by Tara Leigh
The only problem was—Delaney was my fuel. Just the sight of her face filled me with hope, with joy. Lit me up in a way no one ever had before. How could I walk away from her?
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Because I was a selfish bastard. Nothing but fucking trouble.
Why did she have to be real? Since the moment I laid eyes on Delaney Fraser, I hadn’t been able to walk away from her. And now she was paying the price for my greed.
Smoothing the hair away from her temples, I fisted my hand and stroked her cheekbone with my knuckles. “You gonna stay?” My voice was a husky plea, but still. I had to ask.
A strangled laugh shuddered through her. “Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Not a chance. A wave of need stole my breath as I kissed the crown of Delaney’s head, then buried my face in her mess of thick dark hair, willing myself to inhale. “Never,” I groaned, my mind tumbling out of control. Lust and greed. Fuck. I wanted to consume her. Devour her.
I trailed my fingers along her bare spine, feeling her heartbeat picking up in time with mine. Our breath quickened as the air in the room changed, shimmering with unspent energy. I hardened against the thigh she’d draped casually over my hip. “Delaney…?” I rasped. A question.
“Shane.” An answer.
I pulled her on top of me, her whole body stretching out against mine. Nerve endings fired, shooting off bright bursts of pleasure at every point of contact. My hands roamed lower, cupping the lush globes of her ass, rocking her against me. “You shouldn’t stay. We both know that.”
Delaney lifted her head, eyes as tortured and confused as mine. “Maybe. But you don’t want me to go, do you?”
I wish I were a stronger man. Wish I could have lied as easily to her as I did to everyone else. But I couldn’t. “No. I don’t want that.”
A flicker of a smile lifted the corner of Delaney’s pout, the other side following as her thighs opened, knees sliding over my legs to rest on the mattress. “Good. Because I’m staying.” Mischief made a tentative dance across her face and I stared, caught up in it. Was I really lucky enough to make this girl mine?
My girl.
It seemed wrong. Impossible.
And yet here she was.
Staying.
Delaney
Maybe I should have left. Tossed off the covers and run out of the room, out of Shane’s life. My fight-or-flight instinct had definitely kicked in, bleeding from every pore. Except that the flight part of the equation wasn’t very strong. I wanted to fight. Fight hard. For me, for Shane, for the us we had just barely become. But who was my enemy? Travis? The janitor who stole my ridiculous contract? Whoever paid him for it? The slime that had written the TMZ post?
The only one in the room with me was Shane.
A nervous kind of willfulness gathered, gaining strength. I finally had something, someone, to fight for. The only question was, would he fight with me?
I spread my hands flat on Shane’s chest, my fingers tracing the swirls of ink that marked his skin, skating along the ridges and plains of his abs. My heartbeat took off in a full-on sprint, desire cutting the sting of the scandal making its way across the Internet. “You hired me, Shane.”
He swallowed, cupping my cheek and running his thumb along my jaw. “Yeah.”
“There’s money in my bank account that came from you.”
A nod. “Yeah.”
“You paid me.” My stomach clenched with need. “And according to TMZ, now you get to play with me.” I tilted my face back, daring Shane to disagree.
“Is that what you want?” His voice was gravelly and low, dark brows setting off eyes the color of melted caramel.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I want. Now.” My answer was sure and unambiguous. I needed Shane to know that I trusted him to deal with our fucked-up reality beyond these walls. But right now I needed him to deal with me.
Shane got the message, loud and clear. I could see it burning inside his eyes and in the tight set of his jaw. One hand curved around my neck, my pulse racing beneath his palm. The other skated along my spine, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His mouth came down on mine, his kiss leaving me senseless.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any crazier, along came Shane Hawthorne. That contract was a grenade—I knew it the minute Travis had dropped it on the conference room table in his Beverly Hills office. That it exploded shouldn’t have surprised me at all. But it had. Anger and lust heating my blood, I wrapped my arms around Shane, digging my nails into his skin. Leaving marks.
Shane’s breath hissed over his teeth, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath my hands. “That’s how you want to play this, huh?” he growled.
A shiver rolled down my back. “Shut up and fuck me.” There was nothing I could do about some minimum-wage janitor selling my story to the highest bidder, but this burning knot of fury sitting in my gut—Shane had better wring it out of me.
I was flat on my back in an instant, Shane’s eyes blazing into mine as he held my wrists captive above my head. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?”
“No.” I met his gaze, begging Shane to prove there was a reason my life had been upended. “But you’re going to give it to me.”
His head dropped to my breast, mouth closing tight around my nipple, teeth biting down. I squealed, arching into him. His tongue flicked at my throbbing peak, and I dragged my nails along his back. Shane released his prize and my cry of frustration sounded in the quiet room. “Oh, it is on.” His tone was low, guttural.
I struggled. His grip was tight, and I couldn’t escape. Not that I wanted to. But everything inside me was tense, held together by nerves stretched to the point of snapping. I needed Shane to fight me, take me, soothe me.
His thumb ran along my rib cage, the roughened callus scraping my skin. “You wanna get some of that anger out, Delaney? That what you want?”
Sweat broke out on my skin, my legs kicking at the sheet wrapped around them. “Yes,” I bit out, trying to pull my arms away and having no success whatsoever. It was maddening, infuriating. And it felt so damn good. I turned my head, sinking my teeth into his bicep.
Taken by surprise, Shane released my wrists, and I pushed against his chest, wriggling out of his grip. I nearly made it off the bed, but he caught me by my hair, fisting it inside his grip as his other hand wrapped around my waist like an iron band. “Ah,” I grunted, just before Shane pulled me back against him so hard I lost my breath.
“I gotcha.”
Oh, Shane Hawthorne definitely had me. His fingers slid along my scalp, gripping my neck and pushing me into the mattress as his knee pressed between my thighs. His body dwarfed mine, his weight on my back, each breath a struggle. Every sense sharpened as he dragged his chin, rough with stubble, along my spine. Dizzying desire unfurled in my belly, and I moaned, spreading my knees outward along the smooth cotton sheets.
“How far do you want to take this?” Shane’s voice was a low rumble as his fingers slid along the crease of my ass, lingering over my puckered hole before dragging through my wetness.
How far? Far, I wanted to scream. Take me far, far away, Shane. But my answer was still trapped inside my head when his palm made contact with my ass. I jerked up, the sting sharp and swift, soothed away in the next instant by the swirl of his tongue on my heated skin, his kiss a tender counterpoint. “Shane,” I moaned, pushing back against him. I wanted, needed him to take me. Fill me. I could feel his shaft, hard and insistent along my hip. Another slap, another kiss. Jesus.
Realizing I wasn’t going to make him chase me, Shane released my wrists and scooped me up onto my knees. “Fuck, I love your ass,” he murmured, squeezing it as he positioned himself behind me. My breath caught in my throat as his shaft nudged between the same place his fingers had teased earlier before pausing at the entrance of my slit. Shane chuckled. “Don’t worry, Delaney. Eventually, but not tonight.” And with that, he buried himself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful thrust, all the b
reath leaving my lungs in a delicious whoosh.
Nothing was gentle about our coupling. Shane fucked me hard and deep, and I loved every minute. There was a darkness inside him, inside me, that needed this. Maybe not all the time, but for tonight, I wanted to straddle the line between good and bad, right and wrong, typical and taboo.
Shifting his stance, he bent over me, his hands on either side of mine, his mouth close to my ear. “You want this, Delaney.” It was a question and a statement. It was the truth.
“God, yes,” I rasped, jerking back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts. I closed my eyes and all I could see were stars, blinding against the blackness. My walls tightened around his invasion, the spark he’d ignited inside of me taking root. The fire spread, growing hotter, more volatile. Until I could hear the roaring blaze in my ears.
“Take it, baby. Take everything.” The turmoil reigning outside wasn’t as strong as the passion enveloping us right here, bringing us closer together. We were caught up in it, caught up in each other. Shane was, too. I could feel it in the harshness of his breath, the jagged edge to his voice. The just barely contained ferocity of his assault. But it was controlled. I was controlled.
Shane Hawthorne owned me.
Chapter Eighteen
Delaney
My father’s prison was two hours from the New Jersey arena Nothing but Trouble was headlining tonight, and a world away from the luxurious hotel where I’d spent the night in Shane’s arms. It smelled like a hospital, with underlying notes that were much more pungent and sinister. A stern guard warned that I would be allowed to hug my father only twice, once at the beginning and once at the end of our visit. He shuffled into the room, looking so much smaller and more fragile than the man who had carried me high on his shoulders at every parade, and when my arms encircled his torso, I could feel the hardness of his ribs beneath the rough fabric of his prison-issued shirt.
“Daddy,” I cried, reverting back to a name I hadn’t used since I was a child.
“You promised me,” he said gruffly.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I can’t…I can’t forget about you. About why you’re in here and I’m out there.”
My father dipped his head, running both hands over his thinning hair, kneading at the muscles of his neck. His voice was thick with strain. “That’s the way it has to be, Delaney. You know that.”
That’s what he’d told me seconds after impact. Before we heard the sirens. Before we knew my mother was gone. When the police came, he told them he’d been behind the wheel.
A lie that had led to so many others, I was drowning beneath the weight of them all.
“You’re the reason for my transfer.” His eyes probed mine. “Upstate to here. Maximum to minimum.”
I nodded. “It’s the least I could do. You shouldn’t even be here at all.” Tears slid down my cheeks, words wavering.
“It’s better. Thank you,” he conceded. “But, Delaney, stop worrying about me.”
How can I? “Have you seen the news?”
“About you and the musician?”
That answered my question. “What they’re saying about me, it’s not true. I would never…you know, be with someone because he was paying me. I needed to come here today, to tell you that in person.”
He gave me a long, sober look. “How many weeks did you go without an allowance because you didn’t feel like cleaning your room?” A wisp of a smile curled his lip. “You’ve always been interested in numbers, but you’re the least motivated by money than anyone I’ve ever met.” He cleared his throat. “Are you happy?”
Happy? I recoiled. How could I be happy? But then I realized that after three years of brutal darkness, when even getting out of bed felt like a superhuman challenge, being with Shane made me happy. “I am. Sometimes.”
“Because of the singer?”
“Shane. Yes.”
“Good. You deserve to be happy, Delaney. Just make sure you follow your own dreams, too. Your mother wanted to be an artist, you know.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Really? She never said anything.”
He gave a rueful grimace. “School loans, a mortgage, a husband, a baby she adored. She thought spending time and money on herself was frivolous.” His words took on an urgency. “Get out of here, Delaney. Forget about me.”
I was shaking. “Forget about you?” I cried in a choked whisper. “You’re my father. I can’t. I can’t do it, Daddy.”
“You have to, Delaney. Let me do my time knowing you’re out there, living your life. Please.”
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, memories from that awful night running through my mind like a film reel.
Three years ago I had been home from school, going out to dinner with my parents before meeting up with a few friends. The restaurant was near the train station, so my father walked there after work. I’d been running late, my nose in a book. By the time my mother and I arrived, my father had finished his usual martini. I offered to drive home, and my parents proceeded to share a bottle of wine with dinner.
We were at a light when I picked up my phone and began texting my friends that I would be there in half an hour. The next thing I knew, there was a screeching sound and the car was spinning.
Texting while driving was illegal, and even though my father knew he would probably be over the legal limit, he hauled me out of the car before anyone realized which one of us had been behind the wheel.
Before we saw my mother’s lifeless body, slumped in the backseat.
Shame flattened my words. “How can I live my life when it feels like I’ve stolen yours?” And Mom’s. I left that second thought unspoken though. It was too much.
His eyes, darker than mine, flashed. “Because if I have to see you in here, it would kill me, Delaney. Don’t do that to me.” My father’s voice was adamant, his thin frame bristling with anger.
So I gave in, nodding weakly. “Okay, Daddy.” Feeling like the worst daughter in the world.
He sucked in a breath and rose. On trembling legs, I stood, stepped into his embrace. Too soon, there was a buzz, a clang. He broke away, spine stiff.
Two sets of heavy footsteps dead-ended at the metal door, one guard to take my father back into the bowels of the prison and the other to lead me back to freedom.
Freedom I didn’t deserve.
* * *
By the time I arrived at the hotel, the clanking of heavy metal gates still echoing inside my ears, Shane had already left for the arena. Desperate to erase the smell of prison that had seeped into my pores, I took a scalding-hot shower, liberally applying every scented product in the bathroom to my skin and scalp. Earlier, I wasn’t sure I would make it to tonight’s Nothing but Trouble concert, but now every cell in my body was crying out for Shane.
Piper was back in L.A., and with no hair and makeup people to fuss over me, I reached for a formfitting tank dress that was made of silk jersey the same color as my skin and overlaid with a delicate pale-gray fabric. From afar, I would appear naked beneath bits of carefully placed lace. I straightened my hair, somehow managed to create a smoky eye without looking like a raccoon, then stepped into a pair of strappy high heels.
It didn’t take long to arrive at the concert venue, and the driver had obviously called ahead, because a roadie was waiting to escort me to Shane’s dressing room. My heels tapped along the concrete floor of the labyrinth of underground tunnels, an all-access badge swaying between my breasts.
Before meeting Shane, I had always tried to fade into the woodwork, but those days were over. Tonight I was not immune to the looks from people I passed in the hallway, desire from the men and jealousy from the women. Their stares only enhanced the buzzing in my veins, adding to the sense of unreality tinting the strange world I now inhabited.
The bodyguard stationed outside Shane’s dressing room opened the door and stepped aside. Shane’s eyes met mine before falling away to take in my dress, widening slightly in appreciation. “Everyone, clear
out.”
There was the usual ribbing as Shane’s guests left the room. Before the door had even shut behind them, Shane closed the gap between us and took me in his arms. “How did it go today?”
“Fine.” I pressed my cheek against his shoulder. “My head is spinning. I need you to make me forget everything for a bit. Can you do that?”
Shane reached for my chin, tipping it upward with his thumb, fingertips sliding along the curve of my neck. On a sigh, my lips opened and I leaned into him, fitting my body against his, inviting his tongue to slide deeper into my mouth. He sucked on my bottom lip and I groaned, my need for him as strong and insistent as my own heartbeat. Craving friction of any kind, I twisted my waist to rub against Shane’s shirt, hating the layers that separated us.
I was a hot mess, skin prickling with desire and desperate to feel him inside of me. Shane’s hand slid along my cheekbone to cradle my skull, the other following the arch of my spine. Moving lower. Cupping my ass and pulling me in closer, the outline of his cock digging into my belly.
“Shane,” I whimpered.
Like it was an invitation, he pushed me up against the wall, reaching for the inside of my knee and pulling it over his hip. “That’s right, baby. The only name you need to know is mine. Gonna make you call it out all night long.” My dress hiked up, bunching at my waist as I clung to Shane’s shoulders. I was lost. So lost.
His kisses grew harder. Giving, taking, pushing, pulling. I kissed him back like my life depended on it. But I was greedy. I wanted more.
And Shane knew. He knew. He ran his palm along the side of my dress, to my naked thigh and lower still. I swung my other leg up, crossing my ankles behind his back. Shane’s fingertip ran along my thong, pressing the lace into my crease, finding my clit. “This what you want?”