Shane
Unfuckingbelievable.
Actually, no. This was my life. I tried to do something good, something right…and just wound up making things worse.
Needing to see Delaney’s face, I swept aside the curtain of hair that had fallen over her cheek. “Travis is working on it. He’ll fix it.” My voice was a tortured growl, spewing an empty promise.
Delaney looked up from her phone. “They’re calling me a prostitute,” she whispered, horror leaching from her words, slashing at my eardrums like razor blades. Even worse was the misery and embarrassment vandalizing her beautiful features. The past few years hadn’t been easy for Delaney, but she’d never been through the meat grinder of public persecution. Until today. Until this.
Until me.
“You should go see your father.”
“I know.” Her answer was a hesitant whisper.
I waited a minute. “Does that mean you’re going to go, or that you know you should but haven’t made up your mind yet?”
She lifted sheepish eyes to mine. “I don’t know. It would mean leaving you.”
A sigh shuddered through me. “Don’t do that, Delaney.”
She broke our gaze, tucking her head into my shoulder, laying a hand flat across my chest. “Do what?”
I reached for it, planting a kiss at the center of her palm. “Don’t hide behind me. You’re braver than that.”
She dipped her head, but not before I saw the fading glory of crushed hope staining her gaze. “I guess I’d just always envisioned striding into the prison like some kind of filial Joan of Arc, keys to my father’s cell in one hand and a pardon in the other.” She lifted her head, tears brimming. “What do I say to him? Hey, Dad, just driving by to apologize for this little story you may have read—the one calling me a whore. Hope your new digs are worth it.”
Guilt slammed into me, churning and twisting in my gut like a virus. “I know. It sucks. But you still have to do it.”
She choked out a sob. “What a fucking mess, huh?”
My entire life was a fucking mess.
I pulled Delaney into me, holding her tight. She shook, and I absorbed every tremor, wrapping my arms around her waist like an iron band. Tight. Secure. Unbreakable.
“I’ll go with you, if you want me to.” I’d go to the seventh circle of hell if she asked. Had spent years there already. Might be time for a return trip.
Delaney’s head rocked against my neck. “No. You’re right. I do have to see him. But if you come with me…” Her voice trailed off.
“I know. It will be a damn circus. Like always.” I spat out the words as if they were venom. Didn’t make them any less true.
Dark hair swished back and forth along my collarbone. “It’s not your fault you have fans everywhere.”
I practically choked on the excuse Delaney was spoon-feeding me, her light tone only making it worse. Had this damn story taught her nothing?
Everything was my fault.
I swallowed, hard. I was used to all kinds of things being said about me in the press. Some of it was the truth. Most of it was lies.
My skin had hardened over the years. And when it came to downloads and ticket sales, I’d learned that it didn’t really matter what was said about me. If people were talking, it worked in my favor. Even so, I paid Travis and a PR team a hell of a lot of money to spin bad press into good.
I glanced at the phone, hoping, for Delaney’s sake, they could handle this. Knowing they couldn’t. This story was too salacious, too juicy. A bag of catnip to a den of lions.
My chest squeezed tight. Not for me. I could take it. But Delaney…she was about to get mauled. And there wasn’t much I could do about it.
“I’m so sorry. For all of this.” I meant it with every ounce of my soul. The black cloud that followed me, I’d dragged Delaney under it, too.
She stared at me in stunned silence, absorbing the blow that had come out of nowhere. Disillusionment twisted her lips as she offered a somber nod. “Okay,” she choked out.
I didn’t know what was worse—causing Delaney any pain…or that she’d so easily accepted it as a by-product of life with me.
Now she knew exactly how much bullshit would be thrown her way if she continued to stand at my side. When was she going to realize what I knew already? What I’d known for more than a decade.
That I wasn’t worth it. Nothing but Trouble. That wasn’t just the name of my band. It was my fucking motto.
The voice that had warned me to leave Delaney alone before I ruined her, I should have listened to it.
I studied Delaney’s tortured expression, feeling like I’d just slain an angel. My angel. Ruined.
Reaching for her phone, I put it facedown on the bed and swept Delaney into my chest. Maybe I should walk away now. Tell Travis to deny everything and chalk it up to a breakup gone bad. If we weren’t together, the story might shrivel up and die on its own. Without us, there would be no fuel.
The only problem was—Delaney was my fuel. Just the sight of her face filled me with hope, with joy. Lit me up in a way no one ever had before. How could I walk away from her?
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Because I was a selfish bastard. Nothing but fucking trouble.
Why did she have to be real? Since the moment I laid eyes on Delaney Fraser, I hadn’t been able to walk away from her. And now she was paying the price for my greed.
Smoothing the hair away from her temples, I fisted my hand and stroked her cheekbone with my knuckles. “You gonna stay?” My voice was a husky plea, but still. I had to ask.
A strangled laugh shuddered through her. “Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Not a chance. A wave of need stole my breath as I kissed the crown of Delaney’s head, then buried my face in her mess of thick dark hair, willing myself to inhale. “Never,” I groaned, my mind tumbling out of control. Lust and greed. Fuck. I wanted to consume her. Devour her.
I trailed my fingers along her bare spine, feeling her heartbeat picking up in time with mine. Our breath quickened as the air in the room changed, shimmering with unspent energy. I hardened against the thigh she’d draped casually over my hip. “Delaney…?” I rasped. A question.
“Shane.” An answer.
I pulled her on top of me, her whole body stretching out against mine. Nerve endings fired, shooting off bright bursts of pleasure at every point of contact. My hands roamed lower, cupping the lush globes of her ass, rocking her against me. “You shouldn’t stay. We both know that.”
Delaney lifted her head, eyes as tortured and confused as mine. “Maybe. But you don’t want me to go, do you?”
I wish I were a stronger man. Wish I could have lied as easily to her as I did to everyone else. But I couldn’t. “No. I don’t want that.”
A flicker of a smile lifted the corner of Delaney’s pout, the other side following as her thighs opened, knees sliding over my legs to rest on the mattress. “Good. Because I’m staying.” Mischief made a tentative dance across her face and I stared, caught up in it. Was I really lucky enough to make this girl mine?
My girl.
It seemed wrong. Impossible.
And yet here she was.
Staying.
Delaney
Maybe I should have left. Tossed off the covers and run out of the room, out of Shane’s life. My fight-or-flight instinct had definitely kicked in, bleeding from every pore. Except that the flight part of the equation wasn’t very strong. I wanted to fight. Fight hard. For me, for Shane, for the us we had just barely become. But who was my enemy? Travis? The janitor who stole my ridiculous contract? Whoever paid him for it? The slime that had written the TMZ post?
The only one in the room with me was Shane.
A nervous kind of willfulness gathered, gaining strength. I finally had something, someone, to fight for. The only question was, would he fight with me?
I spread my hands flat on Shane’s chest, my fingers tracing the swirls of ink that marked his skin, skating along the ridges and plains of his abs. My heartbeat took off in a full-on sprint, desire cutting the sting of the scandal making its way across the Internet. “You hired me, Shane.”
He swallowed, cupping my cheek and running his thumb along my jaw. “Yeah.”
“There’s money in my bank account that came from you.”
A nod. “Yeah.”
“You paid me.” My stomach clenched with need. “And according to TMZ, now you get to play with me.” I tilted my face back, daring Shane to disagree.
“Is that what you want?” His voice was gravelly and low, dark brows setting off eyes the color of melted caramel.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I want. Now.” My answer was sure and unambiguous. I needed Shane to know that I trusted him to deal with our fucked-up reality beyond these walls. But right now I needed him to deal with me.
Shane got the message, loud and clear. I could see it burning inside his eyes and in the tight set of his jaw. One hand curved around my neck, my pulse racing beneath his palm. The other skated along my spine, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His mouth came down on mine, his kiss leaving me senseless.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any crazier, along came Shane Hawthorne. That contract was a grenade—I knew it the minute Travis had dropped it on the conference room table in his Beverly Hills office. That it exploded shouldn’t have surprised me at all. But it had. Anger and lust heating my blood, I wrapped my arms around Shane, digging my nails into his skin. Leaving marks.
Shane’s breath hissed over his teeth, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath my hands. “That’s how you want to play this, huh?” he growled.
A shiver rolled down my back. “Shut up and fuck me.” There was nothing I could do about some minimum-wage janitor selling my story to the highest bidder, but this burning knot of fury sitting in my gut—Shane had better wring it out of me.
I was flat on my back in an instant, Shane’s eyes blazing into mine as he held my wrists captive above my head. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?”
“No.” I met his gaze, begging Shane to prove there was a reason my life had been upended. “But you’re going to give it to me.”
His head dropped to my breast, mouth closing tight around my nipple, teeth biting down. I squealed, arching into him. His tongue flicked at my throbbing peak, and I dragged my nails along his back. Shane released his prize and my cry of frustration sounded in the quiet room. “Oh, it is on.” His tone was low, guttural.
I struggled. His grip was tight, and I couldn’t escape. Not that I wanted to. But everything inside me was tense, held together by nerves stretched to the point of snapping. I needed Shane to fight me, take me, soothe me.
His thumb ran along my rib cage, the roughened callus scraping my skin. “You wanna get some of that anger out, Delaney? That what you want?”
Sweat broke out on my skin, my legs kicking at the sheet wrapped around them. “Yes,” I bit out, trying to pull my arms away and having no success whatsoever. It was maddening, infuriating. And it felt so damn good. I turned my head, sinking my teeth into his bicep.
Taken by surprise, Shane released my wrists, and I pushed against his chest, wriggling out of his grip. I nearly made it off the bed, but he caught me by my hair, fisting it inside his grip as his other hand wrapped around my waist like an iron band. “Ah,” I grunted, just before Shane pulled me back against him so hard I lost my breath.
“I gotcha.”
Oh, Shane Hawthorne definitely had me. His fingers slid along my scalp, gripping my neck and pushing me into the mattress as his knee pressed between my thighs. His body dwarfed mine, his weight on my back, each breath a struggle. Every sense sharpened as he dragged his chin, rough with stubble, along my spine. Dizzying desire unfurled in my belly, and I moaned, spreading my knees outward along the smooth cotton sheets.
“How far do you want to take this?” Shane’s voice was a low rumble as his fingers slid along the crease of my ass, lingering over my puckered hole before dragging through my wetness.
How far? Far, I wanted to scream. Take me far, far away, Shane. But my answer was still trapped inside my head when his palm made contact with my ass. I jerked up, the sting sharp and swift, soothed away in the next instant by the swirl of his tongue on my heated skin, his kiss a tender counterpoint. “Shane,” I moaned, pushing back against him. I wanted, needed him to take me. Fill me. I could feel his shaft, hard and insistent along my hip. Another slap, another kiss. Jesus.
Realizing I wasn’t going to make him chase me, Shane released my wrists and scooped me up onto my knees. “Fuck, I love your ass,” he murmured, squeezing it as he positioned himself behind me. My breath caught in my throat as his shaft nudged between the same place his fingers had teased earlier before pausing at the entrance of my slit. Shane chuckled. “Don’t worry, Delaney. Eventually, but not tonight.” And with that, he buried himself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful thrust, all the breath leaving my lungs in a delicious whoosh.
Nothing was gentle about our coupling. Shane fucked me hard and deep, and I loved every minute. There was a darkness inside him, inside me, that needed this. Maybe not all the time, but for tonight, I wanted to straddle the line between good and bad, right and wrong, typical and taboo.
Shifting his stance, he bent over me, his hands on either side of mine, his mouth close to my ear. “You want this, Delaney.” It was a question and a statement. It was the truth.
“God, yes,” I rasped, jerking back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts. I closed my eyes and all I could see were stars, blinding against the blackness. My walls tightened around his invasion, the spark he’d ignited inside of me taking root. The fire spread, growing hotter, more volatile. Until I could hear the roaring blaze in my ears.
“Take it, baby. Take everything.” The turmoil reigning outside wasn’t as strong as the passion enveloping us right here, bringing us closer together. We were caught up in it, caught up in each other. Shane was, too. I could feel it in the harshness of his breath, the jagged edge to his voice. The just barely contained ferocity of his assault. But it was controlled. I was controlled.
Shane Hawthorne owned me.