Page 18 of The Bachelor

He had no clue how long it was before he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, but it was long enough that she didn’t jerk away or stiffen up. She moaned, in the back of her throat, and it was quite possibly one of the most satisfying sounds he’d ever heard. It made him wrap his arm around her more firmly and draw her down onto the mattress. He wanted to allow himself a vertical embrace, to have them face to face, equals, as they lay on their sides, a tangle of limbs.

She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes glassy and filled with desire. “How old are you?” she suddenly asked.

He wasn’t sure it mattered, but he didn’t mind answering. “Twenty-nine. I’ll be thirty in October.”

Her only response was a nod, like that confirmed what she suspected. What that was, he could only speculate. But then her gaze darted to his arm, and she carefully raised the sleeve of his T-shirt. “I was wondering what your tattoo was. It’s pretty.”

Most men didn’t want their tat being labeled pretty but he didn’t care if Avery did. He considered it artwork, not a huge personal statement of his toughness. He had chosen the intricate mosaic of tree branches over a skull or other badass ink for a simple reason. “It represents a moral code. Live your life with honor and integrity. Don’t be an asshole.” He did believe he achieved that most of the time. When he didn’t, his tattoo was a reminder.

That code was also the reason he chose to stay out of relationships. He wasn’t sure he could live up to someone relying on him day in and day out to do the right thing. He didn’t want to undertake something he might fail at. That was his personal integrity, and he could admit that his childhood had messed up his ability to get close to someone, intimate. To trust them. His mother had trusted his father. Shane had trusted his mother. And they had both gotten hurt, repeatedly, by Billy Hart.

“Do you have any ink?” he asked Avery.

“No.” She shrugged. “I haven’t thought of anything I would want to commit to.”

Shane ran his hand up her arm, under the wide sleeve of her lace dress. “Your skin is perfect. I have no opinion on other people’s tattoos other than to say everyone should do what makes them happy. But you do have really gorgeous skin. It’s like rose petals, soft and pristine.” It might sound like a line, but he stood by what he said. Touching her skin was like skimming the softest sheets.

“Thank you. I like what your tattoo stands for,” she said, running her fingers over the branches climbing up to his shoulder. “I think you’re a good man. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so.”

That amused him. She was a forthright little thing. He had no interest in debating who he was or wasn’t though. Without responding, he just reached behind him and tugged at his collar until his shirt came up off over his head. She had to shift her left arm for him to move it out of the way and she ended up with both of her hands on his biceps, gripping him lightly. Her eyes widened as she ran them over his chest and abs.

“Good Lord, you’re hot,” she blurted.

He was pretty sure that was the most genuine compliment he’d gotten in a good long while. “Thank you. The same holds true for you, Avery.” He reached around to her back and inched her dress up until it shifted completely up around her hips. He couldn’t see anything other than a whole lot of leg because of the way it had bunched between her thighs, but it was enough to make his mouth water. To entice him to explore what else was under there.

He rolled her onto her back on the bed and kissed her, immediately teasing his tongue between her lips. His hand caressed up the delicate skin of her thigh and eased under her short dress. He stroked the front of her panties lightly, just skimming the surface, before shifting away again. Her hips lifted, seeking his touch again. He didn’t comply, just stroking back and forth over her leg, sometimes letting his thumb brush over her clitoris. Her breathing changed, grew a little ragged, and their kisses got deeper, more urgent. Her nails dug into his arms.

The panties she was wearing were also white lace, but not see-through. There was something very virginal about them, and he decided he didn’t want them on her anymore. There was something too youthful about the look on her pale skin and she was all woman. She kept her hands on his arms, and she was letting him dictate every move.

He peeled the panties down, a little roughly. She gasped, her eyes widening. He realized the sound was one of pleasure. She liked his sudden dominant move. Shane got even harder, his cock pressing aggressively against his jeans. He stroked a finger between her red curls and into her moist heat. He was glad she wasn’t completely bare. It seemed more fitting for her, more natural.

Then because he wanted to, he bent his head down and buried his mouth in her sweetness. Damn, she tasted good. She yelped, her legs closing together on his head, boxing his ears. It made his head ring and he pulled back to shake it, looking at her in confusion. “You don’t like that?” If it wasn’t her thing, he wasn’t going to push her.

“I don’t know,” she said softly.

He just stared at her blankly. He wasn’t sure what she meant. “What do you mean?”

She looked up at the ceiling, blowing hair off her lip. “I can’t really say as that’s never been done to me.”

It still took him a second. He couldn’t process the idea that after eight years with a dude, she hadn’t been on the receiving end of oral sex. “Your boyfriend never ate your pussy?” he asked, stunned. “Why not?”

Avery made a sound of mortification, crossing her legs at the knees and clamping her thighs together. “He said it’s not… good.”

Oh, hell, no. “That’s fucked up. There is nothing unclean about it. It’s perfectly natural.” He was outraged and he wished he had punched Ben when he had the chance. Now he understood the shower thing too. She thought she had to be squeaky clean to fool around because that’s what her ex had required. And the selfish prick still hadn’t even gone down on her. So what the fuck was the shower all about? The guy sounded out there and Avery hadn’t ever known any better because he was all she’d known.

“Relax your legs,” he commanded. “Just let your knees fall apart.”

She looked agonized. “I want to. I do. But it feels so exposed.”

He’d work around it, then. “Just close your eyes, Avery. Rest your head back.”

Even with her thighs clamped together, he still could maneuver his tongue over her, teasing his way in. He was slow, steady, determined, using every ounce of skill he had acquired over a dozen-plus years of satisfying women. There was something to be said for all his experience. He needed every ounce of patience, technique, and dedication to get Avery to sink into the mattress and feel the pleasure he could give her.

After she inch by agonizing inch dropped her knees open, allowing him greater access to her, Shane felt triumphant, turned on. Fuck, she was sexy. She didn’t know what she would like, she was scared, she had no reason to trust him. Yet she was going for it. Their bodies grew warm, her breath anxious, eager. He felt like a goddamn savant, coaxing out his masterpiece. Avery started to moan, her shuddery sighs swelling into full-out ecstasy. Glancing up, he could see that her back was arched, and her chin had lifted.

That’s what he had been waiting for. He plunged his tongue deep inside her heat.

EIGHT

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