Was that a knock?
Fully aware it could be just a hopeful hallucination, Declan still leapt off the couch and covered the short distance to the cabin door before the echo had completely faded.
And Shelby was there, her hair floating wildly around her face in a sudden breeze. Her smile was a little shy, but her tone was exasperated. “Sorry about that.”
He looked over her shoulder, up to the building, which was now dark. They’d left, then.
Seemingly aware of what he was doing, Shelby laughed. “They’re gone, thank goodness. Quite the buzzkill.”
I beg to differ. All the want had slammed back into him at the sight of her. If anything, it was worse than before, with a sharper edge from the waiting and uncertainty. Shelby, though, while she was here, was holding herself a little awkwardly, staying the hand that really wanted to reach for her.
Her smile began to falter. “Um . . . Can I come in?”
“Of course.” He pulled the door open and stepped back a bit, allowing her to pass. She’d come to him, which boded well, but there was enough uncertainty on her face that made even reaching for her seem disrespectful enough to get his face slapped. “Sorry for the mess.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. Are you okay? I know the Three Stooges kind of got in the way earlier, but now that they’re gone, I kind of hoped our evening could continue.” Her smile seemed uncertain. “Unless, you don’t—”
He’d never moved so fast in his life, closing the space between them in less than a heartbeat and grabbing hold of her like his life depended on it. His sanity certainly did. His mouth landing on hers stopped her words, and her arms immediately twined around his neck, kissing him with an intensity that made the earlier one in the parking lot—it felt like it was ages ago—pale in comparison. It made his legs go weak, and he caged her against the wall to stabilize himself before he fell over.
Shelby was no shy Southern belle; she met him head-on, matching his passion with her own, which only fanned his desire more. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, her lips, the side of her neck, the slope of her shoulder. He wanted to strip her and bury himself inside her, but at the same time, he didn’t want to move from this one spot, where she was pressed against him, her hands sure as she slipped the shirt buttons out of their holes and spread the fabric wide to skate teasingly over his chest.
He sucked in his breath as her thumbs smoothed over his nipples, and he felt her smile under his lips. With a groan, he managed to get his hands moving, grabbing the hem of her shirt none too gently and pulling it up and over her head in one quick move. Shelby took care of her bra herself, then echoed his sigh as skin met skin, rubbing her chest gently against his.
That snapped the last thin thread of his control, and he reached under her hips to boost her up, loving the feel of those strong thighs wrapped around his waist.
The main cabin of the Lady Jane, while perfectly suitable for his other needs, wasn’t designed for this—the couches were too narrow, the carpet on the floor too thin. But it wasn’t far to the bedroom—thankfully—and soon he was on his back with Shelby covering him like a hot, exciting blanket.
Shelby’s hair fell around them in a blond curtain, blocking out the light from the main cabin and tickling his skin. She was no delicate flower, either; the physical nature of Shelby’s job had sculpted and toned her body into long, sleek muscles draped in soft skin that twitched and shivered under his fingers.
He liked having her on top—the access it gave his hands, and the freedom it gave her to move against him. It was raw and unfiltered, and the obvious pleasure it gave her was a powerful aphrodisiac to him.
The snap and zip of her jeans gave way easily, and he was somewhat surprised to see that the tomboyish and no-frills Shelby favored rather lacy panties. It put a smile on his face as he traced across the top edge, and her belly contracted under his fingers.
She cocked an eyebrow when she saw his smile, then she mirrored his movements, releasing the snap and zip of his jeans and letting her fingers tease along the waistband of his boxers, then raised the stakes by planting soft, sucking kisses on the sensitive skin.
He lifted his hips, letting her slide his jeans down, then taking over and kicking them away. Hers were more difficult, though; the snug fit he’d admired earlier caught low on her hips, trapping her. After a moment of wiggling—which nearly killed him—Shelby dropped to the bed beside him, cussing as she tried to shimmy out of the denim.
“Damn it, I’m trapped.” Then she dissolved into giggles. “That’s a bit of a mood killer.”
“Not at all,” he replied. He pretended to study her. “It’s kinda sexy, you all trussed up like that.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Hey, whatever floats your boat.” After an experimental wiggle, she snorted. “It’s going to make certain things a little difficult, though.”
“Allow me.” Grabbing her belt loops, he wiggled the jeans down a little farther, trying to concentrate on what he was doing even though Shelby’s movements to “help” were far more distracting than helpful. Once midway down her thighs, it got easier, and he was able to pull them the rest of the way off without a problem, turning them inside out, and tossing them away.
He went to grin at her, but froze. Bathed in the dim light, Shelby’s skin glowed against the dark blue sheets. Her hair puddled around her head like an old-fashioned artist’s halo. Those perfectly shaped limbs were displayed like an early birthday gift just for him, and her lips were swollen and pink. It was an earthy and lush picture, and it fired his blood, making the want a nearly painful thing.
Shelby pushed up onto her elbows as her eyebrows pulled together. “Declan?”
He couldn’t quite get words out yet.
“Is something wrong?” When he didn’t answer immediately, Shelby reached for the corner of the sheet.
The uncertain look on her face finally freed his vocal cords. “Don’t.” That had come out a little harsh, so he cleared his throat. “I’m just admiring the view.”
“Oh.” She lay back down, bending her knee into a pinup pose and draping her arms over her head. She met his eyes for a moment, then squirmed under the continued scrutiny. Exasperation took over, shattering the facade. “Okay, now you’re making me nervous.”
She might look like a centerfold, but she was still Shelby, and he laughed as he joined her on the bed again, trailing his fingers over those strong legs and pulling her underneath him.
Relief flooded through her. For a moment there, she’d thought Declan was reconsidering his options now that he’d seen her naked. Although she would have had to kill him, it still would have been a mortal blow to her ego.
She knew she wasn’t conventionally sexy—she didn’t have the hourglass curves or the svelte thinness of beauty queens—but Declan seemed appreciative of what she did have and was taking his sweet time exploring what was on offer.
And, mercy, he was exploring it thoroughly. Mind-scrambling, thigh-shaking, toe-curling thoroughly.
It was bliss.
She was very glad the marina was empty because she wasn’t sure she could keep quiet. Declan’s mouth muffled her voice as he explored her with his hands, but when his lips retraced his path, she was left biting her lip and moaning into the pillow.
While she’d started off on top and in charge, Declan had flipped the script, and he seemed in no real hurry to relinquish his control. She wanted access, wanted to do her own explorations, but when she tried, Declan pinned her wrists to the bed and kissed her hard, and she was more than happy to acquiesce to the demand.
She felt beautiful, worshipped, feminine, and she let herself float on the sensations. And Declan was a feast for all her senses—warm planes of skin stretched over defined, but not bulky, muscles, the crisp hair on his chest and legs that both tickled and titillated, the spicy scent of his soap . . .
Poetry should be c
omposed about this man and his skills. Epic poetry.
And that thought made her giggle.
“Huh?” Declan pulled back to look at her, and the expression on his face made her laugh harder.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out.
An eyebrow arched up. “Should I be offended?”
She snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. Pull it together. “No. Really. Please continue.”
Declan crawled up the bed and leaned on an elbow beside her. “Not until you tell me what’s so funny.”
Damn it, she was ruining the best sex of her life with a giggle fit, but at the same time, she saw Declan’s lazy smile. Maybe the sex didn’t have to be serious to be epic. “Nothing.”
He trailed a finger over her hipbone. “Tell me . . .”
She rolled toward him and propped her head on her fist. “Things got a little dramatic there for a second.”
“Dramatic?” He blinked in surprise. “That wasn’t exactly what I was going for.”
“Good dramatic.” Under his continued stare, she grew increasingly uncomfortable until she couldn’t stand it any longer. “I suddenly felt the need to compose odes to your prowess, okay?”
Declan stared at her blankly for a second, then collapsed into laughter himself.
She gave him her best frown. It didn’t work. “Stop. I know it’s silly, but be flattered. My brain doesn’t normally scramble like that.”
“Then I am flattered.” He scooted closer to her, leaving just the tiniest sliver of air between their bodies, close enough for her to feel the heat of his skin. “Poetry, huh?”
She nodded as he pushed the hair back from her face and leaned close.
“Do you like poetry?”
The seriousness of the question caught her off guard. “I guess.”
“I like poetry. I minored in English. Did I tell you that?”
She shook her head. It was an inane conversation, better suited for having over coffee in someone’s kitchen, not naked in bed. But the earnestness in his voice made even this topic feel important. “I figured I could go back for my master’s and teach if the architect thing didn’t come through.”
The determined, purposeful movements of his hands were certainly giving her an education. Hell, as long as he kept moving like that, he could talk about anything he liked. For now.
“‘License my roving hands and let them go,’” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. “‘Before, behind, between, above, below.’”
His hands were doing exactly that, and the idea of poetry no longer seemed quite so funny.
“‘O my America! my new-found land, My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d. My mine of precious stones, My empery, how blest am I in this discovering thee.’”
Shelby couldn’t quite breathe. Not all the words made sense, but she got the gist easily. His voice was deep, husky, and hypnotic, and her skin felt hot and overly sensitive everywhere he touched.
“‘To enter in these bonds is to be free. Then where my hand is set—’”
Shelby gasped as his hand settled and the room spun.
“‘—my seal shall be.’” He kissed her then, a hot, hungry kiss that felt both sweet and carnal at the same time, as he draped her thigh over his hip and pulled her close, sliding inside her with agonizing slowness.
She could feel the tremors starting already, gradually building from the inside out as Declan moved slowly at first, then growing in intensity as he flipped her to her back and increased his pace. She anchored herself the best she could, wanting to prolong the feelings for as long as possible, but it was too much.
She lost touch with reality—hell, she may have even blacked out—and by the time things came back into focus, Declan’s head was buried in her neck, his whole body heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
She let her fingers splay across his back, feeling the sweat pooling in the dent of his spine. He’d worked hard, and she was immensely grateful for his efforts.
With one last deep breath, Declan pushed up onto his elbows and shook the hair out of his face. She helped, brushing the long strands back. He might think he needed a haircut, but she was kinda liking it long and scruffy. After one more kiss—sweeter this time, less carnal—Declan rolled off her onto his side, draping one arm over his eyes, and sighed.
This was always the awkward part. Should she leave? Did he want to talk? Cuddle? Was he one of those guys who was going to fall asleep any second now? She was sated for the moment, but there was a low-power humming still in her muscles, and honestly, she wouldn’t mind staying to explore this a little more. But she didn’t want to come across as clingy and desperate nor did she want to insult him by jumping up and beating feet out of there, either.
And the longer he lay there, not saying anything, the more awkward and unsure Shelby felt. A hookup should really leave quickly and without fuss, but a friendly fling could hang around. Unfortunately, while Declan had been clear about some things, she could now wish they’d been a little clearer about others . . .
Okay . . . She edged gently toward the side of the bed, nearly jumping out of her skin when Declan’s hand landed on her arm. “Do you have to go?”
“I guess not.”
Mercy. That boy’s smile . . .
“Good.”
* * *
“He quoted poetry to you?” Charlotte sat cross-legged on Shelby’s bed as Shelby rushed to get ready. Somehow, she was always the one running behind, even though her beauty regime took about a third the effort as Charlotte’s. And while Shelby wasn’t sharing every intimate detail about last night’s adventure, that one was definitely BFF share-worthy. Even if, based on the look on her face, Charlotte was having a very hard time believing it.
“Yeah.” She could hear the sappy sigh in her voice. Maybe Charlotte hadn’t noticed. The idea of poetry might be distracting enough.
“Actual poetry? Not something he made up himself or read on a greeting card once?”
“I had to Google it this morning, but yeah, actual poetry. Seventeenth-century British poetry at that.”
“Wow. I’m not sure how to process that. Was it romantic or smarmy?”
“Believe it or not, it was sexy.”
Charlotte fanned herself. “A hot nerd. That’s my fantasy, you know. I just might swoon.”
“I nearly did.” Shelby dug for her mascara. In the mirror, she could see Charlotte’s eyebrows go up, questioning her primping.
“Do you think it was a line? You know, his signature ‘panty-melting’ move, perfected with his bros for picking up girls?”
Well, that would take some of the swoon out of the memory. But in a way, she almost wished it had been a line. Guys smart enough to reel off poetry at the drop of a hat . . . that was new. And a little intimidating. At the same time, though . . . “It didn’t seem like it. But either way, it worked. Like a charm.”
Charlotte clapped her hands like a little girl. “Yay, you! I’m so happy. And just to put it out there, I told you so.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Charlotte could gloat all she wanted. Shelby was still floating on enough afterglow and endorphins to be magnanimous about it.
“So tell me why we’re going to a football game, then? Why are you not down on that boat making some waves?”
“Because it’s homecoming, and we’d already planned it. I’m not going to ditch you like that.” She frowned at her hair. She’d tried curling it, but it was flat again already.
“Consider me ditched, honey. He’s only here for a short time. You should make the most of it.”
The fact Declan was only here for a short time kind of made it even more important not to make too much of it. There was a line between having a good time and setting yourself up to be miserable later. She’d watched Ryan fall into that trap just last year when he’d f
allen for Helena, only for him to be miserable when she left. She’d seen her friends—even Charlotte—overinvest in the chemistry and hormones of tourists, only to crash when vacation was over and everyone went back to their usual lives. A fling with Declan was a nice distraction, but not worth standing up her real friends over. Plus . . . “And have everyone in Magnolia Beach wonder where I was? Or, God forbid, come looking for me when I don’t show up?”
“They’d never think to look on the Lady Jane.”
Actually, that would probably be the first place Jamie would look for her. And the thought of that . . . ugh. “Well, I’m glad you’re so accommodating, because Declan’s coming with us tonight.”
“To a high school football game? Why?”
“Because it’s better than sitting alone watching Netflix?”
“You could offer him something better to do.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Her hair was just going to have to do. It certainly wasn’t going to get any better, and she’d spent far more time on herself tonight than she had for any other football game, ever. It was a little embarrassing. At least Charlotte hadn’t called her on it.
“Seriously, Shelby, that has to be the worst date idea ever.”
“It’s not a date. We’re friends.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes, but Shelby ignored it. “I offered to introduce him to some people, show him around a little, so he wouldn’t have to spend all his time alone. That’s what I’m doing.”
Charlotte looked confused. “But you could be having sex. You’re priorities are way out of whack, girl.”
“It is possible to enjoy someone’s company out of bed as well as in it. Declan’s smart and nice and interesting, and he thinks I’m interesting. We talked for over an hour last night just about random stuff. It was fun. I really do think that he was starting to get lonely and needed to get out.”
“So you’re taking him to a football game.”
“A home game is a quintessential small-town experience. He said he was looking forward to it.”
Charlotte crossed the room and fluffed Shelby’s hair. “I’m going to safely bet it’s only because you’ll be there. You look great. If you need a distraction for cover to escape early, just let me know.” She handed Shelby a jacket. “I’ll just think of that sexy poetry and swoon.”
More Than Anything Page 14
