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If I accept her rule I’m breaking mine. I’m shattering it and cutting my feet on the broken pieces. But I already know how I’m going to answer. With her hand moving over me like that, there’s only one way I could possibly answer.
“One night,” I say. “But not only once.”
“Always negotiating.” There’s no heat to her tone, though—the heat’s all in her eyes. In her hand, caressing the head of my dick through two layers of fabric. I feel it as intensely as if she had her mouth on it. My teeth are pressed together, every bit of my body tense. “Okay,” she says, “but you need to be gone before Izzy gets up in the morning. How many times do you think you can go, Romeo?”
“I intend to find out. Do you have protection, or am I going to have to make a trip to the store like this?”
Her smile lifts in a partial smirk. “I’d like to see that, but yes, I have something. They’re in my room.”
I don’t like thinking about what that means. About Tank liking the look of her legs. Jealousy is not a usual emotion for me, and I don’t care for it. Logically, though, I know that if she were really with him, she wouldn’t be doing this with me.
I put my other hand on her ass and lift her up, hoisting her over my shoulder. She squeaks in protest and then presses a hand over her mouth because she doesn’t want to wake Izzy, and I carry her into her bedroom.
Chapter Eighteen
Ruthie
“You fucker,” I say as Shane practically throws me down onto the bed. “You couldn’t have princess carried me?”
I’m posturing, mostly. I’ve never been more turned on in my life. All this time, I’ve been attracted to him, however unwillingly, and despite my little game, I had no idea he wanted me this much. It’s surprising, exciting, and a little terrifying too.
He takes his tie and starts loosening it with one hand, and I have to practically squirm against the intense sensation between my legs. “I thought I was the princess,” he says.
He still has that damn crown on his head, but instead of making him look stupid or silly, it reminds me of how patiently he played the game—how perfectly unselfconscious he was as he clipped on the earrings or found a way to wear the necklace and bracelet. He did it to make Izzy happy, and even though it made me gleeful to see him fully decked out in his Pretty Pretty Princess attire, it also put a lump in my throat. An uncomfortable rush of emotion in my chest. Seeing it on him now…it makes him sexier, and not just because he’s a man who has the confidence to put a unicorn crown on his head without whining.
Rand never would have.
In a rare moment of fondness toward Shane, I say, “You still have the crown on, you know.”
“Good,” he says, throwing the tie. I take note of where it goes, because I’ve decided I’ll have use for it later. He stands at the foot of the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt. I go to pull my shorts off, but he shakes his head. “You gave me one night, and I’m going to make the most of it. That’s mine to do.”
I could complain or dissent, but I want him to pull them down. I want him to do wicked, wicked things to me.
“The crown?” I ask haughtily, my eyes tracking those buttons as he reveals more of himself. He’s wearing an undershirt, and I promise myself I’ll be the one to remove that. He can trouble himself with the buttons.
His grin wicked, he says, “You can pull it off when my head’s between your legs. I won’t need it anymore, because I’ll feel like I have a crown on when I hear you calling out my name.”
“You’re such an insufferable dick,” I say, getting up onto my knees on the mattress to sweep the unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, and I slide my hands under the undershirt, reveling in the feel of him, hard beneath my fingers. Danny mentioned Shane’s been spending a lot of time at the gym lately—that he doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s not working, and here’s the evidence. He’s hard and muscular, and I want this so much, I’m probably going to come the first time he touches me between the legs, even if his dick is nowhere as big as it felt through his pants and his BDE energy advertises.
“You want my dick,” he says, his voice full of confidence I want to puncture, except it’s hard to tell him he’s wrong when we both know he’s right.
So I settle for saying, “That’s all I want. No one told you to talk. You always talk too much.”
I see a flash of his white-toothed grin as I pull the sleeveless shirt over his head. The crown must really be lodged in his hair because it stays on. And Shane Royce is standing in front of me in nothing but a unicorn crown, suit pants, a belt, and socks. There’s nothing for it—I have to kiss him. So I do, kneeling on my bed, his muscular body pressed up against me. His lips are as confident as the words that come out of them, and they make me feel like I’m melting into a puddle.
I want to whisper platitudes to my past self, to the little ten-year-old girl who wanted him so badly, even though she didn’t understand what the wanting meant. I’m going to have him, for one night I’m going to have him, and then I’m going to show him that women can take what they want too, then turn their backs with no remorse.
Because I might want to sleep with Shane, but there’s no way I’m going to let him control my life. All I want is to sate my curiosity about whether he has any bite to go along with that bark. It would feel wrong never to find out, when he’s always hanging around in the background of my life—a sexy phantom.
“Take off your socks,” I say through a mouth full of cotton. “I can’t sleep with a man who’s wearing socks.”
“But the pants aren’t a problem?” he asks, cocking his brow as he deals with the socks.
“They’re my problem. I’m going to take them off.”
I reach for his belt, my hand shaking slightly.
“I get to take something off of you first,” he says, nodding to me.
