The Unbreakable Trio(13)

He’d jacked off thinking about getting naked with her. They’d been friends since they were five and going to school.

She was the one constant—besides Liam—in his life.

“I hit my dad,” he said. The only person he could talk to was Claire. After all the times she’d let him into her room, she deserved to know. “He’d come home drunk again, but that’s nothing unusual. He spends most of his days in a whisky bottle or two. Like all the other times, he went for Mom. Slapping her and calling her names. I turned eighteen today, and he didn’t even wish me a happy birthday. I spent the day with you and Liam, and it was perfect.” He stopped and glanced away. Shane gazed around her room. On her dresser, stuck to the mirror, were pictures of the trio they’d become. No one else was allowed in their group. Turner, Cook, and Martin.

“She was cowering in the corner, protecting herself from his fists and kicks. I snapped, Claire. Most of the time I go to my room or wait my turn to be his punching bag. Today, I didn’t want to be.”

Claire sat next to him and took his hand as he continued to talk.

“I hit him. I stopped him hitting my mom, and when he turned, he clocked me one, and then I didn’t stop until he was on the floor. Unconscious. I know he was breathing. Instead of staying, I got out of there.” Shane glanced up and was shocked by the tears rolling down her face. “I hit him.”

“Shane, you saved your mom and yourself. Your dad wasn’t good.” She wrapped her arms around him and brought him close.

He gave in and held her close, inhaling her comforting scent and wishing he could stay with her forever. Shane knew he loved her. He had been in love with her since they were kids, and the feelings had developed as they grew up.

A life without Claire wasn’t a life he wanted to contemplate.

He pushed her hair out of the way from her neck and stared at the delicate column of flesh.

His mind was going crazy with everything that had happened. He laid a gentle kiss, then another.

Shane heard her suck in her breath, but she didn’t stop him. Her pulse jumped at the base of her throat, and he kissed the rapid beat.

He kissed up her neck and pulled away long enough to stare into her eyes, which were opened wide.

“Shane?” she whispered. He didn’t want to hear her refusal or anything to make him stop what he was doing.

Her fingers dug into the muscles of her arms. He slammed his lips down and kissed her completely. Shane explored her lips, which were the fullest lips he’d ever tasted. Granted, he hadn’t seen many. The only lips he wanted were hers.

She moaned, and he pushed one hand into her hair and held her head in place while the other wandered her body. He started from her shoulder and worked over her collarbone, down until he cupped one of her large tits.

Shane was on fire. In his mind he knew he should stop. Claire deserved better than a bruised man with a ruined soul, but he couldn’t. He wanted her so badly.

“Shane,” she whispered again as she pulled away. His hand stayed around her breast, the fullness making his cock throb with arousal. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I do.”

Without further permission, he pushed her onto the bed and lay on top of her. Finally, he had her underneath him.

“I want you so much,” he said, and lifted the hem of her shirt to expose one of those breasts to his lips.

Shane didn’t know what was happening. The rage from moments ago and lust coursing through him was making him act differently.

Claire responded to his kisses and moaned as he touched her body.

Somewhere in between he’d gotten the signals crossed. Shane wasn’t asking for permission. He was taking what he wanted without any thought to Claire. In those moments where reality and fantasy merged, Shane lost himself.

Shane stared at his bed and replayed the scene in his mind. While in the moment, he hadn’t remembered much. It was like a freeze frame. Claire was nearly naked in her bedroom. She responded to his kisses, and then he went to hell.

At some point during his attack—which is how he viewed the night, as an attack on the woman he loved—he’d taken his clothes off. Even now, he didn’t know what had happened, and only when he was about to sink inside her body, a voice rang through his mind.

Get off her, you fucker. Look at her. She doesn’t want this. She isn’t ready. Get off. Or are you going to be like your father?

The words had broken through his mind, and he’d stared down at Claire. She lay on her back, her arms trapped beneath his hard grip.

Had she wanted him? Shane didn’t think so.

Disgusted with himself, he’d dressed and gotten out of there. Never again had he gone to her bedroom window. Tonight had been a mistake, and he wouldn’t let it happen again. Wanting her had never changed. He kept his distance and slept with other girls, forever wishing he hadn’t blown his only chance with the girl he loved.