She looks at me, and anything I could have read in her stare is no longer present. “Is getting fired what you think I should do?”
“I can’t give you an objective answer.”
“Why?”
“Because the only way we sell you being nothing more than a lost informant to me is if I stay away from you.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stay. Now ask what I think is smart.”
“Leaving is smart,” she says. “And that would be easier if you just stop making me feel…”
“Making you feel what?”
“Something.”
“Something,” I repeat, and I weigh that word on my tongue, deciding it needs no further definition. But whatever it is, it’s pure in a way that nothing else in my life is—or has been—in far too long and I’m not letting my brother force her into hiding, when it’s clear she’s already doing that on her own.
I stand, taking her with me, my fingers lacing snugly with hers. “Come,” I command softly, leading her up the stairs, through the bedroom and into the bathroom, stopping at the glass-encased shower next to the tub.
Releasing her hand, my fingers find the hem of my T-shirt she’s wearing, caressing it upward, my fingers trailing over her skin to pull it over her head and toss it aside. It hasn’t even hit the ground when my hands are on her slender waist, my gaze raking over her high breasts and pebbled plump red nipples. “You are so damn beautiful,” I murmur, and when I look at her, I let her see the hunger in my stare, the depth of how damn much I want her.
“Shane,” she whispers. There’s no real reason, but she doesn’t need one. She just needs to keep saying it, over and fucking over.
I release her, and her lashes lower, becoming half-moons on her pale cheeks. When she lifts them again, I’ve taken off my clothes, and opened the glass door to the shower, silently inviting her to walk inside. She enters, but not before her gaze flickers over my body, lingering on my cock, and the look might as well be a lick for the way my body pulses and thickens. There is a predatory part of me she stirs, which is about far more than fucking, and when she faces me, just outside the stream of water, I stalk forward, backing her up without a touch until she is in the corner. My hands settle on the wall above her, my cock jutted, thick and hard, between us, but there is more to this moment than sex. “To hell with being objective. You rock my world and I don’t get rocked. I’m damn sure going to do my best to make you do this my way.”
“Which is what?”
“You stay with me.” I lower my mouth a breath from hers. “Stay.”
“Yes,” she says, sounding breathless. I knew I was right in that coffee shop when I met her. I damn sure like her breathless and I plan to keep her that way for the rest of the weekend.
I brush my lips over hers, a caress and a tease that I follow with a deep, drugging kiss, the sweet, honey taste of her biting at my self-control. But it’s her control I want. It’s her command of her secrets. I want to tear away her reserve, and that starts now, with me taking her pleasure and leaving room for nothing else. Driven by that intent, I lower myself to my knees, warm water splaying over my back, while I plan to make her warm all over.
My lips find her belly, and her fingers tunnel into my hair, and this time I don’t stop her. This time, I am not driving away her demons, and leaving no room for them. I’m tearing down her walls, and sliding into their place, and I waste no time finding her clit and licking it. And licking again, sucking her deeply, using my fingers and tongue to tease and please until she is arching her hips and making soft, sexy sounds of pleasure I feel in the pulse of my own body. I explore, lick, touch, and it is only minutes before she is tugging at my hair, a rough burn that tells me she is on edge where I want her. With only a few more caresses of my tongue, her sex is clenching around my fingers. I ease her into release and back down. When she calms, I stand, cupping her face and kissing her. That sweet honey taste of all of her is on my tongue and I want more.
EMILY
An hour after we exit the shower, Shane and I collapse on the bed flat on our backs, one of his legs draped over mine, both of us breathing heavily. “I don’t think I need my morning jog today,” I pant out.
“At some point in the near future we’ll have to eat,” he murmurs, the muffled sound of his phone ringing in the bathroom.
“Don’t you need to get that?” I ask, rolling to rest on his chest.
His hand flattens at the base of my spine. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s Jessica, and I’m not getting out of bed to race over and see that apartment. Not when I have you naked and to myself.”
“That apartment’s gorgeous. Don’t lose it.”
“Money talks and so does power. If I want it, I won’t lose it.”
“And you want Brandon Enterprises.”
“Yes. I do.”