Michael wasn't going to let her stay. Nope. Not a minor. He knew exactly what could happen if he did let her stay. Michael would see the risk he was putting himself and Shane into if he let the girl stay. Which is why Shane gave a halfhearted, "Yeah, sure, whatever," When Eve asked Claire could stay.
Well, that and she didn't seem too bad. He could see himself and Claire having that the enemy of my enemy is my friend type of thing going.
But he was sure she wouldn't survive Morganville. She didn't have the guts to survive the vamps. Yeah, of course he'd help out and give her a hand and some pointers when it came to vampire fighting, but he had his own problems to worry about. AKA, Shane's father was waiting for the call to come and overthrow the worthless bloodsuckers.
Maybe she even knew how to cook something good. Spaghetti and chili may be delicious, but he was bound to get tired of them eventually.
That was all riding on if Michael did something crazy like—Oh, I don't know, let the girl stay. Which he wouldn't. Mikey was a lot of things, but Shane knew that he wasn't an idiot.
Or so he thought until he came home and found out that Michael had given her temporary residence due to her injuries and fear for her life. Shane had underestimated Michael's soft spot for kicked puppies.
Though, the more Shane got to know her, Claire didn't exactly seem to count as a kicked puppy. More of a fox. Not the sexy fox most people thought of when a woman is described as a fox—but he had to admit, Claire was pretty sexy—he meant the clever, cunning type of fox.
Which must've been why he found himself standing outside her door, trying to calm himself. He needed to see her. She was leaving in two days. Because her father had found the alcohol. He just needed to see her and apologize. They should've remembered to put the beers in the cellar. That would've been the smart thing to do. But he'd said it before and he'd say it a million times: he was so stupid.
Before he could stop himself, Shane felt himself knock on the door. It was slight and silent, but it felt as if he'd just taken a megaphone and announced everything he wanted to the entire world.
Except that what he wanted was young and fragile and illegal and had a father who looked like he would gut Shane without batting an eyelash. That was usually an automatic turn-off. Mostly that under eighteen part, though.
There was something about Claire that drew him in though. And when her door swung open and Shane found himself staring at her dressed in what looked like only a long, thin t-shirt that he figured she'd found at the bottom of her closet, he stopped breathing. He really needed his muscles to stop receiving oxygen for a few moments so that he wouldn't do anything stupid.
"Hi," she said slowly.
Shane tried his best not to sound like an idiot as he responded, "Hi. Did I wake you up?"
Luckily, she didn't seem to find him as pathetic as he felt. "No. I couldn't sleep." She told him, then added, "Um, do you want to, um… come in?"
It was tempting. Especially with how little she had on. Actually, at the time, all he really wanted to do was go in, lock the door, and do something very stupid with her—not to mention illegal. So instead of letting his imagination run wild, Shane simple answered, "Better not. Claire, I—"
There was supposed to be an end to that sentence, but he didn't have one. Well… he did. But none of them were things that he could say to a sixteen year old girl.
"I shouldn't even be here." Shane shook his head gently.
His mind was already walking down the hall, but his body wasn't moving. Internally, he was cursing and yelling at his body to move, to get out before he did something that he was most likely be arrested for. And he seriously did not need to spend time in the town jail.
"Well," she said as if she'd suddenly noticed how awkward it was to stand there and just stare at each other. "I'm sitting down. If you want to stand there, fine." Then spun and sat on her bed, delicately ensuring that nothing was showing under that t-shirt she had on and started intently studying her fingernails. She'd probably never had a guy randomly show up in her room in the middle of the night.
He needed to say something. Give some kind of reason to be in there. Finally, he stepped into the room and told her, "For the next two days, I don't want you leaving the house. Your dad already thinks we're getting you drunk and staging orgies in the hallway. Last thing I want is to send you home with fang marks in your neck. Or in a coffin."
Almost incoherently, he whispered, "I couldn't stand that. I really couldn't. You know that, right?"
When she didn't look up, Shane stepped closer, really needing to get her to understand. She had to tell him she wouldn't go. "Claire," he said again, "You've got to promise me." She had to. He wasn't going to let her get hurt.
She never looked up. "I can't." Claire told him, "I'm not some little kid. And I'm not your sister."
It was clear that she just wanted him to drop the subject. Nobody says something like that so calmly unless they meant it to hurt. Maybe even enough that he would leave. But he didn't. Shane simply gave a low laugh. "Oh, yeah. That, I know." he was really glad that Claire wasn't his sister. That would make it about ten times more illegal. "But I don't want to see you get hurt again."
Truth. Ultimate truth. He didn't want to see her get hurt again. Claire just seemed to… understand him.
Something about her was just so good, so strong, so captivating. He just couldn't quite figure out what it was yet, though. She seemed so innocent for Morganville. Maybe that's what he liked about her. Or that she was deadly smart. Like—literally, she could probably kill him and know how to make it look like an accident. That was, if she wanted to. Which he didn't think she did.
Completely caught up in thought, Shane hadn't realized what he was doing until he felt his lips brush hers. And then his mind shut off completely. She didn't kiss him back, but at the time, he didn't care. All he knew was that it felt right.
He pulled back and pressed his forehead on hers, letting out a sigh. Because he had just kissed her, but cause he shouldn't have kissed her.
But then she kissed him and Shane nearly went crazy. She kissed him. On the lips.
Sure, he'd been kissed before, but this felt different. He pulled her to her feet and kept a hold of her hands so that his didn't wander. Damn, she was a good kisser.
Of course it was then that the number sixteen flashed before his eyes and Shane forced himself to pull away. He paced his breathing and tried to will the color of his surely flushed face back to normal. Unsuccessfully, he was sure. Now she really looked sexy.
Her eyes were dark and her lips slightly swollen. That damn t-shirt had gathered slightly at her hips and he could see the outline of her chest.
"Okay," Shane stammered out, "That—that shouldn't have happened."
Claire didn't move though, and she definitely didn't look like she particularly regretted kissing him. And that's what got him the most. Something about the way she looked at him made Shane have to consciously fend off his primal instincts.
"Probably not," Claire responded, but still didn't look like it had been that bad an idea, "But I'm leaving in two days. It would be stupid if I never even kissed you."
That was enough talking, apparently, for the two of them, because the next thing Shane knew, he was kissing her again. His hands started out cupping her face, but he needed more. He felt his hands moving down her hair, brush past her neck and shoulders. Then his hands trailed down the sides of her chest and she gasped into his mouth.
He moaned at the sound she made as she gasped. This could get out of hand very, very quickly if she kept making noises like that, but she didn't. Shane's hands reached her waist and he wrapped his right arm around her and pulled her closer.
Sixteen or not, he honestly didn't care.
Taking it farther, he tentatively let his tongue go into her mouth and used his left hand to cradle her head. She had a way of making him want to fall into bed with her, but he resisted and finally let go.
When she fell back into a sitting position on her bed, Shane almost followed her, but mentally slapped himself and took two big steps backwards, away from temptation. He'd been with a lot of girls in a lot of ways, but none of them ever really made him want to rip off their clothes so badly. Honestly, he wasn't used to having to hold back either. Maybe that was part of the appeal.
Shane spun around and retreated out into the hallway, trying to calm himself. He took deep breaths, trying to forget what had just happened and go back to normal life. Like that would ever happen.
"Okay, that really shouldn't have happened. And we're not going to talk about that, right? Ever?" he asked, cautiously turning to look at her.
"Right," she responded quickly, "Never happened."
Then he got her to close the door and lock it. Immediately, he slumped against it and took in a deep breath. "I am so dead."
And if Michael found out, he would be.