by Jordyn White
Following Shane’s earlier instructions, I go up the drive that runs next to his house—a cute, older American four square with a porch on the front—and approach the detached garage. I park to the side, my car almost out of sight from the street, and kill the engine.
The backyard isn’t large, but it’s certainly charming. The fence is lined with rose bushes and in the middle of the yard an ancient maple soars into the sky. There’s a broad back patio, shaded by latticework thickly covered in vines. A wooden table that seats at least eight is surrounded by a mismatch of comfortable-looking wooden chairs. A collection of squat, white candles on a rectangular tray serves as the centerpiece.
Getting out of my car, I fuss at the hem of my silky top, take a deep breath, and head for the rear French doors.
Before I’m halfway there, one of the doors opens and he comes outside. He’s in jeans and a nice, form-fitting shirt that makes his chest look so, so yummy.
My steps instantly slow at the sight of him. My heart does a little flip flop as we smile at one another. I climb two steps onto the patio, slowly walk up to him, and stop.
“Hi,” I say quietly. We give each other nervous grins.
“Hi.” He leans in, plants a soft peck on my lips, and takes my hand. “Come on in.”
Loving the feel of my hand in his, we step into the large dining area of an eat-in kitchen. I’m greeted with an enticing aroma.
“Something smells good.”
“That’s the herb-crusted tenderloin you smell,” he says. “Or the butternut squash bisque.”
“Mmmm.” There’s nothing sexier than a man who knows how to cook. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Everything’s under control for the moment. Would you like a tour? It won’t take long.”
I nod. “I love your backyard.” I gesture and look through the glass doors.
“Me too. I thought we’d eat outside, if you’re game.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He smiles and, still holding my hand, takes me farther into his home. From the dining room, with its white dining table, we go through a wide arch that opens onto a comfortable living room. A beautiful stone fireplace on one wall looks old enough to be original to the house. “The house was built in the 1930s, but it’s been well loved, as you can see.”
I do see. While everything in sight is in excellent repair, clearly maintained and updated over the decades, several touches of the original architecture remain. Heavy molding lines the top of the walls, framing off the ceiling, and two intricate, ancient looking light fixtures are sticking out on either side of the fireplace.
“Are those gas?” I move in closer to inspect them.
“They used to be, but they’ve been converted to electric.” He flips a switch to illustrate and they bloom with soft light.
“How lovely.”
He smiles and turns them back off. Leading me by the hand, he takes me down a short hall. There are two rooms on this side of the house. One is his office. A massive wooden desk sits in the center and light maple bookcases line two of the four walls. Another wall has a large window with a nice view to the backyard. The other room was most likely a bedroom originally, but he’s set it up to serve as a home gym. He has an exercise bike, free weights, and a Nautilus machine. Floor to ceiling mirrors line one wall.
“Do you actually use any of this?” I tease, thinking how home gyms tend to turn into storage rooms, though I see no signs of that here.
“Only if I’m too busy to go out or the weather’s bad. I’d rather hike the trails or swim laps, when I have a choice.”
We give each other sly grins at the mention of swimming and he gestures me out of the room. I head back down the hall with his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. We cross the living room to another short hallway but he stops abruptly. “And the uh, bedroom’s down that way.”
His hand has left my back and he’s returning to the kitchen. “Sorry,” he says lightly. “I need to stir the soup.”
I glance back down the hallway—there’s only one door at the end of it—then head toward the kitchen. It features modern appliances and a large island in the middle. The cabinets, also newer looking, are painted white. Whoever planned the remodel did a good job. Though updated, the kitchen is still as charming as the rest of the house.
There’s a window above the sink, overlooking the backyard.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He’s at the stove, stirring with his back to me. I can’t help but think he’s been startled by my presence somehow.
“Sure.” I cross to the sink and lean so I can look out the window. I examine more closely the rose bushes lining the fence, a riot of color. “Wow. I really love your yard.”
His arms snake around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder. I hold his arms and lean back into him, closing my eyes.
“Do you like wine?” he asks lowly.
I nod. “Hm hmmm.”
“I have a nice Cab I thought would go great with dinner.”
“Okay.”
We stand still a moment longer, my blood pounding. I just got here and I’m already starting to ache for him.
He plants a soft kiss on the side of my neck and pulls away, leaving me all tingly. I turn and watch him pull two wine glasses out of the cupboard and set them on the island. He glances at me, smiles, and turns to the little wine cooler next to the refrigerator.
I shamelessly check out his ass when he bends over to retrieve the wine, but my eyes are back on his by the time he stands up.
There are two stools on one side of the island. I settle into one and cross my legs as he smoothly uncorks the wine and pours our glasses.
He comes around the island with both glasses and hands me one. Holding my eyes, he clinks his glass gently against mine.
I wonder if he’s going to propose a toast. I couldn’t say why, but doing so seems risky somehow. Like it would be tempting fate, when we’re already pushing our luck. Perhaps he feels the same way, for he only gives me a grin so sexy it melts my panties and we both take a drink.
I’m hoping for a kiss, but instead he heads for the refrigerator, asking me to tell him about my other classes.
As he pulls out the makings for a salad and starts putting things together in a bowl, I describe the experiment we’re currently working on in the lab. This leads to a discussion about the kind of work I’d ultimately like to do, and I can’t help myself from becoming animated. He chuckles as the Italian in me takes over and I start talking with my hands.
“Are you laughing at me?” I say good-naturedly.
“No, no. Please continue.”
He starts crumbling some goat cheese over the salad bowl. A piece falls outside the bowl and onto the counter.
Eyeing him, I reach over and nip it.
He stops mid-movement, watching me as I slowly lick the soft cheese from between my fingers.
“Sorry.” I’m not sorry at all. “I love goat cheese.”
The corners of his mouth turn up and he goes back to his task. “I’m glad.”
We talk easily and soon he has everything dished up. Together, we carry bowls and plates to the table outside. He lights the candles in the center and we sit down to eat.
The food is amazing but I’m even more enchanted by the company. He’s so easy to talk to. We talk about everything from science to movies to his favorite hiking trails. I tell him about the Firework Girls and how we got the name. He asks quite a few questions about Justin Kirby and the investigation and how Justin treats me now, though I downplay that a bit. It’s bad enough that Ashley fusses at me over it; I don’t need Shane worrying too. Another year and that will all be behind me anyway.
Our conversation continues to meander, and though I’m thoroughly enjoying talking with him, I long for his touch.
Except for when he held my hand during the tour and wrapped his arms around me when I was at the window, he hasn’t touched me once. I’m not sure why or what he’s thinking—I haven’t
asked him about it and I haven’t pushed—but I sense he needs to be the one to make the first move this time.
As the sun goes down, we clear the table. I watch him load the dishwasher (he wouldn’t let me help), he pours more wine, and we return to our seats outside. We talk softly a while longer, then fall into a comfortable silence. The yard is bathed in just enough moonlight that I can make out the shapes of things, but it’s a dark night. Quiet too. It’s the kind of silence that feels tangible and comforting.
The lights from the candles cast our little alcove beneath the vine-covered lattice into light. The flame flickers softly on his face and in his eyes. Looking at one another, we smile gently.
“Shall we go in?” he asks quietly.
I nod, but I have to wonder... go in and do what? Is he going to hand me my purse and thank me for the lovely evening and send me on my way?
If he does, I’ve already decided I’ll go. I want him. I want him desperately. But this time it needs to be him. Hard as it will be, if he doesn’t want to make that move, I’ll respect it.
We grab our empty glasses and stand up to go in. He bends over and blows out the candles. We’re wrapped in near darkness.
He straightens, but I don’t move. He’s holding me with a gaze I feel in my chest. Almost afraid to hope, I watch in silence as he slowly draws near.
Without a word, he takes my glass and sets it on the table. My breath shallows, anticipating the kiss I hope is finally coming. Holding my eye, he brings one hand up. He brushes my cheek, circles around, and cups the back of my neck.
He pulls me to him and our lips meet. My heart and breath both halt. My hands tentatively touch his waist through his shirt. He caresses my neck while his other hand curls around my back.
The tip of his tongue touches my bottom lip. My lips part with a sigh. His tongue sweeps across my lip, then comes in. Our tongues meet fully, tasting each other, and we draw each other into a firm embrace.
It’s a slow, sensual kiss that pulls me deeper and deeper into him. This was so worth the wait. Our arms begin to travel. I rub my hands along his shoulders, down his back, and to the top of his jeans. He’s still caressing my neck and my jawline. His other hand rubs the small of my back and continues on, firmly squeezing my ass.
I reach for his as well, squeezing before coming back up and holding him more tightly against me. His desire for me presses hard against my thigh.
The hand that was cupping my neck trails downward. Panting now, I angle my torso slightly to give him access. As he squeezes my breast, my hand goes back to his ass, then around to the front to his cock. As I squeeze the tip through the fabric of his slacks, his mouth goes down to my neck. I arch my head back as he suckles my skin, inducing a delicious electric shock everywhere he touches me.
I lean back, my rear against the table, as he takes me with increasing intensity. His hands are roaming hungrily over me now. I bring one knee up and hook my calf around his thigh. Still sucking on the crook of my neck, he pinches my erect nipple through my shirt. I exhale forcefully.
Suddenly he brings both hands to cup my face, and kisses me deeply. A moan escapes from the back of my throat.
He pulls away and takes my hand. Holding my gaze, he backs up toward the patio door. I follow. He turns and pulls me into the house.
The light fixture above the kitchen island seems abrupt after the soft darkness we just left, but he leads me down the hall and we’re cloaked in darkness once more. He stops in front of his closed door and draws me back into his arms. His kiss is slow and demanding. He descends to my neck, kissing the sensitive skin, but still we’ve gone no farther.
Running one hand up his neck and into his hair, I fumble for the door knob with my other hand. I swing the door open.
Still wrapped up in each other, he glances at the door. He looks back to me, hungry, but hesitating. He’s still at war with himself. I can see it.
I pull on the back of his neck, urging him to come to me. He resists for a fraction of a second, then his mouth is on mine and I’m pressed between him and the wall. I moan softly and rub my hand down his firm chest, his abs, and still lower.
He sweeps me off my feet and into his arms like I’m one of those tiny little girls that get carted around by their men. His shoulders and back are nothing but firm muscle. He’s not straining at all. Good lord, this man.
He carries me through the door and sets me on the bed. He sinks on top of me, kissing me with a new level of passion, running his hand down my side, claiming every inch. He slips his hand under my shirt and leaves a hot trail of sensation on my skin as he works his way up my stomach and to my chest.
Wrapping my legs around him, I claw at the fabric of his shirt until his hot skin is under my hands. I tug at his shirt and he lifts up enough for me to remove it and toss it on the floor. Even in the near darkness, I can see the outlines of his beautiful chest and rub my hands over him.
He starts to unbutton my shirt, working from the bottom up. His fingertips graze my skin, sending shivers of sensation over my body. When he undoes the last button, he pushes one flap out of the way, then the other. Impatient, I sit up slightly and scramble out of it and toss it on the floor. Eyeing my full breasts, he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra in an instant. He slides it off my arms and that goes flying too.
He bends down, taking me into his mouth and suckling me. My back arches. I grab the back of his hair and hold him more tightly against me. Taking my clue, he sucks me harder and presses firmly into me. I sigh and grunt, squeezing his broad shoulders.
He moves to the other side and works that one too. My whole body is buzzing and I wrap my legs more firmly around him. He comes back to my mouth. The erection under his jeans presses against me. His hardness hits my clit under my jeans and gives me a jolt.
In between our eager kisses I breathe, “I want you, Shane.” I angle my hips and press against his hard length. He groans in my mouth. I whisper, “Take me.”
He lifts off me slightly, looking me in the eye as our ragged breaths sound in my ear. Please don’t back out now. Keeping my gaze locked on his, I unzip my jeans and start hitching them down my hips.
It’s all the encouragement he needs.
He crawls backward, giving me a ravenous look, and takes over with my jeans. I bring my knees together and he slides my jeans off and drops them on the floor. My feet are resting softly on his thighs and I’m trembling as he reaches for my panties next. He slowly slides them down my thighs, past my knees, along my calves. The fabric of the crotch is soaked. I lift my feet together and he removes my panties completely.
I exhale deeply as he takes me in with his gaze. His lips are slightly parted as he glances up at me, then back down to my mound. He gently pushes my knees apart.
He slowly sinks down, his hands inching up my inner thighs as he does so. I’m exhaling in short, sharp breaths, anticipating him.
When his tongue touches my bud my body lights up and I open my legs wider. I grab the back of his head with both hands and whimper. God, I’m so close already. He slides two fingers inside me and only then do I realize just how wet I am.
Licking me with short, firm strokes, he slides his fingers in and out of me. I’m still hanging on to his head, pressing him harder against my swollen clit.
He teases me with his tongue, strumming me higher and higher. His fingers are working me too. He curls his fingers and hits my G-spot. Taking me by surprise, my orgasm explodes with such force I curl my entire body toward him. Legs shaking, I cry out. Waves of pleasure pound through me as he continues to lap against me.
My head falls back against the bed and I thrash helplessly as my orgasm swells. I arch my pelvis toward him. He curls his fingers against me as I ride the last spike of pleasure.
At last I release and sink into the bed. The bed made of clouds.
He lifts his head and I look down at him. He gently pulls his fingers out of me, then puts them into his mouth.
“Hhhngggg,” I say.
; The heat in my body is rising again. Panting, I watch as he stands up and undoes the button on his jeans. He slowly lowers the zipper. My eyes flit up to his—enjoying his look of longing for me—then back to his hands.
He hooks one thumb around the waistband of his briefs and pulls the material down as he grabs himself with his other hand to reveal a specimen of manhood that gets my blood pumping even more.
I remember how he felt inside me before and I’m instantly throbbing. My legs readjust slightly and I softly bite my bottom lip.
Jeans off now, he reaches for his nightstand and I hear the foil wrapper of a condom. Yes, good thinking, I think vaguely as he deftly rolls it on.
Come to me, I think, and he does, crawling up the bed. My hands are on his firm chest again. I bring my knees up around his waist as he slightly lowers himself between my legs.
He’s not quite touching me there. Only our legs and stomachs are together. He’s propped up on his elbows. I move my hands from his chest to his biceps and squeeze the bulging muscles.
I lift my mouth to his, wrap my arms around him, and pull him down to me. As his weight settles on me, I exhale with satisfaction. I angle my hips, seeking him.
As he cups my jaw and the back of my neck, he slides all the way inside. I’m still tight and so, so wet.
He groans into the crook of my neck.
I whisper, “Yes. Shane.”
He pulls out slightly and we exhale together. We hold our breaths as he pauses. When he slides all the way back in me, we both sharply inhale. He sucks on the crook of my neck as he starts to rock me. Slowly. Smoothly. Eventually harder and faster. I cup his ass, holding him as he comes into me again and again.
He slides one hand under me, angling my hips and hitting my spot. My pleasure spikes and I clamp hard around him, gasping for breath. He kisses me hard. His cock is straining against me.
We break our kiss and I press my forehead against his neck, whimpering. I’m almost there and feel his entire body peaking as well.
“Isabella,” he says sharply, his voice thick, his cock straining against me as I strain against him. “My god.”