3. Chapter 2
Shane
“Marissa.” Her name tore from his throat. He catapulted forward, frantic to reach her before she hit the ground. It all happened so fast. One second, she stood in the rain with her wide blue eyes staring back at him in disbelief, and the next, she sagged against his chest.
For one brutal second, the world stopped.
The rain, the harbor, the restaurant behind them, every damn thing vanished except the woman in his arms. She was too pale.
“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath. Fear gripped him as he tightened his hold around her waist while he swept his free arm under her knees and lifted her against his chest. “Come on, love. Open your eyes.”
Love.
The word slipped out before he could stop it. He’d said it to her a thousand times before. It oozed from his lips as if he’d never left.
Her head lolled against his shoulder. Water dripped from her hair, soaking the side of his neck. She was soft and feminine, her warm vanilla fragrance heightened by the scent of falling rain.
Shane had lost count of the number of restless nights he’d dreamed of her.
Longing to touch her soft skin, trace her supple curves, and kiss her velvet lips.
He’d rubbed himself raw with impure fantasies of her womanly body entwined with his.
Thoughts a decent man should never have.
But Shane had never considered himself a gentleman.
In two long strides, Shane pushed back through the entrance of Murphy’s Landing. The low hum of conversation died the second he stepped inside, carrying her. A server hurried toward him. “Oh my God. Is she okay?” She turned toward the hostess. “Call 911.”
“Don’t.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “She has low blood sugar, and she fainted. Get water. Better yet, get orange juice if you have it. Something sweet.”
“Of course.” The server scurried past them as Shane carried Marissa to the nearest booth and lowered her onto the bench like she might break if he moved too fast. Then he crouched in front of her, his heart pounding hard enough to crack ribs.
He had faced dark nights. Withdrawals. Meetings where saying his own name felt like dragging glass from his throat.
Lonely mornings in a cabin he had built with his own hands because he needed somewhere quiet enough to survive himself.
None of it scared him like seeing Marissa Sousa limp in his arms. He brushed damp curls from her cheek.
“Marissa.” Her lashes fluttered. Relief slammed into him. “There you are,” he murmured.
Her eyes opened slowly. For one second, confusion softened her face. Then recognition hit. “Shane?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” His throat tightened. “Don’t move too fast. You fainted.”
“Wonderful.” A crease formed between her brows as her fingers reached up to rub the top of her head. “Did I hit my head?”
Despite everything, one corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Still sarcastic. That’s a good sign.”
Shane saw the annoyance that flickered in her eyes before she turned her focus to the server hustling toward them with orange juice, water, and a small basket of crackers in hand. He took the juice from the server’s outstretched hand and held it out to Marissa. “Drink.”
Marissa’s eyes narrowed on him, her lips pressed tight.
“You passed out.” He was so fixated on Marissa’s health that he’d almost forgotten the server was standing beside him until she placed the glass of water and crackers onto the tabletop.
“Thank you.” He waited until the server was out of earshot before he shoved the orange juice out to Marissa for a second time. “You didn’t eat, did you?”
When her lips parted, he knew he’d hit the mark.
Marissa had always done that. Took care of everyone else’s needs first. Worried too much.
Pretended she was fine until she wasn’t.
That’s why he always had snacks in the glove compartment of his car for when her blood sugar dropped.
She’d work herself to the bone studying or volunteering and never take the time to rest in between.
Judging by the fainting spell, he doubted things had changed.
“I had wine,” she spat. “I planned to stop for takeout on the drive home.”
“That schmuck was too cheap to buy you dinner.” Shane tsked, shaking his head. “What a fucking asshole.”
Marissa scoffed. “Not that it is any of your business,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but since you insist on preaching to me about a situation you know nothing about, let me just say, I couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting through an entire meal with my date.”
At the word date, Shane’s jaw tightened.
He glanced across the restaurant, glowering as he searched for her date.
Luckily, he was gone because Shane didn’t trust himself to look at the bastard again.
The second he’d seen Derek’s hand around Marissa’s arm, something primitive and ugly had torn loose inside him.
He’d spent years learning control. Years building a life out of discipline, routine, and restraint.
In one minute, he had almost destroyed it all.
Rage burned within him as he wished he’d broken each of the bastard’s fingers for touching her against her will.
He looked back at her, shoving the thought aside. “Drink the juice.”
“Still so damn bossy,” she mumbled, reaching for the glass. Her fingertips brushed his. Barely a touch, but enough to send a jolt of electricity through him. Her soft gasp confirmed she felt the desire between them too.
Like a man starved, Shane watched as Marissa brought the rim of the glass to her mauve-hued lips. Good girl, he thought, remembering how many times he’d said that as those same plump lips worked and sucked his cock.
She arched her neck back and dramatically chugged the juice. “Happy now?” she asked, placing the empty glass down.
Shane stood abruptly and shoved a hand through his rain-soaked hair. He was only at Murphy’s Landing to deliver the table he’d refurbished. His heart pounded. The air was thick as his breathing grew labored.
“Are you okay?” Marissa’s forehead creased, and her brows furrowed.
She was so damn sweet and good. Even more gorgeous than she was the night of their graduation. He needed to remember that she was no longer the eighteen-year-old Marissa, wearing his leather jacket on the beach and looking at him as if he were her whole world.
“Shane?” Concern he didn’t deserve was evident in her tone as she repeated his name.
“I’m sorry, Marissa. I gotta go.” This encounter overwhelmed him. Now that he knew she was okay, he could go. He’d be a fool to even try to start things up with her again. She deserved more than a recovering alcoholic just getting his life together.