She doesn’t hesitate to trust me, immediately letting her weight fall against my hands, the angle driving my cock deeper into her, and giving me a view of her gorgeous breasts bouncing with every thrust. And I do thrust. Harder. Faster. She pants, arching her back and letting her head fall back between her shoulders, her body stiffening a moment before her sex clenches around my shaft. Holy fuck, it’s good. So fucking good, and I grind her against me, pumping as I do, and then I am right there with her, my body shaking, my release coming with a deep ache that is there and gone too soon.
She edges forward and sinks against my chest, and my legs are suddenly exhausted. I walk to the sink, now several feet away, and sit her on the top. In no hurry to pull out of her, I linger there, our foreheads pressed together, our breathing in unison, that edge I’d been fighting sliding away. It’s because of her, and I have no explainable reason for that, except that she is the light in the darkness that is everything about the name Brandon I’ve tried to reject.
I cup her cheek. “Not exactly the way to make love to your woman.”
She inches back to look at me. “Make love? You’ve never said that before.”
“Right after I fucked you like there’s no tomorrow isn’t the right time to start,” I say, pretty sure I’ve just confessed something to both of us that I’m not ready to say. Not with my fucked-up family in control.
“Fucking like there’s no tomorrow was pretty great.”
Maybe she knows I want off the hook. Or maybe she just hits all the right buttons for me, because it’s the right answer for here and now. I reach up and stroke her cheek, and I grimace with the throb in my knuckle. She must notice, grabbing my hand to inspect it.
“It’s bad, Shane,” she says, inspecting the swollen knuckle that has at least stopped bleeding. “Did you break it?”
I flex my hand. “I can move it. It’s not broken.” I glance up and behind her. “The mirror didn’t fare so well though.” Disliking that I was capable of so little control, I grab a towel off the sink and pull out of her, pressing it between her legs. “I need to turn off the shower.” I turn away from her, doing as I’ve indicated, before snagging another towel, which I wrap around my waist. Her gown is ripped and dangling from her body, her knees pulled to her chest. The sight of blood on her leg sends me across the room again to inspect it, only to find it’s my blood on her. Not hers.
“I’m okay,” she says, obviously reading my concern. “Are you?”
“I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
“That’s not an answer,” she says, but rather than pushing for more, she makes a case for why I should offer it freely by adding, “And if I’m going to live with you, you can’t hide a part of yourself.”
“That’s not a part of me. That is not something I do.”
“I know that,” she says. “You have to trust me enough to know that. You have to trust me enough to talk to me, Shane. To believe I can see whatever is there, no matter how difficult, and that I can handle it.”
“I don’t want you to handle it,” I say. “And you can argue all you want but you’re my woman, and I have a right to protect you.”
“Your woman.”
“Yes. My woman. And if you don’t like that title, I think it’s pretty important we talk about that right now.” My cell phone rings. “I have to take that and you need to think about your answer.” I push off the counter and grab my jacket, removing my cell phone and glancing at the caller ID that registers Seth. I punch the answer button and walk into the bedroom, crossing to the closet. “What’s the update?” I ask, flipping on the light and opening a drawer.
“Everyone is at the accident scene, including my person of interest.” He means the wife, going on to add, “Nick has eyes on everything but there’s not much to tell. I’m going to head that way, and if you don’t hear from me again tonight, nothing has changed and all is well on all counts.”
Again, he means the wife. “Understood.” We end the call and I stick my phone in the pocket of my pajama pants, entering the bedroom to find Emily standing just outside the closet, a short lavender robe covering her slender curves.
I close the small space between us, my hands settling on her waist. “You look stunning in that color. I can’t even imagine you blond.”
“Shane.” Her hand flattens on my chest. “About the clothes—”
“Don’t tell me I can’t buy you clothes. I want to take care of you. Don’t tell me I can’t do that for you, the woman who is the one good and right thing in my life.”
“I am?”
“Yes,” I say, backing her toward the bed. “You make me remember I need to be good and right in my choices.”
“Do you ever question doing what is good and right?”
“There have been times when I felt like my hand was forced.”
“When you were a lawyer?”
“No,” I say. “I manipulated the law, as does every attorney, but I never broke it. I’m talking about when I’m with my family.”
“Did you go where they lead?”
“Not so far.”
“That sounds like you might.”
“I don’t want to be them.”
“You aren’t them. You don’t have to be them.”
“I know that,” I say. “But you just keep telling me so I don’t forget.” Her legs hit the bed frame and she grips my arms.
I lean into a kiss and she pulls back, her hand pressing on my chest. “Wait. Now it’s my turn to say talk to me. Are you okay?”
“Death happened. The one thing I can’t control. It’s not the night to push me to stop protecting you. Not tonight. Can you do that?”
“Yes. We can.”
“We,” I repeat, “and that word sounds as good on my tongue as I know you’re going to taste. I’m going to make love to you properly. The way I plan to many times in our future.” I reach down and untie her robe, letting it fall open; my fingers slide underneath just far enough to tease her nipples. They pucker beneath my touch, and her lashes flutter, settling on her cheeks. “But when it’s over, I’m going to fuck you hard and fast again.”
I tug gently on her nipples and she bites her lips. “Look at me,” I order gently.
She opens her eyes, and there is desire in their depths, but there are shadows there too. I do not think she intends for me to see doubt or uncertainty that wasn’t there before. That I do not like or wish to know ever again. I want it gone. Now. Tomorrow. Forever. I reach up and rip the silk tie from her robe, wrapping it around my hand, before I reach up and caress the robe off her shoulder, letting it tumble to the ground.
“Give me your hands,” I order, but it’s really a question: Does she still trust me?
She studies me for several beats, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, and I do not know what she sees in mine, but she offers me her hands. I wrap the silk around her wrists then lean in close to her, my cheek against her cheek, my body touching her nowhere else. “Now you’re at my mercy.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “I am.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Warm.”
My lips curve with the answer that is every bit the combination of sweet, sexy honesty I’ve come to expect from her. “I’m going to make you warmer.”
“Promise?”
I go still with that question, which on the surface is innocent, but I wonder if it truly is or if it’s about those shadows in her eyes. “I promise,” I say. “And you know, I never—”
“Make a promise you don’t keep.”