Page 84 of Shadow Dance

It’s good. So good. When I went down on her the last time, it was so she could relax enough to take my dick. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the sweet, salty taste of her, her smoky vanilla scent and that natural musk, so this time it’s as much for me as it is for her. When she starts squirming beneath me, her pretty, pink pussy slippery and wet, I know she’s close.

“God, Jaime,” she breathes, and I know she’s coming. “I love how you feel.”

Chapter 25

Maeve

The warmth between my legs spreads until it feels like I’m bathing in sunshine, so warm I don’t even feel the cold anymore. I float down as Jaime slows his touch, kissing my thighs before he pulls my panties off altogether. He wraps my legs around him as I sit up and lifts me. “What are you doing?” I ask, kissing his face as he carries me.

We squeeze into the back seat of his car, where he splits me across his lap and kisses me.

“Do you want me?” His hands sneak back beneath my dress, squeezing my ass. “The way that I want you?”

I’ve wanted him all day long, he knows that. I nod, and he stuffs my panties into his pocket before reaching around me to rifle through the console. Undoing his fly, he wrestles on a condom and brings me closer. Our eyes meet. I grasp his shoulders as he positions me, gasping at the suddenness of being filled so completely. “Maeve,” he whispers, his hands sliding from my ass to my hips as he thrusts up into me. “You’re driving me nuts. I can’t stop thinking about this.”

I moan as he moves, holding on tight as he stretches me so deliciously. “I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

Jaime captures my mouth in a kiss, swallowing my moans. Hishands roam my body, squeezing and caressing every curve. “You feel incredible,” he groans against my throat. “So wet for me.”

“I want you all the time,” I confess between gasps of pleasure, the ache between my thighs building with each plunge of his thick length inside me.

It’s fast, and the door is still open, and everything is foggy and soft. It’s crazy and romantic and if I live to be a hundred, I think I’ll always, always remember this.

“I’m not gonna last,” he pants a moment, pulling my chin down so he can kiss me.

I circle my hips, grinding against him as he stiffens inside me, and then I come again too, the pressure just right on my clit. My head falls back as I ride out another, softer orgasm that seems to go on forever.

“I think I love you, Jaime,” I whisper as I return to myself. It’s okay if he doesn’t love me the same. I just need him to know in case I never see him again or if everything goes to shit tomorrow night.

But his arms tighten around me. For a long moment, there’s silence, and then he pulls back so he can see my face. Pushing my hair from my eyes, he says, “My name is Cruz.”

Does fog absorb sound the way snow does? The hush around us deepens, like the trees themselves are waiting to see what happens.

I shift on Jaime’s—Cruz’s—lap, and stare at him, trying to work out what he just said. “Cruz Reyes?”

His eyes finally fall. “Cruz Franco.”

Cruz Franco?A shiver goes through me as the foggy, wet cold clears the heat between us. I stare at the man in front of me, trying to see him as anyone but Jaime. When it comes to the guys Callum keeps closest, he’s the only one that came in from the outside which means he was vouched for at some point. But he’s always felt a little different, hasn’t he? Obedient, but not a yes-man. Calm, calculated. In control. Trustworthy. I’ve always sensed that he edits himself with me, but somehow, I still trusted him. Why? Why did I trust him?

“You’re a cop,” I whisper, hoping he’ll laugh at me.

But his grip on me tightens as he brings his eyes back to mine. “Yes.”

I sit back a little, really looking at him. Never in a million years would I have imagined Jaime was a cop. The times my instinctswhispered that there was more to the story—I just thought he was protecting himself.

My stomach twists, and then, like fog, that old numbness starts to creep in. Swallowing convulsively, I move to go, feeling disconnected and a little dirty now. How much of this has been real and how much was an act? I hear the things he’s said to me over the past few months, the months we went from nothing to friends to lovers, through new ears.

“It’s a promise to him, but to you, it’s just a prop. Okay?”

“We all play parts, Maeve. Just keep playing your part …”

“Wait,” he says, grabbing my arm as I scramble off his lap.

“Please let go of me.”

Maybe he remembers that I don’t like being held down or grabbed, at least not in this context, because he releases me immediately. I step away, yanking my dress down. I need some space.

His boots hit the ground as he follows, buckling his pants. “Maeve, stop.”

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