Page 24 of Shelter for Shay
He didn’t offer platitudes or force her to say anything more.
He just held her like the world had cracked open and he was the only thing keeping her from falling through.
His hand ran slowly up and down her back. She breathed him in—warm skin, salt, clean cotton, and something that smelled like cedar and strength. Her fingers fisted in the blanket near his hip and she continued to cry. She let herself purge all the sorrow that she’d held so close to her heart for so long.
His lips brushed against her temple, soft and sweet. Slow and deliberate.
When the worst of the storm passed—when the sobs faded into shuddering breaths—she lifted her head just enough to look at him.
He held her gaze as his finger traced a path across her cheek.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “I don’t know how to exist in a world without her.”
“You don’t have to know,” he said. “You just take the next breath. And then the one after that.”
She touched his jaw, snuggling in closer, needing to feel his body, hard against hers. “I didn’t expect you to matter this much. I mean, I know you matter to her, but I couldn’t have made it to this part without you.”
“You would have because you had to.” His brow furrowed, voice rough. “But I understand. I didn’t expect to feel so much. Not like this. Not about you.”
She kissed him. It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t about escape and that confused her. But what terrified her was that he kissed her back. It was soft. Slow. The kind of kiss that told her he wasn’t going anywhere.
Her hands slid up over his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscles.
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 ofsensation 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.
