They sat in the silent darkness until the clock on the mantel read a quarter past one.
With a reluctant sigh, Taylor slowly lifted her head from its resting spot. “We have to wake up early.”
“I know,” Jamar said.
“We could just sleep here on the sofa,” she offered.
“We could.” There was a thread of amusement in his voice. “Except that I’m afraid of what your dad would do to me if he found us together while on his way to the kitchen for his late-night snack.”
“The Colonel does not snack,” Taylor said with a soft laugh. “If you heard someone last night, it was more likely my mom.”
“In a way she’s even scarier than your dad,” he said. “She’s got that super nice thing going, but I can tell she’s the kind who would eviscerate anyone who crosses her or her family.”
“And she would do it with a smile,” Taylor confirmed as she pushed herself up from the sofa.
Jamar stood as well, recapturing her hand in his. “I now see where you get your badassness,” he said with a wink.
There was zero urgency as they made their way to the staircase, neither one wanting to say good night. Once there, Jamar trailed the back of his finger along her cheek, his deep brown eyes brimming with want as he stared into hers. He tipped her chin up and lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her lips that was tender and sweet and perfect. It set off a cascade of warm tingles down her spine.
Taylor encircled him in her arms, running her hands along his sides and around his back. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night on the couch?”
Jamar let out a deep breath and took a step back. “You should go up to your room.”
“You’re probably right,” she murmured. Taylor cupped the back of his head and tugged, kissing him again.
“Good night,” she whispered against his lips.
“Good night,” he returned.
She started for her bedroom, not letting go of his hand until she’d climbed four of the steps. Once she reached the second-floor landing, she looked down to find him still lingering at the bottom of the staircase. Their gazes caught and held, the same longing she was feeling reflected in the depths of his eyes.
See you in the morning, Taylor mouthed.
He nodded and gave her a short wave.
Taylor slipped into her bedroom before she gave in to the temptation to go back downstairs. It was only a few hours until she would be with him again, yet her body still mourned the loss.
She grabbed her pajamas and went into the bathroom. Bracing her hands against the pedestal sink, she stared at herself in the mirror.
“How did you let this happen?” she whispered. She hadn’t just fallen—she’d fallenhard.
A secretive smile curved up the corners of her mouth. Who knew a hard fall could feel so good?
She took out the bobby pins and hair tie that held her updo together, covered her hair with a shower cap, then got into the shower. But the cascade of hot water did nothing for her. A shower wasn’t enough. She needed Jamar. And she knew he needed her just as much.
Dressed in a T-shirt and pajama shorts, Taylor slipped out of the bathroom as quietly as possible and padded barefoot down the stairs. She went through the kitchen to the spare bedroom, finding the door slightly ajar.
Jamar sat on the edge of the bed. He was shirtless, the corded muscles of his eight-pack gleaming in the light from the bedside lamp. He still wore his pants, although he’d loosened the belt buckle and unzipped them.
When he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and started to stand, Taylor took it as her cue to invite herself in.
“I’ll do that for you,” she said softly.
He froze. Hands at his waist, eyes wide with surprise.
“What are you doing—” he started, but she put two fingers against his lips, silencing him.
She moved his hands out of the way and took over, shoving both his pants and the black boxer briefs down his legs. She knew what tonight had done to him, the disappointment at realizing he would have to give up his dream. She wanted to provide whatever solace she could.
