***
With his back against the headboard, his eyes cast down at our connection, Shane ordered, “Give me your mouth,” as he raised his head.
I was straddling his hips, riding him hard, sweat dripping between my breasts, but I leaned forward and captured his mouth like he asked me to.
He didn’t close his eyes when my lips met his, so I kept mine open and watched his gray pools turn stormy when he surged up. I gasped, feeling stretched and full as he met each of my thrusts, and saw arrogance flash across his face. If I could have spoken, I would have told him he had a right to be arrogant. I hadn’t been with many men in my life, but Shane was by far the best.
“Faster,” he murmured against my lips, so I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and picked up the pace.
He grabbed my hair, fisting it at the nape as his injured arm pulled me against his chest. Yanking my head back, he buried his face in my neck. He groaned when I swiveled my hips, whispering, “Fuckin’ made for me.”
Hundreds of dreams and adolescent lists about the perfect man hadn’t prepared me for Shane. His strength of character, possessiveness, and willingness to put his life on the line further fueled the intense feelings that were developing at a rapid rate. If I was made for him, then he was most definitely made for me.
My breath hitched and another flash, another sharp shock of pleasure coiled in my core when he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me down on his cock. With one rotation of his hips, I shattered into a million brilliant pieces, then fused again as I rode out my release, clinging to his shoulders for support.
On a possessive growl, Shane bit out, “Mine,” as he surged up and buried himself to his root and held, spilling into my depths.
When I came down, he rolled me onto my back, continuing to sink in and out, caressing my core as he took my mouth in a deep kiss that reached into my heart and held firm. He’d imprinted himself on my soul, his body as familiar as my own in just a few days.
It should have scared me how much he came to mean to me in such a short time, but it didn’t. He was as essential to my life now as breathing was to living. He felt like my soul mate. Like our two halves had been torn apart and now we were whole.
He placed his forehead to mine and I opened my eyes and looked into his smoky depths. My lungs froze when I saw my own thoughts reflected back at me.
Raising his hand to my jaw, Shane kissed me slower, sweeter, anchoring me to him like a lifeline.
Everything I felt at that moment came tumbling to the surface. When he ended the kiss, my emotions broke free and I whispered, “You have a beautiful soul, Shane Sherman.”
A slow grin pulled across his mouth and he rolled, bringing me with him. My hair spilled around his head in a veil, enclosing us in our own world.
“I have a black soul,” he mumbled, pushing my hair back, locking it in place with one hand. “But I figure God’s still on my side since he sent you to save—”
“Shane,” I interrupted, ready to argue his soul was anything but black, but he covered my lips with his finger, halting my argument.
“You’re my saving grace, Sage. No arguments. I still feel responsible for Emma Jane’s death, but I’m no longer willing to let my life pass me by. I’ll face my demons.” Punctuating each point with a kiss, he continued in a whisper, “For you. For me. For us.”
Loud voices were coming from the living room, but all I paid attention to at that moment was Shane. I made a vow I would help him face his demons, to help him move past his guilt and to forgive himself.
“No arguments,” I whispered back, brushing my lips across his.
He rolled again, taking me to my back, deepening the kiss. But the voices grew louder and more chaotic.
“Sounds like Jack and Jenn are awake,” Shane chuckled against my mouth.
After Heller had attacked, we hadn’t slept. Then we’d traveled from Trails End to Gunnison, arriving late in the evening. By the time we made the drive from Denver to Gunnison, we were exhausted from lack of sleep. We’d retired immediately, falling into bed and curling around each other. But Shane had woken me early, nudging me out of deep sleep with his warm mouth between my legs. Now the house was stirring and it was time to emerge from our cocoon.
“Do you think Jack will know how Officer Rogers is doing?”
Tim Rogers was the officer assigned to guard Maxine’s cabin. Rogers had been hit with a large rock rather than shot as I’d thought. Heller had apparently been hoping to sneak in under the cover of night. But my need for food had foiled his plans. If Shane hadn’t gone to fix me a sandwich and seen Rogers’ prone body, he might have succeeded in another attempt on our lives.