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“That’s a pretty serious word to go throwing around between two people who barely know each other.”
“So, we’re strangers now?”
“Maybe we are,” I said stubbornly.
“If you prefer, my hand can do the talking.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I can put you over my knee and spank you good.”
I laughed, but my arousal was undeniable. The mere thought of him doing that to me, right now… “You think you can just come in here and… discipline me?”
“Clearly, you need it.”
As if the threat wasn’t enough, he then did something that completely floored me: he rolled up his sleeves. Slowly and deliberately.
While I watched, my breathing growing heavier.
When he finished and looked up, his pale eyes narrowed at me. He didn’t say anything more, but it was clear I’d been caught lusting over his strong arms. The way he’d just rolled up his sleeves in preparation for whatever he was thinking of doing to me left me desperate to experience it.
I couldn’t move. I just stood there, staring at him. Waiting for his command.
But he didn’t give me one.
He walked around my room, taking up too much space. He was so very male, so animal as he stalked around, studying my things. Even in the near-dark, I felt exposed.
But I was letting him do it. I’d let him in. I wasn’t stopping him as his fingers drifted over my clothes, laying out on the chaise. And the spines of my dad’s old CD’s on a shelf. Nirvana, Radiohead, Cake… a nostalgic collection of the poetry of my youth, and all he’d really left behind when he walked out of my life.
“They keep a room for you,” he said.
“Yes.”
When Mom moved in here, she’d moved what stuff I left behind at our place into this guest room. For me. So I always had a place to land, if and when I came home. Clothes, books, mementos from my childhood. Random crap my dad had left behind that Mom didn’t want but I sort of did.
It was all here, waiting for me.
Shane looked at me, and when our eyes met, I thought I heard what he wasn’t saying.
They didn’t keep a room for him. They didn’t keep a room for any of Jacob’s sons, except Darcy, who’d moved out only recently. But they kept a room for me.
“They want you to come back.”
“Well… I’m not.”
He stared at me, like he was waiting for me to say more. But I didn’t.
What was there to say about it?
He wandered over to my bedside table, where the contents of my purse lay. He drifted his fingers over my things. Lipgloss. My pink-rimmed glasses. After a moment, his hand dropped to the handle of my bedside drawer.
Before I could react, he had it open and his fingers were wandering through my private things. Already he was drawing something out—the dildo. My gift from the party on the island. Still in its satin satchel, it had so far gone unloved.
He didn’t even glance at me as my cheeks burned, and he set it on the table. Then he drew out the bottle of lube, which he set next to the dildo. Then a little jar with condoms of various colors and flavors, which he fingered idly through. Taylor had insisted I take all this shit home with me from the party.
He gave me a sidelong look before replacing the condoms in the drawer and sliding it shut.
“Um… are you finished snooping through my things?”
