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What business was it of mine? While Jason was older, I’d never known him to be a complete asshole, and even though we’d traded a few hand jobs in the showers last year, I didn’t care who Jason messed with.
As long as it wasn’t Ciaran.
But then again, Ciaran seemed to need someone to take his mind off Drew.
It wasn’t my job to monitor the love lives of others.
I had to forcefully remind myself that I wasn’t Ciaran’s responsibility when Jason began grinding behind Ciaran. That didn’t stop me from wanting to stomp over and pull them apart. But I kept my cool. It was a Herculean effort. Filipe was talking about an upcoming street race. Joan was flitting around the group, dancing and flirting.
The fire was too hot, the wind too brisk, the alcohol too strong. My skin itched beneath my clothes.
I was so sure Ciaran would tell Jason to fuck off. But he didn’t and I had a front row seat when Jason’s hand snaked into the front of Ciaran’s jeans. Squeezing my cup to shreds, I moved, and it took Filipe to hold me back.
“Let the boy be, my man,” Filipe said, his voice calm. “Ciaran appears to be where he wants to be and he could do worse than Jason.”
I all but growled, and saw red when Ciaran spun around and immediately kissed Jason on the lips. No holds barred. The way Ciaran kissed was so hungry I could feel it deep in my gut.
In what seemed like slow motion, I watched as Ciaran’s tongue dipped into Jason’s mouth.
I don’t know precisely when things went sideways, but one second I was at Filipe’s side and the next I was yanking Jason away from Ciaran.
Filipe was yelling at me in an uncharacteristic fashion, and I was attempting to defend my actions, so my guard was down.
I didn’t expect Ciaran’s reaction to be so physical.
When he punched me, I went down fast. My jaw rattled, and a sharp pain shot down through my neck and shoulders.
I blinked back stars to peer up at Ciaran’s taut, vibrating figure. My dick plumped up when he towered over me like a gladiator.
Blood trickled down my lower gum line and a thin, warm line dripped from the corner of my mouth. I touched a finger to it, and it came away bloody.
He’d split my lip, not that I didn’t deserve it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Matthias?” Ciaran shouted, cradling his bruised knuckles. “You’re determined to ruin my fun, aren’t you?”
“It was for your own good, Ciaran,” I said as Filipe pulled me to my feet.
The party around us had resumed. Beachside scuffles were a dime a dozen.
In most cases, there would have been no excuse for my actions, but after Filipe chastised me, all I had to do was point at the empty red cup in Ciaran’s hand.
Filipe nodded and murmured, “Ah.”
For unexperienced Cove drinkers, the red fire oblivion mixture could make you amorous one second and then frenzied the next. Ciaran could have gone from kissing Jason to biting off his tongue or lip without even knowing what he was doing. It made the drinker want to get closer to someone, and even when you were side-by-side, touching, just like Ciaran and Jason were, it didn’t feel like it was close enough.
Red fire oblivion gave you the sensation of needing to crawl into their body just to get closer. The way Ciaran was kissing Jason with wild abandon, my instinct told me Ciaran was minutes away from tearing Jason’s flesh off his face.
Ciaran was passionate, something I’d seen after stealing his phone—but he wasn’t that kind of passionate. Or, at least I didn’t think so.
In addition to that—because I couldn’t lie to myself—I didn’t want to admit that watching Ciaran kissing and rubbing up against someone else unlocked the possessive brute lurking deep within me.
I had no right to be possessive.
First off, I didn’t even like Ciaran.
At the moment, the feeling was mutual. In fact, given the tirade of expletives Ciaran continued to throw my way, he hated my guts. If we were lucky, he wouldn’t remember any of this after sleeping off the red fire oblivion.
Secondly, Ciaran was my stepbrother.
