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I’ll give her a few more minutes.

Movement outside my bedroom door snaps my head to the left. Warmth fills me. That’s my girl.

Shelby couldn’t enter the room more slowly, even if she tried. I have to roll my lips to stop myself from smiling.

When she turns to close the door, all humor vanishes, and my cock swells.

The white dress shirt, my shirt, that I left on the spare bed for her, hangs open, falling to mid-thigh.

Her movements are self-conscious, a shy blush blooming on her face. My eyes trace it as it spreads down her slim neck, hidden behind the cotton now clutched in her hands.

“Good girl.”

My words have an immediate effect. Her back straightens, and the death grip she has on the shirt loosens.

I pull back the covers.

Shelby stills beside me, next to the bed.

“I told you what I want.” My voice is husky with arousal.

Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips, ripping a groan from my chest. The desperate sound spurs my girl on.

The sides of the dress shirt fall apart, teasing me with what lies beneath. My roaming eyes go unnoticed as Shelby stares at my growing arousal. Straining and large, I ache for her.

“Come here, baby,” I urge her.

Taking my outstretched hand, Shelby climbs onto the bed, both of her knees balancing on the edge.

“Here,” I insist, tugging her closer.

Her throat bobs when she throws her leg over my hips to straddle me. Unable to wait any longer for the feel of her, I press her hips to mine. My large hands squeeze her waist.

I need to calm down. I’m not even inside her, and I’m ready to come. We may have had sex a dozen or so times in the past, but this may as well be the first time for her.

The first time she came to me.

The first time she’ll take charge.

The first time she’ll remember.

The shirt bunches under my palm. Fisting it, I pull the two sides apart, revealing her secrets beneath.

The wet heat against my cock intensifies.

Shelby might be shy, but she wants this as much as I do. She always does.

“Fuck me,” I groan.

“I . . . I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.

“You belong in this house, in this family, in this bed.”

Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. Excitement and fear pour out of her so thick that I can almost taste it.

Placing my palm between her breasts, I whisper, “I belong to you, just as you belong to me. No more pretending, no more hiding.”

My hand slides down the front of her body, the muscles of her tummy quiver beneath her skin. Both hands grip her hips, and I roughly pull her, rubbing her against where I want her the most.