A low moan from one of the passed-out people behind us breaks the moment. Someone must be waking up. I hear movement, bodies rolling, furniture being pushed around.
Shadow pulls his lips from mine, holds my face in his hands for a second before releasing me. His breathing is ragged, his eyes wild. I am breathless, unsteady—and, worse, disappointed. My knees feel weak and my legs are wobbly. I’m still drunk, yes, but not on whiskey. On him. I’m like a thirsty woman who finally took a sip of water. And now, I want to finish the whole bottle.
I’ve never, ever been kissed like that by anybody before. The kiss that made the storm outside look like a light summer mist.
I must be standing there looking as shocked as I feel because Shadow wordlessly grabs both of our mugs by the handle in one hand and takes my hand in the other. He gets up off his stool and drags me past people in various stages of waking up.
One guy groans and runs for a trash bin before puking loudly into it. A few women stumble around, fumbling for their tops or shoes.
But no one else matters. Shadow moves with the determination of a soldier, marching me in the opposite direction of the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He doesn’t reply, just releases my hand and ticks his head for me to follow.
I suppose now would be the time when a rational woman would excuse herself. Go back to Shadow’s bedroom, lock that dead bolt, and keep him and all these other people as far away as possible.
Yesterday, I would have called myself a rational woman.
Today, I’m not sure. I’ve done whiskey shots with him. Searched his closets. Tasted his lips.
I have a split second of indecision before I take the uncharted path and follow him wherever it is he plans to lead me.
When he reaches a locked door, he pulls a set of keys from the back pocket of his jeans and unlocks it. He waves me through and locks the door behind us.
The lights are off, so I assume either the generator isn’t connected here or he’s chosen to save the power. As my eyes adjust to the dim daylight, I’m stunned by what I see.
“Reinforced metal doors, no windows,” he explains. “Safest room in the compound.”
Shadow sets our coffee mugs down on a stainless-steel table that looks like something out of a professional kitchen. He takes my hand and walks me past row after row of gorgeous cars and motorcycles. These are not just everyday bikes and trucks like the ones outside in the lot where he left my car. These are vintage, rare, and collectible. Valuable vehicles treasured by those who own them. Antique, restored works of beauty.
We walk past a pristine black GTO that is as glossy and perfect as it must have been the day it rolled off the assembly line in the early seventies. I hover my free hand over the gleaming paint without touching it and hum appreciatively.
“This is gorgeous,” I tell him. I’m not even much of a car person, but wow. It’s hard not to be impressed by something this beautiful.
“I’m not looking at the car right now,” he tells me.
Even in the low light, I can see exactly where his eyes are. He’s devouring me, his lips parted, his gaze moving from my chest to my lips until, finally, our eyes meet.
It’s like an instinct now, the way I just throw myself at him. My mouth crashes against his, and we’re kissing again, his mouth open, his tongue doing scandalous things to mine, while his hands grip my bottom.
Suddenly, he picks me up and sets me on the hood of the GTO.
“I’m too heavy,” I say nervously, not wanting to dent the hood. Echoes of angry voices—my ex’s voice—cause me to draw my shoulders down and sink deep into myself.
I don’t want to think about him right now. Don’t want to hear his rage in my ears, his cruelty, his judgment. Even though it’s been six months since I ended things, I just can’t help it. It’s like he left a trace of himself in my ears, the small, angry voice relentless in its criticism of everything I do.
“Sweetheart, this shit is old-school. It can handle a man my size. You’re fine.” Shadow practically growls the word at me, planting two huge palms on either side of my legs. He pats a beat against the metal hood, as if to prove the frame can hold my weight. He tips my chin toward him and claims my lips in a hungry kiss. “Unless you tell me to stop, I’m gonna make you come until you can’t see straight. I know this car can take it. But the real question is…can you?”
My shoulders release, and my body nearly falls back against the hood. Make me come?
“Shadow, I…”
He leans across the bumper and grips my face in his hands. “Yes or no, sweetheart.”
I don’t break his intense stare, but my mind is whirling a million miles a second. “What about the others? Can’t anyone just…”
“This place is off-limits to almost everybody. I’m the VP of this club, and I locked the door. Ain’t nobody gonna try to come in here.” He pulls me closer to him and whispers against my ear. “This beauty is mine, and I have condoms in the glove box.” He points to the door. “You’re free to go back to my room and read if you’d rather, Violet James.”
