by Ana Novak
Finally acquiescing, he dug his fingers into my thighs and began hammering into me, deep enough that I felt a twinge of discomfort, but that wasn’t enough to stop sweet release from rolling over me. “Yes,” I whispered, “don’t stop, baby, don’t stop.”
His cock pounded into me as his breathing grew raspy. I knew he was close, and I dug my fingernails into his shoulders, drawing a groan from him. That pushed him over the edge. With one final thrust, he held, his shoulders shaking beneath my hands.
I kissed his neck, holding him close and listening to the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. I didn’t want to let him go, and for several long moments we remained like that, him holding me up, me with my legs wrapped around him.
When he moved, it was a half step back, and then he gently lowered me to the ground. My bare feet connected with the carpet and the hem of my skirt unfurled again, covering my legs. I was grateful, because my legs were shaking and I wasn’t sure if it was obvious.
Shane turned away to clean himself up, but I stayed where I was, leaning unsteadily against the wall.
He’d dragged an admission from me using sex as bait, but somehow I wasn’t angry. Instead I felt…strange. It took me a second to figure out what the feeling was.
Fear.
Fear because I knew now that I loved him, and fear because losing him would be the end of me.
I looked up and saw him watching me from the bedroom doorway. The solid silhouette of his body was mouth-watering. I wanted him again, but I knew sex wasn’t going to cure this addiction.
“I think you’re going to break my heart,” I said.
He shook his head. “I think you’re going to break mine.”
It was so easy to be with him, as easy as breathing. I’d already crossed the point of no return. There was no saving myself now. Dave might have left me a little battered, but Shane would shatter me into a thousand pieces.
“I need to sleep,” I said, feeling lightheaded.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, and the vulnerability in those words slashed through me like a knife.
“No,” I said.
After another long silence, he moved forward and reached out a hand, and I let him lead me into the bedroom.
Chapter 15
The pipes in the wall rattled when the shower started up, and I could hear it even from the kitchen. I whisked eggs in a bowl, listening to the familiar creak of the shower door as Shane stepped inside.
Truth be told, I was surprised he was awake this early. It was just after eight AM, and I wouldn’t have expected him to be up for at least another hour. I’d planned to wake him myself once the omelettes were ready.
Suddenly there was a pounding at the front door, and I jumped, startled. Who would be coming by at this hour? “Oh, god,” I muttered. I really hoped it wasn’t a neighbor rolling out the welcome wagon. I’d been through that enough in Oroville when I’d slunk back home with my tail between my legs.
I put the bowl down and padded across the living room to the door. When I looked through the peephole, my heart sank. It was Dave. He was uncharacteristically dressed down, wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, his normally perfect hair stylishly mussed. He carried a paper grocery bag in one hand.
I stepped back from the door and bit my lip, toying with the idea of pretending like I wasn’t home. Dave didn’t have a key and it wasn’t likely Shane would fault me for ghosting my ex-husband. I could just hide out. Dave would never know.
Then my phone rang from the coffee table, blaring an old Linkin Park song at top volume, and I bit back a groan. The ringer was set loud enough that I knew Dave could hear it through the door. I looked back through the peephole and was completely unsurprised to see that Dave was actually calling me, his phone pressed to his ear as he stared intently at the door, almost like he was expecting to be able to look through the peephole back at me.
“Damn it,” I muttered, and reluctantly slid the chain back on the door before unlatching the deadbolt. “Hi,” I said, opening the door a crack. My tone was flat, and I hoped he’d take the hint.
“Good morning,” he said, and smiled charmingly as he held up the grocery bag. “I brought breakfast.”
“Now isn’t a good time,” I said.
“Don’t be like that, Taylor. We need to fix this.”
“No.” I thought about all the times I’d tried to talk to him when we were married, when he’d given me the silent treatment and I’d been left trying to guess what I’d done wrong, and the familiar bitterness bubbled up inside of me. “No. We really don’t.”
“I’m not asking to get back together. I understand you’ve moved on. But we have unfinished business to resolve.”
“Are you kidding me? What unfinished business could we possibly have?”
His next move surprised me. Dave shoved the door open, pushing with enough force that I stumbled back a step. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, strolling in like he owned the damn place. “You can’t keep running around like this, Taylor. This is important. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
If I hadn’t already acclimated to his controlling behavior over the eight years we were together, I would have been shocked at his audacity. As it was, I had to clench my hands into fists to remind myself that assault was a prosecutable offense. “So you’re into forced entry now, huh?” I asked, my voice tight as I folded my arms across my chest. “I understand you might not have heard it from me all that often over the last ten years, Dave, but no means no.”
“I’m not going to let you push me away anymore,” he said, infuriatingly patronizing. “You’re all over the tabloids. It’s time we settled this.”
“Things were pretty well settled when the judge finalized our divorce. Or did you forget that you no longer have any right to be in my life? I can see how it might have slipped your mind, what with your busy social life and all.”
“Stop. I haven’t been with anyone since we separated.”
“Are you kidding me? I saw you stick your tongue down your boss’s throat four months after I moved out. Do I look stupid? I must look stupid.”
“You don’t look stupid,” he said, and the lilt to his voice was glowing and magnanimous, like he thought my self-directed insult was genuine and that he needed to defend me.
He made me want to throw up. “Gee, thanks. That means a lot.”
“I know you still feel something for me,” he went on. As usual, he was completely oblivious to the venomous vibes I was sending his way.
“I feel nauseated,” I said helpfully.
“I can see why,” came a gravelly voice from the direction of the bedroom.
Dave and I both looked over to see Shane in my bedroom doorway. His hair was wet from the shower, and he wore a pair of jeans and nothing else. I felt a small and ridiculously immature rush of satisfaction. Shane’s entrance couldn’t have been more poetic if I’d planned it, and as blind as Dave was, there was no way he would mistake Shane’s half-naked presence for anything other than what it was, a confirmation that he’d spent the night.
Dave’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Kruger,” he said. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Do you really have to ask?” I said, trying to inject as much disbelief into my tone as I could manage.
“Were you seeing him the whole time we were together?” Dave asked, glaring at me. I’m sure he thought he looked furious. I only knew he was glaring because of the furrow between his eyebrows, which I’d seen more than a few times during our marriage. The rest of his face was completely unchanged from its usual expressionless state.
“I’m not the one who’s been unfaithful,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You cheated on me, remember?”
“And now I know why you weren’t interested in working things out,” he snapped.
“Oh, please, David. Do you really think I trekked all the way to Manhattan for your company party that night because I wasn’t interested in working things out?”
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“What a coincidence that you ended up spending the night with Kruger instead.”
“Because I caught you kissing your boss, and I ran into him outside the hotel,” I countered. “It’s not like I planned it beforehand.”
“Really?” Dave’s upper lip curled in disgust. “That’s the kind of person you’ve become?”
“This may come as news to you, Dave, but I’m allowed to have sex without asking your permission. Don’t turn this around on me. You cheated on me, I left you. It’s over. You have no right to be here and you definitely have no right to question my relationship with Shane or demand to know how long we’ve been dating.” Belatedly, I realized I’d said the word dating, something I’d steadfastly avoided up until now on account of this being strictly a friends with benefits arrangement. I lifted my chin to hide my embarrassment, thankful that Shane didn’t correct me, and met Dave’s gaze squarely. “You need to leave. Now.”
Dave looked at me, then at Shane. His mouth was agape with astonishment, and I set my jaw, doing my best to hide my frustration. Far from feeling like he’d overstepped any bounds, Dave was actually flabbergasted that I was throwing him out instead of caving to his demands and apologizing for being with Shane.
I looked over at Shane and saw that he was staring at me, his dark gaze so intense that it almost frightened me. His fists were clenched, his body tensed, the rippling muscles of his abdomen standing out in stark relief under the smoothness of his tanned skin. I wondered at the tentative twinge of comfort that I felt, seeing him like that. I knew he could throw Dave out if he wanted to. I knew he had plenty of things to say about the way my ex-husband was acting. But Shane, never one to play the alpha male even though he was more than capable of it, was letting me take the lead.
He was so sexy in that moment that I had to physically resist the urge to run to him and kiss him senseless. Shane probably wouldn’t have minded, but Dave would have blown his top.
Mustering every ounce of my self-control, I brushed past Dave and grabbed the front door, which was still standing ajar after he had unceremoniously forced his way inside. “Leave,” I said firmly, and my voice was clear and unwavering.
For one horrible moment, I thought Dave would continue to argue with me and that he had no intention of leaving without being bodily forced to do so. And when he looked at Shane again, his mouth set grimly, I thought he might actually start something physical. But then he seemed to think better of it, and he turned and walked out the door, pausing in the doorway as he turned toward me.
“We’re never going to make it through the wedding like this,” he pointed out. It was a pathetically last ditch effort at convincing me. “Everyone will know.”
“Everyone already knows,” I said. “The finalization of our divorce was all over the gossip sites. And as you’ve so kindly pointed out to me, the world already knows that I’m with Shane. I’m done caring about what people think. I know what I want, and it isn’t you. Goodbye, David.”
He held my gaze until the very last second, when he had to step out into the hallway to avoid being struck by the door. I threw the deadbolt and slid the chain on, resting my hands against the door after.
I’d done it. I’d finally said what I wanted to say to Dave.
I felt lighter. I felt vindicated. I felt…
Grateful.
“Thank you,” I said slowly, turning to face Shane.
He glanced over toward the kitchen, and I could see the tension bleed from his shoulders as he took a breath, vulnerability showing in his expression. He hadn’t walked away. He had come to my defense without saying a word. And he’d done it after our not-quite-fight last night, without hesitation.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“You didn’t have to,” I replied. Before I could talk myself out of it, I crossed the living room and put my arms around him, sliding my hands across the hard plane of his back, resting my cheek against the solid muscle of his chest. He enveloped me in his arms, and I closed my eyes, never wanting the moment to end. The security of his embrace was like a warm blanket, but definitely much sexier.
“You’re the perfect man,” I said.
I felt more than heard the rumble of laughter from his chest. “I’m not perfect, sweetheart.”
I lifted my head and looked up at him, at the liquid sable of his eyes, the hard line of his brow, and the firm fullness of his lips. “No,” I answered. “You’re definitely perfect.”
He leaned down to claim my mouth with his. I allowed myself a moment to enjoy it- enjoy him- before pulling away to apologize.
“I’m sorry I said we were dating. It just kind of slipped out.”
One eyebrow went up. “We’re not dating?”
My heart skipped a beat, but with monumental effort, I managed to conceal my reaction. “He’s got a big mouth. He’ll tell other people and pretty soon the tabloids will be trying to guess when we’re getting married.” I turned and headed for the kitchen, remembering the omelettes.
“Mmm.” Shane trailed after me, leaning against the bar counter that faced the living room. He watched me as I picked up the bowl with the eggs again. “You’re real stuck on that, aren’t you? Feelings. Gossip. What other people think.”
There was no venom in his statement, no accusation, and I paused for only a moment before continuing with my whisking. “Can you blame me?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light. “Dave constantly texts me the headlines about you and me. He makes me despair for the entire male gender.”
“He’s a controlling jackass,” Shane said dryly. “Not all of us are.”
“I hope this doesn’t cause problems for you at work,” I answered, deliberately avoiding expanding on Dave’s shortcomings. I didn’t want to bring my lingering bitterness into this conversation, especially so soon after my near-meltdown last night.
Shane shrugged, bracing his elbows on the counter. “He won’t make problems for me. It’d cause too much trouble for him.”
I adjusted the heat on the burner, propping one hand on my hip as I stared down at the pan. Whether I liked it or not, Shane was a celebrity, and he was afforded a certain kind of status because of it. Dave, despite the fact that he rubbed elbows with top recording artists on a daily basis, didn’t have the kind of clout that Shane commanded. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I’d always prided myself on staying out of the spotlight, and yet here I was, back with the man who had made me a regular tabloid fixture for almost two years.
“I realize it’s hard to believe,” I said, “But I really didn’t know who you were that first night.”
“I know.” Hearing the not-quite-concealed amusement in his voice, I looked up to see him grinning crookedly at me. “That was one of the things I liked about you. That and the way you looked in that little black dress.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, me and the forty extra pounds I carried around back then.”
“Did you see me complaining?”
“No, I guess not.” I returned his smile. “You’re too polite to say anything about that.”
“Polite? Nah.” He shook his head. “You’ve got me all wrong, Taylor.”
“I think you’re a gentleman.” I busied myself with grating cheese. “You respect women. You’re not controlling.”
“A gentleman?”
The mood changed instantly. He came around the counter and moved up behind me. I bit my lip, unsure of what would happen next, but then I felt his hands on my hips, his fingers sliding around to brush against the vee at the apex of my thighs. Electricity sparked inside me at his touch.
He murmured into my ear, “Goddamn, Taylor, you’ve got me all wrong.”
I loved the solidness of him against my back, and I instinctively curved into him, our bodies fitting together perfectly. This was familiar for me, a welcome relief from the uncertainty of conversation. A moan escaped my lips as his hand slid up, his fingers finding their way beneath the waistband of my pajama pants and flattening against my stomach.<
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“When have you ever been anything but a gentleman?” I asked breathlessly, leaning my head back against his chest.
“I wasn’t a gentleman when I fucked you the first night we met,” he whispered against my neck, moving his head down to kiss the curve of my shoulder. “I barely even knew your name. All I knew was that I wanted you.”
“I wanted you, too.” His hand was against my sex now, sliding through my slick folds and teasing me mercilessly. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
“I wasn’t a gentleman when I was pushing you up against the wall at the club even though I knew there were people taking pictures,” he murmured, and my breath caught. At the time, I’d been so turned on I hadn’t even stopped to consider that people might be watching, but even afterwards, I hadn’t cared that our moment had been captured on camera. I’d been too consumed with my desire for him.
“Shane,” I said, and my voice was hoarse.
He stilled against me, listening.
“Turn off the burner,” I said.
The heat of his body was gone for only a moment, and I heard the click of the stove knob being turned. I turned around and he captured me, his strong hands grabbing my ass and lifting me so that I could wrap my legs around him.
I sucked his tongue into my mouth, tasting toothpaste and his familiar spiciness and wanting more as he carried me around the counter and into the living room. He fell down onto the couch on top of me. One hand was curled in my hair, firm against my scalp as he pulled me into the kiss. The other one was making short work of yanking off my pajama pants. Similarly, my hands were at the waistband of his jeans, clumsily unbuttoning his fly and tugging at the zipper.
He tore his mouth from mine. “Wait,” he muttered. “I don’t have anything.”
I groaned, frustrated at the thought of him pulling away from me to find a condom. “Have you been tested recently?” I asked, and wrapped my legs around him again, refusing to let him go.
