Page 89 of Delicate Escape

“It’d be hard to watch DVDs without a DVD player.”

Shep looked down at the copy ofRockywith a mixture of awe and utter confusion. “Who has DVDs anymore?”

A laugh bubbled out of me. “Someone who doesn’t have internet at their house.”

Shep shook his head as he put the disc into the machine and shut the little drawer. “When I’ve got internet at the new house, I will be introducing you to every incredible streaming show, starting withYellowstone.” He crossed to the couch, lowering himself to the cushions as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

I took the other side of the couch, pulling the cozy blanket over me. Having Shep here meant I was comfortable enough to leave a few windows open, letting the cool night air in. But it was more than that. Shep made me feel…safe. Something I hadn’t felt in years. Something that was beautiful.

“I’ve got all the classics,” I argued, pointing at my small bookcase of DVDs. I picked them up in five-dollar bins and at Goodwill, constantly adding to my collection.

Shep grabbed my socked foot, digging his fingers into the arch. “I do admire your love of theRockyfranchise.”

I had to bite back a moan as he hit an especially tender spot. “Who doesn’t likeRocky?”

Shep chuckled. “I used to watch it with my brothers growingup, but none of my sisters liked it all that much. Arden would probably like it now, though.”

My brows pulled together in question.

“She got into jiu-jitsu when she was a teenager,” Shep explained. “Trains with Kye now. Rocky would be her kind of guy.”

“That’s impressive.” I’d always meant to take some sort of self-defense class but had never made it happen.

Shep’s fingers stilled on my foot. “The gym Kye trains at has beginner classes and a women’s self-defense seminar once a month.”

“Your mind-reading abilities are starting to get a little freaky, Shepard.”

Something shifted in his expression—softnessandheat. “Never liked my full name. Not until I heard it on your lips.”

My mouth went dry as I shifted in place. “Oh.”

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Yeah.”

“Your name is beautiful,” I told him honestly.

“Beautiful, huh?” Amusement laced his words.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “I think you’ll survive the wordbeautifulbeing used to describe something about you. Your masculinity is safe.”

Mischief sparked in Shep’s amber eyes. “Such a smart-ass.”

And then he surged forward. He went for my sides, fingers tickling. I shrieked with laughter and contorted my body, trying to escape Shep’s attack. But he showed no mercy.

“Shep!” I squealed.

“Tell me again how beautiful my name is.”

I snagged a pillow from behind me and whacked Shep with it.

“You’ve done it now,” he growled.

Shep grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head, hovering over me. “Uncle?”

The laughter died on my lips. He was close. So close I swore I could taste him on the air swirling between us. The heat from his body wafted off him and bled into me as his strong form hovered over mine.

But I wanted it to do more than hover. I wanted to know what it felt like to have Shep pressed against me. To know the force of allthat muscle powering into me. I wanted to know what it would be like to drown in Shep.

My head lifted as if pulled by invisible puppet strings of want and need. Shep’s eyes flashed hot. Burning. I closed the distance, my mouth colliding with his. His tongue stroked in. Pure, demanding need.

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