Restless Spirit (11 page)

Chapter Nineteen

My hand slammed the rock wall and there was a moment where confusion made my head ache. Shepherd used a bungee cord to loop me to the brace for the overhead shelf.

‘Shepherd,’ I whispered.

‘Hush.’

My other arm was moved overhead and he took another bungee cord from the counter. When I was secure, despite some struggling, he stepped back.

Dropping onto the stool, he sized me up. ‘See, I think you took control with that baseball bat with that loser ex of yours. Even now you’re actually in control.’

I laughed. It was an angry laugh tainted by a vein of fear. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah. Say kitchen and I let you go. That’s your word.’

Kitchen. Kitchen where he’d seen me with Reed. And still he’d come to talk, apologise at the restaurant and then later in bed he gave me what I needed when I asked.

And I’d freaked and tossed him out. I hadn’t allowed myself any solace in him or him in me.

‘Say it,’ he said.

I shook my head. Instead I said, ‘I told every one of you that I wasn’t interested in–’

He held up a hand. ‘Yep, I know – a commitment. I get it. And I had no interest in one, either. Trust me. And I still wish I didn’t …’ He looked up and away. Finally those eyes settled back on me and he said ‘I wish I didn’t have these flashes of … wishing.’

I got that. I knew what he meant.

‘What do you want from me?’ I hissed. I truly did not want to have this conversation. I truly did not want to have to … face him.

‘Your trust.’

‘You have it,’ I said, shaking the cords and thusly the shelf over my head.

‘I don’t think so.’ He scratched is beard and walked to me. We were so close again I could feel the heat radiating off of him. It was in direct opposition to the cold that seemed to seep from the stone wall to my back.

‘I’m tied here aren’t I? I haven’t said … that word.’

It did not escape my notice – or his, judging by his face – that I did not say “kitchen”.

‘But last night instead of letting me see your fear – instead of explaining to me what you felt – you ran me off.’

‘Shepherd, I didn’t even know what I was feeling,’ I growled.

‘No excuse,’ he said and kissed me.

His tongue and teeth and lips bullied mine and he cut off any of the protests I might have tossed at him. I didn’t see the knife in his hand until he pulled back.

‘What’s that?’ My tongue was clumsy in my mouth and my heart raced with sickening speed. I tried to take a deep breath and failed.

‘A fork,’ he joked and winked at me. ‘Don’t worry. There’s no bloodletting in my home. But I owe you some new digs,’ he said.

‘New–’ But then I got it because he sliced my sweater from neck to waistband and I stood very, very still to let him do it. I was no fool. Then he cut the little piece of lace that held my bra cups together in the front.

‘And a bra,’ he said, looking up from where he knelt.

I had enough time to pray he didn’t plan to do that to my jeans too when he undid my button with his big fingers. Then the zipper hissed and he shoved the denim down to my ankles. The knife was back to ruin my pale green panties.

‘And panties,’ he breathed, pressing a hot kiss to the swatch of skin right above my mound. My belly fluttered, my pussy got more slippery still and I willed him with the power of my staggered mind to put his mouth two inches lower and make me come. Give me that rush and buzz of release.

Instead he stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said.

‘You … what?’ I struggled enough to make him smile. ‘That is so not funny.’

‘It’s not meant to be.’

‘I … where are you going?’ I asked, forcing myself calm. Making myself take a deep breath and hold it for a count of four before I passed out.

‘I was just about to make some lunch when you showed up. You want any?’

I looked at myself pointedly and then glared at him. ‘Sure. Naked and bound in your hobbit hole is totally a place to eat lunch.’

‘I could feed you,’ he said and to accent his words he placed one lone fingertip between my legs and pressed my clit like a button.

I gasped. Furious. Aroused. And damn it, now I realised, hungry.

‘No,’ I whispered.

‘Fine by me. But I am starved. Be back in a few. And while you’re up there, ponder this. What’s with you and Adrian? He’s a boy. What’s with you and pretty boy? You’re smarter than that. It smacks of fear and running and denial.’

‘Oh and you are the perfect man for me?’ I snapped, again staring at my bonds.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t believe in perfect. I don’t even think I buy that soul mate shit. But I do believe in connections. I do believe in energy recognising compatible energy. I don’t have a word for it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But I believe you can look at someone – maybe one someone in your whole life – and feel this instant …’

Zap, I thought. Lightning.

He shrugged those massive shoulders. ‘I’m doing a really bad job of explaining this, but I bet you dollars to donuts, you know what I mean.’ He pressed his lips to mine once more, pushed his finger back between my legs for one heart stopping second and then he walked up the stone steps and out into the unseen day.

‘Well, shit,’ I said to no one but me and the four walls.

Just when I was about to start screaming at the top of my lungs he returned. ‘Want some?’

I eyed the sandwiches on the plate and a cold soda. Refusing to answer, I shook my head no.

‘Closest thing to heaven food-wise,’ he said, settling on his stool and studying me. ‘Ripe end of summer tomatoes. The kind that go red and juicy on the vine as a fuck you to the cold snaps that come with the beginning of fall.’ He took a bite, his eyes never leaving me and mine never leaving him.

Shepherd chewed and his eyes slid over me. I wanted to dismiss the fact that with the hunger in his gaze I felt a certain flair of pride. He did not strike me as the kind of man who often got that look. In fact, he struck me as the kind of man who let a lot of sexual opportunities pass him by because he knew that he could have them … and he only cherry picked the ones he wanted the most. That got me right in the gut if I was honest.

‘Then you smash them between two pieces of squishy white bread.’ He took a swig of soda and swallowed. ‘Some folks like toast, but I think toast just ruins the whole thing. But whatever, squishy bread, toast…whatever floats your boat. Tons of mayo and some Old Bay. Best sandwich on planet earth.’

In three big but neat bites he finished off the first sandwich washed it down and wiped his hands. When he was in my face I could smell the tomatoes on him. They smelled like earth and greenness and outside. It fit Shepherd perfectly.

‘You sure you don’t want some?’

‘No,’ I said. My stomach chose that moment to grumble and he smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes when his back was turned but straightened my face when he returned. He tapped my bottom lip and without thinking I popped my lips open for him. Then Shepherd tucked a bite of sandwich into my mouth and said ‘Chew.’

It was heaven. My stomach grumbled greedily and he put another bite in my mouth which I chewed without prompting. A rivulet of juice ran down my chin and I was powerless to wipe it away. He gave me a swig of soda and then kissed me. His mouth hot and sultry where the soda had been cold and crisp. His tongue lapped at mine and then traced my lips. When he licked the ripe juices from my chin before bending his head to my nipple and giving it one gentle kiss a rush of heat seared my body, rolling through my pelvis.

He straightened, towering over me and said, ‘Say kitchen.’

‘No,’ I said.

When had this war between us flipped? Now he wanted me to say it and I refused. He was just as worried as I was about this connection we felt. He had just as much fear.

That gave me power so when he pinched my nipple and said, ‘Say kitchen,’ it was very, very easy for me to stand my ground and say, ‘No.’

Chapter Twenty

‘But you don’t want to trust me, we both know that,’ he said. His mouth crushed down on my other nipple and he made me sweat. Where I wanted pain – and I was convinced he knew it – he gave me tender gentle kisses on that rosy prickled flesh. I wanted him to pinch and scratch and bite and he was lapping at me with a lazy kind of reverence.

‘You don’t want me to trust you,’ I said, staring him down.

That threw him and I felt a bit gleeful to see it. He froze, looking into my eyes and then he smiled almost like he was embarrassed.

His hand danced along my collar bone, whispering over the skin like he was washing me with an invisible washcloth. All of me wanted to press up into that touch but I made myself stay still. But for the small slick of moisture that slid from me. There was nothing at all I could do to still that.

‘Say it,’ he said, following his hand with his mouth. Small, hot kisses along every inch of my skin until my nipples were pinpoints of flesh so hard they hurt. I wished for him to put me out of my misery – suck them, bite them, lick them. Something.

‘No,’ I countered.

Shepherd bent his knees and kissed down between my breasts. His hands firm and proprietary on my hips. My jeans were still shoved down around my ankles so when I wiggled just a bit they whispered to give me away.

‘Say it. You know you want to be free of me.’ A row of kisses was laid around each breast until I was positively vibrating. Pushing myself back to the cold stone wall to anchor my body. I would not beg.

‘I don’t want to be free of you. I’m just … skittish.’

He skated past a nipple but did not touch it. Not at all. I had to swallow a sob of frustration.

He rose to his full height and I caught a glimmer of frustration in his gaze. ‘Why are you teasing me?’

‘I’m teasing you?’ I laughed. ‘I’m the one strapped to a wall under a shelf, that honestly – I’m afraid is going to crash down on me and kill me at any moment. Not you.’

I straightened up despite my disadvantage and his lips twitched like he wanted to laugh but wouldn’t give in.

‘Say kitchen,’ he said, pinning my upper body with one big forearm as he leaned in to bite my neck. Not a little love bite. Not a nip. This was a bite that made me gasp and made my pussy give one hard flex. This was a bite that would leave a mark and I felt such a surge of joy it startled me.

I moved my hips toward him. Just my hips. And I felt my nakedness connect with his denim sheathed body and there was that power again. ‘No.’

He pinned me harder, pushing my upper body so I couldn’t move. The other hand trailed down from breastbone to belly button. The small muscles there leapt and danced for him until he smoothed them with his callused palm.

All of my world had zeroed down to this. The radio was a fuzzy back noise, the wind outside just a whisper, even the light was dimmed by my one track mind. His hands on me.

‘This just proves that whatever you think I want, you’ll do the opposite.’ He swept his fingers – fingers that had just been caressing wood and ripe tomatoes – across my hip bones and the tug in my cunt became unbearable. So swollen, so ripe, so ready – so fucking needy. I was ready to beg him. I was actually on the verge of weeping. And it scared me.

This was no blueberry bush farmer field fucking. This was no 69 for stress release. This was visceral. Primal.

Honest.

My entire body started to tremble as his hand slid just an inch lower.

‘Say it.’ He leaned in so close I could see the very places where the whiskers peeked through his tan skin to form a beard.

I shook my head, reared forward and kissed him, biting his lips so hard I felt him go tense.

His hand dove lower then, sliding down my close-clipped mound, finding my wet centre. He plunged a finger deep into my sex and flexed that finger so my body bowed. Like he had a secret map to all the buried treasured places inside of me.

He pulled his finger free and stroked my clit so that my arms ached with my efforts to restrain myself. ‘I don’t like how crazy you make me feel,’ he said, his voice low and dangerous

‘So this is about you, is it?’ I smiled but the smile fled when he expertly pinched my engorged clit between his fingertips. ‘Shit,’ I sighed.

‘It’s about me. And you. And this us thing, the weirdness.’ Fingers returned to my pussy, pushing deep inside of me. Not one this time. A fat bundle of three and it made me groan. ‘Sorry.’ He didn’t sound sorry at all. ‘You were so damn wet I figured you could take three.’

I didn’t respond, just chewed my lower lip and prayed for him to finish me off. Instead he pulled out of me again – drawing a sob out of me with his fingers – and played the wet tip of one over my clitoris.

‘Shepherd,’ I sighed. It was the closest thing to a plea I was willing to give him.

‘Christ,’ he said and drove his fingers back in. Deeper this time. His touch zeroed straight in on the tender bundle of nerves that begged to be played. My knees sagged and my breath froze in my lungs. I chewed the inside of my cheek gently to try and keep quiet. My eyes were shut.

‘Open your eyes. Look at me when you give me what I want.’ I opened my eyes to see him dip his head and my brain tried to count how many colours I saw in his slightly wavy hair. The lamplight bounced off of brown and a reddish colour, a slight hint of blond from the summer sun and sterling silver. But then he bit my nipple and I did make a sound.

Shepherd checked to make sure I had my eyes open and then he was grinding the edge of his thumb to my clit, fucking me with his strong fingers, watching my face like a predator. Hungry for my submission.

My knees sagged a bit more and I worried wildly that I’d rip the whole damn shelf down on top of us. He stuck a big thigh between my legs to steady me as he cupped my sex with his hand and held me.

‘You can still say it,’ he reminded me. ‘I’m just a distraction.’

He was wrong. So wrong, but that all fled from my mind when his mouth covered mine and he thrust up hard with his hand. Driving into me so my toes were the only thing touching the ground for a moment. Pushing into me hard so that I was completely filled by his fingers, so that I cried out hard into his mouth when I came. My pussy clasping his probing hand. My body shaking like I was dying. For a moment I feared I was, my vision going spotty around the edges when I opened my eyes.

I stared into those big, brown, serious eyes that were studying me so intently and said ‘Kitchen.’

There was a flicker. A fleeting vision of his disappointment and yes, maybe hurt, and then he gave me a business-like nod and reached up to free me from the bungees. His jaw was tight, eyes hooded, stance stiff. He was not going to show me even a chink in his armour.

‘I still owe you that sweater,’ he growled.

‘And bra,’ I said, snagging his big hand. I put it over my breast so he could feel my heart, its rhythm still wild and ragged.

He flinched like I had burned him and when his fingers started to curl against my skin I saw him force himself to stop.

‘Kiss me,’ I said.

He stared me down but made no move.

‘Please, Shepherd, kiss me.’

‘Is this a goodbye kiss?’ he asked. But his hand had clasped the back of my head, huge and strong and calming. He drew me in and tried to joke – but it came out brittle – ‘Is this the great kiss off?’

‘Kiss me,’ I breathed and parted my lips for him. I inhaled his anger as he poured it into the kiss, clutching me a bit too tight, kissing me a bit too hard, barely containing his turmoil.

I wrapped my arms around him and pushed my naked body to his clothed one. ‘I said kitchen,’ I said.

‘I know, I heard you,’ he almost barked.

‘It was the only way,’ I said, ignoring his anger. Rubbing myself to him. I felt his cock hard and imposing pressed to the wet split of my pussy. I pushed myself to him and felt an unuttered groan rumble in his chest.

‘I don’t get it,’ he said. Now one hand clamped the small of my back so I was crushed to him. He clutched the sweater to the small of my back even as my exposed nipples rubbed his pullover. I could smell the small bit of worn leather at the collar.

‘It was the only way you’d undo me. Let down your guard.’ I kicked off my boots, shook free of my jeans. Then raised my leg to wrap it around his waist. Opening myself, the heat of me surely seeping through the denim that covered him. I could smell my lust in the small cool space and by the look on his face … so could Shepherd.

‘I never let down my guard.’ That hand in my hair tugged just enough for a frisson of pain to sparkle along my scalp.

‘I know. But now you have and I need you.’

He froze.

‘I need you,’ I repeated. ‘I don’t know if I can promise you anything right now. Not now. I’m too … fucked up. But right at this moment, I need you, Shepherd Moore. And I want you. I want you to take me. However you want. Right here. While you smell like sawdust and anger and tomatoes.’

I pushed all the words over my lips quickly. Saying them as soon as they rushed into my head so that I couldn’t censor myself or fuck it up. I wanted to be honest with Shepherd –about more than how I wouldn’t commit to anyone. I wanted to be honest with him about how I felt. Period. And if I let myself think about it, I’d tame my emotions and edit my words and that wasn’t what I wanted.

I wanted to say it all. I could worry about the rest later.

He shook his head like he was about to say no and my heart dropped. Then his arms banded round me and he plucked me up and started moving. Fast.