SHELBY (Second Chance Novels Book 4) (18 page)

Her posture droops infinitesimally.
 

"Ok."
 

She looks around the cabin instead and asks about the history of it. Sitting together in the living room, I tell her the story of my grandfather's fishing shack. That little getaway was as drab as the exterior of mine, but was the happiest place for him. I agreed.

"Once he passed away, my cousin inherited that property, so I started the search for my own. When I found this, I made it mine."

"This is great," she says with genuine appreciation. Now that she's here alone, away from all the stress, Shelby is as close to her normal self as I've ever seen. This is the same version of herself she showed me a few times at the bar, once or twice at the safe house, and now here in my second home. I can't help but appreciate this calm, smiling woman. I want to eliminate every source of fear and pain in her life, simply to see the peaceful look in her eye all the time.
 

"Let me check your arm again," I offer, walking around the coffee table to sit beside her on the russet couch.
 

In a sexy-without-trying move, she gathers her hair over her opposite shoulder. The wound is red and partially-scabbed, but is clean and without infection so far.
 

"Looks ok," I tell her. "Are you in much pain?"

"Only when I stretch it. I have to remember not to reach for anything too quickly and I'll be fine," she says as she leans into me, resting her back directly into my chest. I rest my arm around her and allow my fingertips to alight on her flat tummy. She sighs and snuggles against me, even lacing her fingers through mine.
 

There is no seduction in her touch, and when she's against me like this, she's as real as she's ever been.
 

"Are you doing alright?" I ask her, offering a gentle squeeze around her frame.
 

"Yeah," she says thoughtfully. "I'm still processing everything. My life doesn't feel like mine. This is all some bizarre movie plot I'm watching…all the way back to being with Mason. Nothing has seemed real since then."

"Hmm," I ponder. "I can see why that would be, but you can bring reality back. After this trial, you can go back to you."

"Easier said than done," she says. We sit quietly for a few minutes after that, resting sweetly together on the couch, Shelby's fingers toying slowly with mine.
 

Being able to hold her, experience the scent of my body wash on her skin, and take care of every side of her, this is what I've been wanting since I was assigned her case. Here at my cabin, I don't have to justify tending to her emotional needs along with her protection.
 

Occasional conversation sprinkled through long stretches of quiet togetherness claims our entire morning. Never once did we move from our position, with the exception of pulling each other closer. We're only on our first day at the cabin, and already we're settling into a connection based on intimacy. Sharing childhood memories and caring for her physically is encircling us with a sense of togetherness. Skimming my fingers gently up and down her arm is the most natural way to touch her.
 

After a nap, lunch, and a few games of cards at the table, more conversation and another meal together, Shelby speaks in frustration.

"It's official. This cabin is beautiful, but I can't stand being cooped up any more."

I'm fairly certain she's joking, but I stand anyway, ready to block any attempt to leave. "Not too much longer, Shel."

She blows out a heavy breath. "I know, and I'm not leaving. That guy with the gun shoved enough of a reminder into my brain. I'll behave."

"Good," I nod. "But maybe I can help. Evenings on the lake are cool, so how about we open the windows and start a fire in the fire place. Maybe you won't feel so cooped up that way."

She smiles so genuinely. "I'll get the windows."

I grin along with her and set to my task. From the wrought-iron bin beside the fireplace, I gather the tinder and logs, as well as the fat-wood to light them. Breeze from across the lake brings a pleasant freshness into the cabin, along with the cool dampness of the evening. Crickets serenade us loudly from the woods around us, and soon the crackle of the fire warms the hearth, providing the perfect contrast to the night air.
 

"Mmmm," Shelby hums with her eyes closed, wiggling her toes in front of the fire. I sit in the big fireside chair, and she scoots to sit between my knees, her head resting on my thigh. I gently touch the top of her head, brushing her hair with my fingertips. A soft sigh escapes her lips, and my chest is tight. I've been her rock while she drifts, her shoulder while she cries, her voice of reason when she falls. Finally, I'm her lover.

"Shelby," I whisper in a husky voice, unable to hide the strength of what I feel for her. I guide her with me to the soft rug in front of the fireplace where I unclothe her slowly.
 

"Your skin glows beautifully by the fire," I murmur over her belly as I kiss the soft skin of her navel. "You are so damn sexy."

She squirms slowly beneath me, but surprises me when she rolls me to my back. Up to this point, Shelby has responded to direction and leadership. I didn't expect her to take top position. Her complexity astounds me again.
 

She pulls the clothes from my frame and kisses a slow, hot trail down my chest. Each press of her lips ignites my desire. Her irises look up at me through her lashes as she kisses further down my body, and suddenly I see the seductress she played every night at the bar. This woman over me isn't giving herself to me, offering proof she can lead. She's trying to become what she thinks I want. With every ounce of my resolve, I sit up and move away from her.

"Where are you going?" she asks, confused. "I thought you wanted this…I remember the look on your face when…at the first safe house…"

"You," I snap pointedly. "I want the beautiful, hurt, intelligent, imperfect you."

"I'm right here," she says with exasperation.

"No, you're not," I snap. "God damn it! Don't do this again. Don't throw yourself away, just wanting something to get you through, trying to be something you're not. Wake up, Shel, because I won't settle for half of you. You either believe in me or you don't. Which is it?"

I'm glaring at her, challenging her, needing her to step out of her broken shell and stand up as herself.

She shakes her head and I can tell she's fighting back tears. "Dade…"

"Enough," I throw my hands in the air in total frustration. "Stop playing the victim. Can you get yourself out of that mindset long enough to see what's going on here?"

She narrows her eyes. "So you think this is how it works? You yell at me and I fall at your feet? Sorry, Dade, but I won't tolerate assholes. Not anymore."

"Hallelujah!" I shout. "Finally! Now tell me something else, because it's about time you give yourself a full chance to be real."

"Arg!" she yells, balling her fists at her side. "You know what's real? You drive me fucking insane, Dade! Oh, and here's another thing! I don't give a damn about the stupid trial!"

"More," I bark, getting ridiculously turned on with every strong word from her mouth. This is the strength I knew was simmering under the surface. She's a damn tigress.

"I'm FUCKING SICK of clueless people and how badly they hurt me! I'm even more sick that I let them hurt me!"

"That you let them?"

"Yes! I sat back and let everything happen to me! When the hell did I become that girl?"

"I don't know." I begin moving toward her again, slowly, trying my best not to dive overtop of her and all her hot sass while she works through this.

"And you!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you!" she spits. "You are the single most confusing, irritating…tease I've ever met. You've wanted me for months, and
now
you won't let me have you!"

"I'm not a tease," I say as I bridge the final gap between us. "I simply have standards. I never wanted the soulless fuck you offered. Be with me like you were yesterday, Shelby! No games. Just you."
 

With that I back her against the floor and pin her hands beside her head. A tear of both stress and relief gathers at the corners of her eyes.
 

"Now," I say to her. "Take me down again, and this time, take me how you want me. Or let me take you the way you want it — no more bullshit. Understood?"

"Lay down," she whispers, intimidated and sincere. "I
want
to do this for you."

I kiss her with strength and intensity.
This
is Shelby, break through, intelligence, and pure sex-appeal. How did I get so damn lucky?

After the most intimate, intense hour of my life, Shelby joins me for a shower. Our bodies and minds are ready to be refreshed, but not to let go of the intimacy. We
can't
be apart right now, not when we're finally together the way we're meant to be.
 

I adjust the water temperature and guide her in beside me, then press her gently into the corner. I keep her trapped there with my body, simply to experience more of her surrender. I don't think I could ever get enough of Shelby giving herself to me, craving my body, my direction, and my understanding of her. For the longest time in the shower, I offer her all of those things. I tilt her head to match every kind of kiss I give her, and I lock her wrists in my grip to prove I won't let go.

I guide her arms around my body and show her exactly how I want to be washed, then press her to the corner again to tend to her as sweetly. When I turn her back to me, I press her against the wall again, only to rub the sudsy cloth over her perfect skin, all while nibbling gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder. The sweetness of her voice hums in the perfect acoustics of the tile shower.
 

My God, this woman is beautiful.

When we finally are forced to leave the shower due to the lack of any more hot water, I walk her directly to bed and stretch out beside her and gently cross her wrists up over her head again. She lays submissively for me, sweetly curious as to what I have planned. All I want to give her is everything she needs, which right now is reassurances and a reminder of our total connection.
 

I gently stroke her breast with the backs of my fingers as I speak to her.

"I'm with you, Shel, and I'm not going to leave you. Ever." My promise rings with total sincerity, and I can see from her expression she believes me.
 

"Nothing, not even you, can keep us from being what we're meant to be."

Gently I move my hand down her soft tummy where I use my pinky to trace circles around her naval while she squirms slowly beside me. By the time I work my hand down her torso and between her legs, she's writhing beautifully.
 

"I love it when you give yourself over like this," I murmur as I watch her move. "You're a beautiful gift, and I plan to appreciate every part of you for as long as you'll let me…and I want you to let me. You need to."

A soft moan escapes her lips.

"Tell me, Shel, that you'll let me. Tell me you understand how beautiful you are."

"You make me feel beautiful," she whispers through the slow pleasure.

"And you'll let me have you, you'll let me keep showing you. Tell me."

"Yes…" she moans quietly. "Please don't stop. Don't let me go…"

"Never," I promise as I kiss my way down her torso and pleasure her with my lips. She moves against my mouth so delicately as I take my sweet time bringing her to the brink of pleasure yet again.
 

We hold each other close for the rest of the night, the intimacy woven strongly between us.

We spend much of the next morning in bed, talking and appreciating the solitude and the rain-cloud darkened sky. We drift in and out of sleep all morning, allowing our isolation to temporarily shelter us from danger. The clock reads nearly noon when I rouse myself completely, but I don't see Shelby. Groggily I shuffle to the living room, but still no Shelby. My consciousness hones sharply as I process her absence…the entire cabin is darkened by rain clouds about to burst into a storm, and Shelby is nowhere.
 

Fucking nowhere.
 

I quickly sprint to the utility closet, car port, bathroom, and even pull up the trap door to the crawl space.

Panic seizes my gut. I pull a Glock from its hiding place under my table. Lightening sparks sharply outside and a heavy roll of thunder tells me exactly how close the storm is. Only seconds later, the rain opens up loudly against the cabin. If Shelby screams, I wouldn't hear her. God damn it!

In spite of the deafening downpour which is only quieter than the near-constant thunder and lightning, I shout for Shelby as I sweep the grounds. Squinting barely helps me see through the rain.

"SHELBY! …SHELBY!"

I train my gun on anything that moves, which includes every tree and shrub as they are tossed violently by the wind. Still no goddamn sign of Shelby or any indication of who could have taken her. The rain already washed away any possible evidence of tire tracks or footprints.