Slowly, her fingers splayed wide on the hard muscle. This was happening. She was touching him, was with him, in his arms, and neither of them was saying no. It was so surreal—it was almost an out-of-body experience. Except her body most definitely wanted in on this action.
Shay slowly slid her hands upward, his body heat warming her palms, and her gaze lifted to his. Her fingers laced at his neck, her chest naturally arching more intimately into his. Their bodies began to sway, the song—another song—slow still, filling the air, but she didn’t hear the words. Shay didn’t see the room. But neither could she maintain their stare, not when the intensity of what he did to her was downright unnerving.
Shay pressed her head to his chest, heard the rapid beat of his heart, as surely as she felt the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her stomach. He was right. They weren’t kids anymore. Everything had changed.
His hands traveled around her back, caressing, before resettling at her waist, his touch possessive and strong, his fingers sensually trailed her ribs, just below her breasts. Driving her crazy with anticipation of where they might travel. Shay pressed her hands then over his at her waist. Squeezed her eyes shut at the tightening of her nipples, the desire willing her to direct his hands where she wanted them. Not caring where they were. Ten years of foreplay apparently had consequences. She’d never felt so erotically charged and lost—not in private, let alone in public. And with what little reason she had remaining, Shay knew she had to end this, to get out of here before she did something she would regret.
Her gaze lifted to his, a plea meant to say, no more. Stop. “Caleb,” she whispered, and the word was again a plea, but not the one intended. This was a plea for something else, a plea for more of him. A plea that had her pressing to her toes, stretching for his mouth. A plea he answered.
Caleb’s fingers slid into her hair, his mouth lowering, a brush of lips, innocent enough for public display until it wasn’t innocent at all. Shay had no idea what happened, hardly remembered anything except the burn for more. More of him.
One minute they were on the dance floor. The next she was in the corner, hidden by the jukebox, back against the wall, and Caleb was kissing her. She was kissing him. Wild passionate kissing. Her leg was wrapped around his, her hand in his hair. His hand curved over her backside and pulled her tight against his hips, settling the hardness of him into the V of her body. Shay moaned into his mouth at the feel of the thick bulge of his erection. At the feel of his hand finally on her breast. Her hand on top of his telling him not to stop. But he did stop—tore his mouth from hers—and she whimpered from the loss. He framed her face with his hands, stared at her a long, hard moment and then moaned at whatever he saw in her face—the unmasked passion she knew was there. And then he kissed her again. Yes, more. But it was short, passionate—over too soon.
He grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
She tried to pull against him, her body screaming in demand. No. Stay. Kiss. Touch. But he was strong, insistent, and she followed, rounding the jukebox, and she blinked reality back into view. Heat rushed across her cheeks. There was a pool game going on at the far end of the room. People nearby. And she hadn’t cared, and wasn’t sure she would care if Caleb pulled her right back behind that jukebox. She barely recognized herself; she’d never be so daring.
Her head was still spinning when Caleb opened the truck door and kissed her quickly—but no less passionately—before helping her climb into the cab. Darkness surrounded her, anticipation of what came next. A tiny sliver of reason said, Not tonight—he’ll wake up with regrets and so will you. But Caleb was already climbing inside the truck, and all she could think of was how close he was, and how easy it would be to touch him again. How much she wanted to.
He stared out the window but didn’t start the engine. He sat there. She sat there. Sexual energy clawed at her, at them, expanding until she thought the windows would burst. And then, he slid the keys into the ignition and started the engine. When he paused, she thought he’d changed his mind, but he reached for her and pulled her to his side, their legs aligned. Her hand on his thigh.
His fingers wrapped around her neck, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “In case you start thinking too much. We’re done thinking.”
And then he put the truck in gear.
9
WITH ONLY A SHORT one-mile drive from the restaurant to Shay’s house, the sexual tension still ran plenty thick between them, and Caleb intended to keep it that way. No more thinking. No more wondering. He killed the engine in the driveway of her house, and before she had time to react, he turned to her, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. There was no way he was leaving her tonight. Whatever was, or wasn’t, between them…it was time to find out.
He claimed her mouth with possessiveness, hot and firm, leaving no room for argument. And for a fraction of a second, she hesitated in her response, then moaned, sinking into the kiss. He eased his demand into a slow, sensual dance of tongue against tongue. Savoring her. Savoring the night. Not concerned if he slept, not when Shay was finally in his arms.
Her taste seduced him, climbed inside him and awakened something he didn’t know existed. A place where sex wasn’t just a destination, where you visited and departed, or an escape from a jungle in some hellhole. It felt like an emotional need. She felt like an emotional need.
“Caleb,” Shay whispered against his lips, her fingers pressing into his chest, as if she wanted to push him away but instead absorbed him. His lips brushed hers again, and she breathed, “Wait.”
But he didn’t wait, because he felt her tension, could almost hear her thinking, finding reasons—as they both had a million times before—to pull back. To leave this “thing” between them—whatever it was—untouched.
Caleb deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up her back and molding the lush curves of her breasts against his chest. Holding her, touching her, his body pulsed with need, his cock thick with demand. He wanted inside her, wanted it as much as he wanted his next breath. But not as much as he wanted to take his time, as he wanted to enjoy every last second of this first time with Shay. And he wanted her to enjoy it, wanted to make her forget to worry.
His tongue glided deeply into her mouth, stroked and prodded with the reminder of how good they felt together, with the promise that he could wash away more than her objections, but also her fears. He was rewarded with another of her soft moans—damn, he really loved those moans. He wanted her more than he remembered ever wanting anyone in his life. Hell, he felt like he’d wanted her his entire life.
His hand stroked the silky strands of her floral-scented hair. “Let’s go inside,” he murmured, already opening the door and gently dragging her across the seat with him.
But she didn’t go willingly. “No, wait,” Shay objected again, latching a hand onto the steering wheel to halt her progress. “We can’t go back once we do this.”
“Good,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to go backward.”
“But we—”
He framed her face with his hands, cutting her words off with actions, pinning her in a stare and a firm but gentle demand. “Do you want me?”