I lift her to the sink, spreading her legs and yanking away her panties. She grips my shoulders while I grip my cock, sliding it along the slick seam of her body. She pants, holding onto my shoulders. “Shane.” My name is a plea, and I need no further encouragement. I press inside her, cupping her backside and lifting her to pull her fully down my shaft, the fullness of her breasts pressing against my chest. I thrust, pulling her down against me, and the pulse of pleasure that follows leaves room for nothing else but Emily, and that is exactly what I need.
“I have you,” I say, sliding my arms to her back. “Lean back.”
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.”