Collide

by Juliana Stone

  Her hands eventually fell to the button at her waistband and she undid it and pulled her zipper down enough for her to wiggle her jeans down over her hips. Again, she did this slowly, with care, aware that Shane’s eyes were now glued to her butt and if he remembered her well enough he would know that…

  “Fucking hell,” he said hoarsely.

  She was bent over now, pulling her jeans down her legs, exposing her bare ass to him as she did so. Bobbi wasn’t fond of panties and going commando was one of her little guilty pleasures. It used to drive Shane bat-shit crazy.

  Especially when she used to go out in a short skirt.

  Once her jeans were free, she nudged them to the side and cleared her throat, garnering his attention once more as he dragged his gaze from her naked ass back up to her eyes. Sweat gleamed along his forehead and she saw the veins that strained in his neck. He was riding close to the edge and the power she felt in that moment was heady.

  He made a noise and she shook her head, “not yet.”

  The look in his eyes now, was much darker and a thrill rolled through Bobbi as she spread her legs slightly. Her chest was heaving, her breathing erratic as she watched him watching her. When her fingers moved down her belly and then sank into the wetness between her legs, she moaned, her desire rank and powerful as Shane watched her.

  Again he tried to see what she was doing but he couldn’t.

  “It’s your turn,” she whispered as she continued to stroke herself. “Take your clothes off.”

  Shane’s long sleeve Henley was over his head and on the floor in two seconds flat. He tugged his boots off, tossed them and his jeans followed suit. In less than a minute he was completely naked and unlike Shane, Bobbi had no problem seeing every inch of him.

  He stood, almost glaring at her, hands fisted to his sides as they stared at each other through the mirror. Her fingers were between her legs, and deep inside she felt the beginnings of an orgasm beckon.

  Shane’s body had always been impressive. He was tall, well over six feet in height, with powerful shoulders and abs any athlete would kill for. Her eyes ran over his chest. Over the intricate tattoo on his right pectoral—a new one—until she saw the Gaelic symbol on his bicep.

  Her tattoo.

  Something tugged at her then. A powerful emotion that she knew had no business rearing its head here. This was all about the physical. She needed to shut that emotional shit down right now.

  Quickly her gaze dropped to his erection and she bit her lip as she continued to work herself and watch him. Her belly clenched, muscles tightening as she teased her clitoris and coaxed the orgasm that was there, just at the edge.

  When he strode forward she couldn’t speak.

  Instead, she felt the heat of him, the hardness of his erection at her back when he came up behind her. But he didn’t touch her. He watched her in the mirror, now able to see everything, as she pleasured herself. As she came and shuddered and moaned.

  And then with a curse, Shane grabbed her.

  He picked her up and carried her to the rug in front of his fire place. He set her face down so that she rested on her elbows with her ass in the air. And Bobbi, still in recovery, watched as he rolled a condom over his straining cock.

  She was so turned on, her body still trembling from its orgasm that she could barely speak.

  When he moved in behind her. When she felt one hand on the small of her back, and the other between her legs urging them apart she managed to ask, “What...” but she was so far gone she couldn’t finish her sentence.

  Could you die from anticipation?

  Shane covered her, his heat simmering along her back as he leaned in close to whisper. “This would be the fast and hard fucking.”

  Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut, his words exciting her.

  Then Shane plunged inside her, hands gripping her hips for control, and he did exactly what he had promised earlier…because it was in fact, only the beginning.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hours later, Shane woke up alone in a tangled mess of sheets and Pia scratching at his bedroom door.

  He rolled out of bed, cursing when he stubbed his toe against hard edge of his night table as he made his way over and let the dog in. It was dark, the glow from digital clock beside the bed telling him it was just past four in the morning.

  Pia rushed past him and jumped on the edge of the bed, where with a groan, she subsequently turned in a circle and flopped down. The dog had her own hot pink cushion thing—which had cost a small ‘effing fortune—but she preferred the comfort of his bed and honestly, since the little animal had claimed him as her owner, he’d been unable to deny her anything.

  She barked once and nestled into the bed. Naked, Shane padded out into the main room of the loft. A quick glance around told him that Bobbi was long gone. There wasn’t a shred of her clothing anywhere and the only clue that the previous night hadn’t been more than just a fantasy, was her lingering scent.

  That delicious summery smell.

  Just the thought of Bobbi had his body flush with heat and his cock was already hard and ready for another go around. He glanced down at himself and swore. If a cold shower didn’t fix things he’d have to relieve himself manually.

  Just one night with Bobbi Jo had done this to him. He felt like a goddamn teenager who’d just got laid for the first time.

  With a groan he closed his eyes, hands fisted at his sides as his mind rolled back. Images of her body, her eyes and her mouth assaulted him and his erection strained even more. Her smile, her laugh—the way her eyes glistened when he made her come.

  He couldn’t recall—ever—such an intense night of passion. And considering that he and Bobbi had had their fair share of explosive encounters in the past, that was saying something.

  After he had taken her the first time, they had moved to his bedroom where he’d spent the next several hours reacquainting himself with the delights of her mind and body. Bobbi had always been generous with her passion and her need to please and the two of them had loved each other thoroughly.

  And now he was alone.

  Yet, isn’t that what they’d wanted? One night to give in to their attraction? One night of sex with no consequence?

  “Fuck me,” Shane muttered as he headed toward the bathroom and a much needed cold shower.

  After having Bobbi in his bed again, did he really think one night was going to be enough?

  A half an hour later he was in his workshop staring at the table he was nearly finished with. A custom order for Logan, he’d designed the large piece to be both functional and decorative. With drawers underneath for storage and a circular turntable in the center, he’d managed to accomplish his goals. The matching chairs with rich brown leather seats were a perfect accessory.

  Working with wood had become a passion while he’d been incarcerated. It had been a lifeline, something to keep his mind and hands occupied while he served his time.

  And right about now, with his mind full of Bobbi and the line they’d crossed the night before, Shane set out to drive away the demons inside him. The ones who told him he was a fool to think he could play with Bobbi and not get burned.

  Pushing everything aside except the task at hand, he put a pot of coffee on and grabbed a brush. With any luck he’d finish the last coat of stain in a few hours.

  Turned out it took more than a few hours but when he finally set his brush aside, daylight was streaming in through the windows and his stomach was rumbling.

  He was just about to head upstairs for some food when a sharp bark and the very distinct sound of the door closing, told him that he wasn’t alone.

  It was eleven on Saturday morning. Had Bobbi come back for seconds?

  Shane raked his hands through his hair, and then shoved them into the pockets of his jeans. Suddenly nervous, he turned, though the slight smile on his face soon faded and the blank mask he’d cultivated for years easily slipped back into place.

  His father, James Gallagher stood ne
ar the door, staring down at the circling Pia, obviously annoyed. Shane could let the little thing go crazy, and lord knows she could run in circles and bark until the cows came home, but he decided to get this over with.

  “Pia, enough,” he said clearly, pointing up to the loft. The little dog stopped barking and ran over to him for a quick rub behind the ears, and then she turned, scooted past his father and disappeared upstairs.

  For several moments the two men studied each other in silence—James dressed to the nines in an expensive suit while Shane stood before him barefoot in a pair of old, ratty jeans and nothing else. He rolled his shoulders, watched his father eyes narrows as he took in the tat’s that adorned his pectoral, bicep and shoulder.

  His old man’s attitudes would never change, but his health certainly had. Shane was aware that his father had been sick several months earlier, but he was surprised at the man’s pallor and weight loss.

  He looked so much like his grandfather that Shane had to look away, because as much as his father resembled the late Niall Gallagher, it was in the physical element only. The man was a bastard through and through and Shane often wondered how in the hell his grandfather and the sweet gentle woman he remembered as his grandmother, had ever produced such an arrogant, cold son of a bitch.

  “That your dog?” His father asked.

  Shane took a moment.

  He hadn’t seen his father in years. Hell, not since his sentencing. Their relationship had always been strained, and after the things Shane had learned the day before at his grandfather’s solicitor’s office, he was more than a little surprised that his father wanted to discuss his dog.

  But hey, he could play whatever game this was. In fact, it was a welcome distraction.

  Shane nodded. “Yeah, she sort of came with the place.”

  James Gallagher took a few more steps, his expensive Italian leather boots tracking wet snow across the wooden floorboards as he motioned toward the table Shane had just finished.

  “I see you’ve learned a trade.”

  Again, Shane nodded but didn’t bother to reply.

  “Good to know our tax dollars are being put to use in constructive ways.”

  The dig was subtle, but there nonetheless.

  Shane grinned, a cold smile that never quite made it to his eyes. “I learned to knit too, but I figured there’s not much money to be made in tablecloths. Though I gotta tell ya, I can make one hell of a mean granny-square.”

  His father’s nostrils flared and his mouth tightened, but the man simply stared at Shane in silence, his blue eyes brilliant, as if they held the blue sky in their depths.

  “I know you met with Father’s attorneys yesterday.”

  Here we go.

  “Yeah, I finally got around to it.”

  James Gallagher’s eyes widened even more and twin spots of rouge dusted his sharp cheekbones.

  “You finally got around to it. Very responsible of you. Wonderful how you honor your grandfather’s memory, though when we stop to consider the fact that the old man put you in jail himself, I’m not surprised.”

  A muscle worked its way along Shane’s jaw and the temper that boiled just under the surface was getting hotter by the second. There was no way in hell he was going to stand here and discuss the many sins of his past with his father.

  It didn’t matter that James Gallagher was right.

  “What do you want?” he asked sharply, gathering up his tools and crossing the room to the workbench that ran the length of the carriage house. He refused to lose his shit all over the place when his father was around.

  “I want to know what you’re going to do with the estate. I’ll buy it from you for market value right now.”

  The hell you will.

  “Not interested,” Shane replied.

  Hell, he had no idea what his grandfather had been thinking. Leaving his entire estate to Shane. The fuck up. The ex-con. The house alone was worth a fortune, but the property with nearly one hundred acres of forested land and a small lake to boot, was worth so much more. And that was only a small part of the estate. With monies invested, the portfolio was impressive.

  And then there were the horses.

  Shane heaved a heavy sigh. He didn’t deserve it and his father knew it, yet Niall had believed in him to the end.

  Three years ago, Shane would have handed over the property to his father, taken the money and run. He’d have blown it on booze, drugs and women without thought. Sure he would have hated himself, but like a freight train running full steam ahead down the road of excess and misery, he would have been all over that.

  “Not interested,” his father repeated, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

  Shane started, momentarily gone down memory lane and turned around, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against his workbench.

  He thought of the letter his grandfather had written, the one handed over to him by the attorneys—the one he’d been unable to read.

  What the hell was he doing?

  He’d been in New Waterford for months now and hadn’t once been back to White Hall. He’d ignored every single request for a meeting with the lawyers and the only reason he’d even gone yesterday was because…

  Christ, he didn’t even know why. The only thing he was sure of was that it had been time. Time to move one. Time to face his demons. Time to face his past.

  Time to get his shit together.

  If not for himself, then for his grandfather.

  James Gallagher cocked his head to the side and stared at Shane for several long moments. Eventually his eyes wandered, behind him, to the portrait on the wall and for a second, for one brief moment, a wash of pain touched his eyes. But it was gone so fast, Shane wasn’t even sure he had seen it.

  “You still paint.”

  Shane said nothing. This had always been a touchy subject between the two of them. Shane’s need to express himself artistically, and his father’s need to mold Shane into an exact replica of himself. In the end his father had lost that battle and yet, in the end, Shane supposed they had both lost.

  “Who’s the old man?”

  “No one you’d know.”

  James crossed the room and stood inches from him as he studied the picture. Up close, his father looked tired and his pallor was pasty. It was unsettling, seeing this larger than life man, the bastard who’d made his childhood a misery, look weak and not at the top of his game.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to Shane, but I can’t let you keep White Hall. You’ll run it to the ground and his legacy will be for nothing.”

  “His legacy meant nothing to you,” Shane retorted, pushing away from the bench and putting some distance between himself and his father. “Hell, you don’t even live here anymore.”

  James smiled, a wash of winter in an otherwise stony face. “Not true,” he said quietly. “As of last Wednesday I’m back.”

  James pulled out a pair of leather gloves from his suit jacket and slipped them onto his large hands. “Celia and I have bought a condo near the water and our daughter, your sister Eden in case you’re forgotten her, has already been registered at New Waterford High. So you see son, I’m not going anywhere.”

  With a curt nod, James Gallagher turned and left Shane stunned, pissed off, and more confused than ever.

  His father was a multi-millionaire who had finally moved to Detroit several years ago with his wife and daughter, after commuting for most of Shane’s life. He didn’t belong in small town America. He sure as hell didn’t belong in Shane’s town. And no matter what his motives, James Gallagher didn’t give a flying fuck about White Hall.

  So what was he really after?

  And when was the last time he had called him, son?

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

  Bobbi whirled around, splashing hot coffee all over her forearm.

  “Shit,” she muttered, though her frown soon turned into a smile at the sight of her fathe
r, already up and dressed. He looked good.

  Her smile widened. He looked better than good.

  “Doing what?” she asked, grabbing the cloth from the sink and dabbing at her arm.

  Her father paused for a moment before answering, his faded eyes softening as he crossed the room. Freshly shaven, he smelled of tangy aftershave, and his hair was combed. The heaviness inside her dissipated as she gazed into his eyes and the warmth in her heart spread out. She knew these moments of clarity, of seemingly good health were getting rarer, but she was grateful—

  “Are you worried about the wedding?”

  What?

  The wedding. Right.

  Her heart sank and though she tried, her smile wavered. Travis Barker pulled her into a hug and she fought the tears that threatened to spill as his large hand stroked her hair.

  “No, Daddy,” she managed to say. He was confused again. “Gerald and I,” she sniffled and pulled out of his embrace so that she could gaze directly into his eyes. “Gerald and I broke up,” she said gently. “Remember?”

  For a moment he looked confused, but then he nodded slowly, glancing away as if embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry honey. I…I guess I forgot.”

  “It’s okay, Dad, don’t worry about it. I’m trying not to think of it either.”

  Bobbi grabbed a clean mug from the cupboard and held it aloft. “Coffee?”

  “Sure, thanks for asking.”

  They both turned as Betty waltzed into the kitchen, her long hair tangled past her shoulders, her eyes overly bright and her makeup obviously days old. She smelled like a brewery and looked worse.

  “I see you’ve managed to find your way home again,” Bobbi said through grated teeth.

  “Now girls, let’s keep our claws in,” Gramps said hurriedly as he followed Betty into the kitchen. “Who wants bacon and eggs?”

  Bobbi pulled out a chair for her father and shook her head. “Not me, I’m out the door in ten minutes.”