James was as grateful as he’d ever been in his life for the fact that Shay was asleep when he returned from walking Bogart. That didn’t stop him from staring.
She had undressed while he was out. Sprawled on her tummy, she slept in a lacy tank and a tiny pair of pink briefs with a single black sheep printed on the rear. That black sheep boldly hugged the generous swells of her butt. Her long legs were tangled in the bedding she’d half pulled back before collapsing, his guess, onto the bed. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow. Every soft womanly curve spoke directly to his libido. He’d never had a better silent invitation. Or a tougher test of his morals.
Shifting his duffel from his shoulder, he tried not to make a sound that would awaken her as he stripped down to his skivvies. Then he carefully worked the bedding down her legs to free them and re-covered her up to her neck. Only then did he stretch out beside her, on top of the bedding. He was a decent man but he wasn’t a saint.
He knew it would be a while before he could relax. Instead, he went over in his mind with an officer’s precision all that she had told him. She still felt responsible for things that had been out of her control. It was not unusual for victims of violence to blame themselves. But it tore him up to know that the very people who were supposed to protect her had heaped blame on her, as well. He had felt a lot of things while she talked, mostly he’d wanted to grab and hold her until he had absorbed all her pain and anguish. It was more than sympathy. It cut right through to his core. Shay Appleton had been messing with his head since the moment he first saw her. Now she had burrowed into something else a foot lower and to the left, which shoook him more.
He turned toward her. She was facing him, her lashes dark smudges on her upper cheeks. Her lips were parted, moist and soft.
He looked away. If Shay were a sheep, then he was here to be her sheepdog guardian. But his dick kept twitching like the tail of a fox. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Her body throbbed in protest that they weren’t done yet. Mercy, not nearly done!
Shay scrambled through the drag of dream-filled desire to consciousness. Where was James? They’d been talking. No, she’d been talking. Too much. She’d told him all the terrible truths about her life. And yet, underneath it all, she could not shake the need swamping her every time she glanced his way. She wanted him bad. But it was a lost cause. He had left. This time, she was sure, for good.
Blinking away tears in the darkness, she watched the familiar surroundings of her bedroom, dimly lit by the tiny bulb from the fire alarm in the ceiling, gradually come into focus.
The dream had left her damp and shaky with desire. For James. Who wasn’t here and wasn’t coming back.
Sighing in regret, she slid fingers across the sheet and came up against a firm hairy thigh. She turned her head on the pillow. James was lying there beside her, sound asleep.
She almost burst out with laughter in relief. She had long ago stopped believing in miracles. They didn’t happen for her. Yet here he was.
Her hand moved up over the top of his thigh, feeling his heat against her palm. The delicious sensation forced her eyes closed. He was here. With her. That must mean something. She didn’t dare put a name to it.
Smiling at the thoughts floating through her mind, she opened her eyes and felt a zing of surprise. James had turned his head and was staring straight at her.
“Hi.” His voice was husky but it wasn’t with sleep.
“Hi.” Hers trembled with desire. Since there was nothing else to say, she walked her fingers up the warm hard surface of his thigh until she encountered the edge of his briefs.
James felt his entire body clench in response to her light touch.
Don’t hurt her more than she’s already been hurt.
Thoughts such as that usually came with a voice attached. His mother’s for manners. His grandmother’s for common sense. His dad’s for duty. This one came straight from his own heart, directed at his libido.
He grasped her fingers and squeezed them, hard. “You don’t owe me anything.”
His rough whisper told Shay all she needed to know about how to proceed. He wasn’t going to take advantage of her. He was worried that she might be damaged or too fragile after her confession to withstand his brand of lovemaking.
He had forgotten how tough she could be. Or determined, when she wanted something very badly. She needed to remind him.
She owed this to herself. This would be something good and positive to hold on to during the next dark night in her life.
She rose up on an elbow, close enough to see the light from the ceiling reflected like twin stars in his eyes. “What if we owe each other?”
James reached for her hand and pulled it toward his crotch. “This?”
Her fingers flexed in anticipation of the feel of him. Instead he released her just short of the goal.
Luckily, it was only one short inch.