Wild Card (North Ridge #1)

It’s that desperation, that longing, that need, not just for her body but her big red heart that’s driving all of this.

“Please don’t stop,” she says. Her voice is raspy, quiet, and so disarmingly beautiful when I’m turning her on. I remember the first time we had sex, the way she looked as she came, and I knew I wanted this until my dying day, just this endless give and take, this exquisite pleasure I get from seeing her features soften, her body respond to me on a pure, primal, instinctual level. It’s a vessel continuously being filled, though never empty, not so long as I’m with her.

“Hold on,” I whisper to her, briefly pulling out and putting my hand beneath her left cheek, rolling her until she’s on her side. I grab her leg and with my grip on her thigh, I slowly push myself in and out of her, sliding in even deeper than before.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I’m hitting a sweet spot, and her mouth is falling open while her eyes pinch closed. She’s soft and as my thrusts become harder, I’m reveling in the look of her beneath me, her dark hair spilling around her. She’s mine, for now, she’s mine.

I slip my hand down to her clit, so swollen, pink, and wet, and begging for my touch. Her body tenses and she lets out a shaking breath as I rub my finger around in taunting, teasing circles, light as air.

She begins to jerk into me, wanting more pressure, wanting so badly to come.

I can tell she’s close to coming. Her body is shaking with strain, her breaths short and quick, her muscles taut. Her hands grasp the sheets so hard I think they might freeze like that.

I work my fingers into a frenzy and her muffled moans get louder and louder while I slam into her harder and harder. Her back is arched, nipples pink peaks, and I know she’s close.

“Fuck!” she cries out. “Oh, Shane.”

Because I’m starting to pound into her so hard, shaking the bed, shaking her breasts, I can’t tell if she’s coming or not, but then I feel her clench around me, pulsing, and I know she’s there, lost in the spiral.

I take in a deep breath and let out a low, guttural cry as my coiled muscles let loose and the orgasm rips down my spine, shooting out through every nerve ending. I’m fucking her so hard I think I’m going to push the bed right through the wall, right into the field and then I’m white-hot, wild, undone.

It sneaks up on me, like someone tackling from behind. I’m thrown into space, going off like a detonation, light bursting behind my eyes, and the groans out of my throat are loud, hoarse, and deafening.

It takes a few moments for me to catch my breath, for my heart rate to stop galloping, and slowly I collapse on the bed. My thoughts won’t gather; I can only lie here while Rachel lies down next to me, fingers running over my sweat-soaked skin

“Hey you,” she says, staring up at me through her thick lashes.

I clear my throat a few times, my throat feeling like sandpaper. “Howdy.”

“I like to think that went as planned,” she says. “But you sure as fuck know how to surprise me, Shane.”

I lick my parched lips and tilt my head to stare at her. Her eyes are so wet and blue, and I know I have a bad habit of staring into them for too long, but I can’t help it. I never could.

I reach over and take a strand of her damp hair between my fingers and gently brush it off her face.

I’m so fucking wild about you.

Please stay, please stay, please stay.

I don’t even have to say it out loud. She knows.

She opens her mouth to say something, eyes grappling with things I probably don’t understand. Then she says, “I think I’ll sleep well tonight. Can I stay here?”

“You can stay here,” I tell her, kissing her gently on the nose. “You can stay here forever.”

Please stay here forever.





20





Rachel





I wake up with a start.

My heart is thudding in my chest, making me wonder if I was in the middle of a bad dream.

The room is hot, dark. Shane is beside me, sleeping on his stomach, one arm draped across my chest. I’m surprised he can’t feel how fast my heart is going, that it’s not waking him up.

I take in a deep breath and will myself to calm down.

After my mother and I came home, I stole away to Shane’s place, seduced him like I was some sort of goddess. I can’t explain it. I just wanted him so badly, wanted to give myself to him in the event that it was our last time.

Was that our last time? I think, staring at him, how beautiful he looks when he’s sleeping, the soft curve of his full lips, the plane of his nose, his strong jaw. He has such a classic face, the ones you see in the old paintings, then later on Hollywood actors who could say a thousand words with just a glance, the last of a dying breed.

Shane feels like one of the last true men. Someone honest and true, shooting straight like an arrow every time. He’s alpha when he needs to be and vulnerable when doesn’t. There’s no pretention when it comes to him, no front or fa?ade. He’s like a motherfucking cowboy legend, drinking whisky, fighting off bears and telling the woman he loves that he’ll move mountains for her. He’ll move them all for me.

If I stay here with Shane, I’ll be beyond lucky.

I know this.

And maybe that’s why I keep thinking about leaving.

Because I have to.

This whole entire time I’ve been holding back, guarding my heart like a stray dog guards his food. I know I could let go but I also know I have to leave.

I haven’t lost my job yet. I worked so hard for it and, yeah, maybe the longer I’m here the more I realize that it doesn’t feed my soul. Neither does the condo, or the nightly dinners with friends who only talk about fashion and celebrity gossip and getting the most likes on their Instagram posts, nothing from their hearts. Neither did Samuel or any of the boys I dated. None of it fed me. It kept me alive but it didn’t give me a lust for life.

A lust for love.

Shane does that.

He was part of my past.

Now he can be part of my future.

If I take that leap and leave everything I worked for behind.

Shane and I were young and in love.

I thought we were unstoppable, as those who are young and in love do, believing it’s enough to weather any storm.

Now we’re older and…

I sigh, feeling like I can’t get enough air. I slowly pick up his arm and lift it off my chest, then get to my feet.

Flash.

The room turns a shade of white.

Lightning.

I go to the window and look out.

The wind is picking up, blowing in the curtains, the air dancing with the smell of electricity and change.

Thunder follows with a long, loud bellow, like God is shouting across the land.

There’s a reckoning afoot.

I slip on my underwear and one of Shane’s t-shirts and I run out of the house, like I’m being drawn outside, a magnet to the storm.

It’s fucking unreal.