by Tara Leigh
Most of the girls I’d met in L.A. wouldn’t have a single objection. But Delaney…There was a fragility I’d seen in her eyes, the faintest whiff of optimism that hadn’t quite been extinguished yet.
I couldn’t bear to make her feel like she was just a commodity to be bought and paid for. I wouldn’t.
She was gold, definitely. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to tarnish her.
Pulling away, I scrubbed a hand over my face, three days’ worth of whiskers abrading my palm. “I think you should go inside. Now.” I actually liked this girl. Had spent the past few hours enjoying her company without wishing she were someone else.
Inside my brain, hope and guilt were engaged in a death match, setting my nerves on edge. I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I sure as hell didn’t know what to do with Delaney. Well, I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to fuck her in every room, in every way. Until all the need and lust and hunger had burned off and I felt normal again.
Delaney’s eyes flew open, her dilated pupils rimmed by just a crescent of fathomless blue. “But…I thought…” Her voice trailed off, confusion lingering between us.
“If you don’t get out of the car this second, I’m going to yank you out of your seat and wrap your legs around me. And then I’m going to fuck you until your throat is hoarse from screaming my name.” I was deliberately crude, needing to shock her into running away from me. Her dark brows lifted, but to my surprise, her expression was more intrigued than offended.
Fuck, this girl was killing me.
“Delaney, I mean it. If you don’t want me to screw you in the front seat of this car like you’re just another groupie…” I swallowed thickly. Damn that idea sounded good. Sucking in a breath, I forced oxygen and words out of my mouth. “Get. Out. Now.”
Chapter Eight
Delaney
Blinking away the haze of lust clouding my vision, I opened the door and headed upstairs, more conflicted with each step.
A few minutes ago we’d been flying along the Pacific Coast Highway. Although Shane’s eyes had remained on the road, a vein pulsed at his temple and his jaw was tight. The air between us was thick with sexual tension, palm trees just a linear blur outside my window. My world had been reduced to the throbbing between my legs, the buzzing in my veins. The man seated beside me.
When Shane put his hand on my skin, a shiver of excitement had raced up my spine, my nerves jangling loudly in my ears as he downshifted gears and navigated the exit ramp at double the posted speed limit. I’d been wondering…What would happen once we got back to his house?
Shane asked if I wanted the night to end, and my brain shouted: Hell no!
I tried to say yes. I really did. But my tongue refused to curl around the word. I’d become an accomplished liar over the past three years—but I couldn’t bring myself to deny this one thing. The only part of my new life that felt real, so obvious it was undeniable.
I hadn’t denied it, but Shane had pulled away anyway. Told me to get out.
I answered his question, and he answered mine.
Nothing was going to happen.
I wanted to scream, to yell, to pitch myself on the floor and throw a temper tantrum like an overtired two-year-old, hyped up on ice cream and cotton candy.
But I wasn’t a toddler, and launching into a fit was hardly going to make me more desirable. Shane Hawthorne could have any woman he wanted, and probably already had. Despite what he’d said in the restaurant, he clearly wasn’t all that interested in me.
Once upstairs, it was a relief to shed my clothes. Everything felt too tight, too restrictive. I glanced at the haphazard jumble of my clothes in the drawer, but the Hello Kitty T-shirt and faded terry pajama bottoms held no appeal. With shaking hands, I rifled through the other drawers, two of them nearly bursting with lingerie, and settled on a lavender silk negligee, the hem reaching the tops of my thighs. The material was cool, and slippery to the touch. It felt like I was wearing nothing at all.
I opened the window, hoping the crash of the waves would drown out the words still echoing in my ears. And then I’m going to fuck you until your throat is hoarse from screaming my name.
Do it. That’s what I had wanted to say, but I couldn’t manage to choke the words out. In the few seconds between twisting the handle and opening the car door, the dome light came on, catching the golden streaks in Shane’s hair and turning his perfect bone structure into a work of art, an intriguing juxtaposition of clean lines and mysterious shadows. And suddenly it was as if a cord I’d never known existed had been plugged into an outlet. Sensory overload. So instead of saying what I wanted to say (two words, Delaney, was it really so hard?), I’d remained silent, scurrying upstairs like a virginal teenager. Actually, that was giving myself too much credit. Tween.
And I wasn’t. A virgin, that is. Well, not technically. After my father was convicted, just before moving to California, I had too much to drink with a guy I barely liked and decided—What the hell? I was hurting so much already that I welcomed the brief stab of pain at his entry. It was over before I felt much else, and I packed my bags the next day.
I learned a lesson though. Casual sex was not my thing.
Except that there was nothing casual about Shane. And I wanted to have sex with him. Badly. At least, my body did. Even his lightest touch sent a thrill racing through my veins, tingles of pleasure prickling my skin. After three years of feeling nothing much at all, I felt alive around Shane. Every one of my senses lighting up in a frenzy, rioting for…more.
Shane Hawthorne was like an exotic plant in the wasteland that was my life, covered in thorns but topped by the most gorgeous flower I’d ever seen. The thorns would hurt, no doubt, but I was too distracted by the flower to care.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, an old-school ancestor of mine was holding up the contract I’d signed and yelling that I needed to keep my legs crossed. That a man didn’t buy milk if he could get it for free. I’d always hated that expression, and I hated it even more now.
Six months. I could keep my legs crossed for six months, right?
Long enough to ensure my father was transferred to a better place. Long enough to afford tuition.
Long enough to make peace with the person I’d become. Long enough to forget about the pieces of my conscience I’d left behind.
Going back to school might not put me on an even playing field with Shane, but at least it wouldn’t leave me feeling like a cliché. I’d give him all the milk he could drink…in six months.
If it turned out that one night was all Shane wanted from me, at least I wouldn’t have to spend the next one hundred and seventy-nine pretending like he hadn’t just stolen the only thing I still had left. My pride.
A flash of movement outside the window caught my eye—Shane. A nearly naked Shane, jogging toward the churning surf, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Butterflies took flight inside my stomach as he dove into the dark water, treating me to one last glimpse of his perfect ass before he disappeared.
Seriously, disappeared.
The seconds ticked by, my heartbeat picking up with each one. Where was he? Panic constricted my lungs as I searched for Shane’s head to break the waterline. Were there sharks out there? What if he got a leg cramp and couldn’t kick? Or was caught in a riptide? Suddenly the sea didn’t look so innocuous. It looked lethal.
But then…there! Shane’s leonine head burst upward, much farther out than I would have liked. Did he have some kind of death wish? Or maybe I did, because I was going to give myself a heart attack just watching him. But knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep until Shane was safe, I merely wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and settled into the window seat.
Was I safe? My heart wedged inside my throat as I followed Shane’s every move, watching over him like a helicopter mom at a busy playground. Which was ridiculous, of course. Logically, I knew Shane would be fine. But me, in his house, on his tour? Fine? Even I wasn’t that naive.
<
br /> Shane was doing laps now. Streaking across the ocean in a parallel line to the shore. Going just far enough to make my heart skip a beat when I lost sight of him for a few moments on either side. Then I would see the flash of an arm, glinting in the moonlight as it broke though the water before cutting into it again.
Hugging my thighs into my chest, I rested my chin on my knees. Watching. Waiting. Wishing those arms were wrapped around me.
After what felt like forever, Shane stopped swimming, his body slowly floating back toward the shore on the incoming tide. My nervousness had abated somewhat, at least while his stroke remained strong and sure, but now? Why wasn’t he moving? I squinted. Shane’s rock-hard abs glistened beneath the moonlight, his eyes closed. Was he breathing? From the second floor of his house, fifty feet of sand between us, I couldn’t tell. My breath stuck at the back of my throat, and I pressed my forehead against the mesh window screen as Shane washed up onshore, his length half in, half out of the water. Waves crested and broke over his long legs, swirling around his head before receding. I counted the number of times. One, two, ten, eighteen. What the hell? Was he sleeping? Twenty-seven. Or hurt? Thirty-six.
Or dead?
I couldn’t wait anymore.
Flinging aside the blanket, I darted downstairs and onto the deck, then down to the beach. Sand flew as I sprinted toward Shane, skinning my knees as I dove beside him, screeching his name. “Are you okay?”
Shane turned his head, eyes fluttering open, his voice husky and thick. Sleepy. “Sure. Why?”
Sure. Those four letters scratched at my already raw nerves. So blasé, like there was nothing unusual about lying in the sand immobile. “Why?” I shoved Shane’s irritatingly well-defined pectoral muscles, my palm sliding along his wet skin and sending me crashing into his chest. I tried to get back up, but his arms wrapped around my back, holding me close. There was a shift in my emotions, anger and arousal sloshing inside my head, my heart, my veins. I fought for composure. “Who goes swimming in the ocean in the middle of the night? It’s ridiculous.”
He grinned. “Were you worried about me, Delaney?”
Hell yes, I was worried. I was scared of what Shane was doing to me, to my life. And downright terrified by my reaction to him.
“Of course not. But what if Jaws was out there, looking for a midnight snack? I don’t think he’d be satisfied by a bedtime lullaby, even from you.” I forced a teasing note into my tone, even though the slimmest specter of death had me panic-stricken.
“How about you? Would you be satisfied by a lullaby?” His expression was a wicked mix of levity and lewdness. “Or were you hoping for something else?”
My stomach flipped. “Like what?” I sounded breathless, needy. Must have been the light breeze carrying my words away.
Shane slid a gossamer-thin strap off my shoulder, licked at my skin. “I’ve been told singing is my second-best talent.”
His mouth. His eyes. His words. Lust exploded in my stomach, scattering fiery debris throughout every pore, my body blazing with desire. “I’m a sucker for a good talent show.”
Maybe I was a sucker, period.
A laugh rumbled out of Shane’s throat, escaping into the air just moments before he pulled my head down, nipping at my lips, slipping his tongue inside my mouth. And I was lost, drowning in a churning surf of pleasure.
Shane
Something about the ocean pulled at me. It was reason I bought this house. The endlessness of its reach. The power of its currents. The briny scent of its tides. And tonight I needed the bite of its cold, bracing water.
With my hunger for Delaney surging through my veins like jet fuel, I hadn’t dared follow her upstairs. Instead, I’d shucked off my clothes on the deck and headed straight for the beach, my feet sinking into sand that became more compressed the closer I got to the ocean.
The cold water stung my skin, a welcome distraction from my tumultuous thoughts. I paddled out past the waves, pushing myself to stroke harder, move faster. I found a rhythm and clung to it, focusing only on my form and power and breaths. Not until my arms and legs were quivering with exhaustion did I stop, flipping onto my back. The current carried me to shore, water lapping at my legs as a light breeze cooled my skin. For the first time all day, maybe all week, I let myself relax, get out of my own head. Lingering there, I felt at peace. Finally.
It was shattered in an instant.
The sight of Delaney flying across the sand, breasts bouncing beneath a wisp of silk and lace, nipples poking at the nearly translucent material, sent the sharp knife of desire plunging right back into my gut, slashing at my self-control.
I shouldn’t want Delaney this much. Hell, I shouldn’t want anyone this much. Especially not someone who didn’t want me back.
Hadn’t I learned the hard way that caring too deeply—about anyone—was the surest path to heartbreak? I swatted at my conscience before I could take a trip down memory lane I wasn’t ready for. Not that I hadn’t taken it hundreds, no—thousands—of times. But only buffered by a haze of drugs and alcohol to smooth the journey.
What was it about Delaney that got under my skin? And clearly I’d gotten under hers, too, if the worried look on her face was anything to go by. I wanted to fill her up with everything I had. Sing her a lullaby, too. Cuddle Delaney in my arms and croon a verse into her ear, tease her with kisses until she was writhing within my arms.
My mouth was good for more than just singing, although it had been ages since I’d been with someone who made me want to put in the effort. But right now, with Delaney, I wanted to pull out every stop I knew. Learn a few new ones, too, just for her.
My name scraped from her throat, raw need pulsing from the single syllable, chipping away at the restraint I bound myself in.
And then she was beside me, crashing into me, full breasts pushing against my chest, the ends of her hair swishing against my skin. Tempting as a goddamn siren.
A knot of desire wrapped around my lungs, squeezing tight. I slid my palms along the curve of Delaney’s back, following the ridged track of her spine to her neck, pressing my thumb along the frantic pulse heaving beneath her skin. Lust spiked, seeping into my pores, filling my lungs.
I should let her go.
Instead, my hold tightened.
I had let her go, told her exactly what would happen if she stayed beside me for even a second longer. She’d listened to me, gone upstairs, hopefully locked her door.
But now she was back. So close my heart lurched, thundering against my rib cage in an attempt to race with hers. More beauty heaped on her than any one person deserved. Want shimmering from her eyes like gasoline on the surface of a puddle.
Waiting for a flame.
Or was the emotion I saw just a reflection of mine? God knows I wanted her enough for the both of us.
I rolled, taking Delaney with me. Pressing my elbows into the sand, I cradled her head in my hands as I traced a path down her neck, her pulse fluttering beneath my tongue. She whimpered, her head rocking back as she arched her spine, pressing into me. With a groan, I pulled the tiny excuse for pajamas from Delaney’s torso, holding her wrists over her head as I feasted on her breasts, flicking pale-pink nipples with my tongue, giving each needy peak the attention it deserved. Perfect handfuls, they vibrated with longing.
“Wait, Shane.” Her voice was a quivering plea. “Should we…here?”
“No,” I growled. “But I don’t care.” Delaney’s skin was slick from the humid air, and deliciously salty against my tongue. I wedged a knee between her legs, rubbing my shaft against her thigh. Still a few inches from where I really wanted to be.
Eliminating the sliver of lace between Delaney’s thighs with a quick flick of my wrist, I nudged her legs farther apart, moving between them as I kissed my way down her rib cage, the delicate slope of her belly, my tongue slipping into the shallow well of her belly button. Delaney squealed, laughter hiccupping from her throat. Ticklish. I filed the bit of knowledge away for another time,
too intent on a different destination.
Releasing Delaney’s wrists, I rubbed my chin against the smooth perfection of her inner thigh, intent on capturing the sweetness waiting for me. Barely a breath away, Delaney’s fingers plowed into my scalp, tugging at my hair. “Shane,” she called out, my name laced with a skittish urgency I couldn’t ignore.
I lifted my face to hers, my dick so fucking hard it was almost unbearable. Forcing a calm I didn’t feel, I sucked her earlobe into my mouth, murmuring in a low growl, “Yes, Delaney.”
“I don’t mean to, ummm, oh God.” Her fingers gripped my shoulders as a tremble shook her lithe frame. “That thing you’re about to do…”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” Her heat tempted me, my shaft pointing like an arrow to its desired destination.
She sucked on her lower lip. “Can you ummm…not.”
A trickle of unease frayed the edges of my hunger. I tensed, pulling back to take in her face. “No?”
Delaney blinked, her eyes huge pools of ink in her heart-shaped face. She wrapped her legs around my hips, hooking her ankles together and pulling me toward her heat. “I want you inside of me.”
That was my plan, too, although I’d intended to make her come first. I swore softly. Delaney was blowing my best intentions to bits. “You know, there’s no rush. We can do both,” I said, staring down at her, trying to gauge her hesitation. She trembled again, the curve of her fingernails pricking my skin as a fat tear slid down her cheekbone. What the hell? “Delaney, are you crying?”
Chapter Nine
Delaney
Yes. “No.” I wiped at my cheek. What is wrong with me? I wanted this. Wanted him.
That fucking contract—what did words matter when the man above me was so real, our attraction to each other so undeniable? What would it be like to give myself over to his kisses, let his touch take me to a place I’d never known? A place that was ours alone, at least for a little while. Heaven, surely.
