Tai beams with this news. “Always. And just let me know when, I’d love to bring you dinner from my daughter’s restaurant to celebrate this weekend.”
Celebrate living with Shane. Who would have ever believed that my leaving Texas, and saying yes to a one-night stand with Shane, would lead here. “That would be amazing,” I say with approval, and Shane is quick to agree. It’s a good twenty minutes later when Shane and I step onto the elevator and he settles me in front of him, those wonderful hands of his resting on my hips, while his eyes promise me they will be many other places, soon. I’m pretty much melting by the time we exit and enter the apartment, Shane at my heels.
Before I can even turn, his hands are at my waist and he’s turning me, backing me against the wall in that dominant way of his, his powerful thighs framing mine. “I want that taste of you I didn’t get in that coffee shop.” And then he is on his knees, and my skirt is already at my waist. “Shane. The food.”
“I’ll make it fast, I promise.” He closes his hand around my panties and yanks. “Good thing you have on thigh-highs.”
“I was cold, actually,” I pant out for some silly reason.
His hands bracket my upper thighs. “I’ll warm you up.” He lifts my leg to his shoulder, and his thumb strokes my clit.
I pant again, my nipples tightening as if they were where he’s touching. He strokes two fingers across the seam of my sex, and there is no time for me to prepare myself before his tongue flicks my clit. I rest my head on the wall, hands pressed there as well, every muscle in my body waiting for what comes next, until it’s there. He’s there and his mouth is on me, sucking, licking, teasing. His fingers slide inside me and I moan, biting my lip in the process, shocked at how fast that familiar deep ache in my sex begins.
“Oh,” I rasp out. “Oh.” I grab his head, steeping my fingers into the long, thick locks of his dark hair that give me plenty to hold on to. My nipples tighten painfully beneath my bra, that deep ache radiates through me until I can’t move or breathe, seconds ticking by before I tumble into an explosion of desire. There is nothing but pleasure spiraling through me, and his mouth on my body, his fingers stroking all the right places. Time passes, yet stands still. I don’t know, but I don’t want it to end, but too soon the intensity fades, and that tight knot in my sex relaxes, the leg that is holding me up turning rubbery.
Shane seems to know; he always seems to understand what I need, even though the two men I knew before him were selfish, focused on themselves. It’s a thought that comes from nowhere, but he drives home that point by wrapping his arm around my waist before easing my leg down. Then he is shoving up my blouse, his lips are on my belly, a rush of emotions crashing over me. I didn’t want to care about anyone the way I do him, ever again.
The doorbell rings and Shane slides my skirt down my legs, calling out, “Just a minute,” before pushing to his feet, cupping my face and kissing me, the taste of me on his lips. “Just in time.” He smiles and strokes my cheek before reaching for the door, and my gaze lands on my panties smack in the middle of the floor, and in full view of the hotel staff person bringing our food.
I scramble forward, my knees wobbling, as I bend down to scoop up my panties at the same moment Shane opens the door. The result is not good. I fall flat on my ass but fortunately Shane’s big body is blocking me from view, and my panties would never have been seen. Shane shuts the door and turns to find me sprawled on the floor. He sets the bag down by the door and kneels beside me.
“What happened?”
I hold up my panties. “They were in front of the door and my knees were still recovering from ah … what you did to me.”
He laughs, and snatches my panties, stuffing them in his pocket, and helping me to my feet. “Let’s eat dinner and I’ll have you for dessert.”
“Promise?” I ask again.
“Oh yes,” he assures me. “I promise.”
*
Shane sheds his tie and jacket, while I lose my shoes as fast as I had my panties, and we set up our dinner on the coffee table. I choose a spot on the soft rug beneath it while Shane appears with not one, not two, but three bottles of wine, before claiming a spot for himself on the couch.
“I’m never going to make it past one bottle, let alone three,” I warn him.
“This gives you a chance to pick one you like.” He opens one of the bottles and fills my glass.
“I’m not going to waste wine,” I say, lifting my glass. “This one will be fine.” I take a sip and the woodsy, bitter taste takes me off guard and I grimace.
Shane laughs, downs my wine, and then opens another bottle. It’s bottle number three that my taste buds finally enjoy, along with the meal, which we eat while watching the news and just enjoying our time together. And for once, we talk about politics and current events, finding we are in sync in all the ways that ensure we won’t later want to kill each other. It’s this normal kind of couple’s thing that is not forced, but amazingly natural.
Once the food is gone, and we’ve cleaned up, Shane turns off the television and sits on the edge of the couch right in front of me, those gray eyes studying me. “What?” I ask.
“I don’t remember the last time I just talked with anyone,” he says, and it’s clear in the way he says it that he’s a little taken off guard.
“Well, since I live with you,” I say, “I think you’d better get used to a lot more talking.”
“The unexplainable thing is that I’m already used to it.”
“You are?” I ask, sipping my wine.
“Yes. I am. I told you. I’ve never lived with a woman, because frankly, I didn’t want a relationship.”
“Me either,” I confess. “I haven’t lived with anyone.”
“Did you ever come close?”
“No,” I say. “My relationships have been—” I laugh again but this time without humor and amend, “My train wrecks are kind of embarrassing.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Experiences make us who we are, and sometimes the bad ones are the best at making us grow.”
“Experiences,” I repeat. “Yes well, I’ve certainly had those.”
“Tell me,” he presses softly, those two words becoming his familiar way to push me to expose some part of me I never thought to show anyone, and yet, I’m about to now.
“Train wreck number one,” I say. “That affair I mentioned with a professor before, was actually a much older law professor. Not my law professor because I wasn’t in law school. I was a freshman and still living at home to protect my brother.”
“How much older?”
“Twenty years and one of my father’s friends. Obviously he was some kind of screwed-up daddy issue I was working through. Feel free to judge now.”
“I’m not judging you, sweetheart.”
“I do and the worst part … When my mother died—”
“How did she die?”