Текст книги "Irish Sex Fairy"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

The ringtone of Shane’s cell phone somewhere in the bedroom aroused them from a drifting, languorous state of near-sleep. His warmth and heaviness felt so good, his arms around her, her head on his chest.

Keara lifted her head and gazed around the room.

“Shit,” Shane muttered, rolling away from her and out of bed.

He found the phone attached to his pants, lying in a heap on the floor. “Yeah?” He stood there, naked, his back to her, and she admired the curve of his back, the smooth ridges of muscle sloping down to two deep indentations just above the finest buttocks she’d ever seen. She smiled on a soft breath out. “I got tied up,” Shane said, and glanced at her with a lifted brow. “I may be a while longer. Why?” He listened. “Yeah, okay. Do that, that’s fine. I’ll see you later.”

He snapped his phone shut and dropped it on the bedside table before sliding back under the duvet cover.

“Don’t you have to go back to work?”

“Yeah. But we have a little longer.” He reached for her and slid her up against his hard warmth. “This is too nice to leave.”

“Mmmm.” She couldn’t argue with him there. She snuggled in again, a feeling of peace and contentment sliding over her. “You know, I didn’t make that story up.”

“What story?”

“About the SUV forcing me off the road.”

“I never thought you did.”

“Oh.” She listened to his heart thudding, strong and sure, beneath her cheek. “Okay. I think that other guy…what was his name?”

“Curtis.”

“Yeah. I think he thought I was totally making it up.”

“Possibly. We do tend to get a little cynical.”

“I just wanted you to know that…” She tipped her head back. “I didn’t make it up, but…I’m worried that maybe I’m going crazy.”

His mouth quirked. “You are, huh? Why are you worried about that? Because of the PTSD?”

“Well…” She cleared her throat. “Yes. And because of what happened at home just before I came here.”

“What happened, Keara?” He stroked a hand down her back, reassuring and strong.

She told him about the break-in at her condo and how it had turned out to be nothing. “My mind seems out of control lately,” she confessed to him, hiding her face against his chest again. “I also had a panic attack a couple of days before that when I tried to visit the bank. That’s never happened to me before. I didn’t believe it was a panic attack, but the doctor said it was classic. My mind and my body seem like they’re beyond my control sometimes. It…it scares me.”

“It is scary.” He pressed his face to the top of her head. “It’s terrifying. And nobody understands it, unless they’ve experienced it.”

She lifted her head to look at him, remembering what he’d said that night at his parents’ home. “You had PTSD, too?”

“Yup. It was humiliating. I hated to admit it, but like you, I couldn’t hide the things that were happening to me, the reactions I was having to stuff. Thank God for my parents, who recognized what was going on and made me get help. If it wasn’t for them…” His mouth tightened. “I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“So you know what’s like. But did you imagine things happening that weren’t real?”

He shook his head. “No. But everyone is different. I knew one guy who came back convinced everybody was out to get him. Like they were the enemy. He was really screwed up.”

Keara sucked on her bottom lip. “I guess it could be how I react. But I hate that, Shane. I don’t know if I can trust myself to really know what’s going on. That’s twice something like that has happened. How am I going to…” Her voice broke and she stopped, unable to say the words that terrified her.

“How do you know you can go back to work and manage a bank?”

She gave a small nod, her throat tight.

“Give it time, a thaisce.” He stroked her back again, warm, protective. The Gaelic endearment rolled off his tongue. “Give it time. You will.”

At that moment, she felt hope sprout inside her, tiny but there, more than she’d had for weeks of hopeless helplessness. Maybe Shane was right. She moved against him, skin to skin, loving the way she felt alive and…God, sexy.

They made love again—three orgasms in one afternoon, lord, that was amazing—and talked a little more until Shane heaved a sigh and said he really had to go back to work.

“I don’t want to cost you your job,” Keara said with a smile, buttoning her shirt carefully over bruises and tender breasts. She didn’t like the bruises, but the tender breasts were actually exciting. Every time she brushed over the sensitive tips she got a flippy feeling low in her tummy.

“Don’t worry.” He grinned. “I hardly ever take a lunch break. One day I take an extended one I think is okay.”

She glanced at her watch. “And you still have to take me home. Or, I could call a taxi…”

“Don’t be silly. It’s not far, I’ll drop you off.”

She walked into the Irish Sex Fairy Shop feeling lighter and more relaxed than she had in ages. Dear God, Maeve had been right. She couldn’t help the smile that pulled up the corners of her mouth, and when Maeve looked up at her from the counter and did a double-take, she knew Maeve probably recognized her change in demeanor too.

“And where have you been, young lady?” Maeve demanded, but her twinkly eyes belied the harsh question.

“Um. With Shane.” She knew Maeve would know exactly what they’d been doing. And she didn’t even care.

“Ah. Well, that’s fine, then. You look quite…relaxed.”

“Yeah.” Keara touched a hand to her hair, sure she still wore a goofy smile. “I feel pretty good.”

“I won’t say I told you so, as long as you promise to remember that I am right about most things.”

Keara laughed, and it felt so good it startled her. “Okay, I’ll remember that.”

“Not to ruin your mood, but what happened at the police station?”

Keara told her and shrugged. “I doubt they’ll find anything. But Shane believes me.”

“Well of course he does! I believe you too!”

Keara regarded her aunt, and a soft warmth spread inside her. “Thank you,” she choked out. “That means a lot to me.”

Maeve shook her head, but was smiling.

“Anything for me to do?” Keara asked.

“Actually there was a phone call for you a while ago.” Maeve reached for a piece of paper and handed it to Keara. She looked down at the name and phone number. Oh lord. It was the case manager from the disability insurance company the bank contracted with. She was the one who’d arranged for Keara to see a psychologist when she’d been having the flashbacks and nightmares, and had arranged for Keara to go back to work—until she had that episode of dizziness. Then the plan had been put on hold. Keara had emailed her too, that she’d be out of town and could be reached at this number.

“I guess I should call her,” she murmured. “I’ll go upstairs.”

Up in Maeve’s apartment she called Stefanie Craig.

“Hi, Keara, how are you doing?”

If Stefanie had asked yesterday, she’d have gotten a totally different answer, but today Keara felt pretty good. “I’m doing okay,” she said. “Considering.”

“Considering what?”

Keara told her about the accident.

Stefanie was shocked. “Oh my goodness! Are you okay?”

“I’m a little bruised up, stiff and sore, but I’m okay. They checked me out at the hospital but they released me.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re not ready to come back to work, then.”

“Uh…well, no. I mean, I could, but…” The thought brought on a familiar anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach, although not anywhere near as bad as the attack she’d had the day she’d tried to go back to work. Would it escalate into more? Keara pressed a hand to her tummy as she talked. “I think I’ll be ready soon. One problem is I no longer have a car. I doubt if it will be able to be fixed, so I’m going to have to get a new one once I settle with the insurance company. So I have no way to get home.”

“Well. There are other ways to get home.”

“Yes. I suppose. I could uh…fly down.”

“Or take a bus,” Stefanie said cheerfully. “But if you’re still sore from the accident, that’s okay. I’ll give you a call next week and see how you’re doing. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll know more by then and I’m sure I’ll be feeling much better.”

She was sure of no such thing, but considering how cheery she’d felt after her romp with Shane, there was some hope that she actually might get better enough to go back soon.

* * *

The bright mood lasted until Shane’s phone call later that day to tell her that they had in fact found traces of blue paint on her back bumper.

“Oh, dear God,” she breathed. “Really?”

``Yes. Dark blue. Not much. We’ll see if there’s enough to analyze.”

She drew in a breath. “Then what?”

“It’s unlikely we’ll ever find the vehicle it belongs to,” he said. “But if we know the make and model, it’s a starting point.”

They had to believe her now. Which she should be happy about, but goddammit, someone had really tried to run her off the road! Why? Why would someone do that to her? It was insane. She rubbed her hands up and down over the goose bumps that rose on her upper arms.

It was just a stupid accident. Probably a kid showing off, trying to act like a NASCAR driver or something, got carried away and when he’d seen what he’d caused, he probably ran scared. It was despicable. It was bad luck. But she was okay.

It took a few days for the car to get estimated and everyone had been right, it was a total loss. She thought she’d be sad about that, considering how much she’d loved rewarding herself with that car, but hey, it was just a car. She was alive and that’s what mattered. She’d get another car.

Shane had dealt with her insurance company even though she kept telling him he didn’t have to do that. She’d seen him every day when he popped in to check on both her and Maeve. She told him he didn’t have to do that either. She wasn’t a baby or an invalid, for heaven’s sake. So she had a few problems—he didn’t have to worry about her.

“I like looking after you,” he’d murmured into her ear. “How about we go back to my place and I’ll look after you even better?”

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other and when he wasn’t around, she had a hard time thinking of anything but him. Again, Maeve was right. The more you had sex, the more you wanted it. She had this insatiable hunger for Shane that no amount of foreplay, sex, afterplay or any kind of play seemed to assuage.

Keara helped in the store as much as she could. She listened to Maeve give out jaw-dropping sex advice. Like the man who wanted a strap-on dildo for his wife to wear. When Maeve asked him if his wife wanted to do that, he said, “Uh…I don’t know.”

“Go home and ask her,” Maeve said, patting his arm. “You’re going to freak her out if you come home and tell her you want her to do that to you without talking about it.”

He did.

Then a man came in and wandered from one area to the other, casting sideways glances at both Maeve and Keara until Maeve finally approached him. “My wife and I have this fantasy,” he said in a low voice, although Keara heard every word. “I want to be a patient, and she’s going to be the nurse.”

Maeve led him over to her selection of costumes and clothing, and found him a nurse uniform that would fit his apparently quite buxom wife.

And then came the man who wanted to be wrapped in clear plastic. Maeve sent him to the grocery warehouse store for wholesale-size rolls of cling wrap.

Keara was getting quite an education.

That evening she was waiting for Maeve to go out to her weekly bridge game, anticipating being alone again in the apartment and thinking she was going to be okay with it, wondering if Shane was going to come by. But Maeve was puttering around in her kitchen and making no move to go out. Keara checked her watch. She was going to be late.

Was Maeve staying home because of her? She’d better not be. Finally Keara had to say something.

“Aren’t you playing bridge tonight?”

Maeve stared at her. “Bridge?”

“Yes. You know, that thing you do every Tuesday night?”

Maeve’s auburn brows snapped together. “It’s Tuesday?”

Keara’s heart sank. “Yes, it’s Tuesday.” She forced a smile. “The day after Monday.”

Maeve’s eyes got all owl-blinky and she turned her back to Keara. “I can’t believe I forgot what day it is,” she said brightly, but her voice sounded funny.

“You still have time. It’s only a quarter to seven.”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll just go freshen up.” She hurried out of the room.

Oh dear, oh dear. Keara sank down onto the couch. Another example of Maeve’s memory problems. She hadn’t seen any problems for a few days, had almost hoped maybe everything was fine, but damn, this wasn’t good.

Maeve rushed out of the apartment, leaving Keara alone. Last time she’d been there alone, she’d been a little antsy, a little edgy, but tonight she thought she was okay. Just a touch worried about Maeve, distracted by trying to decide what to do. She was going to have to talk to Maeve about it.

And then Shane arrived.

She stared at him in exasperation as she let him in. “Now what are you doing here?” Deep down, she had to admit, she was happy to see him. And it wasn’t because she didn’t want to be alone. It was because she wanted to see him.

“Bridge night,” he said softly, pushing against her with his body, gently, insistently. “Right?”

“Right.” She pushed back, their pelvises bumping together, sending a jolt of sweet heat through her. “Come on in.”

Chapter Thirteen

A thought flickered through her mind that she needed to tell Shane about Maeve’s latest incident of forgetfulness, but staring at Shane’s gorgeous face, blue eyes gleaming, sexy mouth curved into a smile, she just melted. Liquid lust pooled warm and heavy inside her and she leaned in closer to his radiating heat, all thought vanishing from her head.

He slid a hand around the back of her neck, under her hair, and urged her closer. He was staring at her mouth and her breath stuck in her chest. A long breath whispered out of her.

“It’s just sex,” she whispered to him.

“Yup. Just sex.”

“Like therapy.”

“Sure.”

Their mouths were only a breath apart and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt Shane’s nearness. Everything inside her tightened and she needed to taste his mouth. She closed the gap between their mouths and his lips moved against hers in a luscious, lingering kiss. Their mouths clung and lifted, met again and she needed to be closer. She twined her arms around his neck and with a low groan he gathered her up against him. She pressed herself to him, fighting to get as close as she could to his body—warm, solid, irresistible.

He slanted his mouth over hers and the kiss deepened into long, open-mouthed, devouring kisses. Sensation sizzled over every nerve ending, hunger rose inside her, desperate and urgent. She rolled her hips, pressing into his groin in an erotic, helpless rhythm.

He stroked a hand down her back, found the waistband of her jeans and slid beneath it to cup her butt. He made a growly sound in his throat and she broke the kiss to let her head fall back with a gasp.

“Nice,” he murmured. He squeezed and his fingers played about the crease between each cheek. But her jeans were snug and he slid his hand out and over her waist, around to the front button. His touch sent cascades of shivers over her.

Excitement grabbed at her stomach, tightening and drawing everything up inside her even more. Need ached between her legs. “Bedroom,” she gasped.

“Good idea.”

She turned to him in her dim bedroom and they began to undress each other. His shirt, her jeans, his jeans, her T-shirt. Then he slid his boxer briefs down over muscular, hair-roughened thighs, while she reached behind her to unclasp her bra and let it fall. Wearing only a lacy thong, she stood before him and he again settled his hands on her waist and drew her closer.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured pressing a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck.

“So are you.” Her palms slid over satiny skin and smooth muscle, up over his biceps to the big hard bones of his shoulder, down to his chest where she rubbed. He groaned. Her fingertips brushed small hard nipples and he growled.

His erection prodded her stomach, hard and hot and insistent and she slid a hand lower, tangling her fingers in the curls just above, then wrapping her fingers around him. He sucked in a sharp breath. “I want to taste you,” she whispered, lips against his ear.

“Oh yeah, babe. Do it. Suck me.”

She went to her knees in front of him, grateful for the soft rug on the floor, and took him in both hands. She studied him for a moment, the heavy veins under silky skin, the rounded head. She cupped his tight balls and caressed them with her fingertips and he made strangled-sounding noises, stepped his legs further apart to allow her access. He was warm, smelled delicious and she leaned her head in for the taste her mouth watered for. She took him in, licked and sucked and tightened her lips around him.

He held her head, gently, never forcing her, just guiding her as she moved her mouth up and down on him, and when she opened her eyes and peered up at him, mouth full of him, the look on his face made her spasm deep inside. She slid one hand between her legs to press there, throbbing against her fingers.

She drew back to catch her breath, slid the wet tip of his penis over her lips then kissed him, right there.

He groaned again and pulled her up. “In the bed,” he muttered, dragging her toward it. “God, I want inside you.”

Didn’t he like that? Because she sure did. She loved the taste and feel of him, and mostly loved knowing that she had caused that look of extreme erotic pleasure on his face.

“Your mouth should be illegal,” he moaned as he tumbled down beside her. “I might have to arrest you.” She smiled as he moved over her. She’d take that as a compliment.

He cupped her breasts, played with her nipples, which she loved so, so much, until she was writhing and so hot she couldn’t stand it.

“Now,” she cried. “Now, Shane, please.”

“Wanna fuck you, baby. Wanna fill you up and make you come.”

“Oh yes. Please.”

“Just need…a condom.”

“Oh. Good thinking.” She waited, a throbbing mass of lust, while he retrieved one from his jeans and returned to her.

She closed her eyes, grabbing onto his shoulders and tilting her pelvis as he pushed inside her, slow and stretching. “Love that. Oh God.”

He filled her, touched her deep inside, and they moved together in a sensual rhythm, rubbing against each other, laying small kisses on shoulders and forehead, the only sound Shane’s harsh breathing and Keara’s whimpers.

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, trying to take him as deep as she possibly could, all of him.

“Feels so damn good,” he groaned in her ear. He thrust again and she felt his body tense, and she reached for it, her own climax there, just there, there… A fractured cry tore from her lips as she peaked, a high, sharp point of sensation that burst into a shower of sparks. She held him tight as he, too, gave a harsh cry and tightened and pulsed inside her.

They lay there for endless moments of rapture, descending from the high to a plane closer to earth, legs tangled, bodies damp, arms around each other.

“What time does Maeve get home?” Shane murmured.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Amusement painted his voice.

She turned her head and met his eyes. “I was going to tell you. She forgot it was Tuesday. She was going to miss her bridge game.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

“She’s been doing that every week, forever.”

“Yeah.” Keara blew out a breath. “I’m going to talk to her. Maybe tomorrow.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No. I will. I’m her niece.”

“But you just got here. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ll be around long after you’ve gone back to LA.”

She said nothing. He was right, but somehow his words wounded. As when she’d arrived, when he’d made her feel guilty for not visiting Maeve, but now his low opinion of her didn’t just annoy her, it hurt. She pushed away from him, but he caught hold of her and dragged her back. He tipped her chin up.

“I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. But it’s the truth.”

“I know.” She took a breath. “But I’m her family and I’ll talk to her.”

He studied her face, eyes gentle, and then nodded. “Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“I will.”

He pulled her back down onto his chest and stroked her bare back. “I’m here to help,” he said.

She sighed. “I know you are, Shane, but I’m a big girl.”

“With a few problems right now.”

“Okay, yeah. Hell, I don’t know how I think I’m going to help Maeve when I can’t get my own life together.”

“You will.” He stroked her hair and the gentle tug on her scalp sent tingles skittering down her spine.

“I don’t know. The thing is, I don’t think I deserve to be happy.”

His hand stilled. “What? Why would you say that?”

“Because of what I did. The things I did, the mess I made. And…” She swallowed through a constricted throat. “Never mind.”

“Tell me. It can’t be that bad. It’s not like you’re a murderer or something.”

“Yes, I am.”

Shane couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. She had to be joking.

“Don’t be crazy,” he said roughly, tugging her hair so she had to lift her head to look at him. He rolled her over onto her back and moved over her.

“I’m serious,” she said, eyes closed. “I might as well have killed him.”

“Killed who?” What the hell was she talking about? His mind went to the accident, but there’d been nobody else involved in that.

“Gary. The man who robbed the bank.”

Shane frowned. He’d read the reports, knew the unfortunate outcome of that incident. How the perp had been shot by the SWAT team, coming out of the bank, Keara held in front of him with her hands up.

“How could that be your fault? Jesus, Keara, he held a gun on you.”

“Yes, but…” A tear slid from the outer corner of her eye, a silvery trail in the muted light of her bedroom. “Oh God. I don’t want to tell you about this.”

“Why not? Keara, if it’s bothering you, it’ll help.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t hate you. Look at me.” Her touched her chin. “Keara, look at me.”

Her eyes opened, luminous with tears.

“I hate myself,” she whispered.

He shook his head, but waited. Finally she spoke, her voice low and choked.

“Gary worked for the bank.”

“Yes.” He’d read that the perp had been a former employee of the bank.

“I fired him.”

“Oh.”

“A couple of months before that. I’d been working my tail off since I started managing that branch, trying to come up with ways to cut costs. They wanted me to turn things around at that branch. It was in trouble when I got there, but it’s an important branch to the bank and they wanted someone who could improve performance. I was so happy to have that challenge, and they said if I did well, I’d be moved into executive management.”

Shane’s body tensed.

“They wanted to cut a lot of positions. Twenty. Maybe more. I really didn’t want to let that many people go, so I worked hard to find other ways of saving money. But even so, at the end of the day I had to cut positions. There was no other way. I managed to get it down to eight. And Gary was one of them.”

“That must have been hard for you to do.”

“That’s the awful part,” she replied, a sob catching her voice. “It wasn’t that hard. I didn’t know Gary. He was the head of security and he made the most money, so he had to go. I barely talked to him other than good morning every day. Same with the others I fired. I made my decisions based on sound business rationale. I didn’t think about the people behind the positions.”

Shane was silent. He understood what she was saying. He empathized. Hell, he had to make tough business decisions, too. Resources were scarce in a small-town police force. He knew what it was like.

“What happened?” he asked. “With Gary. Why’d he do that? He was that pissed off about being fired?”

“No.” Anguish roughened her voice. “Well yeah, he was angry, for sure. Angry at me. Because his wife had Alzheimer’s.”

Jesus Christ.

“She was in a home. A very expensive home. He had no job, his severance was gone, and he couldn’t find another job. At his age, it’s not that easy, and the economy is crappy right now. He was desperate. He…” More tears pooled and dripped down her face and she could hardly talk. Now Shane was sorry he’d made her talk about this.

“It’s okay.” He stroked her hair back from her forehead. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want.”

“Oh sure, now you let me off the hook.” A glimmer of a smile touched her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m getting all emotional.”

“It’s okay.”

“He loved his wife,” she choked out. “He talked to her on the phone. In front of me. I heard him talk to her and I thought I was going to die. He’d looked after her their whole life together and he loved her so much, and I was the one who had taken away his ability to look after her.” Tears poured now and her voice wavered. “You have no idea how I felt, hearing that, knowing it was all my fault. Whatever happened at that damn bank that day—even if he’d lived, he would’ve gone to jail—his life was ruined and it was all my fault.”

“Oh Jesus.” Shane groaned and scooped her up into his arms. He turned and settled back against the headboard of the bed, with Keara on his lap, sobbing and drenching his chest with tears.

“I will never forget that,” she cried. “And Gary told me how the others at the bank saw me. An axe-woman who didn’t care about her staff, only cared about making the numbers, climbing the corporate ladder.”

Shane rolled his lips in because in fact, that did sound like her description of herself. “Keara.”

“It’s true!” She lifted a tear-streaked face. “That is what I was like! One of the guys I fired had just had a baby. She was born premature and had lots of problems, expensive problems. I didn’t even know that. I mean, I knew he’d had a baby, but I didn’t think of that, I just canned him.”

“Business decisions don’t always have room for things like that,” Shane said carefully. “It’d be nice to not ever have to fire anyone or cut staff, but that’s the way the world is. I’m sure you made the best decisions you could.”

“I did. But I hate myself for it. And…” She swallowed convulsively. “I don’t know if I can ever do that again.”

“Do…what?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“Make tough decisions like that. I’m afraid I’ll always be second-guessing myself, taking things into consideration that I shouldn’t be. How can I be an effective manager if I’m too wishy-washy to make decisions? I was almost ready to go back to work, and when I went to visit the bank I had a meltdown.”

He watched her, unsure of what to say.

“They told me I had a panic attack. First time in my life. I didn’t believe them, but every time I think about going back to work, I get this funny, tight feeling in my stomach. It’s fear, Shane. I’m terrified. And it’s not just because of being held at gunpoint and thinking I was going to die. It’s the guilt.”

God. His chest ached for her and he wished he could do something—anything—to make things better for her. Tenderness and warmth filled him and he drew her back down to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Go ahead, cry,” he murmured against her hair. “Get it all out.”

And she did. She sobbed and choked and sniffled until she seemed exhausted. His chest was wet and he reached for a box of tissues beside the bed and handed her some. She quivered against him. “God, I am so sorry,” she said, voice thick. “I do not know where that all came from.”

“I think I kinda pushed you to tell me that stuff,” he said. “I guess I should apologize. Except I think it might’ve been good for you.”

“Oh sure, embarrassing myself is good for me.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. I told you, I get it. I know what it’s like to have all those powerful emotions inside you that you don’t understand and don’t know what to do with.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “That’s it.”

He tipped her chin up and kissed her mouth. Her lips tasted of salt. Words rose up inside him, words of…Christ. He wasn’t in love with her. He was just having sex with her to help her get over this depression. But her sadness tugged at something inside him, opened up a hole in his heart, made him want to save her, protect her from everything.

He deepened the kiss, expressing his feelings with actions instead of words, sliding his hand into her hair to hold her head, the other on her bare hip. She was tiny on his lap, silky-soft and delicious-smelling. He wanted to inhale her, eat her up, claim her.

The intensity of his feelings threatened his self-control and he had to fight to restrain himself, to remind himself what this was.

She kissed him back, soft mouth opening against his, silky tongue stroking, sweet and warm. She was naked in his arms, delicate breasts pressed to his chest, her butt cheeks on his thigh and he knew he was hardening against her.

They sat there snuggled together on the bed for a long time, just kissing in long, sweet, slow kisses, hands petting and caressing in gentle touches, tongues sliding, bodies pressing. Tenderness expanded inside him, filling his chest, his desire for her more than just lust for her body but an intense need to look after her, to make things better for her. He knew he couldn’t, really, but he could do this to make her feel better. And he made love to her with his hands and his mouth and his body, slow and gentle and worshipful.

When his cock hardened to the point of excruciating need, he slid down the bed, Keara still on top of him and helped her part her thighs around his hips. She lifted herself over him and lowered on to him, impaling herself, and the hot velvet clasp of her body around him seared his senses, sent sensation pouring through him in ecstatic waves. He arched and lifted into her, reached for her hands, and held them beside his shoulders as she rode him, her pretty breasts with tight little nipples in front of his face.

He lifted his gaze to her face, and though her mouth was swollen and eyes still glossy, the pleasure he saw there made him swell even more inside her. She gasped, eyes wide, quickened the pace and he matched her, hips thrusting, fingers tight on hers. He was so close already, but he wanted her to come too, so he released her hand and slid his down between them to where their bodies joined, probed for the bud of her clit and stroked over it. She cried out, rode him harder, and then he let himself go just as she sat up and arched her back, hair hanging down her back, eyes closed. He held her hips as he fucked up into her, balls tightening and jerking as he poured himself into her. Ah, Christ. Christ. She was incredible. So good. So damn good.