“Shane,” I whisper, and somehow the rest of the world fades, and he’s grounded me in the moment. All of my old demons fade into the darkness of my past.

He seems to know when it happens. Maybe it shows in my face. Maybe he feels it in my energy, but then, and only then, does his gaze lower, raking over my breasts, a touch that isn’t a touch. My body reacts, nipples tightening, breasts heavy, and the dampness that was on my panties, is now slick on my thighs.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, more gravel to his tone, and when he looks at me, I see the gray steel of demand and dominance, but there is also enough blue fire to burn me inside out. “And so damn sweet,” he adds. “It’s sexy as hell.”

“Sweet is not what I want to be,” I say, translating it to the pushover that got me into this mess I’m in. “It’s not what I am.”

He leans in close and inhales deeply. “You smell sweet.” He cups my face, and he caresses his lips over mine, once. Twice. His tongue flickers past my teeth, a quick tease that has me wanting more before he adds, “You taste sweet.” He presses my hands to the railing behind me, holding them there, his cheek settling against mine. “I want you, Emily. And I’m going to have you. On my lips. On my tongue.” He nips my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine as he adds, “On my cock, riding me and thinking of nothing else but me.”

His words, his promises, ripple through me like a touch, my fingers curling under his touch, around the bar. I am wet. I am aching in every place he is not and I want him to be, and I reach for him, only to have him catch my hands and hold them over the railing.

“Don’t move your hands from that railing unless I tell you to or I will stop whatever I’m doing no matter how good it feels. Understand?”

“Yes,” I whisper, and just like that, I’ve given him what I swore I’d never give a man again: control. But it’s unexplainable when I have been conditioned to believe my control is what protects me, and my lack of control is responsible for every one of the many mistakes in my life. It’s not just what he wants. It’s what I want too.

There are three sides to every story. Mine, yours, and the truth.

—Joe Massino

CHAPTER SIX

SHANE

Emily’s agreement is all about one thing. Trust. Something I don’t give or take lightly. Nor am I a stranger to the need to escape, and I’m not sure Emily is either. I just don’t think she’s as good at it as I am. And normally for me, that escape is fucking hard and fast, and getting it out of my system. But nothing about this night, or Emily, has hit the spots I know as familiar. They are simply the spots I need.

Still holding her hands on the railing, I spread my arms until they align with the railing, forcing her grip farther, my body draped over her, intentionally allowing the heavy starch of my shirt to tease her nipples. I linger there, building the anticipation intended to force her to think of this, and me, and nothing else. Seconds tick by, my blood pumping, my body cradling hers, the thick pulse of my erection aligned with her hips, the sweet scent of her drowning my senses in all the right ways. When I am certain she has waited long enough, I nip her shoulder. She yelps, and I lick the offended area, my lips curving against her skin at the moan that follows. She leans her head forward, the only part of her I don’t have pinned, resting it on my shoulder. A breeze lifts around us, slightly chilled.

She shivers and I press my cheek to hers. “Don’t worry. I plan to heat every chilled spot on your body.” I seal that promise by dragging my lips over her neck, to her jaw, then settling a breath from her mouth, promising a kiss I don’t deliver. I want to taste her, but I don’t. I linger there, teasing her and me, waiting for the reach of her lips and I pull back¸ my hands flexing over hers.

“Don’t let go,” I warn, dragging my palms up her arms to settle on her shoulders, and when I look at her I know she doesn’t mean for me to see the fear in her eyes or the sweetness that she rejects because she thinks it makes her weak. “Close your eyes,” I order, forcing her to let go of her control and give to me.

“What?” she asks, a hint of panic in her voice and expression that tells me I’ve made her feel exposed and vulnerable, an extreme reaction considering all she has to do is open her eyes if she so pleases. It only drives home how on edge she is, and how much she needs a safe place to let go of her control.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“What? Shane—”

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Then close your eyes, Emily,” I repeat, pushing the words with a harder command this time.

She inhales sharply and lowers her lashes. “Are you happy now?” she challenges.

My lips quirk with her feisty remark, further convincing me that she’s a fighter that won’t let fear win. “Not yet,” I assure her. “But we both will be soon.”

“How soon?” she asks, more of that breathless sexiness in her voice. I feel it in my groin.

“When we’re both ready.”

“I’m ready.”

Now I’m smiling, and once again, I wonder how that is even possible this night. I lightly stroke my mouth over hers, a tease that is barely there. “You’re ready,” I murmur, letting my breath fan her lips, “when I say you’re ready.”

I step away from her and her eyes pop open, but her hands remain on the railing. “What if I just grab you and kiss you and—”