Shane places an almost sweet kiss on her mound, and I let go of the damn skirt. I like the look in his eyes when he finds one of her hands and kisses her fingers. Shane’s always been so closed off. Never wanted a real girlfriend. Just someone to fuck, never someone to care about. I’m the only person in his life that he ever trusted. That he cares about.

And now, there’s her. I think she’s opening him up to new things that aren’t just about daddy games. It makes my heart beat stronger.

Whatever this is between us, the three of us, is good in ways I don’t think any of us counted on.

But this damn brat is losing her cherry tonight, so help me God.

“I hope you’re not tired, Penelope.”

Chapter Seventeen

When we get home, I send Penelope into the bathroom to take a hot bath. I go into my room and find Shane in there, lighting all our storm candles. Every flat surface is glowing and he’s in his underwear.

There are rose petals on my bed and wine glasses on my nightstand. Another of his planned productions. Where do you even get rose petals? Do they sell them in stores? Do you have to buy roses and pluck the petals off? Is this like arts and crafts?

I raise my eyebrows at him.

He holds his arms out wide. “Dude, she’s a virgin. She deserves some romance.”

“I don’t disagree. I’m just surprised you thought it out so far. I’ve never even seen you take a girl on a real date.” He doesn’t see the same girl more than a couple times. He claims more than two booty calls crosses lines and hurts feelings. He loves women, a lot, and doesn’t like to hurt their feelings. He’s just sort of fucked up about caring for one more than the rest.

“Penelope deserves it.” He finds one candle he hasn’t lit yet before he makes a face at me. “Are you going to wear that outfit to seduce her? I’m not really sure Fred is the sexiest cartoon dude. She might like Captain Caveman. Or maybe one from the League of Justice. All the chicks are talking about Aquaman right now, though I never saw that one coming. Anyway, Fred isn’t chickbait.”

I roll my eyes. “You think? I was coming in here to change when I found you planning a honeymoon or something in my bedroom.”

He points down to his briefs. “So change. I’m almost done.”

I hesitate. We’ve dressed and undressed in the same room plenty of times—sharing a dorm room and the baseball team locker room. But this feels different.

Which is stupid, considering. Why am I hesitating?