Page 39 of Catching Our Moment

Kelcie

After another round with James about his planned visit with Aaron this weekend, I was ready to scream.

He spilled that he and Amber were eloping and then taking her kids on a mini-vacation, planning a better honeymoon in the summer.

I asked why Aaron wasn’t part of their plans—didn’t he want Aaron at his wedding?

His answer? “We are flying out Friday morning, and I don’t think he could handle the plane.

Besides, I’d have to get him his own room, and that wouldn’t work. ”

I didn’t ask why Aaron couldn’t share with Amber’s kids. James didn’t want him there. There was no purpose in trying to understand why. Nevertheless, didn’t he realize that Aaron’s feelings would be hurt?

“I had plans this weekend, James.”

“I’m getting married. I think that trumps any plans you could’ve had.”

I closed my eyes and prayed for divine intervention to stop me from tearing into him. Nope. Not giving in to that. “Okay, well, I’ll let you explain your reasoning to him.” He wouldn’t. I would tell Aaron in order to spare his feelings as much as I could. “I’ll see you in another two weeks, then?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, noncommittal.

Luckily, Grace was so excited about me going away with Shaw for a “romantic weekend,” she’d jumped at having Aaron.

I’d sat in first class, on my way to Charlotte for the most romantic weekend of my life…

and all I could do was worry about Aaron.

I wasn’t the least bit surprised at James’s selfish behavior—it had always fallen on me to “handle Aaron.” It was James’s favorite phrase whenever we went into a new public setting.

But I decided I had to let it go. Dealing with James would be another problem for another day.

I was going to enjoy the here and now. Flying first class to Charlotte was just a taste of what awaited me. Not wanting to draw any attention by picking me up at the airport, Shaw had sent a car to drive me to his “place in town.”

Charlotte wasn’t New York City, but I wasn’t exactly a city girl either. Now here I was, staring up at the top of Shaw’s building, and I had to take in a deep breath. This trip was about showing me who he was and what his life was like. This journey was about getting to know who we had both become.

I didn’t know what to expect as I entered the elevator to access the penthouse floor and entered the code he gave me.

My apprehension settled when the elevator doors opened to Shaw’s stupid-adorable grin.

Even as he stood there, with his boyish, shaggy hair, barefoot in navy sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, I couldn’t believe my luck.

You couldn’t take this man for anything but striking.

“You made it,” he whispered. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his arms.

“It’s not like you live in Timbuktu, and I had to scale a mountain to get here,” I answered dryly, breathing in his cedar scent and dropping my bag to return the hug.

He cupped my face with enthusiasm and kissed me soundly, his grin dialing down just slightly. “Yeah…” He studied me as if I’d been gone for years instead of a few days. “I know.”

I held onto his forearms. “You were afraid I was going to back out.”

The smile dimmed a bit more, and he shrugged one shoulder.

“Shaw…”

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, wrapping his arm around me. “No need to give Davy a show.”

“Davy?”

“Yeah, my teammate, Davy Johnson, lives in the other unit.” He nodded behind us.

“You mean this entire floor is only two apartments?” I said, my gaze flicking back and forth down the marble-covered corridor that was tastefully decorated in neutral colors and soft lighting.

“Yeah.” He picked up my luggage with his other hand. “Our friend Harper lived there”—he motioned to Davy’s place—“before getting engaged. He told me about this unit going up for sale, and it worked out this way.”

He opened the door and ushered me in. I didn’t know what to expect—maybe dark wood bordering on man-cave—but Shaw’s home was open and airy without feeling overwhelming.

The two-story great room was framed by windows that overlooked the heart of the city.

That was all the decoration any room would need.

A large white, plush sectional, white area rug, and glass coffee table had my mom-heart wincing at the thought of trying to keep an area like this so pristine—but of course, he had a housekeeper for that.

The rest of the space was also beautifully decorated with glass, cool wood, and neutral tones, but the design still felt welcoming without being cold and stiff.

A custom mural caught my attention amid all the white and neutrals.

It was a landscape that ran down the main hall.

And I recognized it immediately. There was a creek and?—

I briskly walked over to it and whispered, “Wait…” The trees, grass, and the water bending around that large tree where a rope swing would usually be found. My words took a moment to form as my fingers drifted toward the wall, reaching out to it. “Is that Maeve’s creek?”

His hands were in his pockets as he rocked back on his feet, but the pink in his cheeks was all the confirmation I needed.

We’d spent most of our summers at that spot.

The trees that surrounded the area had sheltered us from the sun most days and kept us dry enough in the wetter months.

The rope swing hanging from an old oak along the bank gave it away.

Maeve had always been pretty cool about all of us kids hanging out at her property, figuring it was better to keep an eye on all of us that way.

It was our clubhouse, without the house.

It was our space where we’d made so many memories, dreamed about our futures, cried over heartbreaks, strengthened our bonds, and laughed so damn much.

I stared at the mural and then back at him, waiting for an explanation.

He nodded. “It centers me. I walk by it every morning as I’m leaving, and it reminds me where I’m from and who I am.”

I walked down the hall, trailing my fingers and continuing to study the mural. “We used to sit down there by that creek—just the two of us—and not say a word.”

“I know,” he said. “I used to have photos of all of us I would put up, but as the years went by and we all grew further apart… Well, I just thought this would make me happier.”

I reached over and squeezed his forearm. “It’s beautiful.”

“Would it be cheesy to say, ‘So are you’?” He latched onto my hand and pulled me gently toward him. “I’m so happy you are here.”

Overcome by his sentimental confession and unable to speak to it, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling on him while I raised onto my toes to meet his lips.

The kiss was long and languid, unlike the stolen ones we’d had on the back porch, because we didn’t have to worry about interruptions.

His hands wrapped around my waist and trailed down my back, settling on my backside. He groaned. Then he stopped kissing me, rested his forehead on mine, and said, “I have my hand on your ass.” His breathing was heavier, his voice deeper, and I loved it.

“You have both of them on my ass,” I whispered in a tone that was more seductive than I’d ever dreamed of being.

His hands roamed up and down my ass, and his groan turned into a sexy moan of delight. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to put my hand here? Right here.” He slapped my butt with a playful smack that made me giggle and jump. “You couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

His sweats weren’t hiding anything, and I resisted the urge to check him out.

Instead, I reached behind him, spread my fingers as wide as they would go, and squeezed as much of his deliciously solid gluteus maximus as I could grab.

His eyes darkened and narrowed, but his mouth grew deliciously devilish as his teeth scraped across his bottom lip.

I wanted his teeth on me.

Whoa—we’re into biting now?

With him. Yep.

With his hands fixed on my ass, he dragged me even closer. His sexy voice growled, “Kiss me.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I released my grip and wrapped my arms around his neck again, reveling in the fact that I was here, and he was mine.

“Hold on,” he warned before he moved his arms farther under my legs to?—

I pushed at his shoulders in complete panic. “Don’t!” I yelled. “Have you lost your mind?” I slapped his chest. “Don’t you dare lift me with that shoulder the way it is. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy objects.”

But up I went. Most of my weight was distributed to the uninjured shoulder, but both hands cupped my thighs, and I straddled him high to distribute my weight and avoid strain on his shoulder.

“First, you aren’t a heavy object. You are the only thing in the world that matters to me right now.

” He turned to a door and opened it. “And I want to find out if you are as bossy in bed as you are out of it.” He sat me down gently on the bed, pulling off my shoes, staring at me under lowered lashes.

I pretended to smack him again, but he dodged it.

“I need to hear you moan. I need to feel you writhe with pleasure. I want to speak dirty words and tell you all the things I want to do to you. I want to hear you tell me all the things you want me to do. I want to touch you with my hands, with my lips and tongue…with my cock. I want to hear you pant my name, and most of all, I want to see you straddling me when you come.”

Images flashed through my mind of satisfying all of those desires. “Someone is quite specific.”

“I just want...”

He pulled up my sweater, his eyes going to the new, expensive, lace pink bra I’d spent a fortune on to give “the girls” the illusion of firmness that had been lost with time and pregnancy.

He traced his hand over the top of each plump breast with such tenderness it sent a shiver down my spine. “I want it all.”

It had been worth every penny.

I closed my eyes and begged for patience not to jump him.

His voice deepened. “I’ve had dreams—dirty, teasingly orgasmic dreams. Imagining how you’d look under me, over me…but not knowing your scent or the way you taste. Never knowing how you sounded.”

I was done with descriptions. I yanked him closer to me and slipped my hand into his sweats.

“You know girls have dirty dreams too,” I said. “Now shut up and make them real.”

His eyes grew wide as he guided my hand to the bulge in his pants, showing me what he wanted, moving my hand up and then down.

Because he was still standing over me, I was granted a gorgeous view as he let my wandering fingers explore him.

Obviously wanting to prove himself useful, he drew his shirt up and off, giving me an eye-level view of his abs and the cock that was now peeking out from his pants.

“Yes…” I drawled. Damn, was this empowering. There was over two hundred pounds of muscular, elite athlete standing in front of me. A man whose job involved aggression and physical dominance. And I had him literally in my hand.

I licked my lips, staring up at him. “You okay?”

He shook his head, his lips thinned.

I tilted my head, continually stroking him slowly, up and down. “Shaw.” I deepened my voice. “Get. On. This. Bed.”

He yanked my hand out of his pants then gently pushed me down. I crawled back over the bed as he followed, crawling on all fours over my body—like a predator.

The slightest wince flashed over his face—his shoulder wasn’t as healed as he wanted everyone to believe. As he hovered over me, he said, “Bossy…even now.”

I ran my hands over his chest, marveling at the definition and hair he’d never had before.

I reached up to kiss a nipple and felt my jeans loosen.

While I’d been busy admiring his body, he’d undone my pants and was tugging them off.

Only, the movement didn’t happen without some wincing as it caused him to support his weight on his bad shoulder.

That wouldn’t do. I knifed up, pushing him onto his back. “I don’t think you will complain,” I said. “At least I hope not.”

I shimmied out of my jeans, my panties still in place, and slung a leg over his hip before I realized his pants were still on.

Still, straddling him connected his hardness to my center, and before long, we were both making obscene noises that would definitely qualify as dirty if we had been capable of forming words.

His pelvis and mine moved in a rhythm that was a prequel of what was to come. He moved his mouth away from mine, pushing me up so he could trail kisses down my chest. He whispered, “Are we doing this?”

I took off my expensive bra and tossed it aside—it had done its job. “Yeah, we are doing this. I dare you try to pull me off you now,” I said, grinning.

“Not a chance.” His eyes were fixed on my breasts as he reached out, gently cupping one of them and stroking his thumb over it…before he took me in his mouth.

The sensation of his lips on my nipple was so intense I almost lost my mind. I threw back my head as I wrapped my arms around him, essentially burying his face in my breasts.

Both of his hands played with my breasts as he suckled, and I continued to gyrate over him until he slipped one hand down my belly, and a thumb went into my panties.

“Oh, Shaw…” I clamped my hand over the hand in my panties, and he pulled his face out from between my breasts to stare up at me.

My breathing was so heavy, the sensations rushing through me so intense…

I needed a moment to breathe. I wanted to be naked with him, I wanted him inside me, but fuck I never wanted his hand to move from that one spot.

My eyes struggled to stay open, and his pressure and rhythm increased. “Not yet…” I weakly protested.

“We got all night. I want to watch you.”

He sucked the other nipple in his mouth, applying the smallest pressure with his glorious thumb, and that put me over. My hand clamped over his, and I cried out his name as he drew out the best orgasm I’d ever had. And technically, we still had our pants on.