Page 12 of Shelter for Shay (Broken Heroes Mended Souls #2)
When she shifted, pressing closer, he didn’t stop her, but he stilled. He cupped her face like she was something breakable. She moved over him like she was something whole. She straddled him. Her hands on his chest. Her breath coming in choppy pants. “Please. I need you. Use me,” she whispered.
“I don’t use women,” he said, gripping her hips. “Especially ones who are hurting.”
“Then let me use you.” The sense of urgency coming from her mouth shocked her, but she didn’t want him because her mother had just died, though that was part of it.
She wanted him. She had from the second she’d laid eyes on him—or maybe before, as odd as that seemed.
“I need to feel something. Can you understand?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “But I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret when the fog lifts.”
“And if the timing was different?” She sucked on her lower lip.
“But it’s not,” he whispered.
“Please don’t make me beg. I’m not asking for anything but right now.” She leaned over and kissed the center of his chest. “Or are you just not attracted to me?”
“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.
” He leaned up and brushed his lips over her mouth.
“Inside and out.” He looked at her, the intensity of his gaze making her stomach flutter.
“Honestly, if we’d met under different circumstances, I wouldn’t consider turning you away. But I’m not the man you think I am.”
“I know exactly who you are,” she said. “I see you. It’s you who still struggles to see the person staring back in the mirror.” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No. It’s fine.” He ran his fingers up her spine. “Look at me.”
She blinked.
“You’re not entirely wrong in that statement,” he said. “There are things from my past that I’m realizing I haven’t truly dealt with. That all I’ve done is brush them under the rug and walk away.”
“I know that about you. I can see it in your eyes. I’m not afraid of whatever that is. I’m only afraid of not knowing what this is.”
His grip tightened. “You’re unexpected.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. He ran his hands gently up her sides, brushing away the light fabric of her shirt to press against the bare skin underneath. Goosebumps flushed over her body at his touch as she leaned down to meet his lips once again.
The kiss was different this time. Fervent and filled with emotion. She felt him grow hard beneath her, sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers gripped his skin, every wave of sensation amplified by their shared grief and the rawness of their connection.
She kissed a trail down his neck, then over his sculpted chest, lingering whenever she heard him draw in a sharp breath.
His hands roamed over her back and lower, the curves of her body imprinted on his palms. She could feel him trembling beneath her touch.
There was a mutual understanding that this wasn't about sex or lust—it was about connection, needing to feel something real. Something beyond themselves. Something outside of all the pain and sadness they’d been experiencing.
It was desire, it was comfort, it was their hearts reaching out in the darkness for something solid. It was their bodies attempting to soften the harsh reality outside of this cocoon. In that instant, they shared more than their souls.
She reached down between them, palm pressing against him through the thin layer of his boxers. He gasped, staring up into her eyes as if asking permission. She gave away her 'yes' in the form of a nod and an encouraging whisper, "Please."
Their clothes fell away with a sense of finality.
She looked at him fully, drinking in every scar, freckle, and dip of his toned muscles.
Her fingers traced his chest lightly, finding aberrant patches of worn-out skin that bore the remnants of battles he’d known before.
But she loved each one of them—the ones that still hurt when pressed against too hard, the ones that had faded away to mere memories. It made him real.
"You're beautiful," she murmured against him.
He smiled, heavy lids half-closed as his hand moved down her body with clear intention filled with yearning. His touch on her softness made her arch her back and sigh, an electric charge passed between them like a secret message.
She seamlessly guided him inside her—two bodies merging like pieces of a puzzle fitting together perfectly. In those few moments, he became more than just a man who had helped her mother in her final stages of life—he became a part of her she hadn’t known existed but had found anyway.
Their rhythm was slow yet insistent. Every thrust stirred up emotions they had both suppressed deep within themselves for so long that it felt strange to let them loose.
He held her close as she rocked against him, their bodies slick with sweat, breaths ragged and hitching from the effort.
Her fingers pressed into his shoulders, leaving echoes of her touch that her lips followed.
“Shay…” he moaned, tipping his head back as she kissed along his collarbone.
“I’m here,” she whispered back. She could feel their shared tension rising, feel the way they were spiraling toward something beautiful and terrifying rolled into one—the powerful force of a climax, the rawness of their shared emotion.
Finally, when she saw his eyes flutter shut and felt him lose control, she gave in too—riding out waves of pleasure that fogged up her mind and made her body shiver uncontrollably.
When it was over, he held her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead while she curled against him. They basked in the afterglow, their bodies tangled together on the bed.
"I'm glad it was you," she said eventually. "I'm glad it was you I got to share this with."
He simply held her tighter in response, pressing gentle kisses against her temple as the night gave way to morning. It had started with incredible loss and heartbreak, and it ended on a surprisingly intimate note. They were bound together by grief and unexpected passion.
“No regrets,” he whispered.
“Not a single one,” she said.