“Oh. Wow. That was fast.”
“Yep. I paid a pretty penny to get it expedited, but probably better to know sooner.”
“True.” Shane’s voice was soft and faint. He had no clue what he was hoping for anymore. All he knew was that those first few days completely on his own with Jewel had sucked and he didn’t want to return to them. Having someone to share the burden with was good, even if Brandt was possibly less suited for parenthood than Shane’s own parents. But he wasn’t doing half bad as a pinch hitter, and his efforts sure beat Shane alone with no backup.
“Hey.” Brandt set his brush back on the paint tray before coming to stand next to Shane. “I meant what I said. I’m not kicking you out. Even if I’m not the dad, I want you to stay until you’ve got a solid plan.”
“Thanks.” Shane had to swallow hard. Brandt’s eyes were too serious right then. He truly was a better guy than he had to be. Maybe a better guy than Shane would be if the situation were reversed. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Brandt said, even though it totally was, opening his house to a baby and her sleep-deprived uncle. “And thanks for the help in here.”
“Put me to work. I like to earn my keep.” Shane meant the words to come out lightly, but as usual, he underestimated his own solemnness, and the words came out closer to a plea. Please. Find a use for me. Please. Need me.
“Understood.” Brandt nodded, then broke into a grin. “You might want to find some crap clothes though. You’re almost wearing more paint than the wall.”
“I am?” It said something that Shane hadn’t even noticed how much of the room they’d finished or how messy his hands and arms had become.
“Yeah. You’ve got a big drip right here.” Brandt reached out, wiping something on Shane’s cheek. Now he truly was too close, the energy from that unexpected connection transforming into something warm and crackly. And Brandt must have been oblivious because he didn’t yank his hand away, instead lingering, stroking his fingers down Shane’s jaw.
He needed to step away, needed to break this spell, but instead he put down roots, heels as good as stapled to the hardwood, riveted to this moment. And he wasn’t totally naive. He knew desire, knew how its notes dragged out like the sultry song playing on the radio, and he knew how someone’s face shifted right before they kissed another person. He saw the mistake coming, but hell if he was going to dodge Brandt’s lips.
Chapter Nine
Kissing Shane would be stupid. Not to mention dangerous. And for a guy like Brandt who regularly hurled himself out of airplanes, that was saying something. But for all Brandt loved to chase adrenaline, he wasn’t generally reckless or out of control. Sure, he took risks, but almost all were calculated, situations he fully intended to triumph over.
This was different. He might get pushed on his ass. He’d probably regret it. He had absolutely no illusions of this being a good idea. But he couldn’t not kiss Shane. The skin along his jaw was rough under Brandt’s thumb, each bristle a fresh spark of electricity. He leaned in slow, half expecting Shane to shove him away, end this idiocy before it even started.
Instead, Shane exhaled, a soft huff, like he too had done the math and decided to stay right where he was, losing odds and all. His lips were achingly soft, such a delicious contrast to his stubble that Brandt had to groan at the first glancing contact. Ordinarily, he’d hold something back, keep the first kiss light and teasing. Easy enough to brush off if it were underwhelming or not as welcomed as he’d thought. With Shane, however, there was no holding back, only tumbling straight into a desperate, all-in devouring.
And there wasn’t even a whiff of underwhelming. No, every single thing about Shane was overwhelming. Intense, just like his eyes. He was so serious a lot of the time, and he kissed with the same gravity, like there was nothing on earth more important than this kiss. He kissed like not even a tornado could tear them apart, paint-streaked hands coming to rest on Brandt’s shoulders, strong grip. Steady in a moment when Brandt felt on the verge of flying apart. He might be the one who’d heedlessly barreled into the kiss, but Shane was its conductor, the one who took all Brandt’s frantic energy and transformed it into something more refined, more tender.
Shane let Brandt plunder his mouth, but his own explorations were much gentler and more deliberate, like he was trying to show Brandt a different way. And it worked, settling Brandt down, making him more aware of each sensation. The rasp of Shane’s tongue against his. The surprising fullness of his lower lip. The warmth of his mouth. The coolness of the night air coming in the window. The strength in his hold on Brandt. The solidness of his body.