Tunneling her fingers in my hair, Shae guides my face to her neck. “I don’t care about the fucking door. I just want your mouth back on my body.”
“Are you sure, baby? Because if we keep going, I’m not going to stop.”
I’m not sure I could stop even if I wanted to. The way she touches me, the way she looks at me, the way her body responds to mine—she makes me feel alive. It’s powerful and consuming and addicting. No one has ever made me feel the way she does, and it nearly killed me to hear her opening up to Dante, giving him pieces of herself, pieces that I want.
“You’re so beautiful, Shae,” I say, stroking her. “Your smile, your laugh, your body. Everything about you turns me on. It drove me insane to watch you with my brother.”
Shae’s body tightens beneath mine. “Is that what this is about? Your brother? Is this you marking your territory?”
Well, when she puts it like that, it doesn’t sound very good. “Fuck yes, that’s what this is about. You’re mine, Shae, and the whole goddamn world needs to know.”
She wiggles beneath me. With her palms flat against my chest, she pushes, and I take a step back, watching as she lowers her skirt. Frustrated at myself for ruining the moment, I run a hand through my hair. No one would blame her for marching out of my office, and I’m surprised when she laces her fingers with mine. But I’m grateful for the connection, because right now I’m feeling sort of lost.
“What’s going on, Rex?”
“Nothing.” Shaking my head, I try to turn away, but Shae’s having none of it.
“No,” she admonishes. “You can’t just walk away from me. If we’re in this, if we’re doing this, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”
“I didn’t know you were adopted,” I blurt.
She frowns.
“You told me you were raised by your dad.”
Understanding washes over her face, and she looks down at her feet.
With a finger under her chin, I lift her gaze back to mine. “Those are the things I want to know about you, and it made me crazy that you told Dante first.”
I sound like a goddamn pussy.
I half expect Dante to march in my office and take away my man card. I wouldn’t blame him.
This isn’t me.
I don’t care this much about women, and I sure as hell don’t want to get to know them on a personal level.
A part of me wants to push Shae against the wall, yank off her skirt, fuck her senseless, and walk away—just to prove to myself that I can. Except that would hurt me more than it would hurt her, and that’s how I know I’m screwed.
Damn it to hell.
My mother always told me when the right girl came along, she would cause a hurricane of emotions I wouldn’t be able to deny. Shae is Hurricane Katrina.
“I’m sorry.” She takes a step toward me. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking, but you have nothing to worry about. I’m yours. I don’t want anyone else.”
Not wanting to have this conversation here, while Dante’s within earshot, and really needing a drink to get my head on straight, I pull my keys out of my pocket. “Let’s get out of here.”
Shae doesn’t resist when I grab her hand and lead her out of the club.
The drive to my place is quiet; Shae spends most of it staring out her window, seemingly lost in thought. But her hand never leaves mine, and for that I’m grateful.
We pull up in front of my building. I toss my keys to the doorman and usher her up to my place.
“Would you like a drink? A bottle of water, or a beer?”
It’s probably too early for alcohol, but right now I don’t really care.
“No, but I would like to talk about what happened.”