Shane (Mallick Brothers 1)

“Yeah, what are the chances of that happening?” he asked with a grin.

Then there it was again.

Comfort.

Rightness.

Home.

And it was scary.

I was worried.

But I wasn’t going to let the fear get the better of me.

Because what was on the other side of it, yeah, I had a feeling it was going to be epic.THIRTEENLeaIt happened almost naturally.

The first night, we finished building the bathroom. We ordered in. We went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to Shane kissing up my legs and, well, things got heated from there. I woke up. Not in his arms, because I apparently had battles when I slept, something Shane was all too tickled to point out to me. Besides, Shane got up early because he was one of those morning people freaks. So I woke up in a big rumpled bed with the smell of fresh coffee everywhere.

And let’s not mention a warm, gooey feeling inside that I tried hard to ignore.

Shane went to work, dropping me at my apartment on the way and telling me with no preamble, “Pack some shit and drive over to my place when you’re done with work.”

I got ready for work. And, not sure how I felt about doing so, I packed a small bag with just the basics: toothbrush, deodorant, makeup, ‘just in case’ tampons, a couple pairs of panties and one change of clothes. I didn’t want it looking like I was going to be moving in there.

Then I went to work. After work, I went to Shane’s where he had left the door open and was passed out in bed. Unsure what to do, I quietly backed toward the door again.

“Get your ass in this bed,” his sleep-rough voice demanded, muffled by the pillow his face was half-buried in.

“You’re sleeping. It’s late. I’ll…”

“Don’t make me get up and drag you over here,” he warned, still making no move to turn to face me.

“Shane…”

“Lea…” he said back, a trace of humor there.

On a shrug, I locked the door, set down my bag next to it and made my way to the bed. Kicking off my shoes, I moved to grab the sheets.

“You can’t possibly sleep in those tight ass jeans,” he mumbled and I agreed so I undid them and slid them down my body. “Or that bra,” he went on and there was definite humor in it. But, again, he was right. I reached behind my back and unclasped, dragging the bra through my arm hole.

“Am I ready for bed now?” I asked, smiling a little at his back.

“I don’t know. I don’t think you’re naked yet.”

“You’re not naked either,” I pointed out, the blanket tangled around his thighs, letting me see his black boxers.

Just then, his body jumped, flipping onto his back. He reached down, snagged aforementioned boxers, and ripped them off. “Sure am,” he said, cocking an arm behind his head and sending me a devilish little smirk, completely comfortable in his own nudity. As he should be with a body like he had.

“Alright,” I said, lifting my chin a little and quickly pulling off my shirt.

“Panties too. We’re free-balling it.”

I laughed at that, snagging the lacy pink panties I had put on because I knew at some point Shane would be seeing them, and slid them down my legs. “We good now?”

Shane’s eyes slid over me for a second then he grabbed the blanket and held it up for me to slide under. Which I did, happily. His arm snaked around my back and hauled me to his side. And while his fingers did trace up and down my spine for a long couple of minutes, it wasn’t sexual. It was just intimate, sweet.

And before my greedy body could get too worked up, Shane’s breathing went deep and even and I craned my neck up to see he had passed back out again. And that, somehow, meant something to me. He didn’t want me in his bed directly after work just to fuck me. Not that I would have complained about that. Any excuse I could find to get his hands and mouth on me, well, I’d take it. But it felt good to know that he sometimes just wanted me there, just wanted me in his bed, just wanted me to lay on his chest and in his arms while he slept.

Yeah, that was an unexpectedly amazing feeling. And I let myself stay up until almost six AM basking in it before my overtired eyes finally shut.

For all of half an hour before Shane’s internal clock woke him up and I was suddenly rolling onto my back. My mostly-asleep brain was present enough to take in the sensation of his fingers teasing up my belly and tracing the sensitive undersides of my breasts, but not present enough to make me open my eyes. So I lay there and let him stroke over me, the sensation almost reverent, like he was worshipping each inch of me, trying to commit it all to memory. Then, when I was writhing and moaning enough to make a porn star blush, he slipped inside me.