Page 89 of Seven Days in June

Disoriented, Eva blinked. She was acutely aware of everything: his scent, his rugged scruff, his crumpled tee, the line of his biceps, his eyes. Shane overwhelmed her. She was dizzy with him.

With a groan, Shane smashed his mouth against hers, kissing her into the door.

He tangled his hand in her curls, pulling her head back to deepen the kiss. Over and over they savored each other, their kisses hot and hungry.

“Fuck,” he said. “You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

Mouth open on her neck, he slipped his hand beneath her short, gauzy slip dress and slid it up her inner thigh. Possessively, he squeezed the soft skin there. She went liquid.

“Tell me what you want,” Shane rasped into her ear.

She wanted him all over her, his scent, his mouth, his tongue, his hands,him. She wanted him to mark her so she’d never remember anyone else. “Just want you. Everywhere.”

Shane grabbed her hand and dragged her through the darkness to the bedroom. The wind picked up again, rattling the massive windows and howling against the building.

Between broken kisses, they stumbled blindly into the moon-dappled bedroom. There was a rumpled, rainy-day sexiness to the bed, a poufy duvet collapsed in Shane-shaped dents. They dropped onto it together, a tangle of limbs, pillows toppling to the floor.

Grabbing her jaw between his fingers, Shane drew Eva into a quick, filthy kiss. And then, without warning, he flipped her around.

Starting at her ankle, he ran his mouth up along the back of her calf, scratching her with his stubble, leaving a searing kiss behind her knee. She moaned, grabbing the sheets in her fists, but he kept going, planting a wet love bite just under her butt cheek and thenslowlydragging his tongue up along her spine. Ravenous, Shane pushed her sweaty curls aside and sucked Eva’s neck.

“Turn around,” he directed lustily. Without thought, she did. Inching his way down her body, he slipped his hands under her ass, pulled her to his mouth, and went for it—no teasing, no buildup. The shock was delicious. She cried out. Arched her back. And then he stopped.

With a teasing smirk, he climbed up her body.

“Hi.” He grinned.

“Wh-why’d you stop?”

“Needed to kiss you.” He did, chastely, on her mouth.

“You’re the worst. Fuck me.Please.Fuck me on James Baldwin’s bed.”

Shane laughed. “This isn’t James Baldwin’s bed. You think they had Sleep Number beds in 1961?”

“Oh.” She grabbed at his arms. “Well, then fuck me on this Sleep Number bed.”

“Cum first. Then I’ll fuck you.”

Before she could think, he was avidly tonguing her again. And she was coming apart.

“Eva.”

“What?” she whimpered, riding wave after wave.

“Eva.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

She peered down at Shane’s face, his wicked mouth on her—andoh, it was an obscene, exquisite sight. Once her eyes locked with his, Shane sank two fingers deep inside her. Gently, he hooked them in a come-hither motion, and that was it. She came, riding out every jolt.

The spike of her orgasm subsided, but her high didn’t. Despite Shane reducing her to Jell-O, Eva managed to climb on top of him. Gripping him, she carefully eased herself down. With a throaty groan, he grabbed her ass in one hand, her breast in the other, and gave up control.

“Go ahead,” he rasped, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. “Take what’s yours.”

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