Chapter 7 Serena #2
His hands move across my body with purpose, as if learning the landscape, memorizing every curve and line. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, reveling in the sensation of his lean muscles beneath my touch.
Shelby trails kisses down my neck and chest. His fingers unhook my bra and toss it over his shoulder. I arch against him as his lips keep moving down. I bury my fingers in his silky black hair, scraping his scalp.
“That’s so fucking hot,” he whispers against my panties. His breath fans the tiny hairs on my belly as he sinks his teeth into the white lace.
“What are you—?”
Shelby tears the flimsy piece of clothing off my body.
He kneels between my legs on the mattress. His eyes set my skin on fire as they travel up my body to lock on mine.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning down to claim my lips again.
This time, desire takes control. We pull each other’s hair, we bite each other’s lips, we suck each other’s tongues. I close my legs around his narrow hips, relishing the sensation of his erection rubbing against my pussy.
“I need you,” I confess as we come up for air.
Next thing I know, Shelby Boyle’s glorious, naked body is pressed against mine.
He pins my hands over my head. “I want to taste you. Will you let me, Serena Boyle?”
“That name suits me,” I retort. I leave out the part that hearing it for the first time made my knees weak.
“Yes, it does. But that’s not an answer, wife.” He runs his nose along my neck, making me hiss as pleasure floods my lower body. “I can smell your excitement. I want to taste it.”
He pulls away to stare into my eyes. His blue stare pins me, demanding surrender I’m not prepared to give.
I try to move my hands, but he keeps them cuffed.
With the dirtiest smile I can muster, I whisper, “Only if I can taste you too.”
Surprise widens his eyes for a heartbeat before Shelby grins back at me. “Your wish is my command.” He presses his lips on mine for a hot second. “For now. I’ve got a gut feeling you might enjoy being under my command.”
The idea of submitting to Shelby isn’t new to me.
I’ve fantasized about it countless times over the years.
Now, my body reacts to his suggestion with a renewed wave of ecstasy.
I tremble under its power, which makes his blue eyes dark as the deep ocean.
Shelby is as dangerous as the undercurrents in the open sea. And just as alluring.
He cups my sex, his probing fingers finding the evidence of my body’s reaction to him without much effort. He coats his hand before lifting it to his lips, licking my pleasure without releasing my gaze.
“Delicious,” he breathes, releasing my hands.
He moves around, aligning our bodies. His mouth on me is demanding yet soothing.
I wrap my fingers around his throbbing cock, guiding it to my mouth.
I lick him as if his erection is a treat I’ve been dying to eat.
Because I have. He’s wider and longer than I’d imagined.
Then again, my only sexual experience was with a college boyfriend who ran away and never looked back after meeting my mafia brother.
Right now, the world has narrowed to nothing but the sensation of Shelby’s smooth skin under my fingers. As I suck and lick him, allowing his cock to slide down my throat, there’s a connection between us. I’ve never felt this close to anyone before, and that should terrify me.
It doesn’t.
Not when my mind and body are busy enjoying the sensation of Shelby’s wicked tongue and naughty fingers inside my pussy. Certainly not when his moans of pleasure become louder than my fears. And the tsunami of ecstasy has drowned out everything else.
“I’m going to come,” Shelby announces inside my sex as his hips perk back and he tries to pull his erection out of my mouth.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, sinking my fingers into the tight muscles of his ass to keep him inside.
When his orgasm explodes down my throat, I swallow every ounce. At the same time, my flesh trembles around his fingers and lips. He presses my sweet spot, and I wail as pleasure spreads through my veins. Our bodies shake as we succumb to the power of it all.
When we come back down to earth, Shelby moves to lie beside me, and we get tangled together in the silk sheets.
Shelby’s fingertips trace patterns on my bare shoulder.
His other arm is tucked beneath his head, and his eyes are closed, his expression peaceful in a way I’ve never seen it before.
For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks like someone who isn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
This feels dangerously close to intimacy. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I understand that I’ve crossed a line I won’t be able to uncross.
I’ve let him in.
“I wasn’t supposed to let this happen,” I say quietly, more to myself than to him.
His eyes open, and he turns his head to look at me with a deep crease between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“I was supposed to keep this separate,” I continue, voicing the fears that have been circling through my mind for days. “I was supposed to marry you, but keep my heart safe.”
Shelby reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from my face. “And now?” he asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his full lips.
“Now I’m terrified,” I admit, and the honesty of it makes something in my chest twist. “Because I think I’ve ruined everything by letting myself want this. Want you.”
“Maybe wanting something isn’t the same as ruining it,” Shelby says, with a wide grin now. ‘Maybe it’s the only thing that could actually save us.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe that vulnerability doesn’t equal destruction, that opening my heart to him won’t result in betrayal and heartbreak. I want to believe that this insane, temporary arrangement could actually work.
But doubt whispers at the edges of my consciousness, reminding me that hope is dangerous and trust is a luxury people can’t afford in our world.
“What happens when this is over?” I ask.
“Who says it’s going to be over?’ His voice is firm, confident. Instead of comforting me, this makes my anxiety spike. “Serena, I married you because I wanted to. Because somewhere between Syria and Russia and that night in my penthouse, you became the most important person in my life.”
His words scare the hell out of me. This is too much too soon.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” I say, pulling away from him slightly. “Don’t make this real if you don’t actually want it to be real.”
“What if I do?” he asks, sitting up slightly. “What if I’m tired of being afraid? What if I want to try to build something with you?”
I shake my head, my chest tight. “You’ll change your mind when things get difficult. You’ll realize that I’m just baggage, that loving me means inheriting all my father’s enemies and complications. You’ll decide it’s not worth it.”
“Serena—“
“I’ve seen what happens when men decide women aren’t worth the effort,” I interrupt, and my voice is sharp now, cutting. “I’ve been on the receiving end of that decision. I won’t survive it from you.”
Shelby is quiet for a long moment. Then he reaches over and cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Then we’ll have to make sure I never get the chance to make that decision. We’ll have to make this real. Make it impossible for either of us to walk away.”
“That’s not how this works,” I say, but my voice is weaker now. “We agreed this was temporary.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” Shelby says simply. “And if you’re honest with yourself, so have you.”
He’s right, and I hate him for it. He can see through my walls so easily. Somewhere between the first kiss and this moment, I’ve fallen irrevocably in love with him. I did the one thing I’ve been trying so desperately to prevent.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I pull him back down toward me and kiss him again, because words feel too fragile. They’re too easily taken back. Actions are what matter. Actions are what last.
What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas, but we both know that’s not going to happen. We’re bringing this carefully constructed facade back to Boston, and we’ll have to figure out how to make it real.
The thought terrifies me.
It also exhilarates me.
And somewhere in that contradiction, I understand that I’m about to become someone I’ve spent my entire life refusing to be—someone completely, vulnerably in love.
God help us both.