“I put your name on the forms I filled out at the clinic, giving you access to my records so she could drop the results off with you if that was easier for her.” I tuck the results in the back pocket of my jeans. “Once again, you’ve underestimated one of the women in your life. Maybe if you cut that out, you’ll get a second chance at a relationship that means something.”
His head falls back with a sigh. “Oh my God, remind me never to tell you anything personal ever again. Go. Warn Bridget about your psycho fan and then make sweet love to opera music while staring meaningfully into each other’s eyes and counting each other’s nose hairs or whatever it is you people with feelings are doing these days. I’ll hold down the fort.”
“Don’t eat the pizza in the freezer. My mom makes that special for my sister,” I warn as I head back into the house. “Burritos only for you.”
“Eat as much delicious homemade pizza as I want. Got it.”
I ignore him, grabbing my keys from beside the stove and jogging for the front door, needing to get to Bridget too bad to waste another moment. I have to see her, to hold her and make sure she’s okay.
Most of all, I need to find out if what Cutter said is true.
If it is…
If she feels the way I feel…
I have no idea what I’m going to do about it, only that the possibility makes me feel like I’m running without ever touching the ground.
Chapter Nineteen
Bridget
Note to self—the next time you suspect you’ve got a killer crush on your best friend, head straight to bed, turn out the light, and go to sleep.
Do not pass go, do not turn on the TV, do not hit play on your favorite friends-to-lovers John Hughes film and replay the scene where the hero and the heroine practice kissing in the tire shop approximately twelve thousand times.
Okay, so I only watch it four times, but still…
I’m a grown woman. I shouldn’t be swooning over a teen movie.
But that’s exactly what it’s like to kiss Shep—like finding buried treasure. Like waking up from a sweet dream to find someone even sweeter and sexier asleep on the pillow next to yours.
I’m not just in lust with him. I’m in love. There’s no hiding it from myself anymore, which means I won’t be able to hide it from Shep for long, either. My poker face is a joke, and he’s always been able to read me like no one else. Not even Kirby can get in my head the way Shep does.
I almost call him a dozen times but chicken out each time before I press the green button.
I have no idea what to say, how to confess that I’ve broken all the rules and done exactly what I promised I wouldn’t.
I’ve fallen in love with him, and it’s going to rip my heart out of my chest to say goodbye.
I toss my phone back onto the cushions—determined to leave it there until morning, when I will have hopefully achieved some sort of clarity—just as there’s a knock on the door.
The three taps are soft and anonymous, and the door’s glass window too high to give me any clue who’s there on my porch, but I instantly know.
It’s him. I’ve summoned him here with my thoughts, my need, calling him close with every beat of my heart.
I stand and drift across the room, opening the door without a word, my belly flipping at the sight of the beautiful, breathless man standing in the shadows on my porch.
Shep is a stunning human—from his powerful body and broad shoulders to his silky-soft hair and gentle, talented hands—but, as always, it’s his eyes that leave me helpless, drowning in a rush of emotion.
And what do you do when you’re drowning?
“Bridget, I—”
I reach for him like a lifeline, pulling him through the door as I drive my fingers into his hair. I hold on tight, pushing up on tiptoe to cover his lips with mine. The moment we touch, the background music soars, and my blood fills with champagne bubbles, and then he’s slamming the door behind him and lifting me into his arms.
My legs go around his waist as he devours me, his mouth hungry and wild and so good it hurts. It’s physically painful to know this will be over so soon, and that Shep will likely be kissing another girl before the turkey leftovers are gone from Thanksgiving dinner.
But it doesn’t hurt enough to make me stop.
Even just one night with him, with nothing between us but skin, is worth any amount of suffering. Tie me to a post in the town square and set me on fire, just let Shep make me burn like this first.
“Bedroom,” I gasp between kisses, breath hitching as Shep’s grip tightens on my ass.
“Are you sure? I don’t want—”
“I’m sure,” I say, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt as I whisper against his lips, “I want you so much. I want to touch you everywhere. I want—”
He cuts me off with another kiss, moaning against my lips as his tongue strokes deep into my mouth, but I’m not worried. He knows exactly what I want, what I need. He proves that when he charges up the stairs to my bed without stopping to turn on the lights or pull back the quilt or do anything else that involves taking his mouth from mine.
We fall onto the bed, batting half a dozen pillows out of the way with wild thrusts of our arms and then twining them back around each other.
And then his hand is sliding up the back of my shirt, and my fingers are tugging at the bottom of his, and we’re undressing each other even faster than we undressed the bed.
My long-sleeved tee and his sweater evaporate in the heat between us, and then he’s popping the close on my bra, tossing the scrap of lace to the floor as he feathers kisses across the bottom curve of my breasts.
“I’ve been dreaming about this since we stopped the last time,” I say, pushing his shaggy hair out of his face and tipping my head down so I can watch his mouth work its magic on my skin.
“Me, too.” His gaze shifts, meeting mine as his tongue slips out to circle my already tight nipple, making me gasp.
Electricity crackles from my sensitive tips to spark between my legs, making my head swim and my cheeks go hotter, but I don’t look away. I watch him kiss and lick and suck me into his mouth with an expression of sweet suffering that echoes inside me.
He feels it, too, this ache, this pleasure that’s so sharp it’s almost pain.
“I never knew it could be like this.” I arch into the heat of his mouth and all the dangerous things it makes me feel.
“Like what?” he whispers, pressing my breasts closer with his big hands and skimming his tongue back and forth between the nipples he’s brought wickedly to life.
“Ferocious,” I say, my legs squirming on either side of his as the need to get him out of the rest of his clothes spikes higher. “That I could want someone so fiercely that I’d do anything to get closer to them. To you.” I hook my fingers in his belt loops and drag his jeans lower on his ass, loving the way he growls against my breast. “I want you inside me more than anything in the whole world.”
The words are barely out before he’s ripping my leggings down and off and going for my panties.
“No, you first.” I cut him off at the pass, my eager hands beating his through the space between us.
I fumble at the close of his jeans with shaking hands. It takes a beat longer than I’d like, but I succeed in bending that stubborn button to my will. And then the zipper, and then he’s shoving the jeans off as I go for his boxer briefs.
I grip the fabric on either side of his hips and peel it away from that part of him I’ve been dying to touch, to feel hot in my hand.
I only get his boxers down around his thighs before the lure of that beautiful erection is too much to resist. I wrap my fingers around him and sigh as I stroke from the base toward the tip, “I love knowing this is all for me.”
“Every inch,” he says, groaning as I continue to explore him with my fingers. “I love the way you touch me.” He rests his forehead against mine, his breath growing shallow. “You don’t need any help, Bridge. You know exactly
what you’re doing.”
“Driving you crazy again?” I ask, heat rushing between my legs as he grips my thigh in one big hand, guiding it up and around his hips.
“So crazy. All I can think about is being inside you, making you come for me. You’re so damned sexy,” he says, his hand sliding down to where I’m hot and wet, making me gasp as he pushes two fingers inside me. “I’m clean. Just got the results back.”
“And I’m on the pill,” I say, anticipation electrifying every nerve, every cell. “So we don’t need a condom.”
“Are you sure? I have one. Just to be extra safe.”
“I don’t want to be extra safe,” I say, meaning it with everything in me.
I don’t want to be safe. I want to be wild and fearless and as close to the man I love as two people can get.
And I want him to know the truth.
Now.
Before he does something he can’t take back once he realizes how far I’ve fallen.
I bring my hands to his face, holding him captive as I stare deep into his eyes, those golden eyes that are more my home than any physical place on earth will ever be. “I want you with nothing between us, but there’s something you should know first.”
“What’s that, baby?” he asks, the tenderness of the endearment another sweet and deadly arrow shot straight into my heart.
“I love you,” I whisper, my throat going tight as I search his face for signs of sadness or regret. “I have for a long time, I think. I was just too stupid to realize it.”
His brow furrows as he brushes my bangs from my face. “You’re not stupid. I’m stupid. I thought I could touch you and walk away, but I can’t. I’ve loved you since we were kids, Bridget Lawrence. You’re all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.”
My chest explodes, breaking wide open and letting relief and gratitude and even more love come rushing in. “Yeah?” Tears sting my eyes even as a smile dances across my face. “You love me, too?”
“So much,” he says, his breath rushing out. “God, it feels so good to say it. To feel it and to know you feel it, too. That I’m not alone.”
“Never again,” I promise, looping my other leg around his waist and tightening my grip on him, pulling him closer until his thickness is resting against where I ache, and his expression darkens. “You’re with me.”
“I’m with you,” he promises, holding my gaze as he reaches between us, fitting the top of him to the start of me. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
I want to tell him forever.
Forever and a day, because by itself, forever won’t be long enough.
But then he’s gliding inside me, filling me up, stretching me to make room for every inch, and the bliss surging through my body steals all my words away.
Every.
Last.
One.
Chapter Twenty
Shep
She’s paradise.
Heaven.
Home.
She’s everything I dreamt she would be and so much more. I want to make love to her forever, to be locked in this perfect dance all night.
But I haven’t been with a woman in months, and I’ve been dying to be with this one for close to a decade. The combination means that within five minutes, I’m embarrassingly close to coming.
“I need to slow down,” I murmur against her lips, groaning as she continues to buck into me, each roll of her hips shredding another strand of my rapidly fraying control.
“No, don’t stop.” She grips my ass, pulling me into her heat. “I’m so close, Shep. I’m so close, and I want to come with you inside me so badly. Please, don’t stop.”
I exhale a suffering, bliss-filled sound of surrender and keep going. Because I want to give her everything she wants, everything she needs. I would lay down my life for this woman, the very least I can do is hold on for a few more minutes…
As I feel her getting closer…
Hotter…
Tighter…
“God, Bridget, oh God, baby, I can feel you,” I murmur into her neck as her body fists around me, triggering my own release. I try to pull out, but she locks her legs around my hips and holds me close.
It’s the first time I’ve ever come buried inside a woman with nothing between us—I’m a cautious man by nature, especially when it comes to something as important as potentially making a baby—and it’s as mind-bendingly incredible as I imagined it would be.
I come until I’m a limp, exhausted excuse for a man, fighting to catch my breath as Bridget holds me close, skimming her fingertips up and down my spine as she hums a tune beneath her breath.
“‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’?” I finally recover enough to ask.
She breaks off with a soft laugh. “Yeah. Sometimes I sing it without realizing it. When we were little, it was Kirby’s and my happy song. We’d go into my closet and sing all the Wizard of Oz songs with my nightlight spinning stars around us and pretend nothing bad ever happened in our house.”
I pull back, gazing down at her. “I’m sorry bad things happened in your house.”
“It’s okay,” she says, her lips curving. “Those things made me who I am. They made me a person who can spot trouble a mile away.” She brushes my sweat-damp hair from my forehead. “And a person who can really appreciate a wonderful human when she’s lucky enough to find one. Thank you, wonderful human.”
Eyes getting embarrassingly damp, I clear my throat. “Ditto. Have I mentioned how fucking relieved I am that you love me back?”
“I love you soooo much,” she says with a happy sigh. “And I don’t mean to brag, but I think we’re super good at sex together.”
I grin and kiss her. “We are. Exceptional, in fact.”
“Go us,” she murmurs against my lips, before adding in a shier voice. “Can we pretty please do it again?”
“Hell, yes,” I promise.
And we do—twice more—before collapsing together against the headboard and cuddling up to discuss things like the future and the tour and how we’re going to make it all work. We’ve just decided to get out our calendars and start looking at dates that would work for visits back and forth when we’re interrupted by a crashing sound from outside.
“Shit,” Bridget curses, rolling out of bed and rushing to her bedroom window in nothing but her T-shirt and panties. She stands on tiptoe, breath huffing out as the crashing sound comes again.
“What is it?’ I ask, joining her.
“I’m betting it’s the same group of teenagers who’ve been throwing midnight parties in my hot tub since this summer. They break in and leave beer bottles everywhere. One time they shattered one inside the water and I had to shut the spa down for three days until I could get someone out to empty it and clean it up. The guests were pissed.” She shakes her head. “But I can’t see the hot tub from here. I’m going to have to go outside and scare them off.”
I put a hand on her arm as she starts to turn. “No way. I’ll go. You get back in bed.”
“No, Shep,” she says. “That’s sweet of you, but this is my job and—”
“And I like helping with your job, just like you’ve always helped with mine.” I push on when she looks like she’s about to argue with me. “You made sure we have the best quality merchandise at the best possible price. The least I can do is scare away a few kids for you. And I have nine brothers and sisters. I’m good at scaring teenagers. It’s one of my superpowers.”
“You’re sure?” she asks.
“Positive.” I kiss her forehead and pat her ass on my way to collect my clothes from the floor. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Fifteen, tops. Start scoping out your calendar, and we can look for a plane flight for November when I get back.”
“Okay.” She climbs into bed with a grin. “Be careful. I’ll miss you for ten minutes.”
I wink. “I’ll miss you, too.”
She laughs. “We’re ridiculous.”
“Nah, we’re just happy. Be right back, beautiful.”
>
She blows me a kiss, and I hustle down the stairs, shoving my feet into the shoes I kicked off at the bottom. A minute later, I’m through the door, down the porch steps, and slipping quietly through the gate leading into the garden. Veering off the path, I cut through the gazebo on my way to the hot tub tucked into the corner behind a row of hedges.
But long before I reach the entrance, I’m pretty sure it isn’t kids crashing the hot tub that made the noise we heard.
It’s too still, no sound but the burble of the fountain in the rose garden and the occasional rumble of traffic from the main road on the other side of the property.
The side street closest to this corner of the garden is quiet, as usual. Bridget’s B&B is the only business in this residential neighborhood, and the people of Hidden Kill Bay turn in early on Tuesdays, as well as most other nights of the week.
Ours is a sleepy town. Always has been and probably always will be.
It’s one of the reasons the other guys in the band leaped at the chance to go on tour the first time our manager got us a gig, and why they still get twitchy after a few weeks off the road. They’re rock stars through and through. They live not just for the performance, but for the party after.
And for a while, I did, too. I enjoyed beers and laughs and playing pool with pretty girls while my best friends got in trouble on the dance floor. But in the past few years, things have changed.
I don’t look forward to the next adventure the way I used to. Yes, I enjoy seeing the world and playing music I love for fans who dig what we do, but a part of me is always here.
Fixed on home. On Bridget. Thinking about her, dreaming about her, wondering what she’s doing and whether she’s missing me the way I’m missing her.
I was always pretty sure she wasn’t, and even more certain that life as a rock-star’s girlfriend would make her miserable, which made dealing with my growing feelings something I always found a reason to put off until tomorrow. But now everything is different. Now, I know what it’s like to make love to my best friend, to feel more at home and complete than I have in my entire life.
Bang Theory Page 14