Chapter 5
Shadow
I stop kissing her because I still have enough control left.
Barely.
Talia’s mouth is swollen from mine. Her fingers are fisted in my cut, her blue eyes bright, wet, and pissed off because I pulled back.
Good.
Pissed off is safer than broken.
“That’s not rejection,” I say.
Her chin lifts. “Did I ask?”
“No.”
“Then maybe stop answering questions I didn’t ask.”
There she is.
My little hellcat.
Mouth sharp. Hands shaking. Still standing.
I step back before I put my hands on her again and forget every reason I should keep distance between us. She’s scared. Hunted. Hurting over that text. I know better than to take something she’s only offering because the world went sideways.
I want her anyway.
That’s the problem.
“You’re taking the bed,” I say.
Her eyebrows snap together. “Excuse me?”
I grab the spare blanket from the shelf by the TV and toss it on the floor near the door.
“I’m taking the floor.”
“No.”
“Yes. You do as I say.”
Her mouth closes.
Fuck.
That was stupid.
I turn away and spread the blanket over the carpet. “Bed’s yours.”
“I’m not making you sleep on the floor.”
“You’re not making me do anything.”
“You’re huge.”
I glance back. “Careful.”
Color hits her cheeks. “I meant the floor is ridiculous for someone your size.”
“I’ve slept worse.”
“That is not comforting.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
I sit with my back against the wall, one knee bent, gun within reach. Door in front of me. Window to my right. Her behind me, closer to the bed, farther from the exits.
That’s how it should be.
Me between her and anything coming through that door.
She stares down at me like I’ve offended her personally.
“You’re really doing this?”
“Yeah.”
“Because you’re noble?”
“Because I know my limits.”
Her mouth softens for half a second before she hides it.
Then she mutters something under her breath and sits on the edge of the bed.
The mattress squeaks.
Loud.
Pathetic.
We both freeze.
She looks down at it.
I look at the door.
I don’t laugh.
She shifts.
The bed squeaks again.
Longer.
I close my eyes.
“Don’t,” she says.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You breathed judgmentally.”
“I’m silent.”
“Your silence is smug.”
A rough sound leaves me before I can stop it.
Her mouth drops open. “Are you laughing?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Barely.”
“That bed is haunted.”
“It’s old.”
“It has a vendetta.”
“Sleep.”
She lies back.
The bed makes a noise like a dying animal.
Talia shoots upright. “Absolutely not.”
I press my lips together.
She grabs the pillow and drags the top blanket off the mattress. The bed squeals like it’s losing a fight.
“No,” I say.
“You don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“I do.”
She drops her pillow on the floor beside me. “I can’t sleep on that thing. Every move sounds illegal.”
“The floor isn’t safer.”
She pauses.
Then looks at me.
“For who?”
Smart girl.
Too smart.
“For you,” I say.
Her throat moves.
For a second, the jokes fade.
Then she lies down beside me anyway. Close, but not touching. Stubborn as hell. Blanket pulled to her chin. Eyes on the ceiling.
I stay where I am.
The room goes quiet around us. Cheap walls. Red light blinking through the curtains. A truck passing on the road. Her breathing too fast beside me.
“You always this bossy?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“That was not a trick question.”
“I know.”
She turns her head. “You always sleep by doors?”
“Yes.”
“That one feels like it has a story.”
“Most things do.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
She exhales. “Very mysterious. Very emotionally unavailable. Ten out of ten biker performance.”
I almost smile.
Almost.
Then she shivers.
Small. Quick. The kind she tries to hide.
Adrenaline crash. Fear burning off. Body catching up to what the mind survived.
“You cold?” I ask.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I prefer creatively inaccurate.”
I shift onto my side. “Come here.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m emotionally vibrating.”
“Talia.”
That shuts her up.
I lift the edge of my blanket. “Come here, little hellcat.”
She hesitates just long enough to make me think she might use sense.
Then she moves closer slowly. Giving me every chance to tell her no.
I don’t.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her in.
Bad idea.
I know it the second her body hits mine.
She fits against me like trouble found a home. Soft where I’m hard. Warm under that thin blanket. Her hair brushes my jaw. Her hand lands on my chest, fingers curling in my cut.
I go still.
She notices.
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Then why do you feel like a wall?”
“Trying to be decent.”
“That sounds painful.”
“You have no idea.”
Her fingers move against my shirt.
Just a little.
Enough.
I catch her wrist before she can touch my neck. Not rough. Firm.
“Don’t start something you don’t want finished.”
Her eyes lift to mine in the dark.
“I’m still scared,” she whispers.
That almost kills it.
Almost.
I start to pull away.
Her fingers tighten. “Not of you.”
Everything in me goes quiet.
She says it plain. No performance. No sass.
I search her face, looking for panic. For regret. For the kind of fear that means I need to back the hell off.
I don’t find it.
I find want.
Shaky, yes.
But real.
“Talia.”
“Don’t say my name like you already decided no.”
“You know what you’re asking?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
Her breath catches.
Good.
She needs to know. I need to hear it.
“I want you,” she says. “I want this.”
My jaw locks.
“I want you, Jayce.”
My name in her mouth breaks something.
I kiss her.
Slow first, because I have to prove to myself I can. Her lips part under mine, and the little sound she makes goes straight through my blood.
I roll her beneath me and keep my weight on one forearm. She looks up at me, hair dark around her face, freckles soft in the light, mouth swollen, eyes wide.
Mine.
The word hits hard.
I shove it down.
Too soon.
Too dangerous.
Too damn true.
Her hands slide up my sides. “You’re thinking too much.”
“Dangerous habit.”
“Can you stop?”
“For you?”
She nods.
I lower my mouth to her throat. “Yeah.”
She arches when I kiss the pulse there.
That sound she makes? It’s going to haunt me.
I take my time because I don’t trust myself to rush. I kiss her jaw, her throat, the soft skin above her collarbone. My hand finds her waist. Her hip. The edge of her shirt.
I stop there.
She grabs my hand and slides it beneath the fabric herself.
My palm meets warm skin, and my control takes a hit.
“Fuck, love.”
She shivers.
“You okay?”
Her eyes flash. “If you ask me that every ten seconds, I’m biting you again.”
There she is.
I grin against her throat. “Promise?”
Her breath breaks.
I drag my hand over her side, learning softness and heat, the curve of her waist, the way she trembles when my thumb brushes higher.
“You’re beautiful,” I say.
She makes a disbelieving little sound.
I lift my head. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Act like I’m lying.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Her cheeks go pink.
I like it too much.
“Blue eyes,” I tell her. “Smart mouth. Freckles I want to taste. Curves that make a man stupid. You’re beautiful, Talia.”
For once, she doesn’t have a comeback.
I kiss her before she finds one.
Then her hands go to my cut, tugging, impatient. My little hellcat wants skin. I shrug out of the leather and set it within reach. Then I drag my shirt over my head.
Her gaze drops.
Scars. Ink. Old damage. Things I don’t explain.
I wait for pity.
She gives me hunger.
Her hand presses flat to my chest, right over my heart.
“Okay?” she asks.
Like she has the right to worry about me while she’s the one under me, soft and shaken and brave enough to put her hands on all the ugly parts.
I nod once.
She leans up and kisses a scar near my ribs.
Soft.
Too soft.
It hits harder than it should.
I come back down over her, mouth on hers, rougher now. She takes it. Gives it back. Her nails bite my shoulders, and I damn near lose what’s left of my mind.
I get her shirt up, then off. Pause long enough for her eyes to meet mine.
“Still with me?”
She answers by pulling me down.
Good enough.
I kiss every inch she gives me. Neck. Shoulder. The swell of her breasts above her bra. She gasps, then clamps her mouth shut.
“No,” I growl.
Her eyes open.
“Let me hear you.”
“We’re in a motel.”
“Then keep it low. Don’t hold it back.”
A laugh slips out of her, breathy and wrecked.
I want to keep that sound.
She tugs at me again. “Jayce.”
That’s all she has to say.
The rest goes fast and slow at the same time.
Boots kicked off. Clothes stripped away piece by piece. Her hands on me, mine on her, every touch turning rougher and more careful all at once.
I keep watching her face.
Keep giving her room to stop me.
She doesn’t.
She pulls me closer.
Greedy little thing.
Brave little thing.
When I settle between her thighs, she goes still for half a breath. I feel it. I stop instantly.
Her hands lock on my arms. “Don’t stop.”
“You sure?”
“If you ask again, I’ll scream.”
I lower my forehead to hers. “That a threat?”
“That’s motivation.”
A laugh scrapes out of me.
Then she says it.
Small.
Breathless.
Honest.
“You’ll be my first, and I’ll be really mad if you stop halfway.”
Everything in me locks.
The room goes dead quiet.
Her eyes search mine.
“What?”
I push up on one arm, putting space between us, even though every part of my body hates me for it.
“Your first?”
Color hits her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. “Yes.”
“Virgin?”
She winces. “Can you not say it like a medical alert?”
I sit back on my heels.
“No.”
Her mouth parts. “No?”
“No.”
Anger sparks in her eyes. Hurt too. “Wow. Okay. That was fast.”
“You don’t get your first time on a motel floor, hunted, scared, with a man who almost got you killed tonight.”
“You didn’t get me killed. You got me out.”
“Not the point.”
“It is to me.”
“Talia.”
“No.” She sits up, grabbing the blanket to her chest. “Do not use that voice. I’m not a kid. I’m not breakable. And I don’t need you deciding what my first time is allowed to look like.”
My jaw grinds.
“You deserve a bed. A locked door that doesn’t need a chair under the handle. A morning that doesn’t come with men hunting you.”
Her expression shifts.
Softens.
Then firms again.
“Maybe I do,” she says. “But I don’t have that tonight.”
I say nothing.
She holds my stare.
“And I still get to choose.”
Christ.
She’s killing me.
“I’m trying to do right by you.”
“I know.” Her voice lowers. “That’s why I trust you.”
That hits harder than anything else she could’ve said.
Trust.
She trusts me with this.
With her.
I look at her sitting there on the blanket, hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes steady even with fear still living in them. Not asking me to fix her. Not begging me to make the pain stop.
Choosing.
I lean in slowly, bracing one hand beside her hip.
“You understand what this means to me?”
Her throat moves. “Sex?”
“No.” My voice comes out rough. “Not just sex. Not if it’s your first. Not if it’s me.”
Her breath catches.
“You let me be your first, love, and I don’t pretend it didn’t happen tomorrow. I don’t let you walk out of this room thinking you were a bad night and a weak moment.” My hand slides to her waist, firm enough to make her breath catch. “You leave this floor branded by me. Mine.”
Her eyes widen.
I don’t soften it.
Can’t.
“You hear what I’m saying?”
“Yes.”
“Say it back.”
Her lips part. “If you’re my first, I’m yours.”
Mine.
The word moves through me like a match dropped in gasoline.
“Forever,” I tell her.
Her breath shivers out.
“That’s insane.”
“Yeah.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
She stares at me.
Then, because she’s Talia, because she’s my little hellcat and apparently born to ruin my control, she lifts her chin.
“Then make it worthwhile.”
The last thread snaps.
I kiss her hard enough to take the words from her mouth.
But I don’t rush her.
Not now.
Not with that truth between us.
I lay her back on the blanket like the floor deserves to be a damn altar. My hand goes beneath her head again, shielding her from the thin pillow and cheaper carpet. Her body trembles under mine, but her eyes stay on me.
I lower my mouth to her throat. “Then I’m going to make damn sure you remember me.”