Better When He's Bad (Welcome to the Point #1)(95)

“I couldn’t do just the hoodie and nothing else. That’s just too bad for me.”

He chuckled a little and bent down to kiss me softly on the mouth. It made me sigh, and the way he worked his hands up over the edge of my ribs made me gasp out loud.

“Dovie, you’re my girl. Nothing is too bad for you.”

That made me laugh, which quickly turned into a groan, and he had the heavy material off of my shoulders and the tank top off of me in a few twisting, flexing moves. I tugged at his T-shirt until it cleared the top of his head and we were pressed together, chest to chest, our hearts beating the same excited, aroused rhythm. My ni**les pebbled up in eager anticipation and my legs tensed automatically around his waist. He dropped his head and ran his tongue along the raised ridge of my scar. He did that every time we were together like this. I wasn’t sure if it was to make sure I knew it didn’t take away from how beautiful he found me, or if he was trying to take the memory away. Either way, I always liked it and it made me rake my hands along his cap of short hair.

“I like these.” His fingers dipped inside the leg of the panties I had put on. I shivered at the gentle touch.

I kissed the star on his face and used my teeth on the lobe of his ear. “I like you.”

He laughed, something he was getting slightly better at. “Good to know.”

Then there was no more room for joking or thought, because his fingers went from outside my panties to inside, and all I could do was feel. He was just so intent, so focused, and read my body so easily. He touched me just right, had me gasping his name and shamelessly grinding between his hard body and the door in seconds. I was greedy, wet, and desperate for him. I locked my ankles over the top off his ass and let my head thunk back against the door. My eyes went half-mast, and I watched him watch me as he wound me up.

My inner walls pulled at his talented fingers, my legs quivered around him, and by the time he relented and roughly swiped his thumb over my clit, there was no holding back the flood of release he had unleashed. I leaned forward and sealed my mouth over his, told him I loved him, and tried not to slide down the door as he used his free hand to tenderly stroke and caress the tip of one breast. He always did that, got me off, tore me up, and then turned sweet and gentle until he was ready to push me past all my limits again. I didn’t even protest when he ripped the panties out of his way, even though that meant I was going home bare-assed under his hoodie.

“My fantasy. You in a hoodie and nothing else. You really are something special, Dovie. I don’t know what the point would be without you.” I didn’t know if he was talking about the place or the point of us, but I guess either fit.

I kissed along his collarbone. Worked happy hands between us so I could get his belt open and free the part of him that I needed. He was so hot and hard in my hands, so ready, always so ready for me. I stroked the length up and down, watched his eyes go even darker, and saw the pulse in his neck start to get erratic.

“You are something special too, Shane. Don’t ever forget I know that.”

He groaned when I squeezed the head and tilted my pelvis up so that just the tip of him hit my entrance. We both stilled just a little at the contact, but as always, it was perfect. He half sank in, half let me pull him in, and the next thing I knew, we were sliding, moving, thrusting, and grinding all kinds of hot and heavy against the door to his office. It wasn’t graceful or pretty. In fact, I think I lost a chunk of hair in the hinge of the door. But it was raw, it was spontaneous, and he always made it feel special.

He groaned my name into the bend of my neck when he came, dug his fingers into my hips, and I clamped down on him and tossed my head from side to side as the second wave of pleasure overtook me. When it was over we sort of folded in on each other, and I ended up straddling him on the floor while he collapsed on his back still buried inside of me. He sighed and ran his hands over the still-trembling skin of my thighs. I put both hands on his chest and leaned down so our faces were almost touching, my hair a fiery curtain around us.

“I love you, Shane Baxter.”

“I love you, Dovie Pryce.”

He didn’t say it often, so when he did, it always mattered a little more.

“And I love it when you call me Shane right before I get you off . . . every single time.”

That made me laugh, which made me lean down and kiss him some more, which led to him getting hard again, which led to some more uncomfortable garage sex, this time on the floor of the office.

There were two parts to all of us, things that made us who we were, showed where we came from. I liked to think my parts were equally divided between good and bad, where Bax’s were bad mixed with a little more bad. But somewhere inside him Shane lurked, and Shane had just enough good to make me think we had forever. Or at least as long as a place like the Point was going to give us, and at the end of the day, I was happy with that, as long as it had me and him together.

Better When He’s Bold . . . Race’s story coming soon . . .