Chapter 22 Presley #2
I held my smile until I heard the shower turn on, then hope bloomed.
This reunion wasn’t what I’d planned. A reunion wasn’t something I’d ever planned.
At eighteen, I’d had illusions of the two of us laughing and singing to the radio as we drove away from Chicago. I’d pictured us living our lives separately, but connected—mine in Montana, hers in California. We’d call each other often. We’d vacation on the beach and spend Christmases together.
None of that had come true.
But maybe it would, a decade later.
I went to my bedroom and took out a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt for Scarlett. I also grabbed a fresh pair of panties and a sports bra. I set them on her bed, glancing around the guest bedroom at the bag she’d brought with her.
It was a black backpack, sagging in a corner like it was mostly empty. Where had she been? Where was she living? She’d arrived in a cab. Had she flown here from somewhere? Or taken a bus? Or hitchhiked?
Now that she was awake, we could talk. I went to the kitchen and made dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I was hungry and from the looks of it, Scarlett hadn’t eaten much lately. I went for simple grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.
When she emerged from her bedroom, our meal was waiting at my round dining table beside the kitchen.
“What would you like to drink?” I asked.
“Water is fine.” She slid into a seat, her hair wet and hanging down her back. My clothes were not fitted, but they were baggier on her than they’d ever been on me.
“You can start without me.” I filled up two glasses of water in the kitchen, and when I returned to the table, half her sandwich was gone. I sat down, trying not to stare as she inhaled the rest of her food.
“Thanks for dinner.” She gulped from the water glass. “I was starving.”
“You slept for two days.”
“I was tired.” Scarlett yawned and stood. “I’m going to go back to bed.”
“Oh.” So much for talking. “I have to get back to work tomorrow. Are you staying or . . .”
“If that’s okay.”
“Yes, of course. Stay as long as you’d like.”
She picked up her dishes and took them to the kitchen.
I abandoned my meal to follow. “Do you need more clothes? Or anything? I can swing by the grocery store on the way home from work. Maybe we could talk tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow.”
I smiled. “Get some rest.”
“Night.”
I waited until her door was closed before returning to my plate, but my appetite was gone.
Was she hiding from me? Or was she really this tired? Was she sick?
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated that I didn’t have answers, but Scarlett had always done things on her own timeline.
She’d wait until the candles on our birthday cake were dripping before she’d blow them out.
She’d take twice as long to jump in the pool.
It was the reason she hadn’t left Chicago with me. She hadn’t been ready yet.
When she wanted to answer my questions, she would. Until then, I’d be patient.
I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. I washed a load of laundry and set a stack of clothes outside Scarlett’s door. It was only seven o’clock by the time my chores were done, and I had no desire to watch TV or read.
The yellow house next door was calling my name.
I padded down the hallway toward my bedroom. Shaw’s window was dark but there was a glow from deeper in the house. Donning a warm sweater and a pair of wool socks, I tugged on my boots and slipped into the dark night.
The air was crisp, and my earlobes froze as I crunched across the snow-trodden path Shaw had created between our houses. My foot hit the bottom stair and his door swung open.
Shaw looked to my driveway. “Where’s Luke?”
“Gone.”
“When I saw his truck, I thought you and he were . . .” His face was washed in relief. “I about came out of my skin.”
“Oh, well, we were never together. Not intimately.”
He blinked and stepped onto the porch, his bare feet oblivious to the freezing temperature. “Say that again.”
“I ended it.”
He took another step. “You ended it.”
“Yeah.” I climbed the steps, making my way toward the warmth of his arms. “You better not break my heart.”
He stepped closer, placing his palm between my breasts. It flattened on my sternum and the heat from his touch seeped through my sweater. “It’s safe. I swear it.”
Safe.
That was the word I’d been looking for earlier.
It wasn’t as monumental as love, but for a woman who’d lived so much of her life in fear, safe seemed almost as important.
“Kiss me, Shaw.”
He framed my face. “Where?”
“Here.” I pointed to my lips. Everywhere.
“I don’t want this to be a secret anymore,” he said. “But if you take me, it means you get it all. The cameras. The tabloids. I want you, more than anything I’ve wanted in my life, but I don’t come easily.”
I arched an eyebrow and gave him a sly grin. “We’ll see about that.”
Gripping the hand he still had over my heart, I stepped past him and dragged him into the house.
His sexy chuckle drifted away as he kicked the door closed. Then his hands were all over me, and his mouth was on mine.
I didn’t care if Shaw came with fans. I didn’t care that he’d drag me into the spotlight. Because I’d rather be by his side than standing in the shadows alone.
With one fast grab, he swooped me into his arms, holding me against his chest as he walked us into the house. He turned to his bedroom, never once breaking away from my mouth.
My arms banded around his shoulders, pulling him close as I slanted to deepen our kiss. To savor the feel of his lips and the wet heat. We panted and licked and sucked, knowing there’d be no stopping.
We wouldn’t come up for air until we were both boneless.
I wouldn’t mind if that took days.
Shaw’s delicious scent filled my nose as we entered his room. The bed centered beneath the window was big and covered in a charcoal quilt. He spun us around, setting me on the edge as he dropped to his knees.
His hands roamed my legs as I whipped the sweater off my torso. My nipples were pebbled in my bra and my core throbbed as he stayed on his knees, removing my boots and socks.
When my feet were bare, Shaw picked one up and placed a soft, gentle kiss to my ankle.
A shiver ran down my spine. “What was that for?”
“I’ve never kissed you there before.”
“Oh.” I blushed furiously through a smile that pinched my cheeks.
Shaw laughed, the vibrations of his rich voice rolling over my skin and prickling the little hairs with electricity.
He stood and unzipped his jeans. He didn’t shove them off his hips but let them hang open, clinging to the V of his hip bones and teasing me with what was beneath. With one graceful move, he reached behind his neck and yanked his black cashmere sweater over his head.
My mouth watered at the sight of the bare chest and sinewed arms I’d dreamed about for months. My fingers itched to touch the sprinkling of hair that dusted his chest, to feel the hardness of his body beneath my palms.
“Where else haven’t I kissed you?” he asked.
I pointed to the inside of my arm, the hollow point opposite my elbow. “Here.”
He bent, bracing himself above me with one arm in the bed, then used his free hand to take my wrist. Shaw’s touch was featherlight.
He skated those lips up the inside of my forearm, the pressure enough to leave a stream of tingles.
When he reached the hollow point, his tongue darted out to drop one wet kiss.
The erotic sensation of his lips, the heat of his body hovering above mine but not touching, sent a pool of desire to my center.
“Where else?”
I pointed to the spot behind my ear. Maybe he’d kissed me there before, but I couldn’t remember past this lust-induced fog.
Shaw placed the kiss on the exact spot I’d pointed at. My eyes drifted closed as he dragged the stubble of his cheek across the line of my jaw.
“Here.” I touched the underside of my chin.
He dropped a kiss there, then another on my lips.
I reached between us, lifting the hem of my T-shirt. He took it from my hands, lifting it off. The jeans I’d worn rode low enough to show the waistband of my panties. I pointed to the red lace on my hip. “Here.”
Shaw dropped a trail of kisses from my chin, over the cotton of my bra to my hip. Once he’d kissed that spot, he nuzzled kisses across my stomach.
I threaded my fingers through his hair, then I pulled him up my body, sealing my mouth over his as my hands dove into his jeans.
The slow, tortured exploration was over. We flew into a frenzy, stripping one another of our remaining clothes. He moved us deeper into the bed, covering me with his weight as he stretched for the nightstand’s drawer.
He was going for a condom.
I froze.
“What?” He stilled. “What’s wrong?”
“Were you . . .” Oh God, if he’d been with another woman—I was beginning to understand how hard it must have been for him to see me with Luke.
“No.” He kissed my lips. “There’s been no one.”
Relief crashed into me and nearly made me weep. I cupped his jaw. “Good. I might have had to kill you.”
He chuckled and kissed me again, then went back to the nightstand, but I stopped him once more.
“I’m on the pill. I got tested after the wedding.”
“I’m clean too.”
“Then stop making me wait.” I lifted up and slammed my mouth to his, diving in with my tongue as my hand reached for his shaft between us.
His hand wrapped over the top of mine as he dragged the tip through my wet folds. Then he took my wrist away at the same time he thrust forward.
I hissed, crying out as he filled and stretched me.
“Fuck.” Shaw buried his face in my neck and stilled, giving me a moment to adjust.
“Move,” I whispered into his ear.
He obeyed, rocking in and out with long, hard strokes that shook me from head to toe. The feel of him bare inside me was incredible. The stretch, the connection, was raw and profound and breathtaking.
We were beautiful together.
We moved in sync with every touch and kiss. We devoured one another until neither of us could hold back from the edge.
I cried out Shaw’s name as I came, blinding sparks overtaking my vision. Shaw moaned against my breast as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, pouring into me as I clenched around him.
“Damn, woman.” He breathed against my skin as he collapsed onto his back, pulling me to his side. “I missed you. So damn much.”
“I missed you too.” I hugged an arm over his stomach and kissed his pec.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.” I shifted up to look at his face, nervous at the seriousness of his tone.
He grinned and rubbed the crease between my eyebrows away. “Will you go out to dinner with me?”
“Like . . . on a date?” I scrunched up my nose, holding back a smile. “What’s in it for me?”
“Besides a meal?” Shaw’s eyes sparkled. “Me.”
“Hmm.” My smile stretched wide. “Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”
His arms came around me in a flash, flipping us both until he’d pinned me to the bed. “Finally I didn’t get a goddamn no.”