Page 88 of Shark’s Pride

“I know, I know. To a guy like you, I sound like a big fucking pussy.” He shook his head in embarrassment while looking down at the floor. “I mean, you’re Sebastian Shark. A legend, just about. And I’m standing here talking about a woman who literally dumped my ass, and I sound like I’m still hopelessly carrying a torch for her.”

I pulled in a long breath. As I let it out, I laughed. Long and hard. At this whole conversation. But most of all, at myself. I hoped Jake saw that, because I didn’t want to stop. It felt too damn good.

At last, I stopped long enough to spurt, yet again, “Dude.”

Jacob narrowed his stare. “Uhhh…huh?”

“I get it.” I clapped a hand atop his shoulder. “I really get it, okay?”

“Uhhh,” he stammered again. “Okay…”

“Actually, just very recently, I’ve had the unreal experience of feeling emotion at the same magnitude.”

He popped his gaze. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I laughed again. Not so loudly but just as deeply. “It’s actually taken me this long to find it, but maybe the wait was worth it.” After jostling him for a long second, I raised my hand and raked it through my hair. “I just know one more thing,” I admitted. “It’s scaring the living shit out of me.”

Jake broke out in a grin. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Shit.” I raked my other hand through my hair. “I’m not sure I’m man enough for all this—for her—either.”

“Yep, that sounds about right, too.”

“Not helping, Cole.” I side-eyed him.

“Sorry, man,” he offered, still smirking.

“It’s good. Let’s get back to work before we’re hugging it out or jaunting off to paint pottery together. I can’t lose all my street cred in one fucking appointment.” I motioned toward the work awaiting our attention.

“This all stays right here. You have my word.” There was pure honesty in the guy’s gaze. I felt nothing but trust in my blood at his declaration.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, my young friend.” I smacked him on the back, probably a bit harder than I needed to, judging by the way he lurched forward, and I couldn’t help but chuckle when he gave me a sideways glare. We both turned back to the blueprints on the table and got back to business.

Chapter Eleven

Abbigail

His large hands easily kept me still on the bedroom floor, even though I bucked and wriggled beneath him.

“Sebastian. God, please. You have to…you have to…”

“Oh, baby.” His croon was low and sensual—and exasperating. “You know I love it when you beg so sweetly.”

“But…but you’re not listening!”

“Of course I am.”

I begged to differ—and actually was—but again, back to the maddening-man-not-listening factor. He’d been feasting on my pussy for what seemed like an hour. A woman’s dream come true, right? Not when said attention had spiraled me well past my third orgasm and the room had started spinning around me.

“Bas, please,” I panted. “Stop. You have to stop!” I wanted to thread my fingers into his thick, dark hair, intending to pull his wicked tongue, lips, and teeth away from my protesting clit. I wanted it so badly, but damn it, he’d ordered me to keep my hands flat on the floor beside me—and clearly my acquiescence was the man’s aphrodisiac. In a huge way. Never had he eaten me out with such unbridled fervor—and unequaled talent.

“You don’t really mean that, Abbigail.”

Nor had he ever purred at me with such unmatched sensuality.

I couldn’t even launch a logical argument. Because he was right. With every exquisite word. He brought me so much pleasure, I never wanted it to end. Any of it. Not just the panty-incinerating sex or his caring, considerate love. By now, I was even smitten by his demanding, overprotective, all-consuming nurturing.

I wanted all of it.