Turn Up the Heat (16 page)

He gave her a dark look and a smile so slow and provocative, she had to suck in a breath. “Mmm.” His fingers delved between her legs to her inner thigh, stroking the edge of her panties. “So right.”

Bellamy's knees listed open, screaming for his touch, and he didn't disappoint. He slipped a finger inside her heat, drawing tight circles against her with his thumb.

“Yes. Oh God,
yes
.” She had no idea who was in control of the totally wanton voice that came out of her, but as her muscles squeezed around a sweet crest of release, she didn't care. Shane's finger was joined by another, and the steady, slow rhythm sent sparks through her brain. Words tried to form and fight their way from her, but the only thing that made it past her lips was the heavy cry of the orgasm that crashed into her.

“You are perfect when you come undone.” Bellamy's eyes fluttered open to reveal Shane's unwavering gaze upon her face. Never before had anyone actually watched her come, and while a tiny, faraway piece of her consciousness told her she should be embarrassed, she wasn't.

She trusted him.

“Shane.” She ran her palms over the scattering of dark hair on his chest, enjoying the shudder it brought from him as she skimmed over his nipples. When her hands reached his shoulders, she guided him over her and lifted her lips to his ear. “I want you inside me.” She arched her core to meet his erection, the cotton of his boxers giving just enough resistance against her to tempt her to scream, but she held steady. With one swift yank, the fabric between them was history.

Shane quickly put on a condom and returned to hover over her, trailing kisses from her ear to her open, waiting lips. He nudged her knees wide, fitting into the tightness of her sex with gorgeous strength.

“Like that. Oh, just like that.” Bellamy's breath stole from her as they made love with slow intensity; cresting, falling, and cresting again. When Shane gripped her hips to rock into her, fast and hard, her eyes flew open to focus on his face. His expression was an exact mirror of his lovemaking, both fierce and exquisite, and as she watched the look on his face while he shuddered into her body in release, it sent her over the edge right alongside him.

They lay in the shadows of nightfall, wrapped around each other in a tangle of heated skin and sated breath, and talked until their growling stomachs lured them out from beneath the blanket. Over a couple of granola bars, Bellamy told Shane about the disastrous time she tried to take a breakfast shortcut by hard-boiling eggs in the microwave, her first true cooking debacle. The peals of laughter continued through Shane's recounting of the day he discovered—the hard way—that the gas gauge in the Mustang was faulty and he and Jackson had to be rescued by the local Girl Scout troop passing by. They traded stories back and forth with seamless ease, and Bellamy couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so genuinely good.

Only when she shivered from the true chill in the garage did Bellamy realize that night had fallen, and fallen hard. She and Shane snuggled right back beneath the blanket, whispering and laughing about everything and nothing in the dark of the garage, until they were both so tired that they fell asleep in each other's arms.

The grating scrape of metal on asphalt jolted Shane from a dead sleep, and he lifted his head from his lumpy excuse for a pillow, a.k.a. a balled-up sweatshirt. Sun streamed in through the windows, so brilliant that his eyes had no hope of adjusting, and he went to rake a hand through his hair in an effort to jump-start his brain.

His arm refused to budge. And what was with that
noise
?

“Ugh, shhh,” Bellamy murmured drowsily, and she burrowed farther beneath the blanket, rubbing her back against the cradle of his hips before sighing back to sleep. His arms were wrapped around her from behind, the one that lay by her head completely asleep, the other resting right in between her cashmere-covered breasts.

The memory of the night before filtered back into his brain like a series of sweetly wicked dreams, and although Shane was sore as hell from sleeping on the concrete floor, the warmth of Bellamy's body against his kept him happily rooted to the offending spot. He shifted even closer, acutely aware of the rise and fall of her chest under his hand. Man, she smelled so good, even after spending the night on the floor of a garage. How many girls could pull
that
off? Shane closed his eyes, drifting back into the feel of her fuzzy sweater, of the incredible skin that lay beneath it . . .

The side door to the garage banged open with a rude thud, scaring the ever-loving crap out of him.

“Shane? You in here?” Even though he recognized the voice right away, Shane still froze to his spot under the blanket.

Shit. Shitshitshit! Bellamy did the shift-and-snuggle, her slow breaths suggesting she was still very much asleep and about to get the shock of her life. Shane leaned forward to put a gentle whisper in her ear in order to soften the blow, but it was too late. Jackson rounded the passenger side of the Mustang, coming into view.

“Jeez, buddy, I had no idea you'd still be . . . whoa!” Jackson skidded to a halt as soon as he saw the two of them lying on the floor, wrapped up together just as easy as you please. Bellamy chose that exact moment to wake up with a start, looking disoriented as hell. She sucked in a breath at the sound of Jackson's voice, then promptly gave a startled, full-body jerk that landed her butt squarely on Shane's raging morning hard-on.

Right. Because the whole morning-after thing wasn't awkward enough.

“Morning, Jackson,” Shane said, trying to come up with a graceful way out of the situation while getting his dick to cooperate and keeping Bellamy's honor as intact as possible. It was a tall order on both counts, seeing as how her body pressed into him from head to toe.

“This is Bellamy Blake.” Shane gestured in front of him with his chin before sliding her hips from his in a careful move, despite the nasty dual protest from his brain and his southern bits. “Bellamy, Jackson Carter.”

Jackson's eyes could've doubled for a pair of sky-blue Frisbees as they darted from Bellamy to Shane to the door and back again. “I, uh. Wow. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to . . . wow. Yeah.”

Bellamy singlehandedly diffused Jackson's awkwardness and Shane's dilemma with one smooth move. She popped up from beneath the blanket, folding it back behind her to give Shane some breathing room before she stood up and padded, sock-footed, over to the spot where Jackson stood gaping.

“Hi, Jackson. Nice to meet you.” Bellamy extended her hand. Her no-nonsense smile made it look like she'd just waltzed into a job interview, not off the concrete floor of a garage where she'd been tangled around the guy's best friend.

Under any other circumstances, Shane would've had a good, long laugh at the look on Jackson's face. As it was, Shane was still working on talking Mr. Happy down from the good-morning-to-
you
ledge, so he shut up and stayed put in his spot on the floor.

“Nice to . . . meet you, too,” Jackson said, but it came out like a question. He shook her hand, then turned his attention to Shane. “Sorry to intrude. I finished my shift and was headed home, but I saw your truck. I wanted to make sure you were okay in here. I didn't know . . . well . . . you didn't mention that you had, uh, company . . .”

Bellamy's cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away. “I came by yesterday to check on my car, and we got snowed in when the blizzard warning closed the roads.” She squinted toward the windows, wincing at the unforgiving sunlight pouring in.

“Oh. Well, the main roads are pretty passable now. You, ah, want me to plow the lot so you can get out?”

Shane got up off the floor, the ache in his shoulder and neck making him instantly sorry. “Yeah, man. That would be great.” He looked out into the lot to the road beyond with unease. “Hey, she's in that Beamer, and she needs to go back up the mountain to the resort.” Shane jutted his chin toward the front of the building where Bellamy had left her friend's car. He could just see the thing pitching over the guardrail in his mind's eye, even with the roads cleared.

Jackson let out a low whistle and looked at Bellamy. “Well, you'll probably be okay getting back, but you'll have to take it really slow.”

“Oh, I'll be fine.” She waved a
no problem
hand through the air, but it lost its
oomph
as both men gave her wary looks in response. “Don't you think?” she tacked on.

“Tell you what.” Jackson's eyes shifted to Shane's for a fraction of a second before settling back on Bellamy. “I've got to head that way to get home anyhow. Why don't you follow right behind me? Main roads could probably use another plowing anyhow, what with the drifting.”

Note to self. Buy Jackson a round at the Double Shot. Maybe two.
The resort was nowhere near Jackson's route home.

Her face crinkled in confusion. “Wait . . . you took the snowplow home with you?”

Jackson's good-natured laugh rang through the space of the garage, and any remaining strains of awkwardness disappeared. “You could look at it that way. I have a plow blade that attaches to the front of my truck for side jobs. I'd guess not a lot of people in the city do that, huh?”

Bellamy shook her head, framing her sheepish smile with a couple of wisps of hair that tumbled free around her face. “No.”

“Well, it's not as big-deal as the heavy-duty trucks, but it'll clear the road for you okay,” Jackson offered with a smile of his own.

She wavered. “If you're sure it wouldn't put you out, maybe it would be a little safer that way, since I'm not really used to driving in much snow.”

“Not a problem at all.”

Shane exhaled a silent breath, and he sent an equally wordless look of gratitude in Jackson's direction. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about her plunging off the side of the mountain. Worrying about why he was so worried was another story, and one he'd have to deal with later.

“Okay. So I'll just go freshen up and call Jenna and Holly to let them know I'm on my way.” Bellamy moved like a delayed reaction, letting her words settle into silence before taking a step. Shane busied himself by grabbing the blanket to shake it out, trying like hell to avoid the inquisitive stare of his friend. The last thing he wanted was to have to answer a bunch of questions about whether or not he'd slept with Bellamy. He snapped the blanket for good measure.

Her bra fell to the floor at his feet, the delicate white lace so at odds with the boot-scuffed gray of the floor that even a blind man could see it.

Well, didn't
that
just dispel the mystery.

“Um.” Shane took a step back from it as if it were a rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike, while Jackson poorly fought the urge to laugh his fool head off, fake-coughing into the crook of his elbow to hide his ear-to-ear grin.

“Everything okay?” Bellamy stopped halfway to the office, turning on her heel to look at him.

Shane shifted his weight uncomfortably. “You, ah, dropped something,” he mumbled, eyeballing the swath of lace and satin like it might self-destruct. Should he pick it up? Oh hell, it wasn't like the whole scene didn't scream
we did it!
anyhow. Shane scooped the delicate fabric up off the floor and folded it gently into his palm while Jackson grabbed his wallet from the workbench and hightailed it out the side door, stammering something about warming up his truck in between errant cough-laughs. As soon as Bellamy saw the offending object, she skidded to a stop and jerked her arms around her body as if she'd forgotten she hadn't been wearing the thing, but it only pushed her cleavage higher into view down the deep V of her sweater.

“Oh shit,” she cursed softly, turning just pink enough to make her freaking adorable. She took a deep breath, and Shane couldn't help but zero in on the curve of her braless chest beneath the cream-colored sweater, his brain trying to convince his nether region that he couldn't see the faint outline of her nipples through the fabric.

Welcome back, hard-on.

Shane tugged his shirt lower over his jeans as he passed the bra over. “Jackson might not have seen it,” he suggested in an effort to help her save face.

She didn't even buy it for a second. “Really? Is he clinically blind?” An uncharacteristic giggle escaped from her lips, followed up by a full-on laugh.

“Well . . . okay. But he's cool,” Shane said, starting to laugh with her.

She settled her face into a smile. “Now that I've flashed my undergarments at your friend, I guess I should replace them and make that call. Holly and Jenna are probably flipping by now.” Bellamy's eyes skimmed the office door, but she didn't move.

“Yeah, okay. I'm going to go help Jackson. I can warm the BMW up for you if you want.” He scratched his head and looked at her, simultaneously loving and hating that damned sweater and the suggestion of what lay beneath it.

“That would be great. I'll be out in a second to help.” She fished the keys out of her coat pocket and passed them over to him, her fingers touching his for a brief, electric second.

He was never going to get rid of this stupid hard-on.

“Sure. Take your time.”

He watched her walk the entire way to the office before turning to go outside.

 

 

Jackson went all cat-that-ate-the-canary the second Shane stepped out the door, unrolling the driver's side window down to the door frame in spite of the frigid temperature to fix him with raised eyebrows and a huge grin. The sunlight was bright enough to be borderline obnoxious, and Shane had to squint his eyes down to slits just to see through the glare.

“Hey, hop in.” Jackson tipped his head toward the passenger door. “I can have you cleared in a couple of minutes.”

Shane yanked the passenger door open and knocked the snow off his boots before getting into Jackson's pickup. There had to be at least a foot of snow on the ground, but it was hard to tell with all the drifting.

“How much snow fell?” he asked, but Jackson shook his head and laughed.

“Oh, no you don't. I'm not talking snowfall totals with you, you dog! How the hell did you end up on the floor with Miss She's-Not-My-Type in the middle of a goddamn blizzard? And sorry I barged in on you,” he added, putting the truck in gear.

Shane dismissed the apology with a wave. “Don't worry about it. We were just sleeping.” He avoided the other question like it was every strain of the plague.

“Uh-huh. Right. I'm sure that's exactly how her bra made it to the floor. Are you gonna tell me that you made water balloons with the condoms missing from my wallet, too? 'Cause really, I could call bullshit on you all day.”

Shit. Time to concede. “Okay, okay. She came out yesterday morning to talk to me about her car and got stuck here in the snow. You think I was going to let her drive that BMW with the roads like they were?” Shane shrugged. “So, you know. You called to say the roads were closed, and then we were stranded together.” He trailed off, letting Jackson fill in the blanks.

Jackson shook his head. “Leave it to you to get stranded with a pretty girl. If it had been me, I'd have been stuck with Mrs. Teasdale or something.” He arched a brow at Shane, maneuvering the truck to keep clearing the snow. “You know, when I told you I thought you should get laid, I didn't think you'd actually do anything about it.”

Something he couldn't quite name needled its way into Shane's system, snapping his head up. “It didn't happen like that.” The words came out on a warning, low and with more of an edge than Shane intended.

“Whoa, take it easy. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that she's the first girl you've been with since you moved here last year. I'm a little surprised, is all.” The scrape and rumble of the snowplow was the only sound between them for a long pause.

“Sorry. I'm a little surprised, myself.” Shane looked out the window at the snowdrifts. “Thanks for making sure she gets back okay. I know it's out of your way.” Jackson really had been stretching the hell out of the truth when he'd said going by the resort was on his way home.

He chuckled. “Look, if you're going to get juiced about a girl, she must be something special. Figure it's not a bad plan to make sure she gets back intact. Plus, I'm just that kind of guy.”

Unable to help it, Shane cracked a grin. “Yeah, you're a regular saint.” He paused to snicker before continuing. “And I'm not juiced about her. I mean, don't get me wrong. I like her and all, but she's an uptown girl through and through.” He thought of Bellamy's fancy background. When she'd finally admitted last night that she'd earned her MBA from Penn, he wasn't sure whether to be impressed or a little sick. It wasn't just one of the best MBA programs in the United States; it was ranked in the top five in the world.