A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(21)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Not me.” She stuck her finger in the hole a second time, sorry she’d started this conversation. “I haven’t dated at all since I left Danny.” In and out went her finger.

Boston grabbed her hand. “Stop that.” His voice was tight.

Startled, Shelby glanced at him, immediately taking in the tent his shorts were making. Oh, Lord, she’d gone and turned him on. Now what was she supposed to do? She knew from experience he didn’t give up a stiffy easily.

“So you’re saying that you haven’t slept with any man since Danny and you’re nervous.”

No, but that sounded good. “Exactly.”

The seconds ticked by and Boston didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, his jaw locked and his eyes narrowed. He was close enough that she could smell the shampoo from his shower, see the muscles in his arms flex. She was about to bolt off the bed or scream when he finally spoke.

“Do you know who Tigger is?”

Now it was her turn to stare. That just confirmed that city folks were missing some marbles. Too much pollution and radioactive wires hanging over their heads. “What?”

He repeated the question, but it didn’t make any more sense the second time than it had the first. “You mean the bouncing tiger from Winnie the Pooh?”

“Yes.” He leaned toward her. “I thought so.”

Shelby scooted back. “What are you talking about?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He put his hand on her chin and moved in so close she about went cross-eyed trying to watch him. “And it doesn’t matter if you’re feeling nervous or inexperienced. All I want is a little kiss, Shelby. Just one. And no one is going to interrupt me this time.”

Chapter Seven

Boston saw Shelby Tucker’s coffee-colored eyes go round right before he closed his own and kissed her.

A deep, reaching, full-mouth kiss that left any thoughts of holding back eradicated.

She tasted sweet and warm, with moist plump lips that gave just the right amount of pressure back. Not too hard and not too soft, but just right, and he leaned in closer, wanting more, wanting to keep her there. Her thick hair brushed across his forehead, and her fluttering fingers teased over his bare chest, shifting his curious desire to edgy lust.

Shelby’s breathing was heavy, her lips open, and Boston never hesitated. He went in with his tongue, one hand creeping down her back to drift over the top of her firm ass, realizing the upside of Shelby dressing in sloppy clothes. The shorts she had on were loose enough that he had a clear path down them, should he choose to pursue it.

She raked her nails down his chest, settling in right at his navel, so close to his fly his c**k twitched. He choose to take the path down her pants, cupping that smooth behind while kissing her with a reckless and unskilled abandon that would have appalled him had he been thinking clearly.

He wasn’t. He was just touching and feeling and sliding into a haze of sweet desire, Shelby’s tongue making a tentative taste of his bottom lip, her nails digging into his flesh right above his waistband.

A little shift and he was lowering her to the bed with the hand that wasn’t down her pants. His mouth fell off hers. Taking in her flushed cheeks, sun-kissed hair starting to spill out of her lopsided ponytail, and shiny wet lips, Boston bent over to kiss her again.

He wanted to make love to her, right here on this four-poster bed, to fit himself inside her and watch her come apart under him at his gentle strokes.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, the full cherry flesh smooth, Boston worked on shifting her bulky T-shirt up over her ribs so he could duck under.

“Boston,” she said, her breath tickling him.

“What?” he asked, distracted, her shirt resisting his tugging. It gave, and he slipped a hand over her breast, cupping the warm fullness and brushing over her nipple.

“Never mind.”

He kissed her chin, he kissed her neck, he spent some serious time and attention on that sexy little dip under her collarbone, while his fingers explored and pursued and teased. Shelby’s fingers fell off him to lie still at her sides. Her head arched and she gave a series of very arousing moans that stroked both his ego and his cock.

“Boston?”

“Yes?” He found his way under the stretchy fabric of her bra.

“Forget it.”

Okay. He pulled down the neck of her shirt until his tongue and his finger met at the swell of her breast. He sucked.

“I . . .”

“What, Shelby?” Boston flipped the bra down so it exposed her whole breast and one firm, rosy nipple.

He leaned back to give himself a better view. Damn. She was just hot. Totally different from all those fashionable women he had dated, whose moves in the bedroom were orchestrated and designed to show their bodies off to their best advantage. They had been successful at satisfying him, that was true. And in fact, he had always gotten the feeling that being successful in the bedroom was just as important to them as success in the boardroom.

It was easy for him to understand. He’d been doing the same, always aware of how he was presenting himself to a lover, concerned with ensuring her pleasure. The satisfaction when he knew he’d been successful and she’d had an orgasm. Success-driven sex.

But in all of those encounters, there was that element of real missing.

With Shelby, everything was real, unplanned, just reaching out and doing what felt good, and he didn’t think he could predict one second to the next. Didn’t want to. Didn’t want to think or plan or strategize, just touch and taste and revel in her.

He covered her nipple with his mouth.

“Nothing,” Shelby said, the word falling out on a gasp. “Forget I said anything. Just stick a sock in my mouth so I shut up.”

Boston could think of something better than a sock to put in her mouth.

But he was starting to get the feeling something was wrong. He gave one last greedy pull on her nipple before releasing it with a sigh. Reluctantly, he withdrew from her shorts.

“Is something wrong?” It was too much to hope for that there wasn’t, given the look on her face.

Instead of aroused, she looked worried.

“No, not really.”

How reassuring. “If you’re not enjoying this, just tell me to stop.”

She swallowed. “But I am. Enjoying it.”

It was something. Boston perched awkwardly, one foot on the floor, his other on the bed, knee pressed into a spring. It was an uncomfortable way to be coaxing Shelby into confessing what was wrong.

He stood up. Shelby looked a little bit disappointed. But only a little.