They say it’s not what you have, but what you do with it, and I’ve always believed that, but Shane’s cock was simply beautiful.
I stared in admiration. “Damnation.”
As if he didn’t already know it, he said, “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” I wrapped my hand around the base, excited myself by how hard he felt. “I want to watch you lose your mind.”
As I ran my palm along the shaft, he sank down further into the sofa with a soft moan.
I dragged my thumb through the precum pooling in the hole in that perfect head, then followed with my tongue, licking, sucking, stroking. His eyebrows scrunched together, making him look more like someone in terrible pain than pleasure.
When I’d brought him close to the edge, I reached under and tickled his balls, loving how they tightened.
Everything in his body arched.
I picked up the rhythm, my mouth sucking his corona, my tongue licking the sensitive skin beneath, my right hand and thumb stroking up and down his shaft, and my left hand now gently kneading his completely hard balls until he cried, “Layla, I’m going to . . . Oh, God.”
His face went slack, like he was in free fall, and when he blew, it was impressive.
I licked him until he dropped his hands on my shoulders and tugged at me to climb into his lap.
“Fucking hell, Layla.”
I climbed up next to him and nestled my head on his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” He sighed. “A girl who can do that? I might have to hang onto forever.”
Between the song he’d played just for me and watching him fall apart so sweetly, I wanted him more than I had the night before, but when his hands roamed down my thighs to the edge of my skirt, I stopped him.
“I need to—” I didn’t know how to be delicate about how gross I felt, having gone to work in dirty clothes that morning. I blurted out. “Can I use your shower?”
His grin turned wicked. He practically carried me to his upstairs bathroom where he slowly peeled my clothes off, then his own. Under a spa-like shower head, he reverently shampooed my hair, between soapy kisses. He lathered up his hands so they slid across my neck, my shoulders, my arms, my stomach, and my breasts. His fingers found where I needed him. Kissing me slow and sweet, he stroked me until my knees began to wobble.
I feared I might collapse before he’d gotten me there, but he shut off the water and wrapped me in a perfectly fluffy towel that he probably bought from the Argonauts, then carried me to his bed, where he laid kisses down my body right back to the spot that was craving his tongue. And what a talented tongue he had. I groaned out his name as he slid a finger inside me while his mouth sucked and licked me until I was chasing after the pleasure he was giving me.
And the one thought that put me over was the certainty this wasn’t casual to him. Shane was someone who could be in my life, like this. I could be his Star Shine.
After I fell apart, Shane lay beside me, not talking for once, just sharing the post-sex haze that felt an awful lot like love.
Then his stomach growled, and I kissed his nose, and we rolled off in search of clothes.
We ordered in and sat across from each other at his tiny kitchen table, him in boxers that barely hugged his hips, me in a pair of his sweatpants that swallowed me whole. His borrowed T-shirt smelled of him and threatened to fall from my shoulder. As we ate, he reached over and lifted the slipping neck back into place, followed by a touch here, a caress there.
And we shared secrets.
Some secrets.
Chapter Seventeen
For the second day in a row, I went to work wearing a day-old outfit and a two-day old grin. Dreamy-eyed, I rode the elevator, replaying the night before—and the early morning before I had to leave.
The words Shane whispered in my ear.
The way he touched me, gently and then desperately.
My hand drifted up to my neck where I was certain a hickey was forming.
Once I got to my desk, I dropped my laptop onto the charging port and went for a cup of coffee. As I passed Byron’s office, he called my name. I stepped through the door, and he acknowledged me with a quick nod but kept typing furiously. When