Shane (Mallick Brothers 1)

Which put me at about eight o’clock.

Never being one to spend an entire freaking day getting dressed and usually just tossing on clothes, throwing in a mint, and heading out the door just shy of the time meant to meet someone, I paced my small kitchen until the ache in my ankles reminded me that the shoes, while pretty, were definitely sitting-down shoes. So then I sat down on the foot of my bed and waited.

Luckily for me, Shane was punctual, saving me from further misery.

I fluffed my hair, grabbed the clutch that Fee loaned me, shook the tension out of my shoulders, and made my way to the door.

And Fee was right again; the Mallick men cleaned up nice.

Shane, stupidly good looking in jeans and a tee, was downright sinfully attractive in black slacks and a black dress shirt. He had on black leather shoes but no tie or jacket. The only things he had on that weren’t black were the expensive-looking watch on his wrist and the statement belt buckle that he somehow managed to pull off. He had also bothered to shave and had on a slight hint of something masculine and spicy that made me want to bury my face in his neck and take a deep breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, shaking his head as his eyes did a slow once-over.

The words settled with a warm, liquid feeling in my stomach as I held my arms out a little wide and did a slow turn. “Was it worth all the prep?”

“Didn’t need any prep to start with,” he said, moving inward, his hand going to the side of my hip as he back me against the wall. “But I sure as hell appreciate the effort.” Then, with that, his lips pressed down on mine, ruining the carefully applied lip gloss, but I didn’t care as my hands moved out to grab his arms. It wasn’t his usual brand of kiss- wild and demanding. It was softer, more explorative, just shy of gentle. And damn if my belly didn’t flip over with the sweetness of it.

He pulled back way too soon, but just in time, leaving my lips feeling tingly and my eyes heavy. His hand stroked across my jaw as he pushed back and away from me, wiping the lip gloss off his face. “Alright, let’s get out of here before I say fuck dinner and take you to bed, “ he said, reaching out and putting a hand at my hip, leading me toward the door.

We were almost out the door to the parking lot when he stopped and looked down at me.

“What?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.

“Figure if a woman like you is quiet, something is up,” he said, pulling open the door.

“A woman like me?” I asked, brow raised, refusing to step through until he explained.

“There it is,” he said, pushing into my hip and forcing me outside.

“There what is?”

“That ‘I’ll argue over anything just to prove a point’ shit. Relax,” he said when I opened my mouth to say something, “I wasn’t bitching. I actually like the spunk,” he informed me as he led me to the side of a truck that Fee was, yet again, right about. It was way too high to climb into with any semblance of delicacy. Shane bleeped the locks and opened the door for me, holding a hand out in a show of genuine, old school manners that I actually felt myself blush slightly at as I took his hand, and he assisted me up, allowing me to neither flash him or fall.

He swung into his seat a moment later, turning over the car and reaching to turn down the radio that he left blasting on some late nineties alternative station, Nirvana crooning out of the speakers their haunting unplugged rendition of “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” that never failed to give me shivers toward the end. I reached out and swatted his hand away, reaching for the knob and cranking it louder. Even with my eyes forward, I caught the smile he gave me before he backed out of the spot and drove us out of the crummy part of town.

About ten minutes later, we pulled into a marina, boats of varying sizes from little fishing boats no more than two people could stand on to luxury yachts all parked in their slots, rocking softly on the tide.

Famiglia was a raised navy blue building with a giant wrap-around deck overlooking the water it was situated over by the huge stilts it was held up by. Everything from the classy wooden sign to the dim interior lighting to the mass of luxury cars in the lot seemed to scream upscale.

“I know,” Shane said, cutting the engine, “it’s weird as fuck to have an Italian place on the water like a seafood place, but that’s Jersey for ya’,” he added, climbing down and slamming his door. I barely had time to open mine before he was there, hand extended again. I was so distracted by the feeling of his hand holding mine that I wasn’t paying attention to where my heels were landing, one slipping off the edge of the step-up bar and making me start to free fall. For all of, say, two seconds before Shane’s free arm flew out and wrapped around my upper thighs. Meaning, just under my ass. He slammed my body into his, knocking out my air for a second as he smiled up at me. “God, I love this fucking truck,” he said, looking devilish, as he put my feet onto the ground.