Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1)(56)

“That I’m sorry. I only meant my dad thinks the engagement is real. Regardless of what happened last night, I think we can both agree we’re not actually engaged.”

Okay, he did have a point. Even though I was positively drowning in feelings for him, the engagement was most certainly not real.

“Yeah, that’s true.” I rubbed my bare finger with my thumb. I kept the golf ball on a band that was my fake-engagement ring in a little dish on the bathroom counter at night. “I guess I can kind of see your point.”

He took another deep breath. I could practically feel his chest expand with his slow inhale. “Last night was…”

I bit my lip, waiting for him to continue. It was what? Amazing? Mind-blowing? A night that would alter the course of his life forever?

“It was hard for me,” he said. “You’re right, it was intense.”

Oh god, vulnerable Shepherd was showing himself again. That was worse than if he’d said it was the best sex he’d ever had. I wanted to grab him and cradle his head against my chest.

“Yeah, it was,” I said.

“But I’m glad I shared it with you.”

My heart did a little pirouette in my chest. “Me too.”

We lay together in silence for a moment. My toes brushed his leg and I almost gasped. I hadn’t realized I’d been stretching my foot toward him. Judging by how close his leg was, he’d been doing the same.

Reaching. Inching toward each other.

“Everly?”

“Yeah?”

He hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me toward him. I found myself on his side of the bed for the first time, crossing yet another invisible line. He was shirtless, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of my nightie.

He propped himself up to look down at me and skimmed his hand over my ribs. “I like you.”

“Okay, fine, I like you too.”

God, that smile. One corner of his mouth pulled up, puckering his dimple. The fact that he so rarely smiled made each one feel like gold.

He leaned down and brought his mouth to mine. His lips were firm, brushing across mine in a soft caress. I ran my hands across his dusting of chest hair. It felt so indulgent to touch him, here in his bed. Like I could finally have what I’d been secretly craving. Him.

His hand slid beneath my nightie and palmed my breast. The feel of him touching me like this made me want to purr like a cat. I ran my hands up his chest and around his back, feeling the hard planes of muscle. His body was positively glorious. Fit and strong, with bulges and ridges in all the right places.

The tension between my legs grew as he kissed and touched me. Why was he hesitating? Why didn’t he yank my clothes off, climb on top of me, and make it all better with that magnificent cock?

I wasn’t mad anymore, but my earlier pout-fest had left me with a lot of pent-up frustration. I wanted some of the fire from last night.

Tilting his head, he slanted his mouth over mine. He tasted so good, I wanted to bite him. I nipped at his bottom lip, and he groaned, pressing his erection against me.

That was interesting.

His tongue slid against mine and when he pulled back, I caught his lip between my teeth and held it. He growled, low in his throat. I bit harder, pulling on his lip with my teeth before letting go.

Grunting, he hooked his thumb beneath my panties and yanked them down. I kicked them off and pulled my nightie over my head while he took off his underwear and quickly got a condom.

Wasting no more time, he climbed on top of me, pressing the head of his cock against my opening. Despite the way my lady parts wanted me to beg him to fuck the hell out of me, another thought flitted through my mind.

Did Shepherd like pain?

He kissed down my neck as he slid inside. My eyes rolled back, the pressure of his thickness filling me. God, yes. He thrust in and out, his cock dragging through my wetness.

I ran my hands along his back. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he’d definitely reacted when I’d bitten his lip. I’d accidentally scratched him last night—and who could blame me? I’d been in the throes of the best sexual experience of my life. He’d said I couldn’t hurt him. But had he liked it?

He thrust again—hard—and I clutched at him, letting my fingernails dig into his back.

He growled into my neck, long and low, and his body melted against me. I did it again with his next thrust, scratching my nails down his back.

It drove him crazy.

I’d never felt a man react like this. He grunted, driving into me harder. The more I clawed at him, the more he let go. He was savage—muscles flexing, hips hammering. And I loved every bit of it.

He pulled out and turned me onto my tummy, smacking my ass as I rolled over. Giggling, I arched my back and he draped himself over me, thrusting in from behind.

His hand slid under my shoulder to my neck. With his face close to my ear, he wrapped his hand around my throat. I was pinned down, totally in his control. It was exhilarating. He grunted with every thrust, driving his cock in deep. This angle was amazing, giving me friction in all the right places.

“Don’t stop fucking me,” I said.

He growled in my ear. His grip on my throat was firm, without cutting off my air, and his cock drove into me in a steady rhythm. The heat in my core grew, the tantalizing pressure building.