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Wild swells of pleasure crest.

My legs tremble. My ass tightens beneath his palms. My entire body goes rigid. My toes curl. Until he drives two fingers deep into my heat, and I start to unravel. His fingers curl, matching the pace of his tongue, caressing the tight ball of nerves deep in my body.

With my back arching, thighs gripping the sides of his face, I lose myself. Screaming and gripping the blanket. Riding his tongue through the waves. If I thought his fingers were magic, his mouth is sinful.

I’m shaking when he rests my hips back down on the bed, grinning up at me.

“Holy hell,” I pant out, blinking my vision into focus. “And here I thought the tight T-shirts and leather were dangerous. That tongue…” My entire body shivers just thinking about it, my gaze dropping to the very hard outline beneath his jeans as he stands at the end of the bed.

This man is undeniable. I’m so far past liking him that the feelings I’m biting back terrify me.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Harloe?”

“Everything,” I admit.

I want him with every fiber of my being, but I’m just as scared.

I could run. It’s what I’m good at. I’ve run for a million reasons in the past, and not one of them is as frightening as how I feel about Shane.

But when he hesitates, waiting for me to show him I’m ready, I know I’m done running. Shane is patient, thoughtful. He’s waiting to see where I’m at—what I want. Which is why I sit up and peel my shirt overhead, unhooking my bra until I’m completely exposed before him.

There’s a very good chance this man is going to break my heart. If that’s the case, so be it.

“Fuck,” he growls, his gaze dragging over my bare flesh. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

Goose bumps prickle my skin as he takes me in with appreciation until he spots the scar on my ribs.

“I’m not perfect in this spot.” I brush my hand over my scar, and when he opens his mouth to say something, I cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” he says. No argument. No demand that I sit here and answer his questions. He steps forward, legs knocking the bed as he leans down, his mouth hovering a breath away. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I want to make one thing clear. Every part of you is beautiful, Harloe. Every damn inch, inside and out.”

His fingers graze my scar as he claims me in a kiss, and I whimper. I’ve never made whatever sound he pulls out of me. It’s needy and vulnerable. Everything this man makes me.

I grab his cut and pull him closer, no longer able to keep a grip on my restraint. He’s still fully dressed while I’m bare, and I need him to meet me where I’m at.

I strip off his cut and tear at his shirt. His chest and arms are inked in the story of his past. I trace the head of the snake on the back of his hand, all the way up his arm, dragging my fingers down the demons and skulls on his side. Beneath the ink is hard muscle and something else. Rugged bumps and divots and scars.

I pause on a patch of small circular spots on his ribs. Cigarette burns.

My gaze lifts, but he isn’t looking me in the eye. He’s focused on my hand.

“Those ones weren’t from a stove” is all he says as a way of explanation, and I know better than to ask more.

If he wants to tell me someday, he will. But just like he didn’t push for my secrets, I let him keep his. We both clearly have skeletons in our closets, and now isn’t the time to bring them up.

I slip my hand down and aim for the button on his pants. Shane towers over me as I undo his zipper, slowly peeling off his jeans and underwear. His thighs are thick and strong from always hugging his bike, but it’s his cock that has me swallowing hard.

Shane grabs the base, stroking his hard length before me. He isn’t just pierced once. He has three barbells in a ladder at the base of his shaft and then one through the head. It’s intimidating and so hot.

“That’s…” I wet my lips; my throat has gone dry. “That’s a lot.”

“Harloe.” Shane says my name with such a gentle tone that when he cups my jaw and pushes my chin up with his thumb, the intensity in his eyes surprises me. “Don’t worry. I know you can take it.”

Everything that comes out of this man’s mouth is so fucking sexy.

“You’re in control,” he assures me.

Except, I’m not. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I need him so much I’m dreading the day he leaves, but I can’t tell him that.