Page 9 of Accidental Wedding
Chapter 10- April
What Shane just told me is a lot to take in. After telling me his story, he’s seemingly retreated to somewhere inside his own head, only giving me instructions on what to do next. His phone says that it’s only mid-afternoon, but this day has lasted forever. Shane drives until he finds a motel that is far trashier than our previous accommodations. He sends me in to pay for a room while he waits in the car. It should feel like he’s abandoning me or sending me in first in case it’s dangerous and he needs to run. I know that’s not what he’s doing, though. Any threat that shows up would have to go through him first before it has the chance to come anywhere near to me.
As I pay for our room with some of the cash winnings in my purse, I realize that I fit in pretty well with the motel stereotype. Paying in cash, married to a stranger, stolen car, and oh yeah—no bra or panties under this dress. Yeah, real classy. The woman at the front desk doesn’t seem to care. This is Vegas, after all.
When I get back to the car with our room key, Shane is leaning against the hood, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Just called my CO again,” he tells me. “I told him where we are, he’ll send someone local to pick us up in the morning.”
“Thank you, but that’s okay, I can get a flight out, it’s no troub—”
Shane grabs me by the shoulders, cutting off my protest. “No. You’re coming with me, that way, I’ll know that you’re safe.” The look in his eyes is so sincere, so intense, that all I can do is nod in agreement and follow him in the dingy motel room. As soon as we’re inside, Shane moves to look out the far window and I fall backwards onto the bed, keeping my eyes on him the whole time.
I’ve come to discover that he is a truly amazing man. Out of all the men I could’ve drunk-married, I picked a good one. I’m so caught up in watching him that I don’t even realize he’s said my name until he steps up next to the bed and stares down at me. Spread across the bed as I am, I feel so exposed to his gaze. I can’t help but feel the warmth of flattery as he looks at me like he did in the hotel room.
His eyes seem to caress me, traveling all the way up my legs to where the hem of my dress lies high across my thighs. A sheen of sweat has broken across my skin—a combination of the hot desert air and Shane’s gaze making me sticky. As I feel moisture pool between my thighs, I shift self consciously on the bed, waiting for Shane to say something. But he remains silent, simply cocking his head to the side and stepping closer to the edge of the bed.
He bends down slightly and captures my foot in a large hand, deftly undoing the straps of my sandal. He sets my foot down on the bed so that my heel is resting on the mattress, knee bent. When he carefully does the same with the other foot, the thin cotton of my dress creeping so high up my thighs that I’m sure it no longer covers anything.
Shane lightly strokes his fingers up and down my lower legs, slowly applying more pressure until it’s a light massage. I relax into the pressure, pliant under his touch. “You were so brave today,” he says, voice deep and soothing. “You did everything I told you to do.”
“I trust you,” I whisper to him. The “you’re my husband” is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say it.
“How much do you trust me?” Shane asks. He shifts slightly and is now kneeling on the bed between my spread knees. His hands glide up to my knees, then down my thighs. Even though he hasn’t broken eye contact with me, he could at any moment. One look, and he’ll know just how affected I am by him. The thought of that doesn’t make me nervous… in fact, I think I want him to know how he affects me.
As though he knows what I’m silently asking, Shane’s gaze darkens. “Pull your dress up,” he tells me in that same commanding tone that he’d used earlier this morning when he told me to get dressed.
With shaking hands, I hook my fingers under the hem and pull it up to rest at my rip cage. The shift of air against my exposed sex makes me shiver. Shane sees. He works his way closer on the bed until one strong thigh is pressed against my core and I can feel his erection pressed against my hip. His face is hovering over mine as he bends down and brushes his nose against my cheek, a faint question in his eyes. I give him a slight nod.
Shane practically pounces as he bends to kiss me, mouth fierce against mine. His hands are everywhere all at once: Cupping my face, shoving my dress higher up my chest, stroking my breasts. In return, I clutch at the strong muscles of his arms and grind myself against his thigh.
I move to help him take his shirt off when he stops me.