The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“I can’t believe this is real. You’re here?” She lifted her head, and her eyes roamed my face, her fingertips tentatively touching my chin, my lips, my cheeks.

“I’m here,” I said gruffly.

She shook her head, her hands curling into fists and hitting me weakly in the chest. “No. No…I can’t…” she cried. “Goddamn you…”

But I couldn’t let her go. My arms slid around her slender back, then into her hair, my fingers tangling in her braids. Three years of not having her crashed over me, demanding erasure.

“Ronan…” she breathed, tilting her head up, our lips brushing. “God…”

&n

bsp; She was trembling against me, and my body was vibrating with need until I thought I’d combust. Slowly, I bent my head to her, a brief kiss…short and shallow. But that was all it took. One touch and we fell into each other. Her mouth opened for me and I invaded hard, taking back the time we’d lost, reclaiming her. My tongue tasted every corner of her mouth until she moaned and kissed me back, just as demanding and desperate. Our hands roamed and grasped, tugging at clothes to find skin. My hand slid up her thigh to her ass and the lacy nothing of a thong.

“Fuck, Shiloh…” I gritted out, mauling her, devouring her while she pushed my jacket off my shoulders, then slid her hands under my shirt.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered between kisses. “This isn’t right. I’m so mad at you…”

But she didn’t stop kissing and touching me and grasping at my clothes. When she feverishly whispered, “Backroom. Now,” I instantly obeyed.

I hefted her easily. She wrapped her legs around me, and I carried her to the backroom and pinned her against the wall. I held her with one arm while yanking down the strap of her dress, exposing one perfect tit, one perfect brown nipple—hard and waiting for my mouth. She was fuller than I remembered but just as sweet. I bent to suck and bite while she cried out, her hands clawing at my shirt.

“The desk,” she breathed.

I carried her to the small desk, swept everything off the surface and set her down. She lifted my shirt off. I could’ve fucking cried to feel her hands on me, her mouth pressing hot kisses on my chest. I gripped her hair, my mouth on her neck, while she tore at the button and zipper on my jeans.

“Condom?” she whispered, and I nodded, praying there was one left in my wallet. I found the lone packet and tore it open while Shiloh stroked my cock that was hard and leaking. We kissed—raw and biting—as my hands slid up her thighs and came back down with her thong. I tossed it aside and thrust her knees apart.

“Slow,” she warned as I bent over her, needing to be inside her like I needed air. “Go slow. It’s been three years.”

“No one? You’ve been with no one?”

“God, Ronan,” she breathed. “You have no idea…”

Then she reached between us and guided me inside her. I braced myself over her on the desk and pushed in as slow as I could, the tightness of her after not having her for so long was almost too fucking much. But her body tensed beneath me, and she hissed in pain. I froze.

“I’m hurting you.”

“Don’t stop,” she gritted out, her brows furrowed but her mouth open, sucking air in little gasps. “Don’t stop. Not now…”

I let her draw me in at her own pace until our hips were touching. My eyes fell shut. “Christ, baby…”

“Kiss me,” she said, pulling at me desperately. “Kiss me, Ronan. And fuck me…”

I kissed her and carefully, slowly, pulled out and then pushed back in. She moaned, but the pain was leaving, her body softening under me. I thrust a little harder, moved a little faster, but still holding myself back with every bit of self-control I had.

Shiloh hooked her legs around my waist, clinging to me. “Yes,” she breathed into my neck. “God yes, now. Harder…”

Relief surged along with the hot, naked lust that burned through me. I braced one hand on the desk, the other at the small of her back, holding her into my thrusts, each one driving a cry from her throat. When I didn’t think I could contain myself for another second, she tensed against me, clenched around my cock that was buried so deep in her, I never wanted to pull out. I’d just fucking live in that tight, sweet pussy because there wasn’t going to be another. If she kicked me out of her life after this—and she had every right—I’d still be hers.

Only her. Only Shiloh, for the rest of my fucking life.

She gave a little cry and then clamped her teeth on my neck—the pain like a fuse shooting down my spine and igniting my release. I came hard, my hips jerking, erratic, until she pulled me tight, as deep inside her as she could take me.

For long moments, we held still, her face buried in my neck, her fingernails gripping my shoulders while I bent over her, sweaty and gasping.

Eventually, like I knew they would, her hands went to my chest and pushed me back. I withdrew from her, disposed of the condom, and tucked myself away. She pulled her dress strap up and pushed her skirt back down.

“This is what we do,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Sex first, conversation after.” She raised her eyes to me, liquid and dark. “Goddamn you, Ronan.”