Unfixable

“Yes,” he groans, clutching my hips.

A breath rattles in my throat, and I jump without looking. “You have it.”

Calloused hands eagerly slip under my shirt. My bra is pushed aside before I have time to register which direction his touch is moving. Shane cups my naked br**sts and squeezes with just enough force to make my vision blur under the onslaught of sensation.

“Sexy girl,” he grates, molding them rhythmically. “Maddening girl.”

“You love it.” I don’t know this person anymore who sounds so sexually confident. This girl who not only responds to such challenging words, but responds in kind. Should it be thrilling me this much? I have no answers, only a desire to take it further. Let Shane take it further. My back arches as if I have no control over my own body’s movements anymore. Maybe I don’t.

“Careful, Willa.” He circles my ni**les with his thumbs. “I’m starting to like your smart mouth a little too much.”

I can hear my harsh breaths echoing in the small room, but I’m beyond caring. “And if I’m not careful?”

Shane’s raspy inhales of air joins mine. One big hand slides up my throat to cup my jaw. “I’ll find a better use for that mouth. Is that what you want to hear?”

A choked sob is my only answer. My position feels more provocative with each passing minute. I’m pinned down by him, just as he’s told me he wanted. His chest is anchoring me down, his erection pressing snugly against my bottom. I’ve never been taken like this, and I suddenly want it more than anything. I manage to slide my legs farther apart and move my hips in a slow circle.

Shane’s thigh muscles bunch, his low curse burning in my ears. “What are you trying to tell me, babe? You want something between your legs?”

“Yes.”

Shane releases my jaw, drawing his hand roughly down my body and ending at the snap of my jeans. “I’ve been going mad, thinking of you walking around like this all day. What happened to the bloody hoodie?”

“Laundry day.”

Snap. “I didn’t see you leave with any laundry.” He draws down my zipper. “Does that mean I should expect you to be dressed like this again tomorrow?”

“I’ll dress however I—” My words end on a moan when a single finger traces along my center, then pushes into me. Hard. My thighs squeeze together around his hand, holding him there. I don’t think there’s a way for the pressure to feel any more unbelievable, until he begins drawing his finger in and out. “Oh my God.”

“Ah, babe, how long have you been like this?” He doesn’t have to explain his question. I know what he’s asking. I can feel how ready he found me. When I squirm a little in embarrassment, he kisses my neck with a hot, open mouth until I stop. “That night in the alley, I wanted to touch you here so bad. You wouldn’t let me.” He adds a second thick finger and my knees dip down, having gone weak. “You’re letting me touch you now, aren’t you, girl?”

“Yes.” The word falls out of my mouth so quickly, I’m a little alarmed. He’s touching my body, but this control he has over my heightened senses scares me. Frantically, I try and detach my mind from my body, try and experience what Shane is doing to me without losing myself to him. But I can’t. I can’t. His fingers slip from inside me and begin to circle the concentration of all the pent-up stress I have, thanks to him and his words. The way he’s been staring at me. I’m desperate to take some control back. I’ve given him too much.

I reach behind me and slide a hand in between our bodies. My fingers close around his erection where it presses against the fly of his trousers. His hissed curse brings what I suspect is a triumphant smile to my face. Shane’s breath falters, his fingers increasing their circular rhythm between my legs.

“How long h-have you been like this?” I throw his earlier question back at him, but it loses its effect when I gasp the last word.

“Since the airport. Since I turned around and saw you’d given me the slip.” His lips trace over my shoulder. “Did you think I wouldn’t catch you?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he stops touching me. I make an irritated sound, but it sticks in my throat when Shane begins yanking my jeans down my legs. My eyes flutter shut, and I imagine what he’s seeing. Me, bent over, naked except for boy shorts and boots. Hurriedly, I toe off the latter and step out of my jeans, seconds from swallowing my pride and begging for him to touch me again, when he whirls me around and pushes me backward onto the fridge. Now that I can see him, see his heavy-lidded eyes and the determined set of his chin, I feel a flash of nerves. Automatically, I try and close my legs, but he steps between them. Both of his hands coast up the insides of my thighs, and all the while he’s watching my face. When his thumbs meet at my center and begin a slow massage through the cotton, my head falls back on my shoulders and I cry out.

“I’d like you to admit something to me, now.” He uses his knuckle to nudge aside the material of my underwear and slip beneath. When it stops just short of where I need it, I hold my breath. “When I touched you behind the bar in front of that f**ker. You liked it. You liked having the decision taken out of your hands.”

“There was no decision.” My voice is hoarse. “I told you he’s just a friend.”

“Answer me, anyway.”

I squeeze my eyes closed. “Yes, I liked it.”

Shane sinks his knuckle inside me and twists it. I almost climax, barely managing to suppress a scream. He leans down and kisses my belly as he slips my panties down my legs. Has he changed his mind? Are we going to have sex?

“I’m going to use my mouth on you, Willa. Would you like that?”

His words catch me off guard, but I want to shout yes. Relief at this point could come in any form and I’d be grateful. Then I notice Shane’s labored breathing, the thick ridge of his arousal encased by his pants. The hands drawing my underwear down my thighs are shaking. “What about you?”

He pauses for a split second, eyes seeking mine. I suspect he’s reacting over the way I posed the question. The quiet, sincere concern in my voice. I’m reacting to it, too, on the inside. It sounded too much like I care about…him. Do I care? Shane breaks the spell first, hooking his hands beneath my knees and throwing them over his wide shoulders.

“This is for me.”

I’m unable to think about anything except his mouth as it moves over my flesh hungrily. Oh sweet Jesus. While I’m not experienced by any stretch of the imagination, I know without a doubt that Shane knows what the f**k he’s doing. He has me near the edge within seconds, his tongue and lips nipping, licking, and soothing in all the right places, pulling back when I get too close, then driving me back toward the peak. My fingers have somehow found their way into his hair and wound the thick strands tight in my fists.

“Shane…dammit, Shane, please.”

As if granting me a wish, he pushes two fingers deep, rotating them without stopping the tight, quick strokes of his tongue. Finally, he lets me get past the beginning stages of my orgasm. He can’t stop at this point, or I’ll sock him in the jaw. I know he’s reading my mind when he makes an encouraging sound and it vibrates through me.