The First Wife. Tara Quinn Taylor
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being careful what you asked for.
He’d pushed her to open up to him, egotistically certain that he was the one who should be there for her in her time of need.
“And you…felt things.” Some masochistic part of his soul made him ask. He didn’t want to picture Jane with another man. Didn’t want to picture her naked. Or sexual in any way. She was Jane. His Jane. Asexual.
Which was exactly what she was telling him. The asexual part.
And that wasn’t right. This beautiful, warm woman asexual?
“Oh, yeah. So much it made me his slave.” Jane’s eyes widened as she spoke, and Brad knew he would never forget the stricken expression that came over her face. “And when James betrayed me, when he kept telling me that his infidelity was my fault, I…”
She stopped and Brad waited, focusing on the slight breeze that had passed over their picnic site.
“I haven’t been the least bit interested in sex since,” she finally said. “He killed it, Brad. And it’s kind of hard to have a truly intimate relationship without that.”
“I’m sure it’s not dead, sweetie,” Brad said now, grasping for anything that would keep his head above the sand. “You know the drill better than most. After any kind of mistreatment, these things take time. And the right person. The feelings are in there.”
“I don’t think so.” Jane’s eyes were clouded again. “It’s been five years since my divorce.”
“Jane, don’t do this to yourself. Relax. I’m sure you’re fine.”
“Am I?” Clearly skeptical, she looked him up and down. “Take you for example,” she said. “You’re gorgeous. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t see you and at least entertain a thought…feel some kind of attraction…”
What did a guy say to that?
“We… I’ve… It’s been two years. We’re together all the time. And I’ve never once…”
Good thing Brad’s ego could afford the hit. Good, too, that relief eased some of the unintentional sting from her words.
“Maybe I’m not your type. And as for other men, you just haven’t been open to it,” he told her. “You’ve blocked that part of yourself. When you’re ready…it’ll be there.”
“I wish I believed that. But after all this time, I just don’t.”
She sounded so…insecure. So lacking in worth. As though she had nothing of value to offer. So unlike the woman who’d, over the past two years, become the first person he called when he had news. The first person he thought of when the electricity went out, when he heard sirens and hoped no one was hurt, when he woke on Christmas morning.
Sex didn’t define a person’s value anyway. But Brad didn’t say so. He knew it would be pointless. He knew from all the work he’d done with abused women that women had a tendency to intermingle personal worth with sexual attractiveness.
“You’re wrong.” His words were forceful. They needed to be. “Unless you don’t do anything about it,” he said, concerned for her. “If you shut yourself off, if you believe you’ll never have those feelings again, you might not.”
“I haven’t shut myself off. I’ve…tried. With partners. And by myself. I even bought a toy off the Internet.”
Jane’s face turned red, but she didn’t look away. She was sitting there, staring at him, completely open, and believing every word she said. Dictating her own life sentence.
Brad couldn’t let that happen. Not to Jane. And he knew he could help her. Just like that.
“Then you haven’t tried hard enough,” he told her. He wasn’t going to let her give up on herself.
“I have. I—”
“Listen.” He cut her off. “I’m going to do something, and when I’m done, you’ll know that you’re all right. And then we’re going to forget it ever happened. Okay?”
She watched him with her eyes wide. And while he stopped breathing, she nodded.
“We will never mention this…interlude. We will never repeat it.”
She nodded again.
He could do this. No problem. He was the perfect choice because he wouldn’t take advantage of her.
Brad was confident until he really looked at the woman sitting next to him. Her dark brown eyes. Perfect skin. Breasts that were so much more than they should be if he was going to not be attracted to them. Why had he never noticed them before?
His fingers brushed her face, her neck, slowly gliding over the softness.
“What are you doing?” Jane stared at him, but didn’t pull back. If she had he would have stopped.
“I’m going to show you what you can feel.” He was strangely unembarrassed by the hoarseness in his voice.
His body was hard and straining against his zipper. He knew how to ignore it.
“Are you game?”
“You’re wasting your time.” The near whisper sounded like a challenge to him.
“I don’t think so.”
“Brad?”
“Shh.” He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb and they parted.
This wouldn’t take long. The rational thought comforted him. One kiss should do it.
He leaned in, touched his lips to hers and lost himself to the burst of fire that shot clear down to his feet.
Brad had had enough women to appreciate when the sex was hot.
And yet when he felt Jane’s lips against his he experienced a jolt so shocking, he felt like a first-timer.
Her eyes were still open, so he deepened the kiss, taking her lips fully with his. And when she didn’t moan with need, he pushed a little further, opening her lips with his tongue.
She tasted of salt and strawberry. And something unknown, but very, very good. He played with her tongue. Teasing it. Exploring.
Alone.
She didn’t resist, but she didn’t join him, either.
Brad pulled away, not sure what he was going to do, and got a glimpse of Jane’s face. Her eyes were almost closed, her features more relaxed than he’d ever seen them.
And yet not. Her mouth was slightly open. Waiting.
She might not be there yet, but she was getting there.
He kissed her again. And when her tongue still remained uninvolved, Brad moved his hand under the hem of her T-shirt, sliding his hand slowly up along the slender curve of her waist, lightly brushing the side of her breast. He thought she jerked a bit at his touch, but he couldn’t be sure.
He couldn’t stop, either. Not until he’d slid a finger inside her bra. Touched her nipple, made it hard and…
It was already hard.
So they were done. He’d aroused her.
He kissed her once more, just to seal the deal with a response from her tongue.
It still didn’t dance with him and he doubted himself. He knew a lot about women. He knew, for instance, that arousal wasn’t the only reason nipples hardened.
And he knew that there was one sure way to tell if a woman was turned on. Brad reached for the button on Jane’s jeans with only one thought in mind. Turn her on and get out.
He had to hand it to her. She was trying as hard as he was. She lifted her body, giving him easier access. And when it became obvious that it wasn’t enough, she lifted her butt off the