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It’s my turn to freeze. My already-racing pulse skyrockets, and I jerk back. “Why the fuck did you just say her name?” Scrambling to my feet, I drag the back of my hand across my mouth. “What the hell is going on?”
Mystery guy has an unreadable expression when he stares at me. “That’s why I came up here. She told me she’d meet me upstairs …”
I don’t let him finish. I don’t even want to know what the rest of that sentence might be. “Are you the prick who’s been fucking her?” I get in his face.
His lip curls and hazel eyes flare to a shade of liquid fire. “Gross. What the hell, man? That’s my sister you’re talking about.”
A faint ringing consumes my hearing. I stumble back a step.
Tequila and horniness and the taste of his cum linger on my tastebuds.
Sister?
“Christ. No. What in the fuck …” Shoving one hand through my hair, I scrub the other over my mouth. Taking a few steps across the room, it feels like the room is spinning. “Oh my god.” I turn to stare back at him with wide eyes, trying and failing to get my shit together.
He looks back at me, confusion and maybe a hint of dawning realization there on his features, too.
“Wait … you know my sister?”
CHAPTER 5
Steaming water beats like a drum between my shoulder blades. Keeping my chin tucked, I press my palms harder against the tiny shower wall. Soap bubbles swirl around my feet as a procession of suds disappear down the drain.
There’s a shipwreck of pink-packaged hair products, exfoliating scrubs, and bodywashes littering the floor. At least one brand was unscented; all the others brought an onslaught of feminine florals when I opened them one by one to conduct a sniff test.
My sister’s roommate and her share this house on campus. I arrived, took one look around, and it was no wonder why she had begged me to come help her shift home once she’s finished her last exam.
They’ve done exactly zero packing.
Apparently being the older brother with a horse trailer and a flexible schedule suddenly makes me a hot commodity. Or at least, when moving two hundred miles away is required, that is. Izzie didn’t bother to text back for nearly the entire year, then she blew up my phone a week ago.
Of course, as much as I probably should, there was no way I could ignore her. I’m too much of the protective big brother to say no to either of my younger sisters. Don’t even get me started on the baby of the family. Clara has me wrapped around her little bookworm finger.
As I linger under the pounding water, rivulets running down my chin and neck, this position brings back an overwhelming flood of memories from that night. I’d hardly been in town for five minutes—pulled up and attempted to find my sister at that damn party so I could get the house key off her—when my world was turned upside down.
My throat bobs as I stare at my thickening cock, and all I see is the way his lips wrapped around me. A ghost of intense pleasure shoots along my dick as I recall the way he hollowed his cheeks, sucking me deeper. His forest-green eyes are right fucking there, watching me with mischief and lust, determined to blow my brain apart in record time. Which he did, all too successfully, and now I’m horribly broken … because there’s every possibility I can’t get the thought of my sister’s boyfriend out of my brain.
It’s enough to have me losing my mind. Even though it’s been a few days since the party, I’ve found myself doing a double take at any guy with scruffy dark hair and a cheeky, confident swagger.
The basest, greediest part of me wants to somehow see him again, and yet, I also know it would be the worst possible idea. Especially after how fast he bolted. As soon as the realization dawned on him—of who Izzie is in relation to me—he took off like a rocket.
I’ve got no business having a lingering obsession on the guy my sister has been banging all year.
Yeah, that thought leaves me squeezing my eyes closed and fumbling to turn the water off. I’m resolutely ignoring the fact that my cock demands I give in and get off to imagining what it might be like to do more with him.
“That’s way too messed up,” I mutter to myself as I step out of the shower and start to towel off. “Get a fucking grip.”
I’ve just dropped the world’s smallest, pinkest towel when the bathroom door flings open, slamming on its hinges—a door that, of course, doesn’t have a lock.
“I’m not looking. I’m not looking. But I’m gonna pee myself if I gotta cross my legs any longer.” Izzie’s roommate stumbles in, holding both palms up as if I’m some sort of phallic eclipse she’s trying to shield her eyes from. She’s wearing only a baggy T-shirt, last night’s makeup has formed racoon eyes, and her hair is a rat’s nest.
“Oh my god, Lawson …” The blood drains from my face as I try to somehow swipe the towel up off the floor without putting my dick at half-mast on display. “What the actual fuck?” Even when I snatch the pink terry cloth up, it covers nothing. It’s the size of an actual postage stamp.
She ignores me and carries on. Sitting on the toilet, peeing in front of me, while flapping a dismissive hand in my direction. “Don’t be a prude. That is nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides, you’re into dudes, so what do you care?”
The tips of my ears burn. “It’s called privacy.” My fucking clothes are on the vanity on the other side of her, and there’s no way I can get to them without giving her a full frontal.
“Mmm, pretty sure that word doesn’t exist in college vocab—ugh, my head feels like it’s gonna explode. Shoulda stopped chasing shots with … more shots. But I never learn. Gross.” She sticks her tongue out and makes a face.