Own the Wind

  “You’re gettin’ your head together here,” he demanded.

  “Okay,” she agreed on another breath.

  Fuck, she was cute. Hot and cute.

  It was time to talk to Rosalie.

  “What are you doin’?” he asked.

  “Not leaving,” she answered.

  Good. It was penetrating.

  “Then what’re you doin’?” Shy pushed.

  “Getting my head together,” she answered.

  “How long’s that gonna take?”

  “Two hours.”

  He felt his lips twitch.

  Finally.

  Fucking finally.

  “You got two hours, sugar, then you come to me,” Shy demanded. “My apartment. I’ll text you the address.”

  Her beautiful blue eyes held his and she whispered, “Okay.”

  “Two hours, Tabby.”

  “Two hours, Shy.”

  Yes.

  There it was.

  Fucking finally.

  “Good, baby, now kiss me.”

  Her eyes flashed in a way he also felt in his dick, then she rolled up to her toes, put her pretty, rosy mouth to his, and gave him what he’d been craving for four years.

  That sweet, pink tongue of hers slid out, glided between his lips and touched the tip of his.

  His tongue pushed it back into her mouth and he took over the kiss. It was a repeat of the first but longer, wetter, deeper, not better but a whole lot fucking hotter.

  He broke his mouth from hers and ordered, “Two hours, babe.”

  She panted against his mouth and nodded.

  He let her go. She teetered. He prowled to the door, pulled it open, turned back to her and lifted a hand with his middle and index fingers extended to the ceiling.

  Her cheeks were pink, her mouth swollen, her eyes dreamy, and it was a fucking good look.

  She powered through the haze and nodded.

  Shy grinned, turned, closed the door behind him, and he kept grinning as he jogged to his bike.

  Chapter Eight

  Gone for You

  I stood outside Shy’s door trying not to hyperventilate and also trying to get my head together.

  Two hours wasn’t enough time.

  I knew one thing. My pit of denial could be denied no longer. Not after a month without Shy. Not after that kiss.

  That kiss.

  That fabulous, unbelievable, amazing kiss.

  That wasn’t what I had to sort out in my head.

  At least I’d been able to deal with the agency that was sending me to Cape Cod. I’d called and told them I had a family emergency that might mean I’d have to back out, which was a total lie, but after that kiss…

  That kiss!

  After that kiss I knew one thing for certain, I couldn’t take off and be that far away from Shy for six months or even for another day. I’d had a month without him in my life and I felt even more lost than I felt when Jason died.

  I knew why this was. Unlike with Jason, I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it and even I was denying to myself why our separation affected me so deeply. Both of these made it more difficult, so difficult I couldn’t deal without escape. Therefore, Cape Cod it was.

  So after that kiss, no way I could be most of a continent away from him and stuck on a freaking island for six months.

  But we still had things to sort out. Like Rosalie.

  One thing I had managed to do in those two short hours was phone Big Petey. I tried to pull the wool, dance around the subject, but I was thinking that he saw through it when I tried to ascertain without coming right out and asking if Shy was still seeing Rosalie.

  Pete gave me the bad news sounding like he was giving me bad news, this why I thought I didn’t pull the wool. The bad news, Pete told me, was Rosalie got dropped off at the Compound three days ago and they’d gone off together on Shy’s bike.

  Before we moved on from that kiss, I had to know what was going on with Rosalie.

  And last but oh so not least, we needed to have a discussion about him losing his mind when he got annoyed at me.

  I’d had a lifetime of watching biker babes and the way they got on with their badass bikers. I knew this was a minefield, and I knew that Shy was not the only badass biker who went gonzo like he did that night we discussed why I’d disappeared for two weeks and like he had again two hours ago when he confronted me about leaving.

  As far as I could tell, there were three options for going the distance with a biker and after that kiss that was what was on my mind.

  Going the distance with a biker. With Shy.

  The options were, one, give up and let them roll right over you.

  I didn’t think that was me, or I hoped it wasn’t.

  The next was become a biker bitch, like my mom had become. Mom was just a bitch, so it was bound to happen that she’d let her bitch light shine through. But sometimes when the boys were the boys, bossy biker badasses, instead of setting the boundaries right off, I’d seen women go over the top with attitude, butting up against their man all the time and not talking to him so they did nothing but fight. Loudly. Publicly. Nastily.

  I didn’t want that either.

  Not at all.

  The last option was the way Tyra was with Dad. I didn’t know how she balanced it, but they were who they were and somehow that clicked. She didn’t let him roll all over her even though he had a dominant personality, the kind that pushed out all other personalities unless you were able to hold your own against him. Still, Tyra had to find that middle ground where she gave Dad what he needed to be, well… Dad. A little over, he’d butt heads with you and the results wouldn’t be pretty. A little under, he’d take advantage and then lose interest, especially in women, because as much as Dad was about control, he didn’t want to control his woman. He liked a challenge. Just not too much of a challenge.

  They worked.

  Spectacularly.

  That said, sometimes things got intense, the balancing act went out the window, it was anything goes, and Tyra didn’t take a lot of shit from him.

  I’d never forget that night years ago when she came to my rescue after my ex-too-old-for-me boyfriend hit me and then my ex nearly busted Tyra’s head in with a baseball bat. Dad had lost it on her, that she’d put herself in that situation, and I still remember hearing them fighting.

  At the time, I was devastated, them fighting over me like that. After it all was good again, I admired her for yelling right back and not taking his crap.

  That was what I wanted for me if I was going to hitch my wagon to Shy’s biker stud.

  So before I blew it and started something with Shy after all our history and it being my first relationship after Jason (who was, it was important to note, my only other real relationship), we had to talk. Get a few things straight.

  Depending on Shy’s answers I’d know if I had my head together or if I needed time and space to find that.

  I took a deep breath, determined to talk it all out with him without losing my head, my patience, my temper, or myself, but I didn’t even raise my hand to knock when the door flew open.

  All of a sudden I had an arm hooked around my waist, I was in his apartment, and Shy’s booted foot was kicking the door closed.

  The next thing I knew, I had lips on mine and a tongue in my mouth.

  With that, I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t want to know anything else. The only thing I wanted to know was Shy.

  He was just that good. So good, when he kissed me, the world melted away.

  His mouth broke from mine and my thoughts came back, kind of.

  “Shy, we need to talk,” I breathed, my pulse racing, my skin warm, my breath coming fast, my arms locked around him, the fingers of one hand in his hair, just like the first time.

  Exactly like the first time.

  Suddenly, my shirt was gone.

  My breath, already fast, left me totally, and my nipples started tingling.

  Shy’s hands slid up
my sides and those tingles went into overdrive.

  “Got your head sorted, sugar?” he asked, his green eyes intense, hot and locked to mine, his body herding me backward.

  “Yes,” I answered. “But we have to talk.”

  His hands left my sides but he kept herding me at the same time he whipped off his tee.

  My thoughts flew out the window.

  “We’ll talk later,” he murmured, his hands settling on my waist.

  I got a second to take in his lean, muscled chest and the scrolled, elaborate tattoo that adorned his upper left pectoral that said forebodingly, “Love dies,” before I was falling backward.

  I landed on the bed.

  Shy landed on me.

  Before I could get my wits about me, Shy’s lips were back on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, and his hands were moving on me.

  His hands felt good. His mouth felt good. And he tasted great.

  I wanted more of him. No, strike that, I needed more of him. I put my hands to his body, and the feel of all that smooth skin, soft to the touch, hard underneath rocked through me so thoroughly it felt like it started in my hair and ended at my toenails.

  And that was so huge I needed even more.

  So I took it, arching up, pushing him to his back and climbing on. I put my mouth to him, his neck, his throat, collarbone, chest, nipples, my lips moving, my tongue tasting, as my hands roamed. While I was exploring, Shy’s fingers went to the hook of my bra and, with a flick, it came loose.

  I only stopped long enough to lift up, pull it off, and toss it aside.

  Then I went right back.

  I didn’t take my time. I was desperate, needing to get in as much as I could as fast as I could like he’d go up in a puff of smoke any second.

  I got down to the waistband of his jeans, my tongue licking a line along the edge as my fingers undid the buttons, when Shy suddenly hauled me up his body, took my mouth in another devastating, wet, hard, hot kiss, and rolled me to my back.

  Within seconds, my jeans were undone, he broke the kiss, and then they were gone. The sensation of the fabric sliding down my legs caused another bolt of desire and hunger to shoot through me.

  Shy moved away but only to lift me up and rearrange me in the bed so my head was on the pillows. He pulled my legs apart and positioned himself on his knees between them.

  I stared up at him, my breaths rapid and shallow.

  He was staring down at me, his face dark with the same hunger I felt slinking through my body, and his hands were moving down the outsides of my thighs until they stopped behind my bent knees.

  “You,” he growled, the sound of his rumbling, deep, harsh voice like a touch. “In my bed,” he finished and my heart flipped.

  Four words.

  Four words that said everything.

  He wanted me there.

  He’d wanted me there for a while.

  From the look on his face, the sound of his voice, he even needed me there like I needed to be there.

  “Shy,” I whispered but he jerked up my legs and bent forward, his mouth hitting me at my midriff, it moved down fast until it closed over my panties between my legs.

  My back arched, my legs jolted, and my mouth opened in a silent moan.

  Paradise.

  As soon as I had him, I lost him and my head shot up, but he only moved to pull my panties down my legs. When they were gone, he rolled right back between my legs, tossing them over his shoulders, and then I had him, just his mouth against me with nothing in between.

  I was wrong.

  This was paradise.

  In minutes, Shy nearly took me there, and just as my orgasm was about to tear through me, his mouth was gone.

  My head shot up again. “Shy,” I breathed and there it was again, need dripping from my voice.

  “The first time I make you come for me, you do it with me inside you,” he rumbled, and I nearly came just from his words.

  One thing I knew in my crazy world, I was down with that.

  He shifted his torso, reaching toward the nightstand, and I sat up, putting my mouth to his skin as my hands undid the buttons of his jeans. When I got enough undone, I yanked them down his hips and felt an electric shock starting between my legs and emanating outward.

  He was beautiful everywhere.

  He came back with a condom and took over but I kept my mouth on him, his belly, his ribs, my hands on him everywhere I could touch, but I kept looking down to watch his hands work, getting more and more turned on simply by watching him roll a condom on.

  A nanosecond after Shy got it in place, he had an arm around my waist, his other one curved under my bottom and I was up. My arms and legs circling him, Shy moved forward two paces on his knees, my back hit headboard, and Shy slid inside.

  My eyes closed, my head sagged back then forward, my forehead hitting his shoulder.

  Beautiful.

  This was what I’d been waiting for.

  Not for months.

  For years.

  To be right here, right like this.

  With Shy.

  “Gorgeous, baby, you… feel… fuckin’… gorgeous,” he groaned into my neck before he started moving.

  It must be said, he felt the same way.

  My limbs clenched around him and his arm around my bottom moved, drifting up my side, up my arm, pulling it away from him until he had my hand. He shoved his thumb in the palm, curled his fingers around the back and pressed our hands to the wall.

  My head fell back, hit wall and Shy’s came up. I saw instantly his eyes mirrored how I felt.

  Loved.

  Right.

  Therefore I knew it was safe to share what was in my heart.

  “I missed you,” I whispered, as he moved, building it further, going deep, sweet, slow.

  We’d never had this, not this, but what I said was true. I missed him.

  At my words, he closed his eyes, dropped his head to rest his forehead against mine, and kept moving, faster, sweeter, deeper.

  He opened his eyes but didn’t lift his head even as the power of his hips increased, the burn built, and his hand in mine clenched hard.

  “Missed you too, honey.”

  Oh God.

  He missed me.

  I loved that.

  He went faster, the build sharpened, the burn increased and I gasped, “Shy.”

  “Wait for me, Tabby,” he growled.

  Faster, deeper.

  Oh God.

  God!

  “I don’t know—” I started.

  “Hold on, baby. I’m close,” he ordered, his voice thick.

  “I don’t know if I—”

  Faster, so deep. So, so deep.

  “Let go,” he commanded, his voice gruff.

  I let go. Twisting my head and shoving my face into Shy’s neck, I moaned against his skin at the same time I felt his groan vibrating against my neck as it crashed over both of us, the wave taking us under, drowning us in a way neither of us was going to fight.

  I held him close and Shy stayed buried deep, his hand holding mine tight, his breath heavy against my skin, mine the same against his.

  Surfacing from under the wave, it struck me that I was wrong both times before.

  Shy this close, buried deep, holding my hand, his breath against my skin… this was paradise.

  Before I could catch a thought, fully process how beautiful the moment was, Shy let my hand go and shifted, falling to his back, one arm wrapped around me, one hand cupped at the back of my head, our bodies still connected.

  Okay, before, paradise, but lying on top of Shy’s warm hardness was far from shabby.

  “Don’t ever leave me,” he rasped.

  I blinked at the corded column of his throat with its kick-ass medallions attached to the thin, black bits of leather resting against his skin.

  I tried to lift my head but his hand at the back kept it where it was and he repeated, “Promise me, Tab. Do not ever leave me.”

  Oh my God.
>
  What did I say?

  I didn’t lie when he was moving inside me. I missed him when he was gone. Further, it wasn’t just sex we had. I didn’t have a lot of experience, but I knew enough to know that. It was more. It was a connection. A promise. And when he came to my place just over two hours ago being intense and bossy, not only was that hot, it was awesome. It was what I needed to stop denying all I was feeling and finally admit what he meant to me.

  But this was too much.

  Maybe not too much but definitely too soon.

  “We have to talk,” I told him quietly, and his hand left my head so he could wrap his arm around my shoulders.

  I lifted my head to see his chin ducked down so his startling green eyes could capture mine.

  Okay, looking into those eyes, those beautiful eyes that looked sated and warm but intense and serious, all hot, all gorgeous, I thought maybe it wasn’t too soon.

  “Yeah, Tab, we got a lot to talk about. You’re right. This is not gonna go easy.”

  Uh-oh.

  What did he mean by that?

  He didn’t make me wait for an explanation. “We got a lot to sort through. I gotta tell you how I spent the two hours since I was at your place. We gotta work out how I lose my mind when you need to go into your head and freeze me out. We gotta work out why you freeze me out when you go into your head. And, baby”—his hand drifted up my shoulder to curl around the back of my neck—“I know you know and I’m also sure it isn’t lost on your dad or Cherry that I got a reputation. They find out we’re an us, I don’t see good things. Fuck, half the brothers in the Club are not gonna think good things. Pete’s already givin’ me looks and has been for a while. When we leave this apartment, you and me gotta be on the same page. But sayin’ that, sugar”—his voice dropped—“what just happened was somethin’ that was bigger than all that. It was bigger than everything. I had a taste of you four years ago that I could never get off my tongue. Now, I’ve tasted more of you with more than just my mouth and I know I wanna keep it in a way I don’t want to think of it bein’ done. Not in a few weeks. Not in a few months. Maybe not ever.”

  Oh wow. It could be said all that was too soon too, but it also had to be said I liked it.

  Like, really liked it.

  So much I melted automatically into his body.

  I slid a hand to his neck and whispered, “Shy.”