Page 10

I jab the doorbell a couple of times in quick succession, a little aggressively for this time of the morning, but who gives a shit? Irritable is my middle name this week. Blame it on my overly horny state of mind. I’ve hardly slept since the night of the party, because there’s one very off-limits slab of sex appeal I can’t stop thinking about.

After a few attempts, I start knocking. It’s not exactly early, but there’s every chance either my ex or her roommate is still sleeping. Knowing Lawson, she’ll be hungover as all hell and have some random guy in her bed.

I don’t judge her for enthusiastically enjoying college, but the girl could learn to at least get a first name before leaping onto his dick.

As I lean forward, prepared to start pounding harder, I hear heavy footsteps and a deep voice on the other side. “I’m coming. Jeez—” The door swings open abruptly and I damn near fall through the entrance.

A whole expanse of bare chest greets me. My greedy eyes roam everywhere, from the bulge of naked shoulder muscles down to a scattering of golden hair dusted over firm pecs, then continuing on to take in the lowest-slung, sluttiest gray sweatpants I’ve ever been blessed to see from up this close. A trail of darker hair descends low, giving the runway to appreciate a prominent V just above the waistband. And that’s when my attention flies up to the face of the mouthwatering specimen of virile masculinity filling the doorway.

He smells freshly showered, with blond hair looking slightly darker as it hangs damp and ruffled across his forehead.

My slow, distracted brain takes a minute to catch up. “You wear glasses?” My mouth goes dry. Fuck my life. He’s gotta be fucking with me? No mere mortal should be allowed to be this hot. This must tip the balance of the universe off its axis or some shit? Too much hotness poured into one package must break some cosmic rule that exists somewhere.

“Normally, yeah.” That way his voice stays gravely and slightly coarse, as if he’s only just woken up, is stirring things in my body it has no business to.

Shut it down, Brad. This guy is your ex’s brother. In no plane of reality is he someone you should continue to stare at open-mouthed.

Your ex’s brother, who is half-naked … and still in town.

As I swallow rocks, I’m caught entirely off guard by colliding into him like this, in broad daylight and without warning. I ran off so damn fast at the party. In all honesty, not my finest moment, but who could blame me. It was all I could do to try and handle the reality of who he is, how we strangely connect and yet are simultaneously ill fitted within each other’s worlds. Ultimately, the truth cannot be denied of how enormously fucked I am because I’ve been unable to stop dreaming about him ever since.

His brows do the frowning thing, and he looms there, immovable, blocking the doorway.

Okay. Whatever. I’m a cat on a hot tin roof and he looks lovingly hewn from marble. A Grecian God on a plinth in the Louvre. “It’s barely thirty degrees out,” I snap. “At least put a fucking shirt on.”

“Why are you here? Following me around now?” He folds his arms, which only makes his biceps bulge and puffs his thick chest up more prominently.

Can’t a guy catch a break?

I scoff, trying—and absolutely failing—to play it cool. Meanwhile, the back of my neck heats rapidly beneath my collar. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.” That’s the moment I remember to shove the bag toward him. “Look, I was packing up my place, and I found all this stuff belonging to your sister.” Internally I cringe at the way that word tastes on my tongue. “Would’ve left it in the mailbox, but the bag is too big.” The words rush out, narrowly avoiding getting tangled on my tongue.

As I gesture with the handle again, I catch sight of disheveled hair in my periphery. Lawson hovers near her bedroom, looking hungover as shit, wearing next to nothing.

“What’s taking so long, Flinn?” she huffs.

My eyes pop wide, bouncing between the sight of him nearly naked and her … and the reason he took a hot minute to answer the door slams me sideways. The easiest of goddamn puzzle pieces slots into place. “Oh, well, don’t let me interrupt you two.” Bitter jealousy slithers a path down my throat.

He goes bright red, confirming that it’s time for me to make a swift fucking exit. I don’t care that he looks like he wants to climb out of his skin.

“Izzie isn’t here.” She scrunches her nose, like I’m some giant goddamn inconvenience, then spins on her heel and disappears into the bedroom. That girl is nothing but spoiled and bratty, so I don’t give a crap if she likes me or not, but it makes my teeth grind that this is who he’s getting his dick wet with.

“Go on. Don’t let me stop whatever you two were getting up to,” I hiss.

“It’s not—it’s not like that.” He lifts one strong hand to rub his brow. All it does is put more of his thick-set, country-boy frame on display.

Isn’t he cold standing here with hardly any clothes on? I have to work extra hard not to devour the sight of that V pointing toward his waistband.

“That’s not … not anything.” His throat dips.

Oh, right. Could this get any worse? He’s midway through a meaningless quickie with the roommate. Nothing but a player. Just march me out back and put me outta my misery right now.

“It’s nothing? Yeah, sure.” I jut my chin in the direction of her room. “You literally let me put your dick in my mouth after like two seconds. I guess that tracks.”

He makes a choked noise and quickly checks over his shoulder before hissing at me. “Sorry, but you were too busy undoing my jeans, drooling for my cock. I didn’t exactly have time to explain anything to you.” He reaches out, wrapping the handle of the bag in one fist.

“You could have said no.” I don’t release my hold on the bag.

He pulls it towards him. “You shouldn’t have jumped me outta nowhere.”