When he had it, he opened his eyes and looked down at her.
Her eyes were unfocused, hazy. She was pressed up against him, still holding him, hand in his hair.
He’d made the world melt away for her too.
That burn came back but it was different, and the change was f**king brilliant.
“You’re gettin’ your head together here,” he demanded.
“Okay,” she agreed on another breath.
Fuck, she was cute. Hot and cute.
It was time to talk to Rosalie.
“What are you doin’?” he asked.
“Not leaving,” she answered.
Good. It was penetrating.
“Then what’re you doin’?” Shy pushed.
“Getting my head together,” she answered.
“How long’s that gonna take?”
“Two hours.”
He felt his lips twitch.
Finally.
Fucking finally.
“You got two hours, sugar, then you come to me,” Shy demanded. “My apartment. I’ll text you the address.”
Her beautiful blue eyes held his and she whispered, “Okay.”
“Two hours, Tabby.”
“Two hours, Shy.”
Yes.
There it was.
Fucking finally.
“Good, baby, now kiss me.”
Her eyes flashed in a way he also felt in his dick, then she rolled up to her toes, put her pretty, rosy mouth to his, and gave him what he’d been craving for four years.
That sweet, pink tongue of hers slid out, glided between his lips and touched the tip of his.
His tongue pushed it back into her mouth and he took over the kiss. It was a repeat of the first but longer, wetter, deeper, not better but a whole lot f**king hotter.
He broke his mouth from hers and ordered, “Two hours, babe.”
She panted against his mouth and nodded.
He let her go. She teetered. He prowled to the door, pulled it open, turned back to her and lifted a hand with his middle and index fingers extended to the ceiling.
Her cheeks were pink, her mouth swollen, her eyes dreamy, and it was a f**king good look.
She powered through the haze and nodded.
Shy grinned, turned, closed the door behind him, and he kept grinning as he jogged to his bike.
Chapter Eight
Gone for You
I stood outside Shy’s door trying not to hyperventilate and also trying to get my head together.
Two hours wasn’t enough time.
I knew one thing. My pit of denial could be denied no longer. Not after a month without Shy. Not after that kiss.
That kiss.
That fabulous, unbelievable, amazing kiss.
That wasn’t what I had to sort out in my head.
At least I’d been able to deal with the agency that was sending me to Cape Cod. I’d called and told them I had a family emergency that might mean I’d have to back out, which was a total lie, but after that kiss…
That kiss!
After that kiss I knew one thing for certain, I couldn’t take off and be that far away from Shy for six months or even for another day. I’d had a month without him in my life and I felt even more lost than I felt when Jason died.
I knew why this was. Unlike with Jason, I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it and even I was denying to myself why our separation affected me so deeply. Both of these made it more difficult, so difficult I couldn’t deal without escape. Therefore, Cape Cod it was.
So after that kiss, no way I could be most of a continent away from him and stuck on a freaking island for six months.
But we still had things to sort out. Like Rosalie.
One thing I had managed to do in those two short hours was phone Big Petey. I tried to pull the wool, dance around the subject, but I was thinking that he saw through it when I tried to ascertain without coming right out and asking if Shy was still seeing Rosalie.
Pete gave me the bad news sounding like he was giving me bad news, this why I thought I didn’t pull the wool. The bad news, Pete told me, was Rosalie got dropped off at the Compound three days ago and they’d gone off together on Shy’s bike.
Before we moved on from that kiss, I had to know what was going on with Rosalie.
And last but oh so not least, we needed to have a discussion about him losing his mind when he got annoyed at me.
I’d had a lifetime of watching biker babes and the way they got on with their badass bikers. I knew this was a minefield, and I knew that Shy was not the only badass biker who went gonzo like he did that night we discussed why I’d disappeared for two weeks and like he had again two hours ago when he confronted me about leaving.
As far as I could tell, there were three options for going the distance with a biker and after that kiss that was what was on my mind.
Going the distance with a biker. With Shy.
The options were, one, give up and let them roll right over you.
I didn’t think that was me, or I hoped it wasn’t.
The next was become a biker bitch, like my mom had become. Mom was just a bitch, so it was bound to happen that she’d let her bitch light shine through. But sometimes when the boys were the boys, bossy biker badasses, instead of setting the boundaries right off, I’d seen women go over the top with attitude, butting up against their man all the time and not talking to him so they did nothing but fight. Loudly. Publicly. Nastily.
I didn’t want that either.
Not at all.
The last option was the way Tyra was with Dad. I didn’t know how she balanced it, but they were who they were and somehow that clicked. She didn’t let him roll all over her even though he had a dominant personality, the kind that pushed out all other personalities unless you were able to hold your own against him. Still, Tyra had to find that middle ground where she gave Dad what he needed to be, well… Dad. A little over, he’d butt heads with you and the results wouldn’t be pretty. A little under, he’d take advantage and then lose interest, especially in women, because as much as Dad was about control, he didn’t want to control his woman. He liked a challenge. Just not too much of a challenge.
They worked.
Spectacularly.
That said, sometimes things got intense, the balancing act went out the window, it was anything goes, and Tyra didn’t take a lot of shit from him.
I’d never forget that night years ago when she came to my rescue after my ex-too-old-for-me boyfriend hit me and then my ex nearly busted Tyra’s head in with a baseball bat. Dad had lost it on her, that she’d put herself in that situation, and I still remember hearing them fighting.
At the time, I was devastated, them fighting over me like that. After it all was good again, I admired her for yelling right back and not taking his crap.