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He gave her each fierce ejaculation. Each hard pulse of ecstasy ripping through his senses with such pleasure he felt destroyed by it as the spiraling, stormy release overtook both of them.
*
Both Sebastian and Shane confused her more than she could say. Curled in the corner of the large sofa that sat to the side in her office, she watched as Shane stared into the night, his back to her, his shoulders tight with tension.
He hadn’t said much since insisting on gently drying the spill of both their releases from between her thighs. He and Sebastian had both always been diligent about taking care of her in such a way. Even in Spain, when exhaustion had weighed upon all of them, one or sometimes both of the cousins had gotten from the bed and ensured she was comfortable after the excesses they participated in.
“You can’t stay here all night, Shane,” she warned him when he didn’t appear to be leaving. “I need to get some sleep soon. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”
That long day included a meeting in town. Ian Sinclair, the owner of the Sinclair Men’s Club she’d once actually had membership in, had called and requested she meet with him. He’d hesitated to give her the reason for the requested meeting, which only made her more curious. She’d actually forgotten about it until that moment, though. Until she’d needed to find a reason for Shane to leave, to give her the last few hours before daylight to figure this out.
Still dressed in the torn blouse—the bra he’d all but ripped from her had been discarded, as were the panties he’d left in shreds—she wanted to undress and crawl into bed, his scent still lingering on her, his touch still imprinted on her flesh.
“I’m not leaving, Alyssa.” He turned to her and she saw the tight, grim set of his lips, the muscle that flicked at his jaw.
Leaning against the open door frame, he simply watched her, seemingly relaxed.
There was nothing relaxed about him, though. Alyssa could sense the tension and determined arrogance he wore like an invisible cloak.
“What do you mean, you’re not leaving?” There had to be a way to make him see that simply was not going to work. Not now. Not ever—
Her fingers clenched on the edges of her blouse at the “past” part of that thought. Something so dark, so filled with denial, swirled inside her, pulling free long-forgotten dreams of just that. Of at least one
of the cousins, either of them, holding her in the dark, sheltering her from the nightmares.
“Exactly what I said.” Straightening, he pulled the door closed, secured it, then tilted his head lazily to the side as his gaze continued to hold hers. “Let’s go to bed, siren.”
She almost rose eagerly to her feet.
The muscles in her legs were actually tightening to do just that.
“No. Absolutely not.” She did rise, but not to lead him to her suite next door. “That is unacceptable.”
The bleak, tight-lipped smile he gave her assured her he believed otherwise.
“Evidently you mistake me for Sebastian.” The lazy drawl in his voice was a warning, and Alyssa knew it. He’d made up his mind, and as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t budging.
“I’ve grown rather used to sleeping alone,” she tried to argue. She had always tried to sway him.
“You still think you can convince me to do something I know neither of us want.” He shook his head, buttoning his shirt as he moved slowly to her. “Since your bed’s so close, darlin’, and attached right to your office, it will be no problem at all to hide the fact that you slept with me.”
The shirt hung loose across his chest, the broad expanse of bronzed flesh pulling her gaze to the hair-roughened breadth.
She wanted so desperately to let him draw her into the suite, to her bed, beneath the blankets, against the heated power of his body where she wouldn’t feel the cold again.
“I can’t do this—”
“Of course you can.” Bending, he had her in his arms before she could protest, cradling her against that heated chest and moving to the connecting door.
“Shane, I won’t let you—”
“Sebastian’s on his way,” he informed her as he moved into her suite, his voice tight, his complete denial of her objections obvious. “Stop fighting, Alyssa; this is a battle you know you’re not going to win.”
Staring at the hard, grim profile, she acknowledged that the fight wouldn’t make a difference. It would take more than she was willing to give it. It would take a force of nature, several law enforcement battalions no doubt, and the National Guard.
“Bossy,” she muttered.
For a second, the briefest second, a memory teased her mind. Summer bitching at her, Shane commanding, and her own muttered “bossy.”
