Page 59 of Beware of Dog

Cass made a high, embarrassing sound and clutched at the front of his cut. The heat roared back, a flashfire surge beneath every inch of her skin, and his eyes were nothing but pupil above her, worlds’ more intense than they’d been at the precinct. That, she saw now, had only been a preview, his face carved now with such desperation that even an idiot virgin like her could recognize it…and be floored by it.

“Shep.” Oh, God, she thought she might faint if not for his hold, waist and jaw, careful, but not at all tentative. “What…?”

“Listen, sweetheart.” His voice was all gravel, breath warm on her face. “I’m not a martyr, so I’ll give you the spiel once, and I’m not gonna torture myself about it afterward. I’m too old for you. You’re smart, and you’re talented, and you’re going to school—you ought to change your name and run as far away from the life as you can get. Marry some dopey little shithead art nerd. Your old man’s a spooky short weirdo, and he’s absolutely gonna kill me for this. Butfuuuuuck, I love you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I oughta play the better man and tell you to getlost, but I’m not gonna. If you want me, I’m never gonna tell you no.”

Her breathing was doing a funny dance between hyperventilating, and sobbing, and giggling. She touched his face, the sharp edges of his jaw, his lean cheeks, the roughness of his stubble. “Frank.”

He rubbed his nose against hers, and it was such a sweet little gesture, coming from him. “Yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

He made another of those punched-in-the-stomach noises from earlier, leaned back in, and kissed her again.

It was gentler this time. Soft, and slow, and sweet. Cass had no idea what she was doing, and amidst a flush of embarrassment tried to follow his lead, pliant and responsive.

He touched the very tip of her lower lip with his tongue and then drew back.

“Wait,” she murmured. She’d die if he decided she was lousy at this, and she wasn’t worth the effort.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, and his voice was pure sex. It sent a jagged bolt of heat straight up from between her legs and she was glad he had hold of her, because she might melt right through the floor otherwise. He tilted his head the opposite way, brushed their noses again, their lips, just a tease. “You ever done this before?”

He was perhaps the only person in her life she’d never wanted to lie to. She offered a breathless, ashamed little, “No.”

“No?” His voice was so quiet. “Fuck.” Another kiss: a press, and then light tugging pressure at her upper lip. How could something so simple and delicate wreck her so completely? “That’s okay, baby. That’s my girl.”

“Oh,Christ.” She shoved her hands into his hair, shocked by how soft it was on top, the gel loosened from his helmet.

He pressed in again, and hummed an encouraging note against her lips. She opened her mouth, and he fitted their lips together more securely. Again, and again, achingly slow. Building her a rhythm, she realized—teachingher one. Her embarrassment started to melt. She felt her jaw relaxing, her mouth parting a little more on each kiss.

“Mm. Yeah. There you go.”

She snuck her tongue up against his lip, flirting with the edges of his front teeth.

He made a pleased noise, then pressed at the hinge of her jaw with his thumb, and drove into her mouth with his whole tongue.

A whimper built in the back of her throat, and no doubt he could feel it, because when he drew back and rested their foreheads together, he huffed a quiet little laugh. Up close like this, his smile was a blur. She smiled back, automatic reflex, delighted by the sudden knowledge that, yes, her insides were melting, and she might be having a heart attack…but that she felt giddy as a child at a carnival, too. Like she’d been told she got to have ice cream for dinner, or that she’d just won tickets to her favorite band’s concert.

She stood up on her tiptoes, pressed flush against his front, and wrapped both arms around his neck. Her voice came out breathy and uneven. “You’re very sweet, for a shithead.”

His resulting chuckle vibrated through her chest, and her nipples tightened painfully. “Back atcha, brat.” He licked her smile, and it was silly, and dumb, and shouldn’t have been sexy, but somehow was. “Come here.” He picked her up around the waist, and then tossed her over his shoulder.

“Hey!” she yelped, indignant, which made him laugh again. So she grabbed his ass with both hands in retaliation, which quickly turned into a distraction. “Ooh, you don’t skip leg day, do you?”

“Skipping leg day is for jackoffs.” He smackedherass, lightly, and strode down the hall.

An incredibly fuzzy memory bubbled up as she swayed against his back, enjoying her view of the frayed seams of his Levi’s pockets. “Hold on. Did you carry me like this the night I called you from the party?”

“Yep.” He sounded unrepentant.

“How chivalrous.”

“Hey.” His bedroom door creaked open, and inside, it smelled strongly of him, Speed Stick, cologne, and an undernote of something warm and comforting that was just skin. “I can be chivalrous.” He swung her around—but then caught her, and set her down feather-light on the end of the bed.

Cass pushed her hair off her face, looked up at him, and couldn’t breathe for a moment, struck soft and stupid by the intensity of his gaze. It was, in so many ways, the same regard he’d always shown her: frank, and honest, and like he gave a shit. Like she was a peer, a friend, and not the bother he sometimes said she was. But he’d stripped off whatever shield he’d used to hide that he wanted her. And it was somuchwant, too much and too ferocious to be faked.

His voice was achingly gentle when he said, “I came to get you, didn’t I?”

Oh, fuck. “Yes.” She had to wet her lips and swallow. “You said you always will.”

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