Page 255 of Coach
I nearly staggered back at how sheepish he sounded. “Are you kidding? This is incredible. It’s like a gallery curated by a very sexy lumberjack.”
“Thanks,” he said, his head lowering as his ears turned red. “You want a beer?”
Something flared within me, something familiar and raw and blazing hot. I welcomed it, embraced it, and readied myself to douse him with it.
“No.”
“No?” His brows furrowed.
“No,” I repeated.
“Uh, okay.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Something else?”
My heart skipped a beat. “Definitely something else.”
Without waiting for my courage to fail, I stepped forward, grabbed him by the arms, and pressed my lips to his. It wasn’t smooth or a move anyone might write a song about. Both our lips were rough and dry, and neither of us had time to prepare or anything; but damn, it was hot. Before I could think, my tongue slipped past his teeth and found his. It knew the way. It had been there before. Still, this felt different—it felt like, I don’t know, more.
He only hesitated for a heartbeat before massive arms wrapped around me, steel hands pressing into my back as the rest of him melted into our embrace. He was so much bigger than me, so much taller and broader and thicker. I wasn’t huge or beefy, but I wasn’t used to being so . . . engulfed. It felt awkward at first, but I recognized a new sensation coursing through me as his arms tightened about my body: safety. Being held by this monstrous mountain of a man made me feel safe.
No one had ever made me feel that before.
I melted into his touch, into the thought of being possessed by him—of being protected by him—of knowing nothing in the world could harm me if only Shane were there, standing guard, holding me close.
A tiny part of my brain—okay, the common sense part—laughed at how Hallmark-ridiculous I was being in that moment. It chided me for turning into a Disney character because some hot, beefy, sexy man was tonguing his way to China via my throat.
I swatted that annoying voice away, shoving it down so far I hoped it would stay fucking quiet for at least a few hours. I wanted this. I wanted Shane . . . all of him . . . and I wanted it right then.
“I want you inside me,” flew out the moment our lips parted for breath. Apparently, there was more than one voice begging to sneak out of me, and the second one had very different ideas of what constituted “good judgment.”
Shane’s eyes flared, and he growled, a low rumble that had me wondering if he might shift into a bear or panther or wolf. Was it a full moon? Did that sort of thing happen out in the woods?
His mouth chased away my inner ridiculousness, pressing against mine harder and hungrier than before.
My fingers found the buttons of his shirt. Damn flannel. How many fucking buttons were there? And did they have to be three times the size of the little holes?
I fumbled . . . and fumbled.
Shane’s lips grinned against mine a heartbeatbefore he pulled us apart, a genuine grin parting his lips. “Need some help?”
I let my head fall into his chest. “Yes, please.”
He kissed my forehead. It should’ve felt weird or awkward, like a father kissing his child, but that gentle press against my skin gave me another, very different, sense of safety. He had me—he really had me—and it was going to be okay.
Then his first button came loose.
And the second.
And the third.
His glorious chest revealed itself, one tiny sliver of square-covered cloth at a time.
I couldn’t wait for him to finish. He moved too damn slowly. My lips found bare skin as I kissed my way behind his unbuttoning, inching my way south until the last one popped free, exposing the happiest trail ever to grace a man’s abs.
His fingers dug into my hair, entwining, gripping, massaging my scalp, as I kissed every inch of him I could reach.
“Does this mean you missed me?”
I stopped kissing and looked up. The smart-ass smirk glaring down was almost too much.
