I'll Show You Mine

by Lauren Gallagher

  “Fair enough.”

  “This might be easier if you’re not sitting up.”

  She licked her lips and grinned. “You’re probably right.”

  “Oh, I am.” He kissed her, and without breaking that kiss, guided her down onto her back across the sofa. As he hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties, he kissed his way down to her neck. “I confess,” he murmured, drawing her panties over her hips, “that I think about fucking you.” And holding you. “The way you sound when you come.” The way you laugh. “And I…” Want you more than I should. “I can’t resist you, Alyssa.”

  “Then don’t.”

  He didn’t. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Twin sensations of relief jolted through him—one that they were finally touching, and two, that in spite of their attempts to put things out on the table and talk about them, Shane’s past was still tucked safely away in his mind. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt either of them. Not tonight, anyway. He knew he’d have to tell her eventually. This wasn’t the casual fling they’d set out to have, and she was getting too far under his skin for him to delude himself into thinking she’d be gone before he had a chance to scare her away with the truth.

  Her nails trailed up the back of his neck and into his hair, a gentle, spine-tingling touch from claws that had scored his skin with the evidence of her pleasure the other night. “We should… Bedroom…”

  “Good idea.” Shane stood and offered her his hand. She took it, and she didn’t let go once she was on her feet. Instead, she led him out of the room, and they both damn near sprinted down the hall. Shane’s heart was going a million miles an hour—he was overwhelmed, shifting gears from almost confessing their sins to this feverish, insatiable lust. He’d dodged a bullet, and then whiplashed to this. Thank God.

  Alyssa shut the bedroom door and faced him, and holy shit, her eyes were filled with lust. Pure, burning lust.

  As Shane pulled her back into his arms, vague recognition of something—something not right with the world, something that should had unsettled him—fluttered past the outer edges of his consciousness, a here-and-gone sensation like a stranger bumping by in a crowd, but it didn’t concern him as much as his need to taste Alyssa’s kiss again.

  So he didn’t worry about it. He just kissed her again.

  On their way to the bed, they stripped off the last remaining clothes, and then, with his body weight, Shane guided her down until she was lying on the mattress.

  “Get a condom,” she pleaded. “I want you. Now.”

  “Not gonna argue with that.”

  He kissed her lightly, then reached for a condom. As soon as it was on, he guided himself to her, both of them breathing hard and trembling with anticipation. All his thoughts evaporated as he slowly pushed himself into her.

  “You’re so fucking tight like this,” he breathed. “Jesus, your pussy is…” Fuck. He wanted to slam into her, hard and fast, but any more than this, and he’d come much too soon. He was just too damned turned on. Groaning softly, he kissed the side of her neck, his whole body trembling with the exertion it took to move this slowly inside her.

  “You feel so good,” she moaned.

  “So do you.” He pressed his lips just beneath her jaw. “In fact, I want you on top.” He lifted his head and met her eyes. “I want…I want to see you.”

  She whimpered and nodded.

  Shane pulled out, and they changed positions. As soon as he was on his back, she was on top of him, and before he could form a single thought, he was inside her again. She took over, riding his cock fast and hard, and he forced himself to stay in control. Oh, he was close, but he wasn’t ready for this to be over yet.

  Holy shit, she was beautiful like this. No, more than that. Fucking stunning. Her disheveled hair fell over her shoulders, and when she tossed her head to get a few strands of it out of her face, he shivered right down to his curling toes.

  As he stared up at her, he heard the echoes of the confessions he hadn’t been able to actually speak. And right alongside the arousal only she could bring to life in him, he felt the same nervous knot he’d had the whole time they’d been playing the game. That double-edged apprehensive feeling:

  I’m afraid to tell you who I am.

  I want you to know who I am.

  The woman above him, the woman riding him and lost in bliss, made him feel things he couldn’t ignore. Even like this, in the throes of the kind of mind-blowing sex that should’ve killed his ability to form a coherent thought, he couldn’t ignore what he felt. He couldn’t pretend the sting in his eyes was solely a result of the powerful climax building in him as he fucked her.

  He ran his hands up her smooth curves to her breasts, and he cupped them as they bounced in time with her movements, and her eyes opened. She met his gaze. And she grinned.

  And he couldn’t breathe.

  Oh my God. This is real.

  She bit her lip, screwing her eyes shut, and her whole body shook with the energy of the orgasm she struggled to hold back.

  Watching her, feeling her, knowing how close she was, it took all the restraint he had to keep his own orgasm at bay. About the time he couldn’t take another moment, he breathed, “Come, Alyssa.”

  Another gasp. A shudder. Then she threw her head back and let go. Her body trembled and her pussy tightened and her back arched, and how the fuck she stayed completely silent, he’d never know.

  Before her orgasm had even come and gone, he pulled her down and buried his face against her neck, and all it took was one breath—of her perfume, her skin, her hair—and he was over the edge. Shane squeezed his eyes shut, thrust into her as deep as he possibly could, and shuddered.

  She slumped over him. Her skin was hot against his, and he couldn’t tell whose thundering heartbeat was whose.

  After a moment, she pushed herself up on her arms and looked down at him. He touched her face, running the pad of his thumb across her flushed cheek.

  His hand was unsteady against her face, but he still managed to draw her down. When their lips met, his heart was still going ninety miles an hour, but it had nothing to do with the sex they’d just had, or the orgasm still fading away.

  I want you to know who I am.

  I’m just afraid who I am will scare you away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After they’d caught their breaths and showered—separately so they wouldn’t get started again—Shane and Alyssa left for the restaurant where they’d planned to eat before they’d gotten carried away. It was a pleasant meal, and they kept the conversation light instead of delving into the topics her little game had unsuccessfully attempted to bring up. Maybe it was just as well. They were better at fucking than talking, after all.

  But Alyssa couldn’t shake the feeling that the conversation wasn’t over. It had barely started, and they hadn’t even scratched the surface of things that could screw up a relationship. All through dinner and the drive home, Alyssa could barely sit still, and this wasn’t the usual squirming she did when she was on her way home with Shane. Though she was physically satisfied—when wasn’t she with him around?—her mind was churning harder than before. When he pulled in the driveway, her stomach tightened.

  He stopped in front of the garage.

  Alyssa unbuckled her seat belt. “You want to come inside?”

  “Sure.” Shane put the car in Park and turned off the ignition, and as the engine shuddered to a stop, Alyssa’s heart raced. This was it. Either they’d look this thing in the eye and talk about it, or they’d go straight to tangled sheets, and she wasn’t sure she could stomach the latter. Not after they’d almost broached the subject before dinner. She’d worked up the nerve to start the conversation, even if they hadn’t finished it, and now…

  Now she needed to finish it. She didn’t see herself relaxing enough for sex or sleep or anything else until it
was finished.

  As she turned the dead bolt behind them, she muffled a cough. “Look, uh, before we—” Their eyes met, and she reminded herself and her pounding heart that this was important. More important than a rematch in the bedroom. “I think we should talk. Without…” She nodded toward the bedroom.

  “I figured,” he said softly. “You’ve been tense all evening.”

  “Yeah. No games this time. We just need to talk about this.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s go in the kitchen.” She headed that way before he could suggest otherwise, and over her shoulder asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

  She was tempted to grab a bottle of wine, but…no. That didn’t bode well for uncomfortable conversations, as she’d learned all too well with both her ex-husband and Grant. And she was way too spun up for coffee.

  Eventually, she faced him, leaning against the kitchen island while he stood in front of the sink. She folded her arms loosely across her chest to keep from fidgeting.

  The silence was as unnerving as it was unusual. Their custom from day one had been to skip the small talk—even little steps like getting into the bedroom and undressing—and go straight to the sex. This awkward you-make-the-first-move distance was alien. But that easy let’s-fuck-now-and-talk-later feeling wasn’t going to come back until they cleared the air, and that wasn’t going to happen until someone made the first move.

  She pressed back against the island for support. “What we’re doing, it’s turned into something it wasn’t supposed to in the beginning.”

  “It has. But is that good or bad?”

  “I don’t think it’s bad, but when we started out, we agreed this was going to be kind of casual and superficial. And I don’t think it can be if we’re going to keep doing some of the things we’ve been doing.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe that means we need to…talk.”

  Shane avoided her eyes. “About?”

  “I think you know.”

  Sighing, he looked at her through his lashes. “Our pasts.”

  “Yeah.” Alyssa swallowed hard. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

  He chewed his lip, then nodded. “Okay. So, who goes first?”

  “Hmm.” She looked around and then picked up a quarter off the counter. “Call it in the air?”

  Shane shrugged. “Sure.”

  She flipped it into the air, and as the coin somersaulted, he said, “Tails.”

  The quarter landed on the linoleum with a metallic clink. They both craned their necks.

  “Damn it,” she muttered. “I guess I’m going first.”

  Shane leaned back against the counter. “Okay…”

  Her heart lurched into her throat, and she stared down at her wringing hands, searching for the words even though she knew there was no delicate way to phrase any of this. Finally, she cleared her throat. “You know about my son.”

  “I do.”

  “He…” Closing her eyes, she willed her stomach to stay where it was. After a moment, she met his gaze. “I was married when I got pregnant, but…he’s not my husband’s child.”

  Shane’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t speak.

  She moistened her lips. “I’d like to say it was a one-time fling, but it wasn’t. My son’s father and I…” She hesitated, wincing at the mere thought of saying this to Shane. “It was an ongoing affair. For a year and a half. My husband found out a few months in, and he forgave me and believed me when I said I’d stop seeing Grant. But we…” Alyssa shook her head. “There’s no sugar-coating it and making it sound like anything other than what it was. I lied to my husband. I cheated on him more than once. I promised him I’d stop, but I did it anyway, and that’s…that’s how my son was conceived.”

  “Oh.” Shane shifted his weight a little but didn’t say anything more. She’d more or less expected that—no one really knew what to say at that point, and if they did, it was usually something to the effect of you’re a fucking whore and what the fuck is wrong with you? Silence was less painful, though not by much.

  “For the record,” Alyssa went on, “I do regret it. Deeply.” She exhaled. “All of it. I love my son, and some of the things I took from my relationship with Grant have… Well, to be blunt, he’s the reason I love kink.”

  “Is he?”

  Avoiding his eyes, she nodded. “He introduced me to it. And, yeah, I enjoy it, but I’m not proud of how I learned about it.”

  He shifted again, his posture tense and his eyebrows pulling together. “Wow.”

  Alyssa leaned hard against the counter. “All right. There’s mine.”

  “Yeah.” He rested his hands on the edge of the sink and looked anywhere but at her. “So I guess it’s my turn.”

  Alyssa said nothing.

  “Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, and after a long moment, lowered his hand and looked her in the eye. “To cut right to the chase, I’ve done time.”

  Alyssa’s stomach clenched. “For…?”

  Shane slowly released his breath. “Armed robbery.” In little more than a whisper, he added, “And, yes, it was a felony.”

  She swallowed. Oh. Shit.

  “I haven’t been involved in any of that since before I went to prison,” he went on. “Got my shit together, turned around and got clean, never looked back. Haven’t had so much as a parking ticket in five years.” He inhaled slowly. “But…it still happened. And I’m still…”

  “A convicted felon,” she whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  That was going to be difficult to wrap her mind around. And as much as she’d been afraid to tell him about her past, his was harder to swallow than she expected. Where the hell did they go from here?

  He’d never made her feel threatened or unsafe in the slightest, but…armed robbery? And hadn’t she heard time and time again how prison turned criminals into hardened criminals? Everything had been fine between her and Shane, but what happened when their relationship hit an inevitable bump? What was he like when he wasn’t flirty, fun and turned on?

  What the fuck should she say now? And what did he think of what she’d admitted? The silence dragged on, seeming to physically widen the space between them, stretching the floor at their feet until it was miles wide. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what he would say. Or what she hoped he would say.

  Maybe talking wasn’t what they needed to do right now.

  Heart in her throat, Alyssa stepped closer, crossing the narrow linoleum void, and Shane’s breath hitched slightly. He avoided her gaze—was he disgusted by her? Ashamed of his own past? She had no idea.

  He shifted uncomfortably.

  “Shane.”

  He swallowed, then slowly turned to face her.

  And she stood up on her toes and kissed him. He hesitated for a second, startled much the same way he had been when she’d kissed him at Hannah’s wedding a lifetime ago, but then his lips softened, and a warm breath rushed past her cheek.

  She broke the kiss and looked up at him. “We’re good at this part.”

  “We are.” He cradled the back of her head and tenderly kissed her again.

  Something in Alyssa’s chest relaxed, but something else seized up. Scorpions crept along the base of her spine—was this really a good idea?

  She didn’t know if it was a good idea or not but couldn’t begin to come up with an alternative, so she wrapped her arms around him and tilted her head back so he could kiss up and down her throat. Which he did, but then he came back up and kissed her mouth. Halfheartedly. She tasted the faint sweetness of the wine they’d shared over dinner, and that meal—every meal they’d ever had, every evening they’d spent together—suddenly seemed to be years ago. Or existing in another plane. Was this really the same man?

&nb
sp; Of course he was. He’d admitted to his past, and she’d admitted to hers, and now…

  What the hell?

  This was all wrong. His kiss was normally breathless and demanding, but he barely returned hers this time. His hands were light where they’d usually press against her, his fingertips featherlight where they’d usually dig in. When his hand grazed her breast, it quickly changed direction and settled on her waist. When their hips rubbed together, the contact with his clothed erection was fleeting before one of them—she wasn’t even sure which—twisted slightly to avoid it.

  Indeed, what the hell? Shane’s touch still made her breath catch, but not like it had before. Alyssa wasn’t used to him being so gentle. She liked it when he was rough and relentless, but he held back this time, and so did she. And maybe that was for the better—she was struggling to relax into this as it was. Their usual fierceness? Maybe not. Being manhandled, tied up and pinned down was usually fun, but with a partner who’d done time? With a convicted felon?

  Her blood turned cold. If she was so hesitant to ask him to get as rough as she normally liked, should she even be in bed with him at all? Was she safe with him?

  And what if she decided she couldn’t go through with it? Or if he decided she owed him for the night she fucked him? Would a “no” bring out a violent streak he’d kept tucked beneath the surface?

  Her heart lurched.

  That settled it.

  “Stop.”

  Shane stopped immediately and met her gaze, and his lack of hesitation confused her. And made her feel stupid and ashamed—had she really expected him to resist?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Let’s…let’s back up for a minute.”

  He released his embrace and drew back. “Okay.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the best approach.” She swept her tongue across her lips. “Whether we’re good at it or not, now that everything’s out on the table, we should talk.”

  “Good idea.”

  Once again, they stood on opposite sides of the narrow kitchen. A queasy feeling burned in the back of her throat. Was she overreacting? Hell, she didn’t know. But everything about this was all fucking wrong. Not being able to manage a difficult conversation, that eventually happened to every couple. But the sex, the one thing they’d had down pat since the beginning, had fallen apart too. And she didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t know if it could be fixed.