Rock King

by Tara Leigh

  I wanted to confess, too.

  Not yet. Soon maybe. But not tonight.

  Tonight I wanted to give myself over to reality and fantasy until I didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

  Tonight I wanted to chase the rapture Shane had promised with every kiss, every look, every touch.

  I wanted to be his, and I wanted to make him mine.

  Shane

  I let my eyes linger on the sight of Delaney in the middle of my bed, a river of dark hair tumbling onto her shoulders, her lithe legs and soft curves barely denting the mattress, wide eyes shooting sparks at me. I wanted to pounce, to maul her, to swallow her whole. But it was her eyes that stopped me. If I saw another tear fall out of them, it might just kill me.

  “Delaney, is this really what you want?” I grabbed at the hem of my shirt, whipping it up and off and into a corner of the room, resisting the urge to close the distance between us.

  Delaney’s response was to do the same, her breasts quivering in a barely there lace confection. She was sitting now, kneeling with her feet tucked beneath her perfect ass. My heartbeat tripped as she reached behind her back and unclasped the band of her bra, letting each silken strap fall down her arms while she held the cups to her skin.

  “I do. But if you want this,” she whispered, tossing a nervous grin my way just before casting her bra to the floor, “you’re going to have to come a little closer.”

  Goddamn, Delaney was beautiful. My eyes soaked up every inch of perfection, stomach lurching as I let myself believe she was all mine. Lust buoyed the air between us, energized oxygen crackling along my spine. “I want,” I growled, ripping at the buttons on my fly, shucking off my jeans and briefs in one smooth movement. Finally free, my dick bobbed, straining toward her.

  Delaney’s breath hiccupped. “Good.”

  I crossed the remaining steps to the bed, setting one knee on the mattress, then the other, sliding my way toward Delaney until I had a leg on either side of her thighs and her head was in my hands, piles of dark chestnut silk covering my forearms.

  Her hands slipped between us, fingertips delicately tracing the ink tattooed into my skin. Her movements were slow and steady, and completely foreign. I was used to grasping and clinging. Women who wanted what I so freely offered—meaningless sex and bragging rights. Everything about Delaney’s touch rang of intention and poise.

  Steeling myself, I watched the play of emotions on Delaney’s face as she sat rigidly upright, studying every inch of my chest. Bleeding crucifixes, weeping angels, vengeful demons. My torso and arms were a visual rejection of everything I’d learned from the fire-and-brimstone preacher I’d been forced to listen to every Sunday—and the man who’d dragged me there. Scattered between was a tombstone for Caleb, a monster chasing after two boys, and the Nothing but Trouble logo. Holding myself still, I sucked in a harsh breath as her gaze scraped along the surface of my skin, leaving a trail of need in its wake. “This is your story,” she breathed. “Like a graphic memoir.”

  My hands lifted, fisting Delaney’s hair with one, fingertips of the other grazing her collarbone. Her skin was so smooth. Flawless. No ink or scars to mar her pale flesh, just a heat that rose from her blood to burn my fingertips. I let go of her hair, cupping her breasts in my hands, thumbs sweeping across her peaked nipples, thrilling at her quick intake of breath, the way she leaned into my hands.

  Delaney’s palms slid up my chest, her head tilting back to look into my eyes. What I saw in them had me spinning. Falling. So hard, so fast I was dizzy. “You should know that no contract could ever make me do this,” she said in a throaty whisper. Those little hands of hers continued up my shoulders, up my neck, finding purchase on either side of my face. “I want to stay.”

  It was exactly what I needed to hear. Not because I’d ever had a single qualm about fucking any of my fake girlfriends. But because I’d had a dozen qualms about doing anything to make Delaney doubt me. Doubt us. Tonight, right now, there was only one thing I knew for sure. Delaney and I, we were linked by something I didn’t quite understand yet, but I already cherished.

  I’d never had sex with someone who owned my heart. Did Delaney have mine? I didn’t know, not yet. But she had more of me than I’d ever given anyone.

  “Delaney.” My voice quaked on her name. Unable to say anything else, I swooped down, finding her lips. Words were entirely inadequate to express the depth of what I was feeling right now.

  Delaney

  Shane swallowed my sigh of pleasure, his tongue running along the porcelain tracks of my teeth, teasing the corners of my mouth. Tasting. Savoring.

  Lustful shivers charged down my spine as he kissed and licked his way down my neck. His hands were everywhere, coiled in my hair, wrapped around my waist, cupping my ass as his cock throbbed against my belly.

  “Shane.” I offered his name as a plea, clinging to his shoulders. More. Now. Please.

  Quick as lightning, Shane had me flat on my back, palms skimming along my rib cage. He tugged at my white jeans and lace thong until they were just a discarded memory on his floor. Then he fell on me, recapturing my mouth, his knees nudging my thighs apart until he was cradled between them. My head spun with the intensity of my need. It was like a living, pulsing current inside my bloodstream, an undeniable craving for the man on top of me.

  A few minutes ago Shane had stared at me as if I were not just in the center of his bed, but the center of his world.

  And I fell a little more under his spell.

  But then he paused, and my heart lurched in panic. I was afraid Shane would change his mind, walk out the door. “You still sure, sweetheart?”

  Something about his face, the gorgeous combination of his tanned skin and piercing gaze, made me want to comfort him, tell him everything was going to be okay because I would make sure of it.

  But it wasn’t Shane’s face or his body that made me want to give myself to him. It was the wounded soul inside of him, the one he kept hidden from the public. The one he’d shown me on the beach.

  The connection between us was powerful, and it ran deeper now than it had the other night. Where our trajectory would lead, I had no idea. But in this moment, and for the first time in three years, I was exactly where I wanted to be. In Shane’s arms.

  Hope fluttered on tentative wings as I realized Shane wasn’t hesitating because he had doubts of his own. Shane was holding back because he was worried about my doubts.

  And I fell just a little further.

  My head was cluttered, filled with turmoil. But not a single regret. “Yes. God, yes,” I rasped, energy spiking as I roughed my fingers through his hair, pulling his face down to mine once more.

  His eyes locked onto mine, fiery and fierce. “I didn’t wanna give you up. It would have killed me.” He covered my mouth with his own, and I could taste his smile.

  It slipped beneath my skin, teasing and taunting. So delicious.

  Moments later, a moan bubbled up from my throat as Shane tore his lips from mine, a moan that became a hiss as he toyed with my breasts. Licking, sucking, biting, soothing—Jesus, the man knew how to use his tongue. And he was moving south at a determined pace. My hips bucked upward, and Shane pulled at my knees, nibbling the tender skin inside my thighs, sending explosions of pleasure zinging everywhere. My body was an arcade game with a dozen balls shooting every which way. He wasn’t just winning; he was setting the bar so high, the only one who would ever have any chance of breaking it would be him.

  Bells, whistles, lights—Shane knew how to play.

  I wanted to beg, to plead, but I wasn’t capable of speech. Not when his hands were gliding down my legs, kneading my insteps, and then back up to the part of me that was on fire. Braving the flames, he slipped a finger inside of me. I arched up, choking on my own breath, my pulse pounding against my eardrums. I was a needy, naked, trembling mess of nerve endings and body parts, every single cell in my body wanting whatever Shane was willing to give. I wasn’t a crazy stalker fan
. I was worse. I was a beggar.

  And I didn’t care.

  Because that tongue…Fuuuck. That tongue of his slipped inside my wet center, swirling around my throbbing bundle of nerves with just the right pressure, just the right speed. Just. The. Right. Everything.

  My muscles clamped down on Shane’s fingers, ground zero of the orgasm roaring through me. I twisted the sheet into my palms, needing to hold on to something, anything.

  When the tremors finally subsided, Shane lifted his head, laying it along my thigh as he dragged his fingers out of me, tracing my own wetness on the skin of my belly. “Wow,” I breathed, knowing I sounded awestruck. Knowing I was awestruck.

  A low chuckle flew from Shane’s mouth as he rose, centering himself above me. “Don’t be too impressed by the opening act, Delaney. The headliner’s just getting started.” There was a grin lifting his lips, but his eyes were serious, roiling with an emotion I couldn’t read.

  Swallowing the knot in my throat, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Your opening act might have just stolen the show.”

  His grunt was proud, defiant. “I’ve never shied away from a challenge, Delaney. Definitely not going to start tonight.” Reaching between my legs, he guided the head of his cock until it nudged my opening, and I was suddenly grateful for the birth control clause I’d initially found so objectionable. I didn’t want anything between us, not even the thinnest of latex barriers.

  With one hand tangled in Shane’s hair, I brought my other between us, holding it flat against his chest until I could feel his heart hammering against my palm. “Give it your best shot, Shane.”

  The look on his face would have brought me to my knees if I weren’t already lying down. Like the North Star, Shane beamed with a light that was so bright, so full of promise, I would follow it anywhere. He pushed into me, slow and steady. When I thought he couldn’t possibly go any further, there was still more of him to take. His eyes locked on mine as I squirmed in his grasp. “You okay?” His muscles rippled beneath my hands as he reined himself in, holding back out of concern for me.

  I’d had sex only once in my life and it was years ago. Adjusting to him was…well, an adjustment. But I didn’t care if he broke me in two. I wanted everything Shane Hawthorne had to give. I wrapped my legs around his back and jerked my hips upward in a quick, purposeful movement. The brief twinge was immediately smoothed by the look of pleasure that overtook Shane’s face. “Now it is,” I answered.

  “You’re fucking amazing,” he muttered, pulling out gently and then sliding back in, filling a part of me I hadn’t known was vacant. Over and over and over again. Each thrust adding fuel to the flames threatening to consume me and leave Shane holding a pile of ash.

  I was mindless, breathless. “Don’t stop, Shane,” I begged. “Please—don’t ever stop.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shane

  Heaven was for real, and it was in Delaney Fraser’s arms. And in her pussy, which was so damn tight each stroke was a transcendent experience.

  That moment, when I’d held back out of fear of hurting her, and she’d had none of it…I felt like I knew what the Grinch meant when his heart had grown three times in size.

  I don’t know how Delaney knew what I needed, except that she did.

  And it made me want to blow her mind.

  With Delaney’s legs trembling against my hips, I pulled out, almost to the tip, and then drove back home, sheathing myself inside her with one thrust. Her hands were roving, nails scraping my skin as she pulled me into her. I gave myself over, following the rhythm of her breath, chasing after those little squeaks and moans she doled out like bread crumbs as she soared to the same faraway land I was aiming toward.

  I would have changed positions, but basic missionary gave me the best view of Delaney’s gorgeous face, and I wasn’t willing to give her another orgasm without watching it break over her. I studied the soft line of her jaw, the arch of her cheekbones, the gentle ski-jump of her nose, the inky half-moon smudges of her lashes. And those full, pouty lips that had called to me since the moment I first laid eyes on her.

  Her hot center clenched around my cock, my balls tightening as they slapped against her perfect ass. I was inside Delaney, and yet she was sliding deep beneath my skin, marking me in countless places and immeasurable ways.

  She gasped my name, and it sounded like a strangled plea. I slowed down on the upstroke, dragging against her as I pushed in, sweetening each thrust with an extra dose of friction. I was close to the edge and so was she, and there was no way on earth I’d ever make the dive first. Every movement was meant to nudge Delaney in front of me, watch as she succumbed to rapture, as the lightness inside her, inside me, overtook us both.

  “Look at me, Delaney,” I panted, wanting her eyes on mine as passion turned her pupils into black dots in a deep blue ocean. I wanted to drown in Delaney’s sweetness, master her body like any musical instrument I’d ever gotten my hands on.

  Delaney’s eyelids fluttered open as she focused on my face, and a moment later I felt her tremble from deep within, her spine arching, lips quivering as she cried out a final time. Radiant. Glowing. Mine.

  I finally gave in to the tender smile tugging at Delaney’s mouth. Burrowing into her neck, breathing in her scent, I found my release, collapsing onto her for a brief moment before rolling onto my back and gasping for air.

  I turned my head to the side, needing some kind of confirmation that I wasn’t the only one rocked by the experience. And damn if I didn’t see a droplet snaking its way down Delaney’s cheek.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Delaney

  Shane reached out to cup my face, worry creasing his forehead. “Hey,” he whispered, swiping his index finger across my skin and holding it up for me to see. “You’re leaking again.”

  I dipped my head in embarrassment. “Happy tears.”

  Lifting my chin with that same finger, Shane locked his gaze on mine. “Happy tears? That’s a thing?”

  “I guess so, for me at least.”

  Relief smoothed his brow. “So, do you always cry after sex?”

  Ummm…how to answer that? Did I really want Shane to know my experience before tonight could be summed up in less time than it took to microwave a bag of popcorn? I glanced around the room, as if an answer that didn’t make me sound like the somewhat nerdy, nose-in-a-book girl would suddenly appear on a wall. The kind of girl I’d been before having hair and makeup people. Before I was “Shane Hawthorne’s girlfriend.” I chewed at the inside of my cheek, heat racing up my neck, breaking over my skin. “I—I don’t know, exactly.”

  Shane rose onto his elbow, looking down on me with a mix of confusion and amusement. “You don’t know?”

  “Well, I’ve only—”

  His eyes widened, and he choked on a breath. “Jesus Christ, were you a virgin?”

  “No.” I hurried to ease his fear. “I’m not. It’s just…”

  “It’s just what?”

  “There was only one other—”

  “Guy?”

  “Time.” His prompt came out in the same moment as my answer, and I wish I had waited just one more second before finishing my sentence. Because I wouldn’t have finished it. I would have let his answer stand.

  Yes. One guy. I had a boyfriend. That I had sex with. Several times. Maybe even lots of times.

  God, that sounded much better than the truth. A truth that Shane repeated, rolling it around in his mouth as if tasting it. “Time. One time. You only had sex once before? One time, before tonight?”

  Embarrassment gave way to irritation. “Yes. One time. Is there some sort of rule that says the women you bring to your bed must be some kind of sex expert in order to get an invitation?”

  A deep belly laugh shook the sheet slanting across Shane’s rib cage. A sheet I was about to wrap around my entire body as I stalked out of the room. “What’s so funny?”

  Shane’s laughter dried up as quickly as it began. “Delaney, you�
�re fucking killing me.” Definitely getting up, sheet and all. I pulled at it, tucking it more securely beneath my arms. “Why didn’t you say something? I mauled you like a dog. No wonder you’re crying.” His hand rose to cup my jaw, thumb sweeping along my cheekbone, regret slashed across his face. “I’m a jackass for not realizing, for not taking things slow.”

  I stared into Shane’s eyes as I leaned into him. So close I saw horror snag the whirl of gold, unfurling. “Shit—did I hurt you?”

  “What? No.” I shook my head. “Really, I mean it. Me getting all misty, it was because I’ve never felt that good before. Didn’t even know it was possible.” That last part slipped out before I considered how much of myself I wanted to give away. My body Shane could have. He’d just proven he knew how to take care of it better than I did. But the rest of me? He could do more damage than I’d be able to repair.

  Especially since I had absolutely no idea what he thought of me. Was it even possible I could be more to Shane than just the next girl in line?

  Shane dropped a kiss on my shoulder, making a fist of his hand and running his knuckles above the edge of the sheet cutting across my chest. Goose bumps raced across the nape of my neck as his fingers curled around the thin fabric and tugged it down. I let him expose inch after inch of my trembling body, so sated a minute ago but needy once more. “It’s possible, Delaney. In so many different ways.”

  I wanted to swim in the waves of appreciation surging from Shane’s eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His words were almost an afterthought, as if they sprang from his mouth not to compliment me, but just to voice the thought in his head. Something warm and tingly unspooled deep in the pit of my stomach, and I shivered as he feasted on the sight of me.

  Where his eyes went, his fingertips followed, tracing intricate patterns on the surface of my skin and causing turmoil below it. “You know what this means, right?”

  Not a clue. I fumbled for an answer, my thoughts tripping over themselves in their awkwardness. That we should have sex again? Sure, totally on board. Or that we shouldn’t? Boo. “Tell me.”