Chapter 18 Shane
EIGHTEEN
SHANE
Those wide shoulders disappear from view. He wore a worn leather jacket tonight. I didn’t know I was into that, but, yeah, broody tattooed men in leather? Count me in.
My fingers feather over my lips, my cheeks, my chin.
I kissed a man tonight. Can still feel the burn of his stubble tingling on my skin.
It was different…and the same. The want, the electricity that only a first kiss can bring, was all there.
The swoop in my gut. The way I thought I’d lit a set of Roman candles in my chest. Those are all things I’ve felt from a kiss before.
Which brings us to the differences. I’ve been with some pretty in-charge women before, but they’re nothing compared to Jed’s power pressing into me.
I was startlingly aware of his size, his strength.
Every one of my senses was heightened, like I’d just drunk a 5-hour energy shot.
The scrape of his trimmed beard. His masculine, earthy scent—cedar?
Cinnamon? Lumberjack? He smelled like lumberjack. Is that a thing?
I pull on my bottom lip. Urgh. And the way he tasted. My eyes flutter shut. He tasted like dominance. Like confidence. Like a man who knows who he is, knows he’s hot shit, but isn’t overly cocky about it.
Oh, and the fact that there was a dick not my own in the equation.
That was different. My legs shake, and my hands shoot to the smooth, cool paint of my Jeep.
My fingers flex, desperately trying to make my world stop spinning.
But it won’t. Because feeling him hard and grinding into my hip was such a fucking high.
Every fantasy I’ve ever had since I discovered this new part of myself flew through my mind.
I was seconds away from asking him if there was somewhere we could slip off to when he started questioning whether I was drunk.
Buzz kill. I saw it in his dark gaze. The wariness and doubt.
I want this. I want this so fucking bad.
And I have a feeling if I go home right now, this will never happen again. This is my chance. My one shot. One opportunity. And now “Lose Yourself” is playing through my head. And honestly, with what I’m about to do…I’m a little nervous I will throw up.
Could I go back to the bar and try this out with someone else? The bartender—Alfonso—was pretty hot. And definitely interested.
The blue parking garage door that leads to the lobby of the apartment building taunts me.
Alfonso isn’t Jed.
No one else is Jed.
I want Jed.
My eyes slide shut, and I let out a slow, controlled breath. I channel every bit of false confidence I’ve learned to walk around with.
My eyes snap open, and I shove off my Jeep.
You’d better watch out, Jed Stone Junior. I’m coming for you.
If I only have one shot. I’m not going to miss it.