On His Turf (9 page)

“This thing is actually pretty comfortable,” he says adding, “ugly as a mud fence but comfortable.”

It’s the most country thing I’ve heard him say since meeting him and it makes me want to know more about how he was raised but I don’t ask. Instead I stand and place my hands on my hips.

“I’m home safely now so you can leave.”

“Nu-uh,” he says, hunkering down on the sofa.

“Whatever. I’m taking a shower since I smell like vodka and tacos.”

I leave him in the living room and walk down the narrow hallway to the bathroom where I undress and jump under the hot spray. I lather up my hair with coconut shampoo and use my vanilla body wash to rinse away all of the grime from the bar. I’m humming to myself when I hear the bathroom door open and softly close. I’d curse myself for not locking it if it had a lock in the first place. Instead I freeze and listen as I hear the sound of a zipper and pants hitting the floor. The next thing I know the shower curtain is being pulled back and Shane is stepping into the tub.

Chapter 7

“What are you doing?” I hiss as I attempt to cover my breasts with my hands.

“Do you really think I’m going to sit my sorry ass on the couch while the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met is naked, soaped up and wet in the next room?” he says as he snatches the washcloth from me and motions for me to turn around. My mouth drops open as he stands their expectantly - like he’s planning on washing my back or something.

“I told you that this is so not happening, Shane!” I shout, lunging for the cloth.

“And I told you it is,” he says fiercely, backing me up against the tile wall. He drops the cloth and reaches out to tuck a wet strand of hair behind my ear before his hands come up to brace either side of my head. “I’ve never had a woman make me feel this crazy before and I need to be inside you. I don’t know if I’ve ever needed something as much as I need this right now.”

His impassioned words make my breasts feel heavy and my nipples stand at attention. As his eyes skim the length of my body the ache that’s been growing between my legs since the club only intensifies and I know that I need a release.

I take in his wide shoulders that taper down to a narrow waist, his powerful thighs and the impressive erection that’s currently resting against his stomach and I’m already quivering even though he’s barely touched me. He is all hard, athletic planes and a perfectly curved backside and up close I have a clear view of the black Celtic scroll tattoo that stretches from one side of his chest and up over his shoulder. When he raises his arms I am able to read the words that are scrolled on the inside of his bicep.

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning,” I recite out loud, thinking that the quote sounds vaguely familiar. “What does it mean?” I ask, raising my eyes to his and I’m surprised to see a flash of vulnerability there.

“It means a lot of things but mostly it means that if you can suffer through the worst of life there will be good things waiting on the other side,” he says gently as his hands skim down my sides and lower to cup my ass. I stare at his profile while he concentrates on wiping away the suds on my body with his rough hands. I should be stopping him but I can’t seem to bring myself to.

“Don’t over think this. Do you want me?” he asks in a rush of breath and I look into his eyes while I consider his words. I do want him, probably as much as I’ve ever wanted anything, but I also know that what I want will be bad for me. Very bad.

“Yes,” I say so quietly that I can barely hear my own voice but it is all the encouragement he needs. He bends his head to kiss me softly, licking along the seam of my mouth as his tongue begs entry. I part my lips and let him in and his tongue tangles with mine. He moves his hands down my neck to my breasts and he massages them, then kneels down to capture the hard peaks in his mouth one by one. He teases my right nipple with his teeth, pulling back slightly on it to create the most incredible sensation and I whimper.

“Your tits are perfect.” He latches on and sucks hard and I feel like I might come from his mouth alone. I feel my legs growing shaky as he hoists me up and presses my back against the cool tile. I wrap my legs around his waist and my hands roam across his perfectly muscled back and down to his firm ass. When I squeeze him in my hands he jerks against me and moans.

“How long has it been since you’ve had sex?” he asks, his breathing slightly ragged.

“It’s been a while.”

“Tell me,” he persists, teasing his hard length against my slick opening.

“About a year?” I admit embarrassedly and he shudders. He drops his head forward so it rests against the tiles. “I wish I could tell you that I was going to go slow but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve been dreaming about you and stroking myself to the image of you in my mind for over a week now.” He pulls back to look at me and his fingers tighten in my hair.

“Do you have protection?” he asks in a rough voice and I shake my head no.

“Like I said it’s been a year. But I’m on the pill, I have been since college.”

“I’m clean. I get physicals regularly for soccer and I’ve made it a habit to have the tests. I always use a condom but with you…is it wrong that I don’t want anything between us?” he asks, looking me straight in the eyes.

“It’s not wrong,” I answer, circling my hips. “I want you this way too.” Before I can get another word out he thrusts into me in one swift motion and I bite down on his shoulder to stifle my cry.

“Christ, babe, you are so tight.” He moves slowly and first, then picks up the pace until my back is slamming against the shower wall. His hands fist in my wet hair and he nips at my lower lip and then bites away the sting with his tongue. He drives into me once, twice and then a third time almost sending me over the edge but he pulls out just as I’m about to come.

“Oh no you don’t,” he growls. “Not yet. Bed. Now.” He turns off the shower and carries me out with my legs still wrapped around his waist.

He smacks my ass before placing me on my feet and he takes one of the big fluffy towels from the rack and proceeds to dry me with it. When he’s finished toweling himself off he folds it and hangs it back on the rack and I raise my eyebrows at him, amused. He looks at me and then the rack and grins sheepishly.

“Sorry, force of habit.” He clears his throat and he’s totally embarrassed but I think it’s kind of endearing that he was raised to be a gentlemen. Besides, I’ve never seen him off of his game.

“I must be a terrible fuck if you’d rather fold towels then have your mouth on me,” I say in my brashest voice and his eyes heat. I rarely ever swear but I’m feeling bold and my words seem to have the desired effect. He throws me over his shoulder and carries me into my bedroom, then tosses me down on the bed.

“You have a smart mouth,” he smirks as he kneels on the edge of my bed and strokes himself. “I guess I’ll have to do something to shut you up.” He grabs my ankles and pulls me so my butt is right at the edge of the bed, then he pushes my legs apart. He drops his knees to the floor and before I even have time to be shy he’s licking my seam from top to bottom.

“You are drenched,” he groans and his voice sounds strained, like he’s fighting to keep control. I try to squirm off the bed but he grabs my hips and holds me in place while his tongue works its magic on my clit. “You taste even better than I thought you would. So sweet, babe, like honey,” he murmurs and I feel the pressure starting to build again and the familiar ache that tells me I’m about to come.

“Don’t stop, Shane,” I moan softly, running my hands over my breasts.

“Say my name again,” he orders, plunging his tongue between my dripping folds. “Say my name,” he repeats and I cry out his name loudly before plummeting over the edge.

I’m coming harder than I think I ever have and I moan his name again and again as his tongue continues its assault. When my body stops convulsing I open my eyes to look at him, only to find that he’s watching me with a slightly awed expression on his face. He grips my hips and moves me up the bed so my head is resting on my pillow, then he covers me with his big body.

“I’ll try to be gentle but I can’t make any promises,” he says as he thrusts into me once again. I run my hands across his taut abs as he switches his pace between slow circles and hard measured thrusts.

“I’m not going to last long,” he grinds out, lifting my hips up off the bed. The movement lets him in even deeper and I whimper in both pleasure and pain at the feeling. I feel another orgasm quickly building as he drives into me and I peak again at the same time he jerks forward and lets out an animal-sounding moan. Spent of energy, he falls on to the bed and covers me with his body. Neither of us speaks for a moment and the sound of our labored breathing fills the room.

“So that was…” I start to say but he interrupts me.

“Incredible? I know.”

“Pretty sure of yourself aren’t you?” I say, rolling away from him.

“You know it.”

I start to get up off the bed but he pulls me back down to the sheets and hooks one big leg around both of mine.

“It’s late,” I say as I push against his hands and try to untangle myself.

“You should probably get some sleep then,” he mumbles into my neck.

“You’re staying?” I ask and the surprise in my voice is clear.

“Looks that way.” He gently bites at the skin on my shoulder as his arms tighten around me. I lie there in the aftermath unsure of what to do next.

“What exactly are we doing here?” I exhale and he laughs.

“Get out of your head. We had fun, didn’t’ we?”

Fun.
I repeat slowly in my head. I know the sound of a kiss off when I hear one and the last thing I want to do is spend the night lying beside some player who got what he wanted and is never going to call me again.

“I think you should go,” I say firmly, trying once again to pry his hands apart.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” he yawns, grabbing the covers and throwing them over us. His hold is strong enough that struggling against him is pointless so I give up but my body is still strung as tightly as a bow.

“You’re confusing,” I grumble, silently wondering how it is that the guy who doesn’t do girlfriends seems to like to cuddle.

“And you’re beautiful. Now go to sleep.”

I am tired and I can’t deny that the weight of his warm body against mine feels good.

“Just this one time,” I relent and he chuckles.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” He loosens his hold enough for me to reach up and flick off the light but as soon as I do he’s pulling me back into his arms.

“Goodnight, Shane,” I say softly as I stare out the open curtains at the full moon that’s hovering high in the sky.

“G’night babe,” he responds in a sleepy voice and for a brief and horrifying moment I wonder if he calls me that so much because he can’t actually remember my name.

***

I wake up to my alarm blaring because I forgot to turn it off last night. I roll over and hit the snooze button, then glance down at my still-naked body before releasing an audible groan. I spent the night in the buff with Shane Mitchell and now this morning is going to be as awkward as hell. What was I thinking? I glance over and see that he’s still out cold so I slip out from under his weight and tiptoe down the hall to the bathroom to throw on my robe. I check out my reflection in the bathroom mirror and cringe - my hair is sticking up in every direction and despite my interrupted shower I still have smudges of black under my eyes from my mascara. I scrub my face then try to tame my wild hair before giving up and throwing it into a messy ponytail.

I’m in my sunny kitchen making coffee when he sneaks up behind me and kisses the back of my neck. I spin around and almost drop my coffee cup when I get an eyeful of his bare chest in the light of day. He is truly mouth-watering; tanned, solid and rippled in all of the right places with sinewy veins that run the length of his muscled arms. He yawns and stretches his arms above his head and I have to close my eyes for a second to compose myself because he looks so delicious. I want him again but I know that can’t happen. Instead I rack my brain for the right words. I want to make the morning goodbye as easy as possible for both of us but I’m not sure really what the one night stand etiquette is since I have virtually no experience with one. Do I offer him coffee? Ignore him until he leaves? But I don’t do either. Instead I say the cheesiest thing I could possibly say.

“Thanks for last night,” I say, cringing as soon as the words are out of my mouth and he raises an eyebrow in question.

“You’re welcome?”

I take a deep breath and step carefully around him on my way to the fridge, cognizant of how little room my tiny galley-style kitchen leaves between us. I grab the milk out of the fridge and pour some into my mug with shaky hands before turning back to face him.

“So I guess I’ll be seeing you?” I say, as nonchalantly as possible. He studies me with an unreadable expression and then finally shakes his head like I’ve said something amusing.

“Yeah, you will. In about two hours.” He cracks a smile but I’m totally lost. “Tubing, remember?”

Actually I’d forgotten but I also kind of assumed that now I’ve been conquered the offer wouldn’t stand. “You still want me to come?” I ask and he looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for my answer as he ducks his head inside my fridge and starts rummaging around. When he seems to find what he’s looking for he sits down at my two-seater table and stretches out his legs. He’s holding a small carton of orange juice that he opens and downs in three big gulps.

“Help yourself,” I mumble as he wipes his mouth and places the now empty carton on the table. “Can I get you a glass?” I say with obvious sarcasm but he stares back at me unapologetically.

“I like my juice,” he shrugs while his eyes scan me from head to toe. “You’re cute in the morning - grumpy but cute.”

I run a hand through my messy ponytail and move to tighten the belt on my robe not feeling the least bit ‘cute’. It doesn’t look like he’s planning on moving his ass anytime soon so I decide to go ahead with my normal morning routine even though it feels like there’s a big, pink elephant sitting in the room. A big, rippled, shirtless elephant but an elephant nonetheless. I take a pan out of the drawer and start cracking eggs into a bowl.