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I felt myself nod as I swallowed hard. “But I reserve the right to put that hostess in her place if she ever tries it again.”
“Babe, I’d pay to see that,” he said, planting a kiss against my neck and I could feel his lips smiling there.
Right.
God, it felt so right.
My gaze lifted, finding my reflection in the mirror of the backbar. The look in my eyes said it all.
I knew that things feeling so right only meant that when they went wrong, it was going to really, really hurt.
But as Shane said in that deep, sexy voice of his that it was time to get out of there and into his bed, I decided that that was something to worry about another day.—The next day when I woke up, Shane was already fully dressed, walking across the building toward me with a laptop in his hands. When my brows furrowed, he tossed it onto the bed. “I have a job,” he said, and the tone in which he said it implied it was of the illegal, knee-breaking sort, not the gym or apartment building sort. “I want you to hang here. Watch TV, search around online, order food. But be here.”
There was a certain amount of need in his voice that made the sleep fog pull back suddenly. It wasn’t something that seemed to suit him. “Shane, I have work tonight.”
He nodded at that, like he knew, as he sat down on the side of the bed and held up his arm, opening his hand. A key dangled from the loop he had around his finger. “Go to work. But then come back here, alright? Lock the door behind you and just… be here.”
I felt my brows draw together, not understanding why he was repeating himself. I had barely seen my apartment in three days. It wasn’t a stretch for me to stay another night. “Okay,” I said, appeasing him, as I took the key.
“Come over here and give me a kiss,” he said, eyes light again, smile wicked, like my agreeing to stay took a burden off his back.
And, well, when a man as sexy as Shane freaking Mallick told you to give him a kiss before he left, you crawled across the bed, grabbed the sides of his face, and kissed him like he was going off to war. Which, in a way, he was.
“I should be back by morning, he said, stroking his fingers down my cheek, then neck. “You have fun faking orgasms all night. When I get home, I’ll give you real ones.”
With that, and just a smile, he got off the bed, grabbed a bag that was sitting by the door, and left.
I sat there for a long couple of minutes, just thinking about his somewhat unusual behavior and what it meant. Maybe the job he had was a particularly unsavory one and he wanted some kind of comfort when he got back. Or maybe it was as simple as he got worked up on the job and needed an outlet for that energy before he got some sleep. So maybe he just wanted me for a good fuck.
Whatever it was, I would be around to see.
I wanted to see and know everything about Shane.
I wasn’t sure I ever truly felt that way about someone before.
But with Shane, I was greedy for every little piece. I watched and listened and catalogued the information for later. For instance, his family was forever calling or texting him. And, save for when we were in the middle of sex, he always got up and answered. But he wasn’t annoyed or angry; he always seemed genuinely happy to talk to them, even when they were calling with problems. He liked action movies and comedies and rolled his eyes at chick flicks. He was an early riser and a big eater and a workout freak. His dishes never piled up as he seemed of the ‘clean as you go’ mindset. Not much seemed to shake him, no matter how many small crises seemed to come along at once. He was unflappable.
And, well, he paid attention. To me. I wasn’t sure I had ever experienced that before, but let me tell ya’, it was something else. When I talked, he listened. Even if he interrupted me mid-thought, he knew what I was saying. He got me. He knew my rhythms, even after just a couple days. He had coffee for when I got up, even though it was hours after him. He suggested food at my unusual eating schedule. He didn’t pounce on me when I got back from work, letting me get some sleep before he woke me up in inventively sexy ways.
I got up off the bed and made my way to the kitchen to get more coffee, resisting the urge for maybe five minutes before I started looking around. I didn’t want to call it snooping, because I wasn’t looking for some buried secrets or hidden porn collection (especially since such a thing didn’t exist in the age of internet porn). I was looking for pieces of him, wanting a full picture. What I found was a photo album in a knick-knack drawer where I found dozens of childhood pictures of Shane and his brothers. In some, they had big Popsicle grins, in others they had bloody noses, in more still they were covered in bruises from recent fights. But in all, they were happy. I found out that he had far too many protein powder canisters in a cabinet above the fridge and that he didn’t seem to own even one baking item.
