As soon as the words leave his mouth, he stops touching me. I make an irritated sound, but it sticks in my throat when Shane begins yanking my jeans down my legs. My eyes flutter shut, and I imagine what he’s seeing. Me, bent over, naked except for boy shorts and boots. Hurriedly, I toe off the latter and step out of my jeans, seconds from swallowing my pride and begging for him to touch me again, when he whirls me around and pushes me backward onto the fridge. Now that I can see him, see his heavy-lidded eyes and the determined set of his chin, I feel a flash of nerves. Automatically, I try and close my legs, but he steps between them. Both of his hands coast up the insides of my thighs, and all the while he’s watching my face. When his thumbs meet at my center and begin a slow massage through the cotton, my head falls back on my shoulders and I cry out.

“I’d like you to admit something to me, now.” He uses his knuckle to nudge aside the material of my underwear and slip beneath. When it stops just short of where I need it, I hold my breath. “When I touched you behind the bar in front of that fucker. You liked it. You liked having the decision taken out of your hands.”

“There was no decision.” My voice is hoarse. “I told you he’s just a friend.”

“Answer me, anyway.”

I squeeze my eyes closed. “Yes, I liked it.”

Shane sinks his knuckle inside me and twists it. I almost climax, barely managing to suppress a scream. He leans down and kisses my belly as he slips my panties down my legs. Has he changed his mind? Are we going to have sex?

“I’m going to use my mouth on you, Willa. Would you like that?”

His words catch me off guard, but I want to shout yes. Relief at this point could come in any form and I’d be grateful. Then I notice Shane’s labored breathing, the thick ridge of his arousal encased by his pants. The hands drawing my underwear down my thighs are shaking. “What about you?”

He pauses for a split second, eyes seeking mine. I suspect he’s reacting over the way I posed the question. The quiet, sincere concern in my voice. I’m reacting to it, too, on the inside. It sounded too much like I care about…him. Do I care? Shane breaks the spell first, hooking his hands beneath my knees and throwing them over his wide shoulders.

“This is for me.”

I’m unable to think about anything except his mouth as it moves over my flesh hungrily. Oh sweet Jesus. While I’m not experienced by any stretch of the imagination, I know without a doubt that Shane knows what the fuck he’s doing. He has me near the edge within seconds, his tongue and lips nipping, licking, and soothing in all the right places, pulling back when I get too close, then driving me back toward the peak. My fingers have somehow found their way into his hair and wound the thick strands tight in my fists.

“Shane…dammit, Shane, please.”

As if granting me a wish, he pushes two fingers deep, rotating them without stopping the tight, quick strokes of his tongue. Finally, he lets me get past the beginning stages of my orgasm. He can’t stop at this point, or I’ll sock him in the jaw. I know he’s reading my mind when he makes an encouraging sound and it vibrates through me.

“Oh God. Shit, shit.”

I feel like I’m being turned inside out, my back arching in a way that suggests I missed my calling as a gymnast. Shane’s fingers are pressed hard inside me, applying just enough pressure to prolong the feeling sweeping through me. He doesn’t stop until I’ve sagged back onto the fridge, my legs still draped boneless over his shoulders. I should pull myself together, cover myself up, but the urgency is lost on me compared to what I just experienced. When I finally get the strength to pick up my head and look at him, he’s staring at me, an unreadable look in his eye.

“Fuck. I can’t wait to be inside you, girl.”

Just like that, my heart is beginning to pound again. The so recently satisfied parts of my body grow heavy under his appreciative gaze. I want Shane. I want to blow his fucking mind, just like he’s blown mine tonight. Slowly, I let my legs drop from his shoulders and sit up. Without a thought, my hand go to his belt buckle, tracing it with a single finger. “What are you waiting for?”

He swoops down with a curse, mouth covering mine, our kiss beginning at one hundred miles an hour. While I yank the leather of his belt through the loops, his mouth devours mine, his fingers pinching my hardening nipples. Oh God, I’ve never been this desperate. I need to feel him inside me. At this moment, it feels like a necessity.

“Shane?”

We both freeze at the sound of Faith’s singsong voice. I rack my muddled brain, trying to remember if Shane locked the stock-room door when we walked in. Oh boy, I don’t think so. I open my mouth to whisper the question, but he closes a hand over my mouth and shakes his head. When I see a touch of horror on his face, mixed with pain, I can’t help laughing into his palm. His eyes widen a little bit, probably at me having the audacity to laugh when he has a king-size boner in his pants, but something shifts in his expression. And he laughs, too.

Something exhilarating and terrifying moves in the air between us, but I don’t have time to wonder what it could be, because Faith speaks again. “Right. Well, Ma saw you two come back here. I can only assume you’ve finally shagged each other rotten.”

Shane abruptly stops laughing.

“Another group has come in, and we need you back behind the bar, Shane, if you don’t mind zipping it up for a spell.”

The sound of rusty hinges reaches the stock room, telling us Faith has gone back out into the pub. For a long moment, Shane only stares at me. “Did she just say—”

“Yup.”

He pushes a hand through his hair, leaving the side standing on end. “Jesus, living with family is going to be the death of me.”

“Not racing cars?”

I don’t know why I say it. Scratch that, I know exactly why. We just shared something, and I need to put things back on even footing. I’m leaving Dublin, and he’s going back to racing. We are a diversion. I needed to remind myself of that fact out loud.

Laughing without cause, I jump off the fridge and begin replacing my clothes as quickly as possible. I assume Shane has left the room and I’m trying to ignore the twisting in my chest when I feel his fingers lift my chin.

He studies my face. “Maybe you’ll be the death of me.”

Shane doesn’t wait for my response, but drops his hand to his side and walks out. I don’t move for a long time.