Shy looked so healthy, so vibrant, how the hell could she have cancer?
“Max, I don’t want you to worry about me.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, sending me a small smile.
“Too fucking late for that.” I frowned before sliding my hands toward hers, lacing our fingers together.
Leaning closer, I kissed her slowly on the lips.
Her breath sped against my mouth when I pulled back the slightest amount.
“How are you doing?” I repeated.
Untangling her fingers, she cupped my jaw, holding me close. “Well, remission won’t happen until I’m five years cancer-free. But I don’t want to get into it all. Not with you.”
“Too damn bad. Because I wanna know.” My jaw tensed, and I willed myself to be gentle with her.
She imbibed another long swallow of wine. “Finished my last round of chemo five months ago.”
I stared at her intently, hardly breathing as my heart twisted in my chest.
“That was after a first round of treatment. Then the amputation.”
My hand fell to her leg, skimming up to her thigh.
“More chemo after that,” she whispered. “The cancer was aggressive. They couldn’t salvage all of my leg. The drugs you found, they’re for what came after. There’s been a lot to get used to.”
Her irises brightened with a sheen of tears when she looked at me.
I was choking on my own breath. “I never would’ve guessed. Goddamn, baby.” My face crumpled.
“I’m getting used to the prosthetics. They’re very fancy, you know?”
“Jesus, Shy.” I dragged her into my arms. “I thought you never . . .”
“Never what? Felt pain?”
“I’m sorry.” I dropped my cheek against her silky hair, guilt and shame pouring through me.
“Don’t be. We both grew up in the same world. Privileged.”
“I wish you’d told me sooner.”
“Seeing me like this is bad enough,” she whispered so low I barely heard her, but when I did, I reared back to stare at her.
Her eyes were downcast, her lips downturned.
I nudged her chin up beneath my fingers. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re beautiful. You always have been. Inside and out.”
“You don’t know about this.” She ruffled her fingers through her hair, her voice even quieter than before. “It’s a wig. I lost all my hair. It’s so babyish now. I hate it.”
My heart hurt for her. Not enough to lose her leg, but her hair, too?
Peering down at her, I quirked a grin. “What’s a little hair? It’ll grow back, right? Let me tell you, Brodie brought this little boy to the MC last winter. He’d met him at Bike Week during the fundraising ride. Cutest little dude named Wyatt. Leukemia. And he was so excited to show Brodie his hair had started coming back. He’s a damn cool kid.”
Shy’s eyes misted over. “Oh, that just breaks my heart, hearing about the little ones.”
“You are too good, y’know that?” I picked her up in my arms and cuddled her in my lap.
“Don’t make me cry.” She gave a tiny sniffle. “I’ve already done all my crying. And I’m not that good. I’ve done my shouting and being angry at the unfairness of it all too.”
I held her against me, stroking up and down her back.
Amputation.
Chemo.
Cancer.
The words kept spinning around my head.
I wouldn’t let myself be anything but strong for her.
Shy.
Strength.
Beauty.
Her lush breasts pressed against my chest, and something deeper, hotter, smoldering stirred between us, especially when her fingertips began coasting up and down the ink scattered all over my forearms.
Her touched raised the hair on my arms and at the back of my neck.
Her nipples hardened.
Her breath came out faster.
“What do you want Shy?” I asked, my voice suddenly deeper.
Something shifted. My whole perception of Shiloh.
Who was I kidding? She’d made me see her differently, as a woman, the first time she stepped into Retribution.
This was totally new territory.
Wanting someone this much.
She didn’t answer, but her hands slowly roved to my chest, and her lips were moist against the cords of my neck.
“Anything you want, Shy.” My fingers funneled beneath her hair, teasing small circles against the soft nape of her neck.
I was hard everywhere for her, ragged breaths digging into the bottom of my chest. My cock had surged full mast, but I wouldn’t rush her.
Her lips brushed my neck again, and her words were almost a moan. “I want you. I want to feel. I want to be alive with you.”
The hot need to have her beneath me, begging for my cock, pounded through me.
I tilted her head back.
“What else?” I licked her neck from her collarbone to her ear. “Tell me.”
“Fuck me, Max.”
I shuddered all over before scooping her up. She latched her arms around my neck as I stood from the sofa. Then I turned in a circle, forgetting which door led to her bedroom.
A low laugh rumbled from my chest. “Um. Which room again?”