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And not just any guys but my brother Blake’s three best friends: Jace, Wolf, and Otis. The unholy trinity of obnoxious hotness.
I was used to seeing them at home, where they ignored me, and now at school, where they also ignored me. Okay, they didn’t totally ignore me. Well, Wolf kind of did, but it almost seemed intentional, like he had to work at it. Otis rarely looked at anyone, but every now and then I’d catch him staring before he could look away. Jace, on the other hand, stared at me all the time, something dark in his mossy green eyes that made my blood run hot.
The tiny daisy tattoo worked into the images inked on my chest burned, a reminder of what I’d done. Of why I’d done it. Otis had one too, under his hair at the back of his neck. Only Jace had refused, blaming Daisy for everything that had happened when we all knew none of it had been her fault.
I thought about the piercings on my dick, a partial Jacob’s ladder: three bars embedded in my shaft, one for every time I’d allowed myself to beat off to Daisy in the last year of my sentence, when I’d finally given in to my thoughts of her.
The piercings had been a penance for my forbidden thoughts, a reminder of why they were forbidden.
I hadn’t expected to want to go. Although that part was only natural. Anyone would be curious after getting this kind of letter. It definitely wasn’t that I wanted to see her again. That I’d fucking dreamed about her for five years, not just the dark hair that I’d always wanted to feel in my fingers, but her sweet, curvaceous body, a rack worthy of a fucking porn star, freckles across her nose that I wanted to trace with my finger, those violet eyes that seemed to see right through all my bullshit. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
There was nothing to talk about. Daisy was Blake’s little sister. We’d done what we had to do to protect her. This was where we went our separate ways.
I wanted to tell them that I didn’t fucking care. That it didn’t matter because I’d done my part to keep Daisy safe and it had cost me five years of my life.
“I know you’re not suggesting we meet her.” I didn’t need to say Daisy’s name. We were always talking about Daisy, always fucking thinking about her.
Why the fuck did you pick up the knife, Daisy? And why were you out in the woods, alone, looking for Blake instead of at the party where you belonged?
She looked so nervous, so fucking pretty, that I had to force myself not to go over and give her a hug. Keep your distance, Otis. You agreed. I cursed myself silently. I shouldn’t have agreed. Not in a million years. Because the Daisy Hammond standing in front of me was a perfect doll, the kind that needed care and protection, and I was feeling pretty damn eager to take the job.
I wanted to raise my hand. Actually, I need you, Daisy. Or put more accurately, since my dick was still hard: I fucking want you.
Actually, that wasn’t right. Jace wanted to be around Daisy. He’d always wanted to be around her. When we were kids, he’d stared at her like a little freak. Then we’d all gone to high school and he’d stopped looking at her at all, like that might hide the fact that he wanted her. But I knew better because I knew Jace. Knew him as well as I knew myself. If he didn’t want to live with Daisy, it wasn’t because he didn’t want her — it was because he did. Because he wanted her so bad he didn’t trust himself not to take her.
