“I’m on the pill,” she whispers breathlessly, straining against me. “Please,” she begs . . . and I’m lost. Covering her body with mine once more, I pull her leg up over my shoulder, pressing down until it’s almost touching her chest. She’s wide open, wet and ready. I watch her eyes change color and darken as the thick head of my cock presses against her entrance, slowly pushing inside. She’s so fucking tight, I have to grit my teeth and close my eyes to stop from coming too soon. I ease in, inch by delicious inch, until I’m fully inside her. Pausing, I rest my head against her knee as I gasp for air, desperately trying to catch my breath. When I think she’s ready, I begin to move slowly, but Shannon wants none of that. Her hands move restlessly down my back, her nails digging almost painfully into the flesh of my ass, pulling me in deeper, moving me faster.
I growl and sit up straight. She wants hard? I’ll fucking give her hard.
Her eyes almost bulge out of her head as I thrust in and out of her. My balls slap against her ass and I reach down and gently grab her clit between my thumb and index finger, squeezing lightly as I roll it around. She cries out and tries to push my hand away, but I’m a man possessed. I can feel my balls tightening as my cock thickens even more. She feels it, too. Her hand drops, no longer trying to push me away as I continue rubbing her clit. She’s so fucking close, I can feel her pulse around me as she grips the sheets beneath her in her fists. Her eyes are squeezed tight as I feel the first ripple rush through her, pulling me in deeper.
“Open your eyes,” I command, not slowing down as her eyes shoot open. This is what I want, what I need. “Look at me when you come, babe.” My voice is raspy and breathless as I continue thrusting. “I need you to know that it’s me fucking you, no one else.”
She cries out again, but her eyes remain open as she grips and releases my cock tightly. I grit my teeth as I thrust a few more times, and a roar comes from my chest as I come harder than I ever have before. It’s as though fourteen years of pent-up anger and frustration has just been released from my balls, leaving me exhausted but satisfied.
But still wanting her.
I gently lower her leg and collapse on the bed next to her, breathing hard. Her hand gently caresses my sweaty back, and I turn my head to look at her. She’s smiling. That’s a good sign. “Are you okay?” I ask, leaning up and brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead.
“Yeah,” she says in a quiet voice, still rubbing my back lightly. Her skin is flushed a delicate shade of pink, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from licking her from head to toe. Since when was a sweaty woman so damn sexy? Since that sweaty woman is Shannon Harper.
I sit up and pull on a pair of shorts from the floor.
She sits up, too, tucking the sheet around her modestly. I want to rip it away, and I clench my hands into fists by my sides to keep from doing so.
“Have you eaten?” she asks, searching my face. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles and I laugh.
“No,” I reply, still smiling. It feels fucking good to smile.
“Well,” she says, smiling back. “If you grab me the wheelchair from outside, I’ll fix us some dinner.”
“Nope,” I tell her firmly, shaking my head as I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”
“What?” She leans back, looking at me quizzically.
I nod in affirmation. “I need to eat, you need to eat. It makes perfect sense. Besides,” I continue, standing up and grabbing the crutches from where they lean against the wall. “I want the whole town to see me with a beautiful woman by my side.”
She flushes and ducks her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What about Zeke?” she says, looking back up at me. “Don’t you think it’s time you include your son?”
My smile falters then fades as I shake my head sadly. “He hates me,” I say.
“He does not hate you,” Shannon cries. “He doesn’t know you well enough to hate you.”
“Shannon,” I explain patiently. “I haven’t been in his life, ever. I know it’s not my fault, but he clearly holds me responsible for that.”
“Well, he can’t stay with Ruth forever,” she tells me. “Eventually, he needs to come home.”
“And he will,” I say, ignoring the thrill that runs through me when I hear Shannon refer to my house as ‘home’. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I promise.”
“Okay,” she gives in, slowly nodding. “Where do you want to go?”
“Let’s just go to Saddles,” I suggest. Shit. Why did she just go so pale?
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she counters, shaking her head vehemently. “Not when you’re still getting over your . . . problem.”
I hate to admit it, but she’s right. And right now, that problem is fucking with my head more than I’d care to admit. What I wouldn’t give for just one. . .
“Okay,” I relent. “Where do you want to go?”
Shannon smiles at me and all of a sudden, everything is right with the world. “I know just the place.”
I’m so proud of Stone I could cry.
True to his word, he’s brought me to the one place I wanted to go—the restaurant where Daddy proposed to Momma. It’s small and intimate, with tealight candles providing a romantic ambience at each table.
I pretend to study the menu, but I already know what I want to order. The chicken parmigiana and fries had always been Momma’s favorite meal, along with a white wine.
Wine is out of the question tonight, though. Out of respect for Stone, I’m sticking with a glass of lemon, lime, and bitters with lots of ice. I’m not sure what to say to him. Is this a date? He said he wanted to take me out to dinner, but he never explained what that dinner was. I tug on the edge of my short red dress beneath the table and glance across at Stone. He’s looking incredibly handsome in a black woolen suit. Who knew the man could clean up so nicely?
He senses me watching and smiles, putting down his menu. “Have you decided what you want?” he asks, signaling the waiter when I nod.
After we place our orders, we sit in awkward silence. I can’t help but wonder if he wants a beer, as he’s gazing past me toward the bar. “Are you all right?” I ask softly, touching his hand.
He jumps a little and looks at me apologetically. “I’m fine,” he answers, removing his hand and sitting back in his chair. “I guess I’m just a little distracted.”
“It’s okay to want a beer,” I say. “You’ve depended on it for so long that it’s only natural.”
He nods. “I do want a beer,” he admits with a rueful smile. “More than you know. But,” he continues, taking my hand once more, “I want to see this through more than anything.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Great,” I say, swallowing a mouthful of my drink. “So, Stone, tell me all about you.”
He laughs. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” I grin. “I want to know all there is about Staff Sergeant Ethan Stone. Tell me about your time in the war.”
I regret my words almost immediately as a dark shadow crosses his features and the smile drops from his face. He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Come on,” I cajole. “Sometimes, it’s good to let it out. I know how long you’ve held onto it, and I’ve witnessed your nightmares first-hand. Why, I’ll bet that—”
“That’s enough,” he says loudly, slamming his fist down on the table, making me jump. Several customers nearby look at us a little curiously.
“Stone,” I say in a low voice. “Was that really necessary?”
He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Look, can we just forget about it and have a nice dinner?”
“Fine,” I snap, looking away as I pick up my glass.