low enough to hint at what’s beneath it . . .” I trace my tongue over the trail of dark hair, then kiss lower and lower, until my lips meet the neat thatch of dark hair.

“Christ.” Now both his hands are in in my hair.

I curve my hands over the square, masculine bones of his hips, so different from mine, then nuzzle his groin, nipping at the thin skin with my lips, teasing him by kissing and licking all around his cock. His hips lift, his body hot and trembling, and finally I kiss the head of his cock. My tongue laps delicately, still taunting him. His fingers tighten on my skull, but he’s not pressing me to do more than I want.

“That feels so good.” He lets out a rumbling groan. “Please . . . suck me.”

“Mmm.” I want to. I open my mouth and take him in, swirling my tongue around to get him wet and slippery so my lips glide over satiny flesh. Smooth and hard, I love the feel of him filling my mouth, the weight of him on my tongue, the male essence of him tantalizing my taste buds and filling my head with his scent.

It’s heady and wild, making me so wet and aching.

He releases me to shove his jeans lower and now I can access his balls. I cup them tenderly, sliding my mouth up and down.

“Is it weird doing this in front of Byron?” he chokes out.

I lift my head and meet his eyes, smiling. “You want me to stop?”

“Fuck no.”

“He’s a dog. And he’s asleep.”

I resume my blow job, relishing everything about it until JP’s body tenses. His hands are back in my hair and he holds me up off him. “Gonna come, baby.”

“Good.” And I suck him more, and more, faster, clasping the base of his cock tighter, until he shouts as he releases in my mouth. I swallow him down, savoring him, so turned on I could almost come myself.

He hauls me up on top of him, his hands shaking, his breathing fast and ragged. “Jesus. I love that.”

“Good.” I kiss his cheek.

He returns the favor by carrying me into his bedroom, stripping me out of my clothes and worshiping my body from head to toe, eventually focusing on where I need him most . . . his lips and tongue gliding and sucking, his big hands cradling my butt and holding my pussy to his face. Sensation slides down my legs, weakening them, and coiling heat spirals up inside me until I burst into a million pieces of light and heat.

Much later, we’re nestled in his bed, even though it’s only seven o’clock. I don’t have to work tomorrow. We just ordered in food, though it’s not here yet, and checked on Byron, who’s doing fine.

“I know you’re beating yourself up over what happened with Byron.”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Okay.”

“Seriously.” I shift and prop myself up on an elbow to look at him. His gaze drops to my bare breasts. I smile. “You keep doing that. Remember what Arya says in yoga class?”

His eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“About being nonjudgmental. Including toward ourselves. You’re too hard on yourself when you screw up. That causes you stress you don’t need.”

He gazes back at me. “You’re right.”

“I do it too,” I confess. “That’s why I didn’t want anything to do with you after the wedding.”

His forehead creases. “What were you beating yourself up over? I thought you were pissed at me for getting in a fight.”

“I felt like the fight was my fault.” I bite my lower lip. I still feel guilty about that, even though it was Manny who instigated things.

“How was it your fault? You said you weren’t with Martinez then.”

“I wasn’t. But . . . he saw us leaving together when we were going up to your room . . . and . . .” I stop. I haven’t ever told him this. “And I wanted him to know what we were doing.”

JP goes very still. “What?”

“I know. I felt terrible. I hate fighting. I was so afraid you were going to get hurt, and Lacey and Théo’s wedding was ruined, and it was all my fault.”

“Wait. Back the fuck up.” He sets me away from him and stares at me. “You wanted him to know we were going up to my room to fuck?”

“Well . . . yeah.”

“You were using me to make him jealous? That’s what that was?” His voice rises.

“No! I wanted to go with you! But Manny had?—”

He interrupts me, and honestly I don’t blame him, because I sound really lame right now.

“Fuck! I pissed off my entire family because you were trying to get back at a guy who dumped you?”

I flinch and jerk away from him, my heart kicking against my ribs. “What?”

“What is wrong with me?” He gets out of bed, looking away, not meeting my eyes, hand on his jaw. “Goddammit. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” My mouth hangs open.

“I keep screwing up, making the same mistakes over and over.”

“What mistakes?” Then I feel like I’ve been slapped. “Are you thinking I was using you like Emma was?” Heat burns through my veins and I throw back the covers and jump out of bed. I’m naked, but so what.

“Huh?” His shoulders hunch as his head jerks around.

I march over to him and poke my forefinger into his chest. “I am nothing like her!”

He stares at me.

Tears threaten. I swallow, my throat strangled. Does he really believe I was using him to make Manny jealous?

“No,” he says slowly. “You’re nothing like Emma. That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, that’s what it sounded like!”

His head moves from side to side. “No.”

“I get why you feel like I was using you. Believe me, I’ve been over and over that. It’s why I feel guilty. But I wasn’t using you. The night before the wedding, when I came to your room . . . that had nothing to do with Manny.”

Some of the tension eases from his rock-hard jaw as he watches me. Listens to me.

“I was . . . attracted to you. I wanted to be with you. And it was the same the night of the wedding. I just . . . didn’t mind if Manny saw us together. I never thought he was going to start a fight with you. And that’s on him.”

His shoulders slump. “Fuck. You’re right.” He slides a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me up against him, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. “You’re right. I’m an asshole.”

Now I’m shaking even more, with relief. “Yeah, you are.”

His soft laugh ruffles my hair. “I get frustrated when I think I’ve screwed up again.”

“It . . . hurts that you think being with me is screwing up.”

His chest expands against me and his arms wrap tightly around me. “I don’t think that. I was wrong. I didn’t screw up. You’re honest and real and you don’t play games. I lost my temper because . . .” He tenses. “I hated to think you only wanted to be with me to get back at someone else. That already happened to me once.”

Oh. Oh God. I can tell how hard that is for him to admit. My heart softens. He blames himself for hurting his brother by going out with Emma, but the truth is, he got hurt too, when he found out she didn’t really care about him. I hate that . . . but I hate her more, for hurting him.

“I’m still here,” I say gently, laying my hands on his face, holding his gaze steadily.

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes, and covers my hands with his, then brings each palm to his mouth to kiss. “I don’t know why. Like I said, I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah. Sometimes you are.”

“Thank you for calling me on it.”

I smile and kiss his mouth. “Anytime, Killer.”