Chapter 8
Shaw
A sleuth, her mother is not. It took me an hour after I sent Monroe up to bed to find the name of the man she hired to stalk her daughter.
Alton Matthews.
Plain. Middle-aged. Unable to hold down a job.
So far, he hasn’t flown into Montana, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t on his way or that he doesn’t plan to come. What I need to find out is if he knows Monroe is here.
I’m about to pick up the phone to call Draven when I notice the time and decide to email him instead. The first thing we need to do is locate Alton in Hollywood.
Shutting my computer down for the night, a flash of lightning bolts across the sky, followed quickly by a clap of thunder.
It’s supposed to thunderstorm for the next three days.
I don’t know how Monroe handles storms, but with as skittish as she is, I decide to pop into her room to check on her before heading to my own bed.
Shutting off lights and double-checking that the windows and doors are locked, I quietly stride up the stairs.
Once I’m at Monroe’s door, I slowly turn the nob and push the door inwards.
The curtains are open wide, allowing the moonlight to spill across the bed where she’s asleep, curled into a ball with a thick blanket covering her.
Leaving as silently as I came, I begin to unbutton my shirt as I approach my room. Toeing my boots off in the doorway, I toss my clothes in the hamper as I move to the bed. The door remains open in case Monroe needs me during the night. That’s what I tell myself anyway.
What worries me is that she’ll wake up early again and scar herself in a way she may come to regret later on. After spending so much time in the military, I’ve learned to spot someone in the midst of a breakdown, and Monroe displays all the signs of a traumatized individual.
Climbing into bed in just my boxers, I leave the covers off, still hot from the warm day. Resting my hands under my head, I close my eyes and let my exhaustion wash over me.
Sometime later, I hear the floor squeak, then the bed dips, and a warm body drapes across my chest, shivering. Thunder can still be heard, and as I wrap my arms around Monroe, I hear her begin counting each thud of my heart.
What she says after each number infuriates me, though.
“One, the number of mistakes you’re allowed to make.
Two, the number of days you won’t eat. Three, the number of hours you’re forced to run.
Four, the times you failed on purpose. Five, the weeks you were locked in a closet for failure.
Six, the number of times you were arm candy.
Seven, for luck.” Her voice grows quieter with each word until she finally drifts off.
I’m lying here, simmering with a rage I can do nothing with. How the fuck I’m supposed to go back to sleep after that is beyond me. I’ve seen and done a lot of shit in my life, but this pageant stuff, life in Hollywood, it takes things to a whole new level of fucked up.
I can only hope that I’ll be able to help Monroe leave behind the only life she’s ever known once the threat against her is neutralized.
* * *
Monroe
The thunder kept waking me up, and with each harsh boom, I grew more terrified.
Of what I’m not exactly certain, but it felt ominous.
So I ran for Shaw. I tried to be stealthy and unobtrusive, but as soon as I melted into his chest, his arms were around me.
Comforting me. It felt as if he was waiting for me to join him.
As the sun begins to peek through the curtains, the exhaustion I’ve been carrying around for years has dissipated, and it’s all because of the man holding me from behind. I didn’t wake up with night terrors, nor did I feel like I was crawling out of my skin.
I slept.
I recuperated.
And now, I’m ready for the day. Whatever that entails.
“You overthink when you should still be sleeping,” Shaw’s gravelly, sleep-filled voice mumbles into the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry if I intruded.” I had wanted to be gone before he woke, but I should have known better. Especially with the way he continues to hold me, only he pulls me closer.
“Don’t ever be sorry with me, darlin’. You can crawl into my bed any night.
” Shaw moves, and my body slips backwards, so I’m staring up at him as he leans over me.
Pushing my thighs apart with one of his own, Shaw settles between my legs.
“In fact, for the future, I’m going to have to insist on you moving into my room. ”
“You are?” I squeak the words out.
His wolfish grin makes my belly flutter, and my insides tremble. “Yeah. I’m not a fan of you not being in my arms at night anymore. I haven’t slept that well in a long damn time.”
There are times when Shaw is so refreshingly honest with me, and I appreciate it so much. And then there are the times where that honesty is given to me, so I am truthful right back. This is one of those times.
“Same here.” I watch him through thick lashes, and I can see he’s pleased with my answer. In a shocking turn of events, I lean forward and initiate a kiss.
Shaw is quick to react. Pushing me further into the bed with one hand knotted in my hair and the other squeezing my hip, he doesn’t hesitate to take lead on my impulsive action.
I can feel his length growing between my legs, and my hips lift without thought.
Putting pressure where we both desperately seek it.
Wrapping my arms around his back, I hold him tight to my chest, allowing our thudding hearts to beat down the steady accusations of all my failures in my head. Slowly, so flipping slowly, my mother’s voice is being drowned out by my own wishes and cravings.
Dragging my nails down Shaw’s back as he steals the little breath I hold, my fingers slip beneath his boxers, and I squeeze the firm globes of his backside in my palms.
I'd imagined that Shaw was built tough. Filled with a masculinity I’ve never noticed before. But to have it in the palm of my hands—literally—has my heart skipping a beat.
Wanting, needing, hungering for him to lose his precious control with me. I don’t know where the thoughts come from, but they feel right. They’re the most real thing I’ve had the pleasure of imagining.
“If we don’t stop now”—he pulls away, breathless—“I may not be able to later.”
I open my mouth to beg him not to stop. I long for everything with him. But my logical mind kicks in to ask me if I’m ready to give myself to a man.
The answer is as simple as it is complicated.
“I’m a one time, forever kind of girl, Shaw.” I realize how little sense that makes. I sound contradictory.
But he understands anyways. “I realize that.”
“I have always dreamed of only giving myself to the man I would marry.” My voice cracks a little at the end because that dream came before I was turned into a Barbie doll. I haven’t thought about it in years, and if I’m being truthful, I don’t know how I feel anymore.
“Knew that too.” His eyes soften. “Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want, Monroe.” I nod. “Come on, let’s hit the showers.” Shaw climbs off, gripping my hand and pulling me along behind him.
“Together?” I gasp as we enter his bathroom. It’s functional, rustic in a way. The shower is huge. Rivalling some that I’ve seen in hotels.
“Together.” He nods then turns on the water before coming back over to me and yanking my shirt up and over my head. I’m so shocked I don’t react. “Damn,” he groans as he hooks his thumbs in my shorts and drags them and my thong down my legs before removing his own clothing.
Surprised, I can only follow along as he pulls me into the stall with him. Warm water caresses my back, and Shaw has his hands on my hips before lowering his head and pressing me against the cool tile wall.
“I understand that you don’t know what you want yet, Monroe.” He whispers the words against my lips. “But I do. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Waiting and willing to give you everything your heart desires.”
How can he be so sure?