Enemies With Benefits (Loveless Brothers, #1)

by Roxie Noir

I don’t want it to. I wish it wasn’t, because I started this date the way I start every date: with unbridled optimism. Before I actually go on a date, I’m always overflowing with excitement and the soul-deep knowledge that somewhere out there in the mountainous wilds of southwestern Virginia lives my Prince Charming, ready to show up and whisk me away.

I don’t like being paid for. I don’t like feeling as if I owe someone something.

Did I mention tall? Dark hair and light eyes? Handsome as the devil himself, with sharp cheekbones and a hard jawline, wearing a white chef’s jacket over broad shoulders?

I stare. I memorize. I practically take notes. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something in the way she’s standing, the way she moves, that sings to me. There’s poetry in the flick of water off of her yellow dishwashing gloves as she shuts off the water, starts scrubbing out the pot.

I’m enjoying seeing Violet Tulane, legendary know-it-all and the bane of my existence from ages five to eighteen, knocked down a peg or two.

I hop out and heave the door shut without responding, because anything I say will lead to us arguing in a truck, in a trailer park at almost one in the morning, and that’s how an episode of Cops starts.

Violet looks at me, her face unreadable. I want her to be impressed. Despite everything, I do. As much as I want not to care what Violet thinks about anything, as much as I want to never give the girl’s opinion another thought, I also want her to be impressed.

“I didn’t say that.” “But it’s what you think.” His eyes flick to my lips again, like they did inside, only now they stay linger there like he can’t tear his gaze away. Please, whispers my body. Hell no, whispers my brain. “Since when do you care what I think of you?” “I don’t,” he says, and his mouth finds mine.

“Question,” Daniel says, finally breaking the silence. We’re in his car, nearly home, and I’m in the passenger seat staring out the window as the trees fly past. “Yeah?” “Are we going to pretend I didn’t catch you making out with Violet back there?” “Yes,” I say.

Besides, dear God Violet is pretty when she’s mad. She’s pretty all the time, but anger sparks something in her eyes that makes her light up like a human flame, burning and flickering from the inside, dangerous and alluring all at once.

But I can’t stop. If she’s the flame, I’m the moth, and despite myself, I want to see her light up again and again.

I’m blindsided by a sudden, irresistible thought: I want to leave here and take her with me. I want us to leave Sprucevale behind. I want to bring her somewhere new, somewhere exciting where she’s never been. I want to take her breath away and make her giddy with happiness, just like this.

No one else has ever gotten to me like she does. Not my other friends, not my brothers, none of the girlfriends I’ve had over the years. No one’s ever even come close.

It feels like she’s seeing me raw and naked. Exposed. The strange thing is that I don’t hate it. Stranger still, I’m starting to like being seen the way only she can see me.

“It’s the feeling that everything around you is slightly wrong and you can’t fix it,” I say, still staring at her. “It’s a bone-deep desire to bury yourself in the familiar.” She turns and looks at me, her face unreadable. “It’s wanting what you already know and can’t have,” I finish.

“Good. We agreed it was a bad idea.” “It’s a terrible idea.” “Besides…” he says, and trails off. He raises one eyebrow. “Besides what?” “It wasn’t even that good of a kiss,”

Before she can say a word, I kiss the hell out of her. Violet’s arms go around me. I kiss her harder. I kiss her like I’ve been to war. I kiss her like I haven’t seen her in years, her soft warmth flooding through me, bright against the cold room. I kiss her like I won’t be sleeping much tonight, either.

“Morning, sunshine,”

I kiss her long and slow. I kiss her like we’re in love. She kisses back the same way, her hand soft against my face, her lips gentle.

“I like you,” I say.

“I like you, too,” he whispers back, his eyes crinkling with a smile as he brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “A lot.”

“You know this is proof that you’re a devious, ruthless asshole sometimes, right?” I ask. “Only for the right reasons,” he says. “I’d go to the ends of the earth to be a devious, ruthless asshole to anyone who hurt you. Even if you won’t believe me.”

“But I want to be someone you can always trust. I want to always have your back. I want to always be there, behind you, and I want to be so constant you never have to think about whether I’m yours or not. I just am. I’m there. I’m there and I always am and you never have to wonder whether I’d hurt you, and can you believe I rehearsed this?” he asks.

“You’re it, Violet. You’re all there is for me. It’s you or a life of austere hermitude. Let me be yours.”

“Nope,” I say. “This is what I want. I want it to be ours, and I want to live here with you, and I want you to wake up every morning knowing someone loves you.” She bites her lips together. “And not because you’re the best at anything. I love you for who you are. You’re determined, you’re smart, you’re funny. You’re never boring. I went around the world looking for someone like you and you were here all along.”

“But mostly, I wanted to remember the moment I realized I was in love with you.”