Shay’s cries were ecstasy to his ears as Reese increased his thrusts, keeping that angle of her hips, milking her until all her sounds became little sobs and whimpers of utter satisfaction.
Finally, Shay sank weakly against the mattress, her eyes closing, her breath ragged, her lips curved. Only then, did he release her wrists and ease his hand from beneath her hips. Watching as her flesh grew rosy from her chest upward, and continuing to give slow, deep thrusts into her to maximize her enjoyment, he saw her smile and open her eyes, drowning in his gaze.
Nothing had ever felt so good, so profound, as loving Shay. Her brown hair lay mussed around her head, golden highlights here and there among the clean, strong strands. She looked wanton, wild, and she was his. Nothing in two years had ever made Reese feel as good as he did right now. He felt such incredible love for this brave woman who had dared breach his walls and call him out.
And no one was more grateful than he. For so long, he’d given up on himself. Shay had slowly brought him back to life, whether she knew it or not. Back home to who he was. As he moved strands of hair off her dampened brow, smiling deeply into her fulfilled gaze, Reese knew he’d taken the first step of many to come back to living life once more. Not allowing the fear to always rule him as it had for so long before she’d walked into Charlie Becker’s store and offered him a job.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shay slowly awoke and found herself wrapped in Reese’s embrace. Her cheek lay against his upper arm and she lifted her lashes, meeting his calm green gaze. “I must have dozed off,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes.
“You’ve been through a lot of late,” he murmured, smiling a little. “Good loving does that to a person.”
Nodding, she stretched languidly, savoring full contact with Reese’s naked, warm body. Nothing had ever felt better. “Did you sleep?” Because she saw the light had changed and shifted. The clock on the dresser read 4:00 P.M. In another hour, the vets would be home and Garret would be in the kitchen down the hall. Shay didn’t want the time to hurry by; she wanted to stay here with Reese, absorb him, love him.
“No,” he said. His hand came to rest on her shoulder. “You dozed for about half an hour.”
Frowning, she whispered, “But weren’t you tired afterward, Reese?”
“Yes.”
“Then—”
“I can’t sleep with you, Shay.”
The words came out sad.
Her heart tripped with anguish. Slowly, she sat up, pushing her hair behind her shoulders, facing him. Sliding her hand along his broad shoulder, she looked deep into his eyes. “I want to share a very important story with you.” She proceeded to tell him about Chuck and Diana. His eyes narrowed and he listened intently to her. When she was done, she gave him a pleading look. “I want to sleep with you, Reese, unless you don’t want that. Maybe I’m reading too much into what I feel we have.”
Gently, he ran his hand down her left arm, engaging her fingers with his. “We need to give ourselves the time to explore one another, Shay. I’m not opposed to sleeping with you, but I’m not over that hurdle yet.”
“Because you’re afraid you’ll lash out in your sleep and hit me?”
Reese nodded. “Very much so.”
“Couldn’t we try what Diana and Chuck do?”
Silence settled into the room as Reese thought about it. “I don’t know . . .”
“Look,” she said huskily, “I’m a vet with PTSD, too. Why aren’t you afraid of me waking up and swinging?”
“You have a point,” he conceded, and then tried a little teasing. “But if you hit me, you aren’t going to cause much damage. If I hit you, I could break your nose . . . your cheek or jaw, Shay. That’s the last thing in the world I want.”
The worry in his eyes tore at her. “I want to try this method, Reese. Please, don’t tell me no.”
With a groan, he sat up, leaning against the headboard, drawing Shay into his arms, settling her against his body. He lightly rested his chin on her hair, holding her close. “What if it happens, Shay?”
Shrugging, she whispered, “I don’t think it will. This time, it’s different.” She looked up at him. “We’re different. Things aren’t the same as they were when you hurt Leslie. You can’t lay that experience on us, Reese. We’ve both been in the military, we both have PTSD.” She slid her fingers across his jaw, feeling the sandpapery quality of it. “You’re at a different place with your PTSD than when you were married to her. You were trying to hide it. You’re not doing that anymore. It’s in the open. Everyone knows.”