AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She craved his touch. They were in a church basement, and she still wanted to curl herself around him and feel him pulse inside her. The devil had to be sitting on her shoulder. She glanced at the bed with the slats for a headboard and the pristine white sheets. It should make her feel chaste.
But all she could think about was gripping those slats until they bit into her palms as he slammed into her. Over her, filling her until she was screaming his name. Until nothing mattered but how they fit.
“Christ, Kendall.”
She winced. Exactly. “I’m sorry.” He crossed the room, standing before her with his chest a fraction of an inch away from the knot of her towel. She looked up at him. “You better take a shower. I’ll try to be asleep before you get out.”
“You think that will make this easier?”
She closed her eyes. “Maybe.” He didn’t say a word, but she felt him move away and missed his warmth and the endless buzz that surrounded her when he was in her space. Theclickof the door behind her freed her to move into the room. She quickly slathered on her lotion to combat the lack of moisture in the desert. She’d grabbed clothes for the next day but nothing to sleep in.
“Great.”
She turned to Shane’s bag and found an old, stretched-out undershirt in the stack of clothes jammed into the corner of the duffel. Trying not to overthink things, she quickly pulled it on and slid beneath the sheets. Her nipples beaded under the ultrasoft cotton. No, she was not going to get herself worked up.
She could hear him in the shower. Imagined his economical movements. Shane wasn’t the type to linger. He was always in a hurry, always prepared to get the job done.
Especially when the job included getting her off.
And that was not helping.
She turned her nose into the pillow. Vanilla and the soft scent of clothesline-fresh sheets mixed with the heady scent of cranberry that teased the air. Nothing about the basement was dank and stale—no, Delinda Cooper wouldn’t allow that in her house or her church.
Church.
As if she needed the reminder.
She buried her face in the pillow and screamed. She’d napped with Shane before. With the desert-sunset romance setting, she’d managed to nod off for a few hours. Surely she could do the same in a church. The least romantic idea in the history of romance. She could relax and draw in the peace for a good night’s rest.
She flipped onto her back and folded her hands over the sheets across her middle. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes. Deeply through the nose and out through the mouth. One after the other until her heart stopped fluttering madly. She heard the door of the bathroom open, and she continued to keep her eyes closed.
Her imagination was more than enough. She could see the ridges of his stomach muscles and the endless ropy muscles of his arms and the tight strength in his thighs. Even the long, masculine feet. She remembered them peeking from the frayed edges of his jeans. Her breath shortened.
Keep cool, Kendall.
She heard him moving around the room. The bed dipped, and the tang of mint in the air and the woodsy scent of his soap killed any hope of keeping her heart rate in check. Her head fuzzed with the rush of blood and how quickly it flushed the rest of her. Her nipples tightened again, and her sex swelled. She shifted under the sheets, closing her legs to hold herself together.
He kept a few inches between them when he finally settled onto his back.
She couldn’t stand it any longer.
She opened her eyes, and he had one arm tucked under his head. The wide planes of muscle and chest hair shouldn’t make a better pillow than the down that cupped her head like it was made for her. Memories of the crisp hair under her cheek the night before didn’t help. She wanted to feel that again. But she didn’t trust herself.
Touching Shane made her want more.
She’d slept the night before in the flatbed of the truck, and nothing had happened then.
She rolled onto her side, away from him, but the bed wasn’t exactly big enough for Shane. Her butt bumped into his arm. His very tense arm.
Evidently his relaxed pose was about as believable as hers.
She held still and curled her arms around her pillow. The want permeated the air, and yet both of them stayed on their sides of the bed. She opened her eyes, and a picture of Jesus stared back at her from the wall. She groaned and closed her eyes. All it needed was Jesus on there to add to the torture.
She slid into a fitful sleep. The cool sheets grew warm, and her dreams dragged her deeper. Hair-roughened legs tangled with hers; the heat at her back and the cool medal of his rosary burned into her flesh. His hand cupped her breast, pushing aside the shirt to knead and pluck at her nipple. His chin dug into her neck, and his other hand curled under her and around her neck in an embrace that was everything. Hope and home, love and life, warmth and want.
She laced their fingers together and brought them to her mouth.
Everything.
