Unleashing Sin - A. M. Wilson Page 0,78

like that.” My body chases ecstasy. Everything below the waist tightens in response to his thrust. I can feel it building again.

“Want you to come.” He slips his hand between us and touches my clit, rolling it beneath his index finger. “Need you to come.”

His words and finger do exactly as he intended as I come harder than any of the other times before. I pulsate around him, and a cry tears up my throat.

“Shelby,” he groans my name, cutting off my noises by sealing his lips to mine and grinds deep inside me, holding there as he finds his own release. The feeling of him shooting deep triggers another mini shiver. He wrenches his mouth from mine, his whiskers tickling as he buries his face in my neck.

Naked and sated, my eyes droop. My soul is comforted in what we just shared and his earlier declaration while my body is held tightly in his warm cocoon.

Thoughts rise to the surface vividly, warring my need for rest. I meant what I said before this whirlwind of an evening. I want to find my mom. I want her to know I’m okay. More than that, I want to show her I’m being taken care of in a way I have a feeling it’ll last for a long, long time.

I stroke my hand through his hair and hold him close, cherishing all he’s become to me and what the future holds.

“What are you thinking about?” he mumbles drowsily by my ear.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.”

He lifts his head and runs the pad of his thumb over my lip. “I love you. And I’m sorry about earlier. I’ll take you to see your mom whenever you want.”

“I love you, too. How about tomorrow? Right now, I’m too cozy to leave.”

Alex grips the messy comforter surrounding us and tugs it over our naked bodies.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Chapter Nineteen

Shelby

The neighborhood looks exactly as I left it. As if time stood still the day I disappeared. The grassy field with tall brush, ranch-style houses painted in blues and browns and grays, the white railing along my old front porch.

Then the differences start creeping in.

A new swing sits where my mom used to keep lounge chairs for us where we’d lie out in the summer evenings and sip sweet drinks in sweat lined glasses. A car I don’t recognize in the driveway. Planters and Pinterest projects as landscaping where mom previously had none.

Nerves kick up a notch as Alex pulls up to the curb in front of the two-bedroom house I grew up in. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and blow out a harsh breath. This was all my idea and ready or not…

“It won’t get any easier.” Alex takes my hand. “Waiting. It’s not going to change much, if anything, it’ll just make it harder.”

I nod. “I’m ready.”

He gives me one last squeeze before getting out, and I do the same. We meet at the hood and step hand in hand on the same worn and cracked sidewalk I learned to ride a tricycle.

“Clara”

I can almost hear the wind calling to me, welcoming me back home. Alex stops abruptly beside me, halting me. I study his face and open my mouth to ask what the holdup is when I hear it again much louder this time.

“Clara!”

I snap my head around, looking for the source, and I see her barreling toward me. Auntie Bea slams into me and wraps her arms around me in a suffocating hug.

She pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, studying me as I study her. Her dirty blond hair is longer than the chin-length bob she used to wear, a soft maroon beanie perched atop her head. She lifts the dark round sunglasses from her eyes. New lines and wrinkles missing from my memory crinkle at the corners of her eyes.

“Is it really you?”

“It’s really me, Auntie.” My voice cracks like static over the words.

She notices Alex, whose hands now rest in the pockets of his jeans since she dislodged us with her hug, and pulls me protectively beside her.

“Who are you?” She squints at him, not for one second fazed by his size or tattoos.

“Alex. I’m with her.” He jerks his head at me.

I can’t deny my heart swoons a little at his statement. I decide to wade in before Auntie gives him a beatdown. Or at least tries to. I don’t think she’d be very successful at it. A tug on her shoulder returns her attention to me.

“He’s