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Since I refuse to growl at an ice cream cone, I tell Owen exactly what Shepherd said then slide my phone back in my pocket. When I start walking to the corridor that will take us into the next horrifying room, Shepherd quickly grabs my hand, tugging me back to him until I’m pressed up against the front of him.
Dipping his head down, he presses his mouth to mine, and the coldness of his lips from the ice cream does a little something to me when he deepens the kiss and his tongue slides against mine, warming everything back up. Ending the kiss way before I’m ready, Shepherd pulls his head back, takes another long lick of his ice cream, and then smiles down at me.
Clearing my throat before I scream, I turn away from him and walk down the hall into the next room, my feet stuttering to a standstill a few feet inside, with Shepherd slamming into my back at my sudden stop. He steadies me with a hand on my hip and a humorous look on his face.
“I’m not scared. I just didn’t want to smack my face into a mirror like I’ve seen all those people do on YouTube videos. This is not a room you walk through quickly, man.”
Shepherd just laughs at me as I stare at his reflection in the mirror in front of me while he stands behind me, still licking that fucking cone—oh my God, why hasn’t he finished it yet?
The room we’re now in is one of those nothing-but-mirrors rooms, where people go racing through, thinking they see an opening, when it’s actually another mirror. I’ve been through these things plenty of times to know you walk at a snail’s pace with your arms out in front of you if you don’t want to suffer a concussion or embarrassment when you bounce off the glass and land on your ass. The room is very dimly lit with just the soft glow of purple lights above us, black carpet below us, and strips of neon rope-lighting lining the bottom of all the mirrors. As far as the eye can see, there’s nothing but hundreds and hundreds of me, standing in front of Shepherd, while he orally pleasures a vanilla cone over my shoulder.
Wonderful.
“Here, hold this,” Shepherd suddenly says, reaching around me to hand me his cone, grabbing my shoulders, and turning me around to face him once I have it, then pushing me a little until my back rests against the mirror behind me.
Once again, I force myself not to attack an intimate object as I hold his ice cream and take a quick glance in the mirror behind him to look at hundreds of reflections of Shepherd’s perfect ass to make myself feel better.
“I think we need to take a minute before we walk through this mirror maze,” he muses, pulling my eyes away from his great ass as he dips his head back down to kiss me.
Shepherd kisses me until I completely forget we’re in a horrifying funhouse, and the taste of vanilla on his tongue makes me rethink my stance on how boring the flavor is, until he’s ending the kiss and pulling back just enough so he can look down into my eyes.
“Do you trust me?” he whispers, his hands cupping my cheeks.
I let out a shaky laugh, still disoriented from that kiss while also being in a room full of dizzying mirrors.
“Yes, absolutely, but if this has anything to do with clowns, all bets are off.”
Shepherd just smiles at me, pulling his head back from mine and dropping his hands from my face.
“Give me a taste.”
My body pulses and clenches at his words, and then I realize he’s looking down at his goddamn ice cream cone I’m still holding in my hand between us that’s starting to melt. With a sigh, I bring it up to his mouth and try not to weep when he takes a big, long lick before speaking again.
“You do know I can read your face like a book, right?” he muses, the corner of his mouth tipping up until I can see his dimple, making my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and okay fine, a whole hell of a lot of need. “Keep holding on to that for me, would ya?”
The next sound out of my mouth is a shocked gasp when Shepherd instantly drops to his knees in front of me, skillfully unbuttoning my jean shorts and yanking them down my legs before I can even blink. My shorts are in a pool around my ankles when I take in a shaky breath, thankful for the mirror behind me to lean against as I watch Shepherd. He’s just staring between my thighs, his line of sight directly on the center of my white lace thong I pulled out of the far, far back of my top dresser drawer that Tess bought for me years ago and still had the tags on them. Not that I thought anything like this would happen here, but I had hoped for a little fun later tonight after the festival.
