“Then let’s get to it, shall we?” Waiting on him had given her an opportunity to consider what she wanted to say, so she was ready for him. “For someone who is normally so damned perceptive, you’ve really missed the mark this time.” She leaned forward. “Micah told you that you were a good friend because you are. You—”
Predictably, he exploded. “How can you say that when you know—”
Shelby pushed determinedly to her feet. “When I know what? That you couldn’t get him to get the help he needed? We both know Micah Holland was so stubborn he wouldn’t have crossed the street if he didn’t want to, even if there was a naked woman holding a cake on the other side. Holding yourself accountable for his behavior is wrong on so many levels, I don’t even know where to start.”
“He wasn’t in his right mind.”
“I know,” she said pointedly. “Because if he’d been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have killed himself. It was hard enough to reason with him under normal circumstances. Thinking that you could have done more is noble, but flawed.”
“Noble?” he parroted, his voice harsh. He stalked toward her, his eyes smoldering with desire and frustration, longing and helplessness. “Was it noble when I cornered you under that oak tree and told you that I knew you didn’t care for Micah as much as he did for you? Was it noble when I showed you how I felt? How I’ve always felt? When I kissed you?”
Her heart hammered in her chest and she swallowed, her gaze tangling with his. He was mere inches from her face, his expression fierce and tormented. She could smell his cologne, something warm and musky with a clean finish. “You didn’t kiss me,” she told her, her gaze boring into his. “I kissed you. Because I’d wanted to do it for years, because I was tired of fighting it, because you were there and so close and I was afraid I’d never get another chance.” She felt a sad smile slide over her lips and she expelled a little breath. “So you can shrug that albatross off your neck, Eli. That one’s on me.”
He shook his head. “No, if I hadn’t pushed you—”
“You’re wrong. You didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. I cared deeply for Micah and I’d wanted things to work because he was a good man who loved me. I tried, I really did.” She bit her lip, hesitated. “But I couldn’t make myself feel something that...just wasn’t there. Not the way it should have been. It wouldn’t have been fair. To him or to me.”
“Maybe so,” he said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you were my best friend’s fiancée and—”
Irritation spiked and she snapped. “And you were my fiancé’s best friend! I know. I get it. It’s wrong. It’s shameful. It’s inconvenient.” She whirled away and threw her hands up in powerless frustration. “There. Feel better?”
Something shifted in his golden eyes. “No.”
“Good. Neither do I. Because knowing all of that doesn’t change anything, does it? It doesn’t make me want you any less.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he bit out, his voice a low growl. “Why the hell do you think I’ve been avoiding you? Why I’ve tried to stay away? But everywhere I turn—everywhere I look—there you are. On the square, at the Hollands’ place, on my back porch—” he gestured wildly “—and in my living room.” His brow folded, pained. “You’re killing me, Shelby.” He started toward her. “I give up. I quit. I can’t fight anymore.”
His surrender was bittersweet. “Oh, no,” she said, backing away when every cell in her body wanted to advance. “I’m not going to be another one of your regrets. I’m not going to be another guilt stick you can beat yourself up with.”
She wanted him—God, how she wanted him—but not like this. Not when he’d look at her afterward and see another mistake.
He kept coming, his blistering gaze fastened on her mouth, until her back hit the wall, startling the breath out of her. “Then you should have stayed home.”
She felt her eyes widen. “But—”
“Shut up, Shelby,” he said, his big hands landing on either side of her head, his mouth a mere agonizing, seemingly eternal, inch from hers. “So there’s no confusion, this time I’m going to kiss you.”
And, mercy, did he.
His lips were sure and deliciously bold when they met hers, a confident lush slide across her own that instantly melted her insides and made her stomach drop and then rebound. Her breath left her in a stuttering whoosh and she closed her eyes, savoring the perfection of the moment.
His hands still braced on either side of her head, so that only their mouths touched, he tangled his tongue around hers, curling and diving in long, masterful stokes that made her feminine muscles clench and her panties set fire. Her breasts tingled and plumped, growing heavier with each increasingly wonderful slip of his lips over hers, and with every probing lap of his tongue, she felt a corresponding sensation deep in her sex, making her body alternately tense and relax. Impossibly it felt as if his mouth was in both places, which weakened her knees and liquefied her bones.
Though his mouth was self-assured and unhurried, she could feel the tension buzzing around his big frame, the quake of his arms as they stayed planted beside her head. It was almost as if he was deliberately not touching her, which was infuriating, but strangely erotic. She longed to feel his hands against her skin, the warmth of his body against hers. She wanted to taste him all over, to lick a path up the side of his neck and sample the soft skin behind his ear.
Unable to stand it any longer, Shelby lifted her hands, snagged the front waistband of his jeans and tugged him to her. His reaction was swift and gratifying. As though she’d inadvertently thrown a switch, his control snapped.
Without warning, he growled low in his throat, then picked her up, his hands going beneath her dress to her rump. Pleasure whipped through her, pulling a gasp from her lips, and she instantly wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. The hot, hard length of him nudged her aching sex and she inhaled sharply, then pressed herself against him.
It wasn’t the least bit subtle, but damned effective.
Ultimately, she just didn’t care. His big hands were kneading her ass, his hot mouth was against her throat and every nerve ending in her body was painfully aware of him.
Just him. Eli. At last.
She clawed at his shirt, determined to get her hands on his bare skin, while he stumbled and bounced them around the living room, completely, wholly lost in her. In that moment, she owned him and nothing—nothing—had ever felt so important or more thrilling. They dislodged a picture from the wall and knocked over a metal urn of dried flowers, before he finally swept a lamp from the table and set her on top of it.
He made quick work of the row of buttons down the back of her dress and she shrugged her shoulders out of it while he whipped his shirt over his head.
Glorious muscle draped over masculine bone. Sleek, supple skin...
She blinked drunkenly, intoxicated by him, high on need, wasted on desire.
Breathing hard, his golden eyes feasted on her bare breasts, before tasting them, his thumbs brushing their undersides while his fingers splayed over her quaking ribs. His hot mouth closed over a nipple and suckled, making her sex fist and beg.
In answer, she cupped him through his jeans, thrilled when he hissed against her skin, then loosened the snap and lowered the zipper. He was hot and hard and, sweet merciful heavens...large.
He quaked when she touched him, then found her other breast and slipped a hand beneath her dress, his clever fingers slipping along the inside of her thigh until the crease, then dipping over, expertly brushing her swollen clit through her panties.
She jerked, shocked by sensation, and shamelessly widened her legs. She needed him there. Now.
Hot and hard and fast and deep.
“They snap,” she breathed brokenly against his chest, licking the defining ridge beneath his left pec while stroking him with her hand, her thumb grazing the thick crown of his penis. “My panties. At the sides. Take them off.”
> He popped one side and smiled against her. “That’s ingenious.”
Ordinarily she would have been flattered, but now wasn’t the time to get distracted. She felt the other side give way, then the slide of his long fingers over her slickened nether lips before he pushed one deep inside.
He jerked in her hand, hardened even more. “Jesus, you’re tight.”
She spasmed, her muscles grasping at him. Shelby groaned and bit her lip.
She was going to die if he didn’t take her, if he didn’t—
To her whimpering displeasure, he stilled and swore hotly. “I didn’t bring any condoms. I didn’t think—”
“I’m healthy and I’m protected. You good?”
“I’m good.”
She scooted forward and guided him to her entrance, sucked a breath through her teeth as he nudged against her, then inexplicably found his gaze. His eyes were heavy-lidded, blazing with golden heat and roiling with emotion. He was beautiful, magnificent in his masculinity. And so, so dear.
Then, with as much tenderness as desperation, he wrapped his powerful arms around her, and kissed her as he entered her in one blisteringly perfect thrust. Every muscle in her body rejoiced in relief, in recognition, in bliss and she came instantly, crying out as the sweet, redeeming storm of release thundered around her.
10
IT WAS A GOOD DAMNED thing he was holding on to her, Eli thought, as Shelby’s tight, hot channel squeezed greedily around him. Little white spots danced behind his lids, his knees weakened and, though he hadn’t “detonated on impact” so to speak, since his early teens, he came hellishly close to doing just that.
Because she felt so good. Better than good. Better than great. Better than anything he’d ever felt in his life. She was eager and responsive, her keening cry as she clung to him the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life. Her need sharpened his own; they sparked off each other until they were little more than two flames curling around each other.
Anchoring an arm around her waist and one on her hip, Eli drew back then pushed into her again, burying himself to the root. He was mindless with desire, bent on nothing but her pleasure, on making her his, focusing solely on what was happening between them.
He’d been thinking about this for years, dreaming about losing himself inside of her, filling his hands with her breasts, smelling her sweet skin, tasting those unbelievably carnal lips...but nothing could have prepared him for the genuine article.
She was exquisite, beyond compare.
Rosy-tipped breasts, flushed skin, the ripe curve of her ass...
At some point she’d taken her hair down and the long tendrils hung loosely around her small shoulders. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses, her eyes had darkened to a deep jade and her lids hung at half-mast, as though they were too weighted with pleasure to fully open.
She held on to him, her hands sliding over his back, his ribs, then she raked her nails gently down his chest, grazing his nipples in the process and the little sting of pain sent a bolt of heat directly to his groin, surprising him with its intensity. He plunged in and out of her, over and over, harder and harder until sweat dewed on her body and the mewling groans coming from her throat grew more pronounced. She tightened around him once again, squeezing his cock so hard he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming.
Not yet, dammit.
He’d deliberately kept his hands off of her when he’d kissed her because he’d known—known—that when he touched her, that would be it. He’d lose it. And he had. Instead of taking her to bed, like he’d dreamed of doing—or hell, even lowering her to the floor, which would have made more sense—he’d ricocheted off the bleeding walls until he’d found the little table and sat her there. The back edge of the table hit the wall and the legs squeaked across the floor with every thrust into her, every frantic push into her achingly tight little body, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t. Because everything he had, everything he’d ever been or ever would be, was wrapped up in her.
She bent forward and licked his nipple, blew on it, sending gooseflesh skittering across the small of his back, then she reached around him and grabbed his ass, squeezing it with a possessive growl of delight that made him want to beat his chest and roar.
He pumped harder, his balls tightening, heralding the first flash of orgasm. He could feel it gathering force in his loins, strengthening like a tropical storm over the gulf. Lightning bolts of pleasure struck him, electrifying every cell in his body, and need thundered through his blood. She bent forward again, lightly sinking her teeth into the tiny sensitized nub of his nipple and he exploded.
Release blasted through him, rocking him to his core, shaking his foundation. Every muscle alternately froze then melted, making him tremble and shake against her. She held on to him, then bent forward and sucked hard on his shoulder while tightening rhythmically around him, her feminine walls drawing every ounce of pleasure out of him, while her mouth mimicked the intimate act.
Bloody damned hell...
He’d died and gone to cock heaven, Eli thought, as the last vestiges of release pulsed through him.
She pressed a kiss against him, then drew back to look at him. Her eyes sparkled with sated desire and her lips curled into a satisfied smile. He felt that grin set like a hook in his chest and tug. He was doomed, Eli thought. But he’d figured that out a long time ago.
Her eyes widened significantly and she exhaled a lengthy breath. “Oh, my God. That was...”
“Epic,” he finished, smiling down at her.
“Wicked good,” she added.
He lifted her up and helped her down off the table, stupidly delighted when she wobbled a little on her feet. His clearly weren’t the only knees that were malfunctioning. “Long overdue,” he improvised.
Her eyes warmed. “The prologue.”
He liked the sound of that, Eli thought, smiling. “What do you say we finish this conversation in the bathtub?”
She grinned. “You get the towels and I’ll get the booze.”
Ten minutes later, they were settled at opposite ends of the old cast-iron bathtub, her feet resting on either side of hips. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Eli said broodily. He’d wanted her to lean back against him, let him hold her. “But I have to admit this position has its advantages.” Her head rested against the lip of the tub, her bare breasts playing peekaboo with the water. She looked relaxed and gorgeous, innately sensual.
“I wanted to be able to look at you,” she told him, running her fingers along the inside of his calf. “I have to be able to see your face. It’s the only glimpse I get into your head.”
He snorted, took a pull from the bottle they were sharing. “What are you talking about? You’re always in my head. Most of the time it’s damned uncomfortable,” he admitted grimly.
She smiled, seemingly pleased.
“And you like that, don’t you? You like winding me up so you can watch me spin,” he said.
Her gaze tangled with his. “You don’t spin enough,” she said, startling the hell out of him. “You keep everything so tightly locked down that when you finally let go, you have absolutely no control. You’re a pressure cooker,” she explained, as though that was supposed to make sense.
He arched a skeptical brow. “A pressure cooker?”
“Yes. You do your best work under pressure. It’s your element, what gives you control. You’re fast and efficient and are more comfortable at boiling point. But when your regulator gets jammed and you don’t have any way to let off the steam, you explode.” She grinned widely. “And it’s awesome.”
Much as he hated to admit it, disturbingly, her analogy made sense. He did like to be in control—years of not having any would do that to a person. That’s what had always scared him about Shelby. She was the only person who’d ever been able to make him lose it.
It was terrifying. And wonderful.
“You know what I like best about watching you spin?” she asked, her
tone light.
He wasn’t altogether certain he wanted to find out. “I’m sure you’ll tell me,” he drawled.
“It’s what comes out of it. It’s you, unfiltered. Genuine.”
He laughed uncomfortably. “I’m beginning to wonder if I should be lying on a couch.”
She playfully flipped her foot, splashing him with water. “Go ahead and make fun,” she said. “But you know I’m right.”
She was, damn her.
She shifted, scooting forward until she straddled him. He settled his hands at her waist, looked up at her. Moonlight cast a halo around the back of her head and her creamy skin gleamed in the night. She was warm and wet and beautiful and...everything, he realized with a short breath. He ached, looking at her. Burned.
She framed his face with her hands, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. Her touch was reverent, awed. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” she asked, her voice low and foggy. “Just touch you.” She leaned forward and slipped her nose along his jaw, breathing him in. “Just feel your skin beneath my hands.”
Heat pooled in his loins, rousing him instantly, and she slipped over the length of him, undulating her hips.
“Are you going to be okay with this, Eli?
Really?” She shifted, taking the engorged head of his cock barely into her body, and waited. “Because if you’re not, then you need to tell me now,” she said. “I don’t want to wake up in the morning and see any regret or guilt on your face.” She rested her forehead against his. “I couldn’t bear it. It would break my heart.”
She was breaking his right now. He hated that he’d made her doubt him, that she wasn’t sure of him, even after what had just happened between them.
Was their history complicated? Yes. Did he wish they would have met under different circumstances? Possibly. But considering he probably would have never met her at all without Micah, then that didn’t seem quite right, either.
He would be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him that still felt odd about moving in on Micah’s girl, knowing how he’d felt about her. But Micah was gone and staying away from her—denying them both—wasn’t going to bring him back.
The Rule-Breaker Page 10
