Shayla's Story (The Mathews/Clemmins Family Series) (8 page)

“John, you don’t
have to…” Shayla could barely speak, attempting to decline the back rub. Within
seconds she melted into his touch. “Oh.”

“Shhh. You’ll like
it,” he assured, both hands working jointly up the blades of her back, applying
pressure in slow wide circles. “I understand Tracy’s theory that people come
into our lives for a reason, a season or lifetime.”

“You mean to teach
us something?” Arousal coiled around her as his hands moved in strong gliding
strokes, searching out the sore muscles. Time slowed and her breathing came in
deep long breaths. The smell of his wet hair clung to her senses. She could
taste the scent of him.

“Yes. Then there’s
those friends you get together with a few times a year, but it feels like you
saw them yesterday.”

“What about
lifetimers?” she questioned in a hush. His rough-worked hands coasted downward
to the middle of her back, slowly and effortlessly exploring one side then the
other with strong rotations.

“Well, I guess those
people would be the ones you love enough to endure a lifetime.”

The quiet night sky
fell over them. The intimate act of his hands on her flesh brought clarity to
her surroundings. The chilled air felt crisp on her damp face and her chest
burned with building sentiment. Calluses on the pads of his hand added to his
masculinity, and the involuntary tightening of muscles deep in her center
threatened to erupt at any moment.

John swept her
sodden hair over one shoulder, the texture of his fingers making her tremble.
“Feel good, Shay?”

His breath tickled
her ear.

She trembled with
acute awareness. Shayla knew exactly how his lips would feel on her neck. The
heat, the tenderness, the urgency. “Yes,” she whimpered softly, dropping her chin
to her chest, giving him full access to her nape.

His hands dipped to
the silk skin at her waist.

John adjusted her
bottom further back onto the middle of his thighs. Her legs dangled freely in
the water. As he gripped her hips for steadiness, a vision flashed through her
of what it would be like to make love to him. Shayla could feel the ghost of
his hands exploring her body, bringing her to life, the rise and fall of his
hips, and his mouth exploring her skin.

Reveling in the
power of his thighs beneath her, she mindlessly squirmed backward. Her
breathing came in shallow pants. She wanted to feel him, needed to know if he
desired her.

John remained fixed,
purposely not allowing to her to ease onto his lap.

His right hand
drifted down her arm, exposing her hand and ring from the water. He brushed a
few loose wet ribbons of her hair from her neck, grazing his lips over her
shoulder. “So technically, where does that leave you, Shay? Right now?”

She molded her back
to his rigid chest. The pounding of his heart sent a zing of excitement through
her, an overwhelming feeling of connection and intimacy for a man she barely
knew.

“Technically, we’re
on a break.” Her tongue felt heavy and dry. “I told him I would have an answer
when I get home.”

After a long pause,
he lifted her from his lap and turned her to face him. “And do you have an
answer yet?”

The cool night air
drew steam from her hot skin. She couldn’t find the strength to reply. Fine
hairs on her arm stood up as his dark eyes bore into hers with hope. Her nose
wrinkled as she tried to hold back the tears. Her chest felt heavy with regret
and she didn’t realize she was crying. “I’m sorry.”

The lines near his
eyes crinkled in discouragement. “Well, what are you crying for, Shay?”

He pulled her between
his thighs and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her wet hair.

She sniffed, shaking
her head once.

“It’s a simple yes
or no answer that only alters the entire rest of your life.” He tried to make
her smile, but his was voice laced with pity and frustration.

She draped her arms
around his neck, laying her cheek on his shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m
crying. I never cry.”

“I don’t smell like
an onion, do I?”

“What? No.” Shayla
pulled away, getting a peek at his smiling face. “I want to tell you my answer
is no, but I’m not totally certain. I need to give him my answer before I
can...” Her gaze caught on his mouth. “Before I could...”

He hauled her close,
their faces a mere inches apart. His playful grin broadened. “So you do like
me.”

She put on her best
poker face for a whole three seconds before looking skyward with a huge grin.
“You’re okay.”

John released her
and jolted out of his seat. “Do you think you can fly to California, give him
your answer, and be back before the wedding tomorrow?”

Stepping out of the
Jacuzzi, he grabbed a fluffy white towel and wrapped it around his waist,
holding another one open to swathe around her wet body.

Shayla appreciated
his effort to keep the atmosphere humorous. “I think it might take longer than
that.”

“I could go with
you.” He grabbed another towel and scrubbed it through her hair as if they’d
know each other for years. “The flight back would be…very turbulent.”

His low voice
reverberated through her like a sweet caress.

Shayla stared at his
dense collarbone heaving with each breath. Her gaze wondered up the textured
skin of his throat, heat spreading everywhere when their eyes met and held. She
swallowed hard.

“I suppose a text
denial would be out of the question?” he joked, but seriousness dripped to his humor.

Overwhelmed with a
multitude of emotions, she began to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
“I—that wouldn’t be—I ”

He took careful
measures, inspecting her reaction. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I don’t know how
you could understand when even I don’t understand.” Her words trailed off into
the darkness.

Making their way
inside, temptation to try to explain her feelings lurked at each passing
doorway. They remained subdued until reaching her bedroom door. She trembled
all over. In an act of comfort, John eased her into his arms.

Shayla went limp.
Standing right outside her bedroom in the arms of a man she desperately wanted
to get to know put her in a very dangerous position.

He gently swayed
back and forth, his embrace warm and loving.

The desire to
respond to his affection was unbearable, her heart working in fast frantic
beats.
God, he smells good.
Unable to
resist, she relaxed into him further, resting her cheek on the hard planes of
his chest.

“Do you think we can
go on a date when we get back?” John asked in a whisper. His mouth brushed over
her damp hair. “If you’re not engaged, that is?”

Her thoughts
shattered into a million possibilities and she nodded hotly. “Yes—”

He lowered his mouth
inches from hers. The earthy oak bouquet of the wine still lingered on his
breath.

“My reputable morals
have reached their max capacity, so unless you want me to turn on a hot shower,
take you to bed, and tuck you in, you should go now. I don’t think I can take
much more before I kiss you.”

“Okay,” Shayla
mumbled incoherently, turning blindly toward the door and opening it.

He patted her on the
bottom. “Good night, Shay.”

“Night,” she managed
to utter before he closed the door.

Slumping against the
door and placing her ear to the wood, she listened to his footsteps fade down
the hallway. She remained that way for minutes, half-hoping he’d return. The
warm imprint of his arms wrapped securely around her filled her heart with need
and contentment. Ambling toward the shower, she noticed her phone lying on the
bedside table remained dark.
No blinking
green light.
She didn’t bother checking. Mat hadn’t called.

Dragging herself
into the shower, she allowed the cascade of scalding water to wash over her.
Shayla couldn’t disregard the reality and overwhelming happiness of being
encompassed in the arms of a man she barely knew. He emanated a feeling of joy
that was foreign to her.

Shayla gazed
aimlessly into the mirror, running the hair dryer over her wet mane, dwelling
on letting John walk away. She felt like she was spinning out of control, yet
she’d never possessed such a grasp on her awareness of a man.

She stared down at
the engagement ring adorning her right ring finger. Emotions of deep regret and
keen desire and horrible guilt churned through her thoughts.

Shayla needed more
than a list of comfortable qualities. She needed unspoken feelings of security
and passion. Shayla slipped the ring from her finger and tucked it out of sight
in her jewelry box.

Mentally exhausted,
she rubbed lotion over her skin before slipping into her white cotton camisole
and lace panties. Pulling back the layers of comfy blankets on her bed, she
noticed a shadow from beneath her bedroom door out of the corner of her eye. A
nervous shiver skittered down her back.
John.

A fever of hot
molten lava raced across her skin, instantly turning her hands damp. Shayla
nervously waved her wet hands in the air, watching the shadow pace outside her
door in the lit hallway. Flutters danced through her tummy. She tiptoed to the
door and silently rested her hand on the handle.

The pacing came to a
halt.

A smile curled on
the corner of her mouth. John could see her shadow beneath to door as well.
With only a solid piece of wood between them, her composure fractured, sending
tingling sensations to the tender area between her thighs.

Her heartbeat
drummed so erratically in her ears she could barely hear the soft tapping on
the door. Shayla eased the door open a few inches, trying to conceal her smile.
“Hey,” she said softly. “What’s up?”

John lifted a brow,
amused by the double meaning of her words. His arm flexed a little, pushing the
door open a bit further, stretching the thin t-shirt snug over the hard lines
of his torso. His gaze wandered keenly from her toes to her face with utter
slowness, settling on her eyes. He squinted ambiguously. “I want to ask you
something.”

Engrossed in the
fresh scent of his skin and damp hair at his nape, she gripped the handle for
support. “Okay,” she panted breathlessly.

John stepped across
the threshold, clasping her hands in his. “Stay with me?”

Her thoughts
scattered and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

He waited until
Shayla could bring herself to look at him. “Don’t act like you don’t feel the
connection between us.”

“I do, but—”

“Come with me.” John
took a step back, gently tugging on her hands, beckoning her toward the
hallway.

In a daze, she took
a quick scan of her cami and panties barely covering her backside. Shayla
reached for a white silk cover-up hanging on the back of the door.

John snatched the
robe from her hands and tossed it onto her bed, shaking his head. “Please don’t
put that on. You look absolutely breathtaking.”

His compliment made
her heart swoon. She poked her head into the hall. “But—”

He pulled her into
his arms and Shayla squealed in surprise at his powerful embrace. The rough
texture of one of his palms traveling down the small of her back and cupping
her exposed cheek made her gasp. His smile widened into a slow burn of desire, igniting
a fire in her belly. Every fine hair on her body stood at attention.

She swallowed hard.
“I can’t make any promises.”

Taking her hand,
John led her down the hall to his room.

Standing at his
door, John caressed her arms, pausing before turning the handle. “I understand
your situation, Shay, but if I don’t ask, I will never forgive myself.”

“Ask?” The word
caught on her dry lips.

With a wave of his
arm, he invited her into his dimly lit room. The lights were dim and a candle
flickered in the darkness next to a bottle of wine and two glasses. He shut the
door behind them.

“I’m not asking for
promises.” John spoke against her scalp, his solid chest pressed against her
shoulder. As he brushed the hair from her shoulder, his hot breath tickled her
ear. “I’m asking for a weekend.”

The tips of her
breasts pulled taut as his arms closed around her from behind and he pressed
his lips to a receptive dip in her neck.

“The weekend?” She
trembled as his mouth wandered across her jaw.

He nodded, gathering
the mass of hair at her nape, nibbling on a sensitive spot behind her ear,
nuzzling into her temple. His thighs bracketed her hips, the feeling of his
muscles maddening. She didn’t mean to compare, but couldn’t help notice the
difference between John and Mat. John was bold and adventurous. Mat referred to
himself as an ordinary missionary man. There wasn’t one ordinary quality about
John Mathews.

“But everyone knows
my situation.” She found herself insanely distracting by minty scent of his
breath. “Our families.”

“This is between you
and I, they don’t need to know. Yet.” He slowly spun her to face him. He pulled
her close. “I understand your situation and I’m not trying to complicate things
for you.”

She wobbled on her
tiptoes as he anchored her to his solid frame.

“I have to know why
you make me feel this way.”

Lifting her arms
over his broad shoulders, she arched, molding her body to his with only a thin
layer of cotton between them. The newness of his flavor and attentive style
coiled in her tummy.

John brushed molten
kisses of affection over her hair, cheeks and eyelids. He caressed the hollow
of her throat, tracing her collarbone with his fingertips. A small moan of
pleasure escaped her lips and she closed her eyes as John lowered his mouth to hers.

“Thank you.” He
murmured cradling her face in his large hands, kissing her mouth gently and
tenderly, one lip at a time.

“Thank you?” She
asked, feeling his smile broadening beneath her lips.

“For taking that
damn ring off.” He lifted her right hand, pressing a tender kiss to her
knuckles. John squinted flashing her a full smile deepening the soft wrinkles
near his eyes. “If I have my way, that ring will never see the light of day
again.”

Shayla’s mouth
turned to cotton and she swallowed hard. Something just didn’t seem right about
the power lying in his words of highhanded assurance. The surety in his tone should’ve
rang like warning bells hanging from the Greek cathedrals, but she found his
dominance a complete turn on.

Heat gathered
beneath her cami, making it damp. Shayla felt like she might spontaneously
combust from the list of aches growing larger with every sweet kiss of his
lips. This wasn’t simply a first kiss, it was a rich drugging kiss, filling
every fiber of her being with desire.

Trembling with an
undiscovered fury of passion, she clutched at his neck, opening without
barriers, urging him to take more. The heat of their breath mingled as his
tongue sank into her mouth, rooting deeper to find her soul. The pleasure of the
slow marauding licks of his tongue brought pricks of wetness to the corner of
her eyes.

John went still,
gently grasping under her jaw with both hands and angling her face upward.
Staring into her eyes, he searched intently for her response to their
connection. “Stay with me?”

Giving in to
temptation, she nodded.

Worry evaporated
from his tense arms as they circled around her. He held her securely, learning
the curves of her body with an unhurried exploration. The sensation and heat of
his hands and mouth felt heavenly and she went weak with need. There would be
no holding back with John, not one moment of insecurity or vulnerability. He
unshackled the urge to act proper or genteel. She responded with ravenous needs
of her own, dipping into his mouth with long, slow indecent licks and kisses.
The silky friction and heat turned her kisses greedy as she plunged further,
searching for more.

Shayla craved each
intimate taste of this man. She molded herself to the terrain of his body, straining
her hips upward to discover the hard pressure of his erection. Her fingers
clung to the back of his neck for support, and she pushed higher onto her toes.
She whimpered into his mouth as sensation built.

John broke from her
passionate kiss and laid his chin on top her head, allowing his breathing to
slow. A mock whisper tickled her ear. “Maybe we should have a glass of wine.”

Heat powered through
her limbs. Shayla yanked at the hem of his shirt and he raised his arms, easing
out of his shirt. She flushed. “I don’t want wine right now, John.”

Her palms glided
across his fit shoulders. With utmost slowness, she ran her hands over his
chest and drum tight stomach. The muted light cast a bronze glow to his skin,
deepening every shadow of his physique. Lost in a daze of the magnificence of
his body, she trailed kisses and bites over his chest and below. He remained
still, tolerating her intimate exploration of his body, each sweet caress more
inquisitive than the one before.

A low throaty laugh
filled the quiet room. “Are you about done with your inspection?”

She shook her head
with a grin, catching her lip between her teeth. She wanted her mouth on him,
all of him, every inch. Dropping her hand to his waist, she traced his erection
through the denim. He gave a soft grunt and she circled her palm over the
bulge.
 

Using the back of
her hand, she traced the satin-smooth skin of his midriff, slipping her fingers
into the waist of his jeans. Her thumbs worked to unfasten the button and
zipper. Shayla’s fingers trembled, reaching in his boxers, exploring the length
of him. His abs flexed in response to her hand coasting down the silken heated
flesh. His hips pumped forward and he held rigid. Sounds of deep-rooted
pleasure reverberated from his throat as he allowed her to stroke him. She felt
as if she were in a trance of fascination.

John grabbed her
wrist, bringing the tender pale flesh to his lips. A smirk widened across his
face at her unbridled haste. “You can have your way with me. I’ll give you
whatever you want,” came a growl of promise.

His voice softened
to a murmur, rambling off into a list of things he planned to do to her, words
no man had ever said to her, words that would make her blush in the morning
light, but right now they turned her on more than she cared to admit.

He stripped her of
her top and tossed it to the floor, revealing her petite round breasts.
 
He bent drawing a pink bud into the
searing heat of his mouth.

“Oh, God, yes,” Her
mind blistered. She panted with raw desire.

Moving to the other,
John kissed and sucked, circling her nipple with his tongue. He rolled the damp
sensitive flesh gently between his finger and thumb until she moaned.

“It’s gonna be a
long night. But,”—he hooked his thumbs through her white lace panties,
dropping to his knees and shimmying them to her ankles—“I’ve wanted to
taste you since the moment I sat next to you on the plane. You’re lucky I
didn’t hoist you over my shoulder and drag you into the bathroom caveman
style.”

“You can drag me
wherever you want.” Raking her fingers through his thick dark hair, Shayla
grasped his skull. Her head listed forward and her eyes closed. He rested his
forehead above her trimmed tuft of dark hair. John pulled back and rose to his
feet.

Her eyes flew open,
pulse raging through her veins. “Wait. I wanted. I like...” she whimpered in
protest.

A severe blush
flooded over her, embarrassed for objecting.

A throaty laugh
accompanied his haughty grin as he guided her backwards one step at a time. Her
legs bumped against the mattress. “Oh, you’re going to like it. I just want you
on your back.”

He wedged his knee
between her legs, widening her stance as he leaned over her, taking her mouth
with another insatiable kiss. Clasping the back of her head, he devoured her
mouth with long slippery sweeps of his tongue, the pleasure of it maddening.
His fingers threaded through her hair. Tearing his mouth from her lips, he
buried them into her neck with a soft moan.

Shayla lowered onto
the mound of white, luxurious bedding.

He scooted her to
the middle of the bed. The dull light danced across his face. He smiled, descending
with a trail of hot kisses down her throat to the sensitive slope of pale skin
between her breasts. Her legs fell willingly to the side as he strayed from one
breast to the other then below. “You’re so beautiful.”

John licked into her
flesh, torturing her with small tiny flicks of his tongue.

She cried out softly
as his breath laid a slick of hot steam over her pulsing clit.

He teased and
taunted the engorged skin until she wriggled and panted. He purred with
satisfaction, bringing her to a boil with just the tip of his tongue.

She clutched at his
head, raising her hips off the bed, wanting more.

John pushed her
flat. Grabbing her wrists from the sides of his face, he restrained them at her
side. With one precise, deep vertical sweep of his tongue, she moaned out his
name. He plunged deeper, nibbling and feasting off her, until her inner muscles
began to spiral and clench involuntary.

Shayla wriggled a
hand free from his grip, frantically grasping for a pillow. She held it to her
face, crying into the fluffy billows as her body spasmed and twitched. She
lifted from the bed. His tongue swirled over the explosion of wetness, catching
every last twinge of release.

John pressed tender
kisses everywhere with acute planning, climbing over the top of her. Brushing
his hands along her stained limbs, he allowed her body to go slack.

Quivering with
pleasure, she panted hoarsely beneath the pillow.

Resting on his
elbow, he pulled back the pillow, peeking at her with a smoldering smile. “Feel
good, Shay?”

“Yes.” She panted
with a nod.

Full-blown arrogance
curled at the corners of his lips. “Are you a screamer?”