That was what I wanted for me if I was going to hitch my wagon to Shy’s biker stud.
So before I blew it and started something with Shy after all our history and it being my first relationship after Jason (who was, it was important to note, my only other real relationship), we had to talk. Get a few things straight.
Depending on Shy’s answers I’d know if I had my head together or if I needed time and space to find that.
I took a deep breath, determined to talk it all out with him without losing my head, my patience, my temper, or myself, but I didn’t even raise my hand to knock when the door flew open.
All of a sudden I had an arm hooked around my waist, I was in his apartment, and Shy’s booted foot was kicking the door closed.
The next thing I knew, I had lips on mine and a tongue in my mouth.
With that, I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t want to know anything else. The only thing I wanted to know was Shy.
He was just that good. So good, when he kissed me, the world melted away.
His mouth broke from mine and my thoughts came back, kind of.
“Shy, we need to talk,” I breathed, my pulse racing, my skin warm, my breath coming fast, my arms locked around him, the fingers of one hand in his hair, just like the first time.
Exactly like the first time.
Suddenly, my shirt was gone.
My breath, already fast, left me totally, and my ni**les started tingling.
Shy’s hands slid up my sides and those tingles went into overdrive.
“Got your head sorted, sugar?” he asked, his green eyes intense, hot and locked to mine, his body herding me backward.
“Yes,” I answered. “But we have to talk.”
His hands left my sides but he kept herding me at the same time he whipped off his tee.
My thoughts flew out the window.
“We’ll talk later,” he murmured, his hands settling on my waist.
I got a second to take in his lean, muscled chest and the scrolled, elaborate tattoo that adorned his upper left pectoral that said forebodingly, “Love dies,” before I was falling backward.
I landed on the bed.
Shy landed on me.
Before I could get my wits about me, Shy’s lips were back on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, and his hands were moving on me.
His hands felt good. His mouth felt good. And he tasted great.
I wanted more of him. No, strike that, I needed more of him. I put my hands to his body, and the feel of all that smooth skin, soft to the touch, hard underneath rocked through me so thoroughly it felt like it started in my hair and ended at my toenails.
And that was so huge I needed even more.
So I took it, arching up, pushing him to his back and climbing on. I put my mouth to him, his neck, his throat, collarbone, chest, ni**les, my lips moving, my tongue tasting, as my hands roamed. While I was exploring, Shy’s fingers went to the hook of my bra and, with a flick, it came loose.
I only stopped long enough to lift up, pull it off, and toss it aside.
Then I went right back.
I didn’t take my time. I was desperate, needing to get in as much as I could as fast as I could like he’d go up in a puff of smoke any second.
I got down to the waistband of his jeans, my tongue licking a line along the edge as my fingers undid the buttons, when Shy suddenly hauled me up his body, took my mouth in another devastating, wet, hard, hot kiss, and rolled me to my back.
Within seconds, my jeans were undone, he broke the kiss, and then they were gone. The sensation of the fabric sliding down my legs caused another bolt of desire and hunger to shoot through me.
Shy moved away but only to lift me up and rearrange me in the bed so my head was on the pillows. He pulled my legs apart and positioned himself on his knees between them.
I stared up at him, my breaths rapid and shallow.
He was staring down at me, his face dark with the same hunger I felt slinking through my body, and his hands were moving down the outsides of my thighs until they stopped behind my bent knees.
“You,” he growled, the sound of his rumbling, deep, harsh voice like a touch. “In my bed,” he finished and my heart flipped.
Four words.
Four words that said everything.
He wanted me there.
He’d wanted me there for a while.
From the look on his face, the sound of his voice, he even needed me there like I needed to be there.
“Shy,” I whispered but he jerked up my legs and bent forward, his mouth hitting me at my midriff, it moved down fast until it closed over my panties between my legs.
My back arched, my legs jolted, and my mouth opened in a silent moan.
Paradise.
As soon as I had him, I lost him and my head shot up, but he only moved to pull my panties down my legs. When they were gone, he rolled right back between my legs, tossing them over his shoulders, and then I had him, just his mouth against me with nothing in between.
I was wrong.
This was paradise.
In minutes, Shy nearly took me there, and just as my orgasm was about to tear through me, his mouth was gone.
My head shot up again. “Shy,” I breathed and there it was again, need dripping from my voice.
“The first time I make you come for me, you do it with me inside you,” he rumbled, and I nearly came just from his words.
One thing I knew in my crazy world, I was down with that.
He shifted his torso, reaching toward the nightstand, and I sat up, putting my mouth to his skin as my hands undid the buttons of his jeans. When I got enough undone, I yanked them down his h*ps and felt an electric shock starting between my legs and emanating outward.
He was beautiful everywhere.
He came back with a condom and took over but I kept my mouth on him, his belly, his ribs, my hands on him everywhere I could touch, but I kept looking down to watch his hands work, getting more and more turned on simply by watching him roll a condom on.
A nanosecond after Shy got it in place, he had an arm around my waist, his other one curved under my bottom and I was up. My arms and legs circling him, Shy moved forward two paces on his knees, my back hit headboard, and Shy slid inside.
My eyes closed, my head sagged back then forward, my forehead hitting his shoulder.
Beautiful.
This was what I’d been waiting for.
Not for months.
For years.
To be right here, right like this.
With Shy.
“Gorgeous, baby, you… feel… fuckin’… gorgeous,” he groaned into my neck before he started moving.
It must be said, he felt the same way.
My limbs clenched around him and his arm around my bottom moved, drifting up my side, up my arm, pulling it away from him until he had my hand. He shoved his thumb in the palm, curled his fingers around the back and pressed our hands to the wall.