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Afterward he could never explain how they ended up in her bedroom, except that somehow he’d carried her up the stairs just like that—her arms around his neck, her lips glued to his, her thighs clutching tightly. He tumbled her onto the bed and followed her down.
Claws of need ripped through him. She’d lost her shoes somewhere along the way, but the .22 was still strapped securely to her right thigh. He hadn’t felt it before—hell, he’d barely known his own name earlier—but now he unbuckled the strap and dropped the holstered gun over the side of the bed. He would have dispensed with her nylons and underwear by ripping them away, but Carly raised her hips and wriggled the offending garments off far enough for Shane to peel them down the rest of the way. The nylons and satin panties joined the gun on the floor.
His fingers stroked between her thighs and found her damp and oh-so-ready for him, and he praised her in a guttural voice. Her arousal fueled his own—as if he needed anything to make him harder. He slid one finger inside her, and she arched and moaned his name, her hands clutching his arms. He gently inserted a second finger beside the first, stroking in and out until she bucked against his hand and whimpered with need. Then she was whispering something he had to strain to hear. “Please, Shane. Please.”
Oh, hell yeah, he was going to please her. And please himself at the same time. He dug his hand into his pocket for one of the condoms he’d placed there, just in case, and came out with three. He dropped two of them on the comforter, then put the third packet between his teeth and ripped away the packaging. He unzipped quickly, freeing himself, and rolled on the condom faster than he’d ever managed before. Then he guided his erection to her damp entrance.
“Tell me yes,” he panted, his lips a fraction away from her ear.
She’d barely answered in the affirmative before he plunged deep, and her hips arched upward to meet him. It could have been all over in seconds—he wanted her that much. But he’d never left a woman unsatisfied, and he was damned if Carly would be the first. So he gritted his teeth and held back, even as he slid in and out. In and out. Faster, and yet faster. The tiny part of his brain that was still functioning kept saying each thrust had to be the last, but he held on. He managed to work his left hand in between their bodies, until he found the tiny nub he sought...and that was just enough to send Carly flying over the precipice, as she came. And came. And came.
When he felt her throbbing around him he thrust himself deep one last time and let go with a gasp of relief in a cataclysmic orgasm that seemed to be matched by hers.
Chapter 8
Shane made as if to withdraw from Carly’s body, but she clutched at his arms and tightened her legs around his hips, refusing to let him leave.
“Let me go, Carly,” he pleaded. “I hurt you.”
“No. Oh no. You didn’t hurt me.” She caught her breath on a shuddering sob, then asked, “Why do you think that?”
“You’re crying.”
“I am?” She let go of his arm with her right hand, and touched her cheek, bemused to find it damp. “I am.” Then her brain cells kicked in and she said quickly, “But you didn’t hurt me, I swear.”
“Then why...?” He rolled over, taking his weight off her. And though part of her was sorry, another part of her acknowledged it felt better being on top. And they were still connected. She didn’t think she could bear it if he withdrew just yet. It had been years since she’d felt this way after sex—as if the two of them shared a bond far beyond the physical—and she wanted to hang onto it as long as she could.
That’s when she realized they were both mostly clothed. And Shane was still wearing his shoulder holster. A sudden urge to laugh swept through her, but she managed to turn it into a strangled gurgle instead.
“What’s so funny?”
Okay, so she wasn’t all that good at hiding her laughter. “You. Me. Us. Don’t shoot me for laughing in bed,” she teased with mock seriousness as she ran her hands over his chest and slid the fingers of one hand beneath the shoulder holster for emphasis.
Then Shane was laughing, too, and she could feel it everywhere. He shook his head regretfully. “Obviously I have a one-track mind where you’re concerned.”
