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~FIRST Excerpt from Shayla’s Story~
A fever of hot molten lava flowed across her skin, instantly turning her hands damp. Shayla nervously waved her wet hands in the air watching the shadow pace in the lit hallway outside her bedroom door. Flutters danced through her tummy as she tiptoed to the door, silently resting her hand on the handle.
The pacing shadow came to a halt. A hungry smile curled on the corner of her mouth, knowing John could see her shadow beneath to door as well. With only a mere 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,” she heard in him say.
Engrossed in the fresh scent of his skin, Shayla 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 she could bring herself to look at him.
“Don’t act like you don’t feel the connection between us.”
“I do, but-” she hesitated.
“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 the 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. “Good Lord, 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 his palm coasted down the small of her back and cupped her exposed cheek, making 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.”
John caressed her arms, pausing before turning the handle of his bedroom door. “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 filled with resort style furnishing resembling a five star hotel. The lights were dim and 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 pressing against her shoulder. Brushing the hair from her shoulder, his hot breath tickled her ear. “I’m asking for the weekend.”
The tips of her breasts pulled taut as his arms closed around her from behind. 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, and nuzzling into her temple. His thighs bracketed her hips, and the feeling of his muscles made her writhe in delight. She didn’t mean to compare, but couldn’t help notice the difference between John and Mat.
Mat was calm and collected, referring to himself as a missionary man, while John was sensual and adventurous. There wasn’t one ordinary quality about John Mathews.
“But everyone knows my situation…” She found herself insanely distracted by the minty scent of his breath. “Our families…”
“This is between you and I. They don’t need to know.” He slowly spun her around to face him. “I know you have a choice to make and I’m not trying to complicate things for you.” He pulled her close. She wobbled on her tiptoes and he anchored her to his solid frame. “I have to know why you make me feel this way,” he murmured with restrained sweetness.
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 tender style coiled in her tummy. John brushed kisses of affection over her hair, cheeks and eyelids. He caressed the hallow of her throat, tracing her collarbone with his fingertips. A small moan of pleasure escaped her lungs and she closed her eyes as John lowered his mouth over hers. He cradled her face in his large hands, kissing her mouth gently and tenderly, one lip at a time.
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 her everywhere.
Trembling with an undiscovered fury of passion, she clutched at his neck, opening without barriers, needing 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?” he murmured.