Page 39 of Sharing Shane

“That’s nothing,” Shane began.

“You sure?” Wyatt gave an experimental squeeze, grinning at the responding surge of Shane’s hips. “Doesn’t feel like nothing. Feels like pretending to be Veronica’s lover turned your crank.”

“Just going with the program.”

“That’s all that was, huh?”

“Are you seriously giving me shit over this?” Shane wanted to know.

“Only if you don’t do anything about it.”

Shane shoved Wyatt’s hand away from his dick. His dick protested the loss, and Shane ignored it. He was getting pretty good at it. “Don’t start this again.”

Wyatt held out his hands in surrender. “I know, I know, you don’t want to make her uncomfortable. But you’re so busy convincing yourself that you were just ‘going with the program’ that I think you missed something.”

Shane started for the door. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

“She wants you,” Wyatt said and Shane stopped in his tracks.

“What are you talking about?” he said carefully, his body tight with tension. He hadn’t quite burned off the adrenaline surge of dealing with Derek—he’d barely gotten to toss him around at all, and no punches had been thrown—so he still had a lot of energy and nowhere to go with it.

“She wants you,” Wyatt repeated. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his lover. “Notice what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about the way she almost melted into a puddle when you touched her mouth? Or the little whimpering sound she made when you nearly kissed her? And don’t tell me you couldn’t smell her.”

Shane bit back a curse. He had been able to smell her, that intoxicating mix of peaches and the richer, spicier scent of arousal. He’d nearly forgotten all about their audience, thinking only of the soft, supple mouth under his thumb and the surprised heat in her wide hazel eyes, and he’d been about to get a taste of all that spicy sweetness when Derek the Asshole had interrupted and poured a metaphorical bucket of cold water over his head.

He could almost be grateful for it. Once he crossed over that line, he couldn’t uncross it, and no matter what his dick wanted, he had been serious when he’d told Wyatt he wasn’t going there.

“Not going there, Wyatt,” he said out loud, as much to convince himself as his lover.

“Why?” Wyatt asked, genuinely baffled.

Shane scrubbed a hand over his face, unsure how to explain. While Wyatt loved women just as much as Shane did, the bulk of Wyatt’s romantic relationships had been with men, and he didn’t always recognize the power imbalance inherent in most opposite-sex relationships. Shane, however, was hyper-aware of the fact he held a distinct physical advantage over most women. Since there was nothing he could do about that, he went out of his way to be as non-threatening as possible. He didn’t reach for or touch women who weren’t expecting and receptive to it, and he always tried to maintain a respectable physical distance. Their temporary living arrangement made Veronica even more vulnerable, and no matter how much he wanted her, he just couldn’t take the chance.

“I told you,” he said to Wyatt, “I’m not doing anything that would make her uncomfortable.”

Wyatt arched a brow. “I’d bet you a thousand dollars that she just went back to the cottage to rub one out.”

“Jesus, Wyatt.”

“I know it’s been a while for both of us,” Wyatt went on, “but that was a seriously turned-on woman. Her knees were shaking.”

“Her ex-boyfriend was screaming at her,” Shane protested, but it sounded weak. “She was scared.”

“Please,” Wyatt scoffed. “She barely even twitched when that jackass started braying. Hell, she barely looked at him. She was focused on us. On you.”

“She was just pretending to be into us so he’d get the message and leave,” Shane began.

Wyatt shook his head. “Yeah, that’s how it started. But that’s not how it ended.”

Shane scowled at him. “Shut up.”

“Shane—”

“Shut. Up. I’ve had a hard-on for almost twenty-four hours now, and you’re not fucking helping.”

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