Never Have I Ever Page 5

  He also had a nasty habit of scheduling things by writing them on Post-its. Or napkins. Or scraps of paper. Or used envelopes. Or…

  Well, nothing that could take the place of a trusty datebook.

  “It’s fine. Did something happen? Fight with your dad?” Taylor couldn’t imagine what else would force Eli out in this cold weather from his base of power in Manhattan, without the bodyguards who seemed to constantly hover since he’d taken his father’s position. The elder Reynolds was a good man, but he was as strong-willed as his son, and the two of them had butted heads over some pretty stupid stuff in the past. Only natural, when a son and father were equally powerful.

  Or so Taylor figured. He and his old man never argued over anything. But then again, as Daddy Dearest had liked to remind him, Taylor was too weak and insignificant to bother fighting with. Hell, even when he’d been kicked out, there hadn’t been an argument, just a cold directive to pack his bags.

  “When do we not fight? But this time, he’s not the only one. I needed to get away from everyone.”

  For the first time, Taylor noticed the signs of stress in his friend’s face. It was there, in the lines around his mouth and eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Lucy.”

  Well, that succinct one-word answer explained the stress. If Lucy was in Taylor’s life, his hair would be completely gray. Not for the first time, he pitied Eli and the expectations and responsibilities that came with his position. “Ah.”

  Eli pushed a hand through his hair. The five-hundred-dollar haircut always made his blond hair look artfully tousled, but it was clear Eli had been giving the unkempt strands help tonight. “I told her it was over.”

  Taylor’s eyes widened. “Ahh.” He grabbed a roll of paper towels off the countertop and went to sit next to his friend, carefully scraping up the crumbs Eli had dropped.

  “Everyone’s mad at me. The last few weeks…”

  “Wait, you did this weeks ago? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I was trying to keep it quiet, you know break it to my dad…” he cast Taylor an uncertain look, “…and yours. Plus the other elders.”

  Taylor kept his face expressionless. “Hmm.”

  “But then Lucy went all apeshit.” Eli shook his head. “I know we’re supposed to be together—”

  “Not if you can’t stand her.”

  “I can’t. I know she’s supposed to be tough and strong, and I’ll give you that she’s a firecracker in bed, but honest to God, Tay…sometimes she’s just mean.”

  Yeah, and that was the real reason Eli and Lucy’s relationship had been on again/off again, but mostly off, for years, despite everyone’s expectations for the two since they were teenagers. Careless cruelty bothered Eli, who was a genuinely nice guy under his playboy image and bad-boy persona. Taylor made a sympathetic noise. “I’m sorry.”

  Eli sighed and stared at the spaghetti morosely before seemingly shaking off the bad mood. “Enough of that. When you called for the favor, I thought maybe something was wrong with you and Ana. But you two look like you’re having fun.” He winked at Taylor. “And here I thought you were reformed.”

  Taylor glanced down at his hands. He didn’t mean to say anything, but it popped out. “That’s not how we usually are.”

  “Oh? It’s what? Better, longer? ’Cause I don’t know if I could even believe that.”

  “No…it’s normal.”

  Eli’s crack of laughter surprised him into looking up. His friend’s expression was wry and sympathetic. “Tay, there’s no normal for people like us. I don’t know when you’ll accept that, but you’ll be happier when you do.”

  Taylor shook his head, his lips compressed. The hell he’d accept it. He’d successfully not accepted it for over a decade and things were going just fine, thank you very much. “I’m not like you. I’m not…like what I was.”

  “Okay.” Eli’s easy capitulation didn’t fool him, particularly when the other man stood up. “But it didn’t look to me like she was minding what you were…and what you were showing her in that room.”

  Taylor clenched his jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, whatever. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to my room. No worries, I’ll clear out of here in the morning, ’kay? You can have your romantic weekend.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” As much as he loved the man, perhaps with Eli gone, this hunger wouldn’t be exacerbated. Yeah, it was the sight of the other man that had driven him over the edge.

  You keep telling yourself that. You keep telling yourself that the sex you were having before you saw him standing there wasn’t a far cry from your usual, lights-off, missionary-position, extended-foreplay, once, maybe twice-a-night deal with Ana.

  Self-delusion wasn’t always a bad thing. It had helped keep him firmly in the role he’d held for years, a mild-mannered nine-to-five architect. He had a nice house, an affordable mortgage, health benefits, vacation time.

  The fact that it sounded horribly, tediously boring, even to his own ears, didn’t matter. Those things had scored him his lovely, gentle wife…and he wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything.

  Chapter Four

  Ana arose to the scent of cinnamon in the air. Must be Sunday. Sundays were her and Taylor’s day to sleep in and enjoy breakfast foods they normally didn’t indulge in.

  But when she opened her eyes, the room was still dim, and her husband was lying next to her snoring softly, which told her more than anything that it must be early. Taylor was usually up with the birds.

  Was it an air freshener? That smelled like French toast? And only sprayed in the mornings?

  Unlikely.

  Careful not to jostle her man, she slipped out of bed. It was only when she stumbled on unsteady legs that she realized she was completely naked.

  And then she remembered how she got that way.

  A warm blush covered her body as memories of last night flickered through her brain in high def. Their sexual past had officially been eclipsed.

  It had been hot and dirty and sweaty, but more than all of that, for the first time ever, even more so than in their erotic car ride, Ana had felt like she was holding the real person who lurked behind her husband’s calm, quiet exterior.

  Her heart accelerated, and she glanced back at the bed. Generally, Taylor slept as neatly as he did everything else, not taking up any more space than he needed to, considerately keeping his larger frame from shoving her smaller body off the bed. This morning, he was sprawled out on his belly, face turned toward her. He looked utterly relaxed, rested and sated, his mouth ajar as he breathed deeply in and out.

  It made her want to keep him in this state. Or rather, wake him up, wear him out all over again, and put him back in this sexual overdose.

  Ignoring the slight soreness of her sex, she even took a step back to the bed before she remembered what had woken her up in the first place.

  Mysterious smell or hubby loving…decisions, decisions.

  The mystery won out, but only because she didn’t want to be disturbed from any shenanigans they might engage in. She grabbed the first clothes she could find in the drawer where Taylor had neatly unpacked them the day before. It didn’t matter if her husband was visiting a place for three days or three weeks, he did not like living out of a suitcase. Slipping on one of Taylor’s many white T-shirts and a pair of her own soft shorts, she padded out to the living room. The desire to roll around on the couch and relive the night before was extremely strong…but the more obvious scent of cinnamon overcame that urge.

  Her concern increased when she heard the slight rattle of a pan. She stopped just outside the kitchen door. Should she go wake up Taylor? And tell him what? That she thought there was someone in the kitchen…cooking something that smelled good?

  You probably didn’t hear anything.

  Nonetheless, she picked up the vase off the table near her and held it securely, ready to aim for the head if someone was really in her borrowed kitchen. W
ith her breath held, she pushed the swinging door open quickly and stepped inside, the pseudo-weapon raised.

  She’d convinced herself so thoroughly that she was imagining things that she gave a loud shriek when the blond, half-naked man in front of the stove wheeled around, his spatula held aloft.

  His lips quirked as he lowered the spatula. “Hey, beautiful. I didn’t hear you.”

  She blinked at him, still unclear on if she was maybe still dreaming. “Eli? What are you doing here?”

  “Is that all you can say to me? When you haven’t seen me in forever?” He grinned and tossed the spatula down, turning the stove off with a quick flip of his wrist.

  She actually had to check herself from sighing in feminine appreciation when he walked over to her. When they’d first met, Ana had immediately known that Eli probably never lacked for female company. Forget the fact that he was rich and gorgeous. His walk alone, all loose limbed and easy and confident, was a screaming aphrodisiac to single women everywhere.

  Hell, not just the single women. She might be madly in love with Taylor, but she could spot a prime male specimen when he sauntered up to her.

  And that was before she’d gotten those pictures…

  He crowded closer and took the vase out of her unresisting hands. “You should have gone for the red one. This one’s too old to really do any damage to my hard head. Trust me, you won’t be the first woman who tried.”

  The vase, which had felt solid and substantial in her hands, looked like he could crush it between his palms. His words registered at the same time as the fine gold detail on the piece. “Er. By old, do you mean expensive?”

  “Only my insurance adjuster knows for sure. No big.” He tossed it back and forth between his palms, each careless gesture making her hyperventilate a little. There was a reason, damn it, that she didn’t bother to buy expensive stuff. She had enough things to worry about.

  She jumped when he clunked the piece of art on the counter behind him. He didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath before he swept her up in a bear hug. Literally swept her up, his huge arms picking her up off the ground and swinging her around.

  Eli was as big as Taylor…perhaps even bigger and broader. Whereas her husband was all brooding and dark though, Eli was as blond as a Nordic god and had the body and tan of a California surfer dude. His disposition was as sunny as his hair.

  Taylor had once tried to explain what Eli did for a living, but after the words “finance” and “corporation” she’d zoned out. He didn’t have the body of a desk jockey, but then she’d heard enough stories and been around him enough to know he played as hard as he probably worked. All that aside, she liked him because he was fun and sweet and it was clear to anyone that he fiercely adored Taylor, which meant he had excellent taste.

  He also had excellent pecs, which she wasn’t supposed to notice since she had an arguably nicer pair laying upstairs in her bed. However, with her nose smushed against one, it was hard to ignore it.

  You’re a married woman, you’re a married woman…

  Stupid pictures. She might have previously appreciated Eli’s rock-hard—ahem—attributes, but she’d never particularly lusted for him. Their relationship was friendly, as a friendship between a husband’s best friend and his wife should be. Now, though, knowing what Taylor and Eli had done together in the past, what they’d done to other women together…well, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit—at least to herself—that she had spent a moment imagining herself as the woman in those photos. Just for a moment. Or two. Okay, eighty-six.

  Curious, she inhaled. Eli smelled fresh and clean, like the outdoors. But it wasn’t her husband’s scent and it didn’t stir the hunger Taylor did.

  But if Taylor was here too…

  Oh. Oh yes.

  Warning bells went off in her head. Feeling disloyal at the sharp pang of arousal, she wriggled. Automatically he lowered her gently to the ground and gave a slight tug on the lock of hair brushing against her cheek. “How you doing, peanut?”

  The pull on her scalp was a little too reminiscent of Taylor’s hands in her hair the night before. She stepped back, hoping her retreat wasn’t too obvious. “I’m doing fine,” she responded. She thought for a second. “Um, what are you doing here?”

  “Can you believe I forgot that I had told Tay that you two could have the cabin this weekend?”

  She hadn’t known Eli for the length of time that Taylor had. But could she believe that he had spoken to Taylor barely a week ago, given his blessing to let them come up here for some alone time, and then completely forget? “I don’t know how to say this, but yes.”

  He laid a hand over the just-appreciated pec. “I’m wounded, my darling.”

  “Uh-huh. Have you thought about getting a better secretary, Eli?”

  “I told Taylor I should. Or maybe hire a second one, since I feel bad about letting this one go when she’s got kids to support. He said all I needed was a planner.”

  That sounded like her husband. “That’s because Taylor has a calendar on hand in every room in the house.”

  “I thought his two smartphones handled all of his OCD now?”

  “I think he doesn’t quite trust them not to fall apart. He syncs everything. Every night.”

  “Ugh. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.”

  “I don’t know. I can be particular about certain things too, so I don’t mind.”

  “Yeah. You two are perfect for each other, huh?”

  She shifted. “I hope so.”

  “Hmmm. I got up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. I was going to leave the breakfast for you when I left, like a phantom Martha Stewart, only prettier. Are you hungry?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  She moved to get the plates from the cupboard, but he stopped her. “Let me grab everything. You just go sit down.”

  “So when did you get here? Not that it matters to me…it’s your house, after all,” she said hastily as she pulled out a chair.

  “No, no, doesn’t matter whose name is on the deed, it’s all my bad. I got in last night and I realized the screw up in dates.”

  “I’m surprised I didn’t hear you and wake up. I’m a light sleeper…” She trailed off. Holy crap. Last night? He meant late last night, right? Like, late enough that he wouldn’t have had to be all embarrassed and hear the sounds of her crying out in the living room?

  “I was quiet,” he said easily. “I’m a ninja like that.”

  There was no guile or embarrassment in his face, just innocence. She relaxed. “Oh. That explains it. I clearly didn’t take your ninja-like abilities into account.”

  “Yeah. Most people don’t.”

  Ana dug into the French toast he laid on her plate, trying not to gag when he doused his own with syrup. “I hate you for staying so fit when you eat like that.”

  “I have a super-fast metabolism.”

  “And a super sweet tooth.”

  He only smiled and bit into his toast. “Catch me up on everything since I talked to you last. Is Tía Lucía still pinching innocent men’s asses at weddings?”

  “She contends that you asked for it.”

  “That’s right, blame the victim.”

  They chatted amiably for a good half hour. Ana found herself relaxing as they slipped into their usual friendly banter, continuing to sit and talk after their plates were empty and the weak winter sun had lifted some of the gloom from the house.

  “You’re still here.”

  Taylor’s sleep-roughened voice surprised her. Before she could turn to look over her shoulder, he was by her side, kneeling next to her. His gaze was assessing, roving over her as if he were checking for signs of injuries.

  The thought had crossed her mind that perhaps the light of day would bring mortification over their naughty encounter. But Taylor didn’t allow her a chance for cowering and hiding. He brushed a string of kisses over her face, and then nuzzled against her cheek and neck, rather like a puppy seeking a bit of a
ffection. She sank her hand into his thick hair and rubbed his scalp, forgetting that Eli was even there.

  “Hi,” he whispered into her mouth. His lips brushed hers again.

  “Hi.”

  A loud cough sounded. Ana blushed, remembering Eli, and tried to pull away, but Taylor wouldn’t allow it. If anything, he kissed her harder, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and exploring her thoroughly.

  You’re turning into one kinky bitch, finding it this hot to be kissed with an audience. No, not turning. It must have always been there, a match waiting for a spark.

  He gave her one final nuzzle, rubbing his nose against hers before rising to his feet and walking to the refrigerator. She had to bite her lip to keep from calling him back, begging him for a thorough make-out session, despite whoever may be watching. Eli’s presence put off something else, she realized right then. If he hadn’t been there, she might have tried to engage Taylor in some sort of postmortem. Too bad Eli was here. Too, too bad. That was not a secret spurt of relief in delaying the confrontation that they would have to have at some point.

  You wussy.

  Yep. Queen of the wussies, that was her.

  Taylor withdrew a carton of orange juice and drank straight from the spout, something so out of character for her fastidious husband she could only blink at him. A thought occurred to her, and she frowned. “Wait, you knew Eli was here?” She turned to Eli. “I thought you said that you came in late last night?”

  She heard a gurgle from Taylor’s direction, and she almost glanced back to him, but Eli spoke. “I guess I wasn’t ninja-like enough. Taylor heard me eating some of your spaghetti last night. Delicious, by the way.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why aren’t you gone yet?” Taylor asked as he grabbed the plate of remaining French toast and brought it to the table, along with a fork.

  “Taylor!” Ana was mortified. Eli owned the place after all.

  “No, no, Ana, I don’t mind. I know what a social disaster Tay is. To answer you, I was just making some breakfast before hitting the road. I had no idea that Ana would hear me and come investigate.” Eli patted his mouth with his napkin. “I’ll be heading out shortly.”