Page 26 of Fortune’s Control (Fortune’s Creek #1)

Never underestimate the curative power of a hot shower. The kind that leaves your skin blistered as your muscles dissolve into a relaxed pool of goo. Wilson Skane’s attack, and all the terror it brought with it, faded away. I was safe tonight, and that was enough.

I put on one of Shane’s shirts, stolen from a drawer, and pressed the towel into my hair to absorb some of the excess water.

The deputy took a report and promised to relay it to Detective Davis in Atlanta, but I didn’t see the point. Wilson Skane stole and abandoned a car, leaving no clues to his current whereabouts. The promised ankle monitor failed—even the most well-made electronics break.

I left the steamy bathroom and returned to the guest room. I slept in Shane’s room the past few days, but my belongings stayed there, and I wanted my laptop for another round of research before speaking to Detective Davis in the morning.

All my things were gone. The bureau top was clean, and my suitcase had disappeared.

“That’s strange. Did I throw it all away and forget? Probably. Maybe Detective Davis came and took it for evidence, or maybe a thief is somewhere close.”

Moving it all without asking was a Shane thing to do. I tried his room and found my hair brush and favorite scented lotion on his dresser, as well as my library book beside the bed.

“Where is my laptop?”

“In the window seat.” Shane picked it up to show me. “Your suitcase is in the closet. When I said you could no longer go anywhere alone, I meant it.”

He moved me for safety reasons. That made sense, considering all that happened. If Wilson Skane found me so easily, this house wouldn’t be difficult.

“Where did you come from?” I didn’t hear him on the stairs or see him in the hallway.

He smirked. “Sophie plans to leave soon. I checked her old bedroom to see how much space it has. She doesn’t know it yet, but I decided she won’t stay in the garage apartment any longer.”

My throat closed up. “Oh.” I anticipated returning to the garage apartment, but now I wasn’t so sure.

“I heard from the sheriff.”

His tone worried me. I sat on the bed in case my legs gave out. “What’s wrong?”

“Atlanta PD confirmed Wilson Skane’s ankle monitor and location inside his parents’ home.”

“It wasn’t him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

But he did. Either Wilson Skane did it, or I imagined his face, and someone else wanted to kill me? Two horrible options, and I disliked both of them.

“I’ll bet you never imagined this outcome at the Gator Tale that night. A bit of attraction, and several favors later, you’re dealing with my mess of a life.”

“I enjoy your mess, Lilah.” Shane grabbed my arm and locked me against him. I let my head rest beside his heart as my eyes sank closed. His deep rumble traveled through him and echoed against my ear. “It’s time for you to relax, so why don’t you let me carry all that fear hiding inside you?”

His powerful arms encased me as I listened to his heart’s steady thump. A tired energy thrummed through me, not from any physical activity, but from emotional exhaustion. His touch steadied and excited me.

“Shane.”

He must have heard something in the way I said his name. “Let’s go to bed.”

*****

Heaven was Shane’s bare skin against mine. I lay on my side, with my back curled into his chest. His hard cock lay between us, so I squirmed against him as contentment filled me.

“Careful, or we’ll skip right to the end. And where is the fun in that?” Shane’s hips thrust forward despite his question.

We both knew how the night ended and could afford to wait for its arrival.

Shane moved my hair back to kiss my neck, and goosebumps snaked down my arm. I twisted, seeking more of his touch, and the prickly hair on his jaw rubbed against mine. It tickled, causing me to giggle and cover my mouth from embarrassment.

“Shane?”

He hummed an acknowledgement.

“I think my mother told Wilson Skane. I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense.

Emma didn’t tell him, and she lives with her parents.

I pictured him breaking into my apartment and finding a map or another clue, but that’s silly.

The police wouldn’t tell a witness’s whereabouts to a suspect, right?

That leaves my mother. She knew I was here in Fortune’s Creek, but didn’t know where.

” His silence stretched, and I realized he had already drawn that conclusion.

I bet he figured it out while I went poking around for other explanations.

“You already guessed that? Did the deputy tell you?”

Sophie and I gave the deputy a shared report, and Shane spoke with him afterward. I figured it was because of safety concerns and didn’t bother asking.

“No, we only have confirmation that the sedan was stolen early this morning. I asked him to update us if the sheriff’s department learned more,” he said, dashing my foolish hope.

“It was her then.” Gloom settled over me, not only at my admission, but at his easy agreement.

“I spoke to her this morning, and she didn’t say a word, which means it wasn’t today.

She knew I was a witness; she knew everything.

Why is that?” I didn’t wait for a response.

“Because she didn’t care enough to tell me. ”

“Do you want to call her? I can be here with you, or I could do it.”

An image of him yelling over the phone popped into my head.

Shane would intimidate her into a confession.

“Not right now. Maybe tomorrow, or even later. Later is good. If a strange man came to her house to ask about her daughter, I want to believe she’d refuse to tell him.

I know my childhood doesn’t match that of other people, but she’s still my family.

Sarah Jane moved from job to job to ensure there was money to live on. ”

“Lilah, are you familiar with the concept of damning with faint praise?”

I ground my teeth. “I guess I’m saying that she kept boundaries between her social life and me.

She worked as a waitress, a bank teller, and held several other jobs.

You’ve never met her, not in person. Sarah Jane is…

” There’s no way to explain it until you’re in her presence.

“She charms people and easily makes friends. She also says whatever works to her advantage. That’s why she didn’t tell me.

” It’s why Shane believed she lied about my grandmother.

“You’re right, I haven’t met her, but you’ve told me about your childhood, and I spoke to her on the phone. What you’ve described isn’t charm, Lilah, it’s manipulation.” Shane nuzzled my neck with his chin’s shadow to lessen the hurt from his words.

“If that’s true, it means she manipulates me. ”

Understanding my sensitivity, Shane backed off rather than pushing forward. “Tell me about your positive childhood experiences.”

“Like what?”

“A vacation or special holiday. The exact nature matters less than the fact that they exist.”

“Sarah Jane’s bank teller job led to a promotion, and we didn’t move around after that.

” Spoken out loud, that was a rather dour childhood memory.

“That’s when I met Emma. She’s the youngest of five kids, and they’re all overachievers.

The kind that skipped a grade and won every award.

I spent so many weekends at their house.

Her mother is the one who taught Emma and me how to bake, and I’d tag along to her dancing lessons sometimes.

” That sounded pathetic, even to me. “It’s not horrible. I loved staying at their house.”

“That explains why you two are close.”

“We’re both messes in different ways.”

Shane’s features hardened, as if he wanted to argue. Instead, he flipped me over so we faced each other. “Yours is the kind I like.”

It’s the second time tonight he’s told me that. “You don’t know what that means.”

“I have some idea. For now, we’re done talking. Come here.” Shane tapped his stomach, and I obliged, helpless at the command in his voice. “There you go.”

I sat astride his hips, with my chest curved over his to gain as much skin contact as possible.

“Should we go to sleep?” I stretched my arms and faked a yawn.

“You know better than to think I’d allow it.”

“Allow?”

He crooked a finger, and I leaned forward until our noses touched. “I’ve decided you need kissing.”

How did he know?

Shane cupped my cheeks with both hands and kissed my nose. It was a light touch, soft and playful, before he pulled me down to press his lips against my own. Every one of Shane’s electric kisses created ripples that started with my lips and spread lower through my body.

His hands moved, chasing those ripples as if he could see them, down to my hips and ass. He squeezed, and I whimpered.

We kissed until my lips swelled and a red flush covered my neck and chest. Shane had the right idea because this was better than talking. Who cared about my mother, the police, or the strange man in a hoodie? None of it mattered, not with him, and not now.

Shane pulled back, leaving me bereft. I wanted more — more kisses, and more of him.

“Over you go.” He bucked his hips, pulling me off him so I lay on the bed. “Spread your legs wide for me.”

I did as told, fighting back the urge to shut my eyes. Shane sat on his knees above me and took both of my hands in one of his.

He took his prosthetic off as part of his typical bedtime routine, and tonight was no exception.

I knew his confession, with its raw honesty, was partly a tool to get his way.

It worked, as I had no defense against him.

It also made him sexier, which was no easy feat in my eyes.

Shane’s stiff body language and harsh voice told me as much as his words.

His openness with me created vulnerability, and that brought him discomfort. It also deepened my trust in him.

It meant he gave me control, in his way, and that turned me on, too.

He released me, so I took the opportunity to stroke down his left thigh until I could no longer reach, and he shuddered.

“What are you doing?” I still lay spread-eagled on the bed with him, content to observe.

“Enjoying what belongs to me.” Shane’s eyes darkened.

He bent forward, and it was my turn to shudder. His warm tongue licked up my slit, and he went to work. His tongue invaded me, drawing out every bit of pleasure before he sucked at me. If pleasure caused agony, it took the form of Shane’s mouth buried in my pussy.

I moaned as my hips bucked against him, eager to find my body’s release. My cries grew louder, and his mouth more determined, until I could no longer take it, and I shattered against his tongue.

Shane moved between my legs and thrust as my eager body took him in. He used his right leg for leverage, adjusting to bury himself deeper. I trembled and grabbed his face. The shine from my juices was still on him.

I kissed him, tasting myself, as he moved, slamming against me with an urgency that left me breathless.

We climbed together until I exploded a second time, and my ears filled with his roars.

My chest struggled for air. I lay there, sated and worn out, giving him a catlike smile and stretching.

“You look like a well-fucked woman.” He stroked my nipple with his thumb before pinching it. “I take all the credit.”

“And all the ego.”

Shane moved, resting against the headboard, and tapped his chest, letting me know he wanted me to snuggle against him. That gesture was our version of a secret handshake.

“Do you hear that?” I listened again. “It’s faint.” I struggled to identify it. “Like paws on the door.”

Shane’s face fell. “No. She isn’t coming in here. I don’t want cats on the bed.” I cleared my throat, and he glowered. “One time only, you got that? We let her in here, and she’ll own the place.”

“One time is very fair,” I lied.

“I don’t believe you even a little.” He shook his head to convey his displeasure and stood. He didn’t reach for his crutches, choosing to take a few quick hops to the door. His balance amazed me. So did his perfect ass.

“There she is,” I cooed as he opened the door, letting a black and white fluff ball enter. “My ferocious little kitty pirate.”

I patted the bed, and she jumped up. Shane joined us and watched, helpless, as she climbed onto his chest. Pirate stretched, arched her back, and lay down.

“One night,” he reminded me.

Pirate flashed her meanest one-eyed stare, hissed, and returned to sleep.