Shane (Damage Control 4)

Her red dress matches her nails, and her cleavage doesn’t fucking leave much to the imagination. She lifts a brow and cocks her hip to the side, planting a fist on it. “Oh come on, don’t act all shocked, boy, like you ever wanted anything more than sex from my daughter. I can do more for you than she does.”

Jesus.

“Oh, whatever. See you around.” Then she turns around and leaves, closing the door behind her.

What the fuck was that?

“Shane?” Cassie is standing at the door leading to another room, dressed in an oversized white sweater and gray pajama pants. Her blue eyes are round. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking.” My pulse is pounding in my ears, but I feel calmer already. She’s here. “Checking that you’re okay. They told me at the gym that you’re sick.” I give her a once over as I step toward her, lift my hands to her face. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay. I’m not sick. Just needed some time… to think.” Her cheeks are soft and warm, and I slide my hands down her neck, into her silky hair.

“Haven’t seen you in days.”

“Been busy.” But there’s something out of place in her expressio

n—a crack, a flash of pain, a question.

“Your mom?”

“Among other things. God, she drives me crazy.”

I rub at the date tattooed over my heart. “Mine did that, too, sometimes.”

Her scent winds around me, fresh and sweet, and despite everything I’m getting hard. She’s like a positive trigger to all my negatives ones. She makes me smile, makes me relax, makes me want.

Want her.

I pull her to me, crush our mouths together.

Fuck, I missed this, missed her even though it’s only been a couple of days. She’s my safe haven—but she’s so much more than that. I finally found someone who makes me feel something. Who makes the blood in my veins sing and my body take notice. Who fills my mind so completely there’s no space left for fear or doubt.

And she’s in my arms, her mouth sweet and minty with toothpaste, spicy with desire, her arms coming up around me, those hot curves molding against me.

For the first time since I can remember, I need to take it slow. Show her how she’s changing me. Make love to her.

The past crappy days fade as I walk her backward, toward the sofa, gentling the kiss. She gasps and I lick inside her mouth, making her moan. The sound lights up my blood, and it burns in my veins. Her tongue finds mine and twines with it as her hands clutch the front of my T-shirt and her eyes close.

This is it. I groan with the pleasure rushing straight to my dick and the worries vanish. This is fucking it. How she makes me feel. Like everything’s gonna be okay.

Then she pushes on my chest, turns away, breaking the kiss. “Shane.”

Breathing hard, I watch as she takes a step back, worry rushing back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just…” She falters, her mouth twisting. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“I had a fight with Mom,” she says, turning away and after a moment’s hesitation I follow her. I always end up following her. “She says I’m stupid.”

“Then she doesn’t fucking know you.” We enter what has to be her bedroom—heavy dark drapes at the window, a large bed with a purple comforter. “Why the fuck would she say that to you?”

“I stopped doing what she does.”

“And what’s that?”

“Going out and getting wasted every night. Bringing random guys home.” She shrugs and sits down on the bed. “Can’t do it anymore.”