It had rocked Shannon hard, made her scared and sad and so full of pain and…and something powerful she couldn’t figure out, she thought she’d pass out. A sound filled her head like white noise or crashing waves or she didn’t know what it was, and it didn’t stop until Show had left the room with the baby and was on his way back downstairs. By then, when she’d gotten some control back, Isaac was in the fridge getting beer, and Lilli was sitting at the table, studying her. Unable to think of anything else to do, she’d shaken her head and tried to chuckle, apologizing for spacing out.
As saves went, it had been adequate. Lilli didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t pry. Show gave her a concerned look when he came back into the kitchen with Gia, which told her that she needed to work on her expression. And then she’d helped Lilli clean the kitchen, and Isaac and Show had taken Gia into the living room, and everything was okay again. She’d asked Lilli about the big shop she’d called the guys in from at dinnertime, and Lilli had told her about Isaac’s woodworking. The table they’d had dinner on, the sofa in their living room, a lot of the furniture in their house was handmade by Isaac. It was beautiful, and Shannon had made a note to herself to take a closer look.
She’d been feeling relaxed and normal again when she’d gone in to check on the guys’ drinks. But when Show had tried to hand her Gia…. She knew she’d freaked outrageously. She was adept at avoiding babies. She’d turned it into an art, always able to find a plausible reason that she couldn’t. But Show had caught her flat-footed, and, after that weird spell she’d had not long before, she just choked. Show had looked truly baffled. When she’d fled back into the kitchen, Lilli was standing in the middle of the room, obviously having witnessed everything.
That had pretty much been the beginning of the end of their nice evening. And now Show was driving her silently back to the inn. Had driven her—they’d already crested the rise, and he was parking the truck as she pulled herself out of her thoughts. When he turned off the engine, she opened the door. He grabbed her hand before she could scoot out.
“Hey.”
Surprised, she turned back to him. “Aren’t you coming in?” She knew her behavior had been strange, but had it been strange enough to push him away?
“You can tell me anything. I want you to know that.”
The wind was bitter cold, and she closed the door. They maybe weren’t going anywhere right away. She didn’t know what to say to him. There were things she didn’t talk about. Period. Things that were nobody’s business but her own. Period. In fact, she did everything she could not even to think about them, usually.
“You said you wouldn’t ask.”
“I’m not. I won’t. I’m saying you can trust me. With whatever you have to say.”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
His eyes narrowed at that, but he said nothing. He just stared at her. She stared back, afraid she’d look guilty if she turned away. When he finally nodded, she almost sighed with relief.
“Are you coming in?”
“Is that what you want?” Still his eyes were narrowed, like he was trying to see deeper than she was letting him.
“Show, why are we dancing around it? Yes, I want you to come in. That’s why I’ve asked, now, twice. I want you to spend the night with me. I want you. Are you looking for me to beg? Because I won’t.”
Instead of replying, he stretched his right arm across the cab and hooked his hand around her waist, then pulled her sharply across until they were hip to hip. He often surprised her with his strength, moving her as if she were a mere slip of a thing, when she was in reality as tall as the average man. Nothing about Show, however, was average.
“Show, what…”
He fed his left hand into her hair, holding her head firmly in his huge grip. “You go ahead and keep your secrets, long as you need to. I’m coming in. And I will make you beg.” With that, he dropped his head to hers and kissed her, overpowering her with his mouth and tongue and hands.
~oOo~
The inn was quiet when they got inside—no guests on this mid-week night, after bad weather, and with Hollywood finally, if only temporarily, gone. On nights like this, when the inn was empty and all hers, Shannon usually felt a little lonely. Even now, with Show behind her, walking through the parlor felt odd, like everyone else had disappeared from the earth. With a little shiver, she led him through to the snug comfort of her apartment. She dropped her coat over the back of a tall armchair just inside the door, and he followed with his own coat and kutte.
“You want a drink? I bought another bottle of Jack.” She turned into her little kitchen. It wasn’t much, but it was plenty for her, and the appliances and fixtures were nice—stainless steel appliances, white cabinets with frosted-glass fronts, and dark grey granite counters. Shannon had been charmed when she’d first seen the décor in this apartment. She liked her space to be light and bright. She’d grown up surrounded by dark, heavy wood—wood paneling on the walls, wood furniture, everything dark, dark, dark. Gloomy.
Not waiting for his answer, she opened the cabinet where the booze was and got the Jack down, with a glass. She intended to get vodka out of the freezer for herself, but then Show was behind her, right up against her, pushing her hair around to lie over her shoulder. She felt his fingers on her throat, his thumb over her spine. Making light circles with that thumb, he caressed her neck. She put her hands flat on the counter and closed her eyes with a sigh. His free hand rested on her hip
“Shannon.” His voice was low, like thunder at a distance, and she felt it in her core. “I want you to trust me.”
The very last thing in the entire world she wanted to do in this moment was to pick up that conversation. His huge, hard body was against hers, his rough hand on her skin, feeling his hot breath, his voice. She took his hand from her hip and pushed it between her legs as she leaned against him.
“I trust you. I do. But I don’t want to talk.”
He grunted, and she wasn’t sure whether it was frustration or desire she heard in the sound. When she felt his mouth on her neck and his hand pulling the collar of her top away from her shoulder, she had an idea it was the latter. Good. No talking.
Suddenly, he bent and lifted her into his arms. Leaving the Jack where it stood on the counter, he turned and carried her to the bedroom. The way Show carried her, flipped her, dragged her, moved her where he wanted her was incredibly sexy. It made her feel incredibly sexy.
Once they were in the bedroom, he stood her at the side of the bed and started to take off her top. Well, he tried. He couldn’t work out the wrap tie, so she gently pushed his hands away and did it herself. Then, figuring she’d already started undressing herself, she continued. Show, who’d shed his shirt and beater in the meantime, looked disappointed, but then carried on with his own clothes. Finished before he was, Shannon lay in the middle of the bed and watched him undress as she waited for him to join her.
He didn’t wear underwear—or, at least, she’d never seen him wear underwear. Just him and his Levi’s. She liked the sight of the thatch of sandy brown hair that nested his cock emerging as he unbuttoned his fly. He didn’t have a lot of body hair—his legs, his forearms, under his arms, that delightful, narrow swath between his navel and his cock. Shannon didn’t like a lot of body hair on her or anyone else, but Show had just the right amount. A deliciously manly amount.
She loved his cock, too. God, the way it made her feel. She hadn’t even touched it yet, not with her hands. And not with her mouth. They’d only been together a few days like this—the night of Badger’s party would never, ever count—but still, it seemed odd. She’d offered, she’d wanted to—but he’d held her off, taking control and entering her instead. He liked to be in control. He liked her passive. Generally, she was quite okay with that, just giving herself over to what he could do to her, but she wanted to touch him, too. Really touch him. Get to know his body the way he was already getting to know hers. Let him feel what she could do to him.
Again he grabbed her hand away and held it down on the bed. This time, though, he said, “No, Shannon.”
“Why not? I want to touch you. I want to feel you.”
He released her hand and slid his palm up her arm and down her chest, over her breast to her belly, and between her legs. She gasped and flexed. “I’m all over you. That’s not enough?”
She was shocked to discover that it wasn’t. “No. I want to explore. I want to participate. At least part of the time.”
With a huff, he rolled and sat up, leaning against her headboard. For a second, he looked like he was going to do more, like get off the bed, maybe leave, and she felt a thrill of worry. But he stayed put. She was confused. A guy who didn’t want his dick touched?
She sat up, crossing her legs and facing him. “I don’t understand, Show.”
He scoffed. “Now you want me to tell you something else. You won’t tell me jack shit.”
“That’s not fair. I’ve told you lots—about my town, my childhood, my family—”
He cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. “No, you told me not to ask about your family. And I’m not. But I don’t like you pushing, then. I’m feeling like I got the short side of the deal, laying shit out for you while you sit there with your mouth shut.”
“There’s nothing to know. There’s just stuff I don’t talk about. Ever. But my stuff isn’t in our way. It’s not, I promise. This—whatever it is—is in our way now.”
“Only ‘cuz you’re pushing. I could have had you singing a fucking aria by now if you had just let it be.” His blue eyes blazed at her. He was really angry.
This night was just bizarre. It was too soon for everything between them to be so off-kilter. And it was her fault. She knew it, but she didn’t know how to fix it. She scooted off the bed and picked her black velvet robe off the chair nearby.
“I’m going to go get that drink.”
He didn’t respond in any way.
She went out to the kitchen and poured herself vodka with ice and a twist in one of her crystal glasses. Shannon liked nice things, and she’d achieved enough success to warrant indulgence in things like silk lingerie and cut-crystal glassware for everyday. The Jack bottle was sitting there, an identical glass next to it. She thought about pouring Show a drink as a peace offering, but the angry look he’d turned on her when she left the room discouraged her from the attempt. Instead, she took her drink and went into the dark sitting room. She needed to think.
Her drink was empty and the ice melting when Show came in and sat down next to her, dressed only in his jeans. He stared at the floor between his feet. And then he talked.
“After Iris was born, Holly and I had sex when the baby was about two months old. You have to wait awhile after a baby, so mama can get healed up. But it hurt her—so bad she was hysterical. She has some kind of condition, came on with that last birth, I guess. I don’t remember the name. Starts with a ‘V.’ Doctor told her there wasn’t much to do about it. That’s the last time we ever had sex.”
Shannon turned to face him on the sofa, bringing her leg up and folding it under her. He glanced up. “Iris is nine.”
“God.” She didn’t know what else to say. He could not possibly be telling her that he he’d gone without sex for nine years. That was insane. So was he saying that he cheated? It had to be that.
Looking back at the floor, he said, “That was hard. I guess that’s when things started really going sour for us. A few years back, when we weren’t even sleeping in the same bed anymore, she told me she wouldn’t care if I got head at the clubhouse.” He laughed. “Strange to say it hurt my feelings, her giving me permission like that. But eventually I did it. Gets to be where any touch will do, I guess. By the end, I guess I was getting it a couple times a month. Always felt like shit about it. I don’t know why. Holly didn’t care—it wasn’t one of those things you women do, where you say something’s okay when it in truth it could not be less okay. She honest to God did not care. Still felt like shit.”
Sighing heavily, he rested against the back of the sofa. “Anyway. Until you and I were…together, I didn’t know it, but those bad feelings are all wrapped up in me still. I don’t want to see you bobbing on my dick like a club whore.”
The harshness of his last words felt like a slap to Shannon, but she knew he didn’t mean them to hurt her. In a way, he meant them to honor her. This man seemed to have nearly infinite patience. It boggled her mind. “I can’t believe you stood for all that. I can’t believe you stayed.”
He shrugged. “I made a promise. The vows don’t say ‘in sickness and in health or until she won’t fuck you’.”
“You are unlike anyone I’ve ever known.” Making a quick, sure decision, she shifted and straddled him. “How about like this? Is this okay?” She opened the belt on her robe and let it fall open, exposing her body to him. Even in the dark room, with only the light from the kitchen glowing in, she saw the heat flare in his eyes.
“Oh, yeah.” He reached between them and opened his jeans, pulling his cock out with one hand, sliding the other arm under her ass to lift so he could position himself.
When she felt him pushing inside her, she took over, seating herself hard on him, so that he penetrated her fully and quickly. They both groaned at that, and Show muttered, “Fuck, yeah” and grabbed her hips. She shrugged her robe off her shoulders and let it drop so she was fully naked, feeling the rough denim and metal of his jeans against her thighs and all the way to her folds. He bent his head to capture a nipple and suckle her, and she leaned back, arching, exposing herself even more to him. The move changed the angle of his penetration, pushing him hard against the most sensitive spot inside her, and, moaning, she flexed forcefully, as fast as she could, trying to make it so he stayed right on that spot.
He laughed against her nipple. “That good right there, hon?”
“Oh, yes,” she gasped. “So intense.”
Changing his hold on her so that she could lie back, and he could still suckle her, but he had one hand free, he pressed the heel of that hand into her abdomen, low, just above the pubic bone. He pressed firmly—and her eyes flew open as she practically exploded with sensation. She was making porn star noises, she could hear herself but not stop herself, these loud, moany cries of “Yes, yes, yes!”
And he was, too. He’d released her breast and was grunting, “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” And then, as her body turned to liquid, he threw his head back and tensed, his hands curling into her skin.
As he relaxed, he pulled her close, and she dropped her head to his shoulder, spent.
She still wanted to get to know his body, all of it. She still wanted to feel and taste him every way possible. But she could wait, as long as she had to. He was worth waiting for.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Show sat with his brothers in the Keep, paying less attention than he probably should be. In the past several months, club business had become regular, quiet, and the Horde meetings were the same. As Isaac and C.J. discussed the club funds—C..J, the only member not already an officer with any kind of head for numbers, had taken over the Secretary/Treasurer post after Dan’s death—Show let his mind wander to Shannon. They’d been what he felt comfortable thinking of as a couple for a month now, and he was all but living in her apartment at the B&B. He’d spent five nights a week there, at least.
That chafed at him some, staying at her place, which was so perfect and white, but she rightly didn’t like staying at the clubhouse, and he still hadn’t been able to see his way to move back to the house. He’d gone over a couple of times, when the weath
er allowed it, to take care of some of the yard cleanup—tearing down and hauling off the old swing set, raking and hoeing up the leaves and deadfall and burning it off—and he’d gone into the house and sat in the living room a few times, and in Daisy’s room once. That day, he’d also gone in and taken her journals out of the lockbox, but he hadn’t gotten past the first page of the oldest book before he had to stop.
And he still hadn’t been able to go into the kitchen. He just wasn’t ready to live in that house again. He’d considered selling it and moving to another, but he couldn’t do that, either. It was the only home Daisy had ever had.
“Show? You with us, brother?” Isaac was looking at him, one eyebrow raised. Show looked around the table. He had everyone’s attention. Apparently a question had been sent his way, and he’d missed it. Not like him. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.
“Sorry, sorry. Lot on my mind. What’s up?”
Isaac’s sardonic look shifted to concern. “Trouble?”
“Nah. Mind just wandered for a second.”
The eyebrow came back up. “We boring you?”
Show glared back, and Isaac, grinning, said, “I want you in with me on a call to Stan in L.A. He sent a copy of the script draft. I got concerns.” He got up and went to a small table in the corner of the room, on which was a tallish stack of paper. Returning to the table, he walked to each member, dropped a script in front of him. “I want everybody at this table to read it, then we meet and figure it out, but I think Show and I need a chat with Stan. These scripts don’t leave the clubhouse, and NO ONE but the men in this room reads them without my say.”
“What concerns?” Show leaned forward and picked up the script in front of him.
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