Down and Dirty (Dare Me)

chapter Two


Cat Thomas.

Shane waited for Galen to finish signing an autograph and tossed some bills onto the Formica table, wondering once again if he’d made a mistake by coming back east. When Galen had invited him, it had been a no-brainer. He’d intended for it to be a short trip, a day or two in Atlantic City, a day or two to visit the family up north, and then back to California. But the past few months had been a wake-up call for him, and he was starting to think that maybe life was too short and fragile to be this far from the people he loved. It was time to go home for a good long while. Maybe even for good, if his transfer went through.

“Ready to rock-and-roll?” Galen asked, elbowing him in the ribs as he passed.

“Yeah, man, I’m shot from that red-eye flight.”

“You?” Galen asked, his eyes popping comically wide. “I spent half my night getting punched in the face.”

“Don’t bullshit me. I was there, and if you got hit more than ten times, you can punch me in the face.”

Galen shrugged, waving to their waitress as they exited the little fifties-style diner. “Maybe so, but that guy’s fists are like two Buicks wrapped in bacon. That shit hurts.”

“Remind me to feel sorry for you later when you’re lying on your piles of money and your gorgeous fiancée is rubbing all your aches away.”

His friend laughed at that, the kind of laugh that told Shane the bastard knew exactly how lucky he was. Good thing, too. If not, Shane would have made it his personal mission to remind him.

They made their way to the elevators, and his thoughts drifted back to Cat. It had been almost three years since he’d seen her last. He’d hoped by now she’d have grown up enough to want a real man, someone strong enough to go toe-to-toe with her. Or if not, then at least he’d have grown out of wanting to be that man. That maybe this time, when he saw her, he wouldn’t have the inane urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to his cave.

He couldn’t have been more wrong on the last count. If anything, he wanted her even more. She’d always been hot and confident, even at sixteen, but as she got older, she got better and better. He’d never seen someone five-foot-nothing take up so much space. Her energy and charisma made her the biggest person in the room, and it was an effort not to watch her every animated move. Too bad she was such a chickenshit.

Shane shook his head. “So have you guys picked a date for the wedding yet?”

“Nope, but we’re thinking summertime.”

“Best time to have it in Rhode Island. That’s one thing I’m not looking forward to—spending the next month in the nut-shrinking cold.” They stepped onto the elevator and Galen punched in their floor number. He cleared his throat, and strived to keep his tone casual. “How’s Cat been doing? Got a guy at home or still a lone wolf?”

Galen shook his head. “Not yet. She’s a tough nut, that one. But I gotta be honest, there’ve been a couple real douchebags lately, and I’m glad she’s not settling for just anyone. My only concern is that she’ll toss the good ones away as quick as the bad. She’s got commitment issues.”

While the last part wasn’t great news for him, the first half of Galen’s admission had him breathing a sigh of relief. No guy. At least he had a chance then.

The elevator doors slid open, and he and Galen stepped out. “This way. We’re in the same wing.”

When they reached Galen’s room first, his friend turned to face him. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

“I’m going to try to get a solid seven, but call me when you guys wake up, and if I answer I’ll meet you for eggs before I leave.”

“Sounds good. You’re three doors down.” He thrust his chin down the long hallway and slipped his key in the lock. “Just a warning, it’s about to get crazy in here. You may want to wear earplugs.” A lethal grin lit Galen’s face, and Shane rolled his eyes.

“Sure thing, a*shole.”

Galen’s chuckle echoed behind him as Shane made his way to Cat’s room. Just as he was opening the door, Lacey’s feminine laugh spilled down the hallway to join Galen’s. Good for him. His lady did wait up. So did that mean Cat was here? His pulsed kicked up. Lacey’s laughter was cut short when Shane closed the door behind him. One light on, no one home. Maybe she’d stopped off to gamble for a while before coming up.

He took in the opulent surroundings, eyeing the two queen beds draped in green and gold. Cat’s hair would look like fire against those colors, like New England in the fall. He groaned, tossed the key and his wallet onto the dresser, and headed for the bathroom. A shower first, to clear his head, and then he’d figure out how to deal with this damn woman.

An hour later, he bit back a curse. The very blankets he’d been admiring were now his own personal instruments of torture and still no Cat. He growled, kicking at the sheets strangling his legs like a straitjacket, and rolled off the bed to yank them from beneath the mattress. Who could sleep like that? He shook the bedding out to cover the bed loosely, then climbed beneath the layers, tugging them up over his shoulder as his thoughts drifted back to Cat.

Maybe that’s why she couldn’t settle down. Maybe that was how relationships made her feel. Hotel-tucked. Trapped. And the tighter the tuck, the more panicked she got. Whatever the case, if her response to his little “heartbreaker” jab was any indication, nothing had changed on her end either. She still wasn’t in the market for a serious relationship. And didn’t that f*cking blow. Although it was better than showing up after all this time and finding her madly in love with someone else.

Just the thought soured the burgers in his stomach. Thank God she wasn’t. From what he’d gathered from Galen, she was definitely single.

But where the hell was she?

Shane stared at the whorls in the ceiling and then rolled to his side, shifting a bleary eye to the empty bed next to his again. It had been two hours since they’d left her and Lacey at the bar. Was she going to just stay out all night in an effort to avoid him, or was she going to put on her big-girl pants at some point and come back to the room? Either way was okay with him. He had at least a month and if everything went according to plan, he’d have all the time in the world to get her to see things his way. He briefly considered going down to the poker room rather than stewing, but twenty-four hours with only the fitful nap on the plane in the way of sleep hit him all at once and his lids finally drifted closed.

His last waking thought was of Cat in the lake, a damp, red curl obscuring one green eye, her siren’s smile mocking him.

…

Cat smothered another semi-hysterical laugh and stepped into the elevator. She pressed the number twelve, then, on whim, frantically batted all the other numbers in between like she was playing Whac-A-Mole.

Now you’re just stalling.

She couldn’t argue with herself there. She’d definitely been stalling. After walking Lacey back to her room, she’d felt a sudden burning desire to play the slots. Two hours, four drinks and three hundred dollars later, she was tired enough that her eyes were stinging, but it took all her courage to leave the casino. Scared to be in the same room alone with Shane Decker. Because, after six months of self-imposed celibacy and almost a decade of wondering, she didn’t know if she’d be able to keep her hands to herself. And after the second drink—or was it the third?—she’d started thinking that maybe Lacey was right. Not about the “opening up and giving a guy a real chance” thing. Not happening. But the whole “getting Shane out of her system” thing had seemed like a better idea with every sip.

The desire had been too deeply buried to make the official print version, but if she was being totally honest with herself, finishing what she’d started with Shane was hella-high on her mental bucket list. Now, though, with nothing but an elevator ride and a short hallway between them, she was seriously considering knocking on Lacey and Galen’s door and asking if she could crash on their couch.

Because what if he turned her away? Again.

“Stop it, you chicken.”

She was overthinking. And overthinking was Lacey’s bag, not hers. Cat Thomas was a doer, and she was so doing this. Her brain reeled back to the thought of Shane in his snug T-shirt, and she allowed herself to embrace it. It was time to put this thing with him to bed. And after that? He’d go back to California at the end of the month and everything would be fine.

After stopping at every floor, the elevator finally reached twelve, and she stepped out. She made her way down the hall on trembling legs, arriving at her door too soon. Another chuckle threatened and she bit her lip. The pleasant buzz she’d been working on was disappearing fast in the wake of her nerves, and she briefly considered heading back down for one more nip of liquid courage.

“Wuss,” she muttered under her breath. She was done acting like a virgin on her wedding night. She was a grown, powerful woman asserting her sexuality. And while Shane may not want to want her, there was no hiding the masculine appreciation in his eyes earlier.

With a toss of her head, she reached in her bag, bypassing the four-pack of condoms she’d picked up at the hotel drugstore earlier, and palmed her keycard. She slid it slowly into the slot then pulled it out. The resulting snick reverberated in her head like a shot. Surely it hadn’t been loud enough to wake him, had it? If she had to face him first she’d never be able to go through with this.

Before her courage could flag any further, she opened the door and stepped into the room, then closed it softly behind her. It was pitch black and silent, except for the sound of Shane’s low, even breathing. Thank God.

She paused, briefly considering whether to change into her nightclothes before getting in or just stripping down. The image of climbing into Shane’s bed in her Star Trek T-shirt and ratty boxer shorts had her choking back more laughter. She’d have to go with option B.

She felt around for the dresser, then laid the keycard on top. She toed off the stilettos she’d had on all night and made quick work of her blouse and skirt. When she was down to bra and panties, another wave of nerves hit, and she stopped. They could deal with those once she was in the bed with him. She reached into her purse and pulled out the box of condoms. Then, on tiptoe, she padded across the carpet, moving at a snail’s pace in an effort to get across the room, toes unstubbed. When she reached the bed closest to the door, she laid a gentle hand on the covers. Cold and still neatly tucked in. Her heart thumped faster as she faced the second bed, hand outstretched.

He was there. She could feel the heat pouring off him. An earthy, male scent permeated the air, and she moved closer, letting her hand drift down. For the first time since she’d decided to do this, a bolt of pure desire sliced through her, leaving her doubts in tatters. Her fingertips came into contact with warm skin, and she drew back with a gasp. Wrong side of the bed, but luckily, his breathing stayed steady as she hurried around to the other side. She laid the condoms on the bedside table, then pulled back the covers, breath suspended, and climbed in. The sheets on her side were chilled, but she suppressed a shiver as she waited to see if she’d disturbed him.

Still nothing. Sweet.

The rush of victory and adrenaline coursed through her, and she rolled closer, absorbing his heat, until she was pressed flush against his broad back. Her nipples peaked instantly, and she plastered herself closer, relishing the sensation. Damn, he was big. Bigger than she’d remembered. Shane shifted restlessly, slinging his muscular arm back to cup her ass and tug her more firmly against him. A low, male groan of approval followed, and he gave her bottom a squeeze.

A quiver of awareness snaked through her at his confident touch. Such a small thing, but for some reason it terrified her. What if they really were that good together?

She drew away, the sense of foreboding from earlier returning with a vengeance, but that hard, male hand slid down the back of her thigh and up again to cup her ass, derailing her thoughts. She wrapped her arm around his waist and traced her fingers over his six-pack abs, half-wishing she’d had the balls to turn on the lights so she could get a look at them. His stomach tensed beneath her questing hand, and she let her fingers trail lower, over the narrow strip of hair leading downward. When she hit his underwear and found the broad head of his cock distended past the waistband, her heart hammered double-time. She ran her thumb over the silken skin and swallowed a moan. He felt so good. It was almost enough to make her rush things and jump right on him.

Almost.

She slipped her hand beneath the cotton and closed it over his long, thick shaft, not bothering to hide her murmur of approval. Big and hard all over. This decision was looking better by the minute. Shane shifted his hips, arching more fully into her grasp.

His muttered “F*ck, yeah,” made her want to collapse with relief, so different from the “No, Cat. We have to stop” from last time. The hand on her ass massaged her, urging her to grind against his back. Tingles radiated from between her thighs, and she couldn’t help but pulse her hips in response, suddenly aching for more pressure. She stroked him once from base to tip, light and teasing, and he groaned, his voice gravelly with sleep and need.

Then, a second later, she found herself flat on her back and he was going down, down…

…

Cat.

Shane’s whole body cranked to eleven, and hot blood pumped to his cock as her warm scent assailed him. Lush, spicy, and a little wild, like oranges and the Orient. That soft, supple body he’d imagined his hands all over a thousand times pressed against him. With a dream this hot, he would kill any motherf*cker who dared wake him. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d invaded his sleep. It would, however, be the most vivid. So vivid, almost—

His dream temptress arched against him then, and his brain short-circuited when his lips brushed a lace-covered nipple. He drew the stiff peak into his mouth and she bowed her back, purring low in her throat. He trailed his hand over her rib cage, down the flat expanse of her stomach until he reached the tiny scrap of silk covering her wet heat. Her whispered pleas spurred him on and he yanked, the cloth coming away in his hand. He tossed it aside and released her nipple to press sucking kisses down her side, desperate to taste what he’d uncovered. When he reached her hip, he couldn’t resist the full curve and nipped her sharply with his teeth. Her cry was one of pleasure, and he groaned, torn between the need to explore her some more and the need to feel her come against his mouth.

He slipped a hand between her thighs and the decision was made. The skin was like satin, with only a thin strip of down covering her. Her plumped * pouted against the heel of his palm, and he pressed in, rewarded by a rush of heat and her moan. His cock jerked, and he slid farther down the bed to kiss her there. She was stock-still beneath him except for her thighs trembling. He settled in closer to run his tongue up her slick crease. When he reached her *, he closed his lips over it and rubbed rhythmically with his tongue.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, quivering against him, legs falling open wide. He tested her readiness, then slid two fingers deep, pressing them into her wet warmth. She arched toward him, hips pulsing restlessly.

“Deeper,” she begged.

Her request made his cock surge and he complied, sliding deeper, working in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, all the while sucking, licking, reveling in her taste. She thrust her hips up, grinding against his face as he increased the pressure of his mouth. He went at her with a ravenous hunger, driven to consume, until she writhed beneath him frantically. It felt like forever and no time at all when, dimly, he heard her broken cries, and she tensed.

“Please, stay with me,” she moaned, holding him tight to her p-ssy as she pulsed and twitched against his mouth. Her sweet, hot juices bathed his tongue, and he couldn’t contain his growl of satisfaction. If he didn’t get inside her in the next thirty seconds, he was going to explode. When her thighs relaxed, he didn’t waste a second, yanking off his boxers and covering her still trembling body with his own.

She pressed him back with a staying hand and stretched toward the bedside table. “Condom,” she murmured breathlessly.

The word hit him like a locomotive.

Condom.

In the dozens—no, hundreds—of sex dreams he’d had in his life starring Cat, not a single one had ever involved a condom. The scrape of lace as she wriggled against his chest penetrated the sensual fog and sent another warning signal blaring. He enjoyed sexy bras as much as the next guy, but his fantasies almost exclusively featured Cat buck naked.

Total exhaustion had left him addled, but it was clear now. This was the real deal. Cat Thomas, wet and wanting, thighs spread wide under him, was waiting for him to slide home and make her scream. He didn’t know what had changed her mind about him, but it was about f*cking time.

In the utter blackness, on the precipice of fantasy becoming reality, every sound seemed amplified. The tear of foil, his own heaving breaths as her sure fingers worked the condom over his cock, her gasp as he tipped his hips forward, testing her readiness.

“Yess,” she hissed, clutching at his hips, dragging him deeper, inch by inch. “I want it all.”

The need was so keen it made him dizzy, and he gave up the fight, filling her tight sheath in one sure thrust. Deep, so deep she whimpered against his shoulder, and he started to pull back. Dial down the intensity. She was so small, and he—

Her teeth clamped down hard on his shoulder, and her nails dug into his lower back, urging him on. Begging him wordlessly not to stop.

She dropped her head back to the pillow and pulsed her hips against his, faster and faster. “I’m so close. Just…”

He’d wanted to tease, to play, to cool her back down only to fan those flames even higher, but he was so far gone. She whispered another plea, but it came on a hiccup, and he froze, buried deep in her clutching heat, primed for release. His breath sawed in and out of his lungs with the effort of his restraint. He peered at the clock. Almost 4:00 a.m. Had she been drinking this whole time? “Cat, I—”

“Don’t.” Her tone was high and reedy, ripe with want. “Don’t you dare. F*cking. Stop.” She strained against him, wild and desperate for something only he could provide.

He tried to think clearly, to fight off the instinct to propel them both into oblivion. Then her body squeezed over him, sucking at him, luring him toward an orgasm he could no more deny her than he could himself, and all coherent thought ceased. Blood roaring in his ears, he pulled back and plunged forward again, gripping her hips tight, the pressure of his own release clawing at him like a beast demanding satisfaction.

“Yeah, yeah, just like that,” she chanted, stretching beneath him, her whole body tensing.

Just like that. It was all so f*cking perfect. But did she even know what she was doing or who she was with?

“Say my name.” His voice was raw and low. “Say it, Cat,” he demanded, snapping his hips against hers in steady, hard thrusts. “You know it’s me, so f*cking say it.”

Her head tossed on the pillow and she moaned, “Damn, ah, Shane! I—I—oh God.” Her body clasped him tight and fluttered, clutching and releasing as she came hard around his cock.

Triumph coursed through him, sending him hurtling over the edge, and his body bucked, hot liquid pooling in his balls before pumping into her. Her body milked him dry, the waves of ecstasy leaving him shuddering. For a long moment, he stayed poised over her, his pulse pounding so loud it was a wonder he could hear anything else. Because he’d just had sex with Cat Thomas. And it had been damned good. Excellent, really. But something told him that things were about to go downhill fast.

He rolled to the side to take care of the condom, and before he could roll back, she’d sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Soldiering through the stab in his gut at her rush to get away from him, he kept his voice low.

“So that’s it? You going to run now, Cat?”