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Connor is an amazing best friend, and then here’s me, monster crush on his little brother, and in his own words, Connor will kill anyone who touches him.
Oppressing someone with love is still oppression. Even if it’s because they want to protect us.
and the man I’ve been in love with since I was about twelve years old.
And when I’d messaged the profile with a simple word: “Knox?” He’d replied with, “Easton Persephone Wayne Gretzky Ann Kikishkin. What are you doing on here and does your brother know?”
Connor gives me a noogie. “What’s up, little brother?” Asher leans around him. “Say the word. I know a few hit men who could take him out.”
Plus, Ezra is here. Nothing they have on me could come close to Ezra … existing.
“I dunno, I’m pretty good at helping men find God. You’d know that if you weren’t somehow immune to all my offers.”
“I’ve wanted to bone you since I was twelve years old. Well. Not bone. Because twelve. But crush. Total crush.”
I’d say the only reason he rejected you is because of your brother. Or because you were drunk. And we love a king of consent.”
I get a peaceful minute or two until Connor flattens Ezra into the boards right beside me. “Harder, Daddy,” Ezra taunts, and I facepalm.
The second our lips touch, I’m terrified because that’s all the time it takes to know that I’ve made the worst mistake of my life. East’s lips are as soft as I always thought they would be. He melts in my hold the way I imagined. His jaw fits in my hand with the exact perfection I’d always assumed it would, and as we kiss, as my guts fill with helium and my heart feels too big to contain, I work out that there’s only one thing worse than your dream man being nothing like you thought he would be. And that’s your dream man being everything you imagined.
