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“Lily is probably the only one who knows.” Even though Connor is being honest—that Daisy isn’t the sister Rose would turn to for anything—it still hurts her.
I take a step towards him and lower my voice. “I swear to fucking God, you need to work on your tact around Daisy.”
I would have fucked her in the stairwell if Connor and Lo weren’t here right now. And then I’d fuck her again on the bed. But this heightens everything. Drawing it out will make our first time even better. And I want it to be so fucking amazing.
You probably feel at home lower to the ground,” Connor says with a growing smile. Lo won’t stick up for me where Connor is concerned. If someone else said that to me, maybe. But I’m just supposed to take Connor’s shit because he’s Connor. “Fuck off,” I tell him, not even wanting to waste time on a good retort.
I can’t kiss her right now. Because I can already tell with us, a kiss won’t stop at one fucking kiss. It’ll last five minutes, and we can’t afford that with my brother here.
My muscles tighten as she stiffens in arousal, especially as I skim my thumb over her hard nipple. I’ve suppressed myself from doing something like this for so long. It’s a fucking one-eighty to even go this far. The adrenaline rush is dizzying my fucking head.
But I imagine my brother. Beating my face in. It helps. Somewhat.
But I also imagine her with another guy. And that stops me from thinking this is so wrong. Turn back now, Ryke. I won’t ever turn back.
This is it for me. I want to make this fucking work as best I can. Her mouth falls, a heavy breath escaping. And t...
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“Get away!” she screams, fear pulsing in her big green eyes. “Leave me alone! Just leave me alone! I don’t want this! I don’t want this!” Terrified fucking tears pour down her cheeks. Fucking A.
“Just give me the fucking water,” I tell him. “I’m not going to drown her.” I’ve done this before. Connor’s brows pinch as he scrutinizes me, and then he hands me her water bottle—I think more out of curiosity of what I’m about to do.
“Why would you think I have?” I retort with a dark glare. “Because you’re the closest person to her, and you don’t look surprised by this.” “I am fucking surprised,” I retort. Connor shakes his head, still disbelieving.
She’s on my lap, in my arms, where she’s been so many times before. But it’s fucking different now. We’ve never been in front of other people. And we’ve never called ourselves anything other than friends.
Daisy’s arms wrap underneath mine, clutching onto me tightly. My brother gives me a single warning look like, You can’t lead her on. His concern is warranted. I would feel the same fucking thing if I was him in this situation. But no part of me wants to disentangle her from my body. Still, I know I have to.
“No,” she cries. She springs up immediately. “No, please don’t do this…I need you—” “Daisy,” I say her name forcefully. My lips find her ear. “You have to fucking try to sleep again.” I rise off the bed, and she hugs her legs and rests her forehead on her knees, sobbing.
He knows. He knows I’ve been keeping her problems a secret, and he probably gathered that they stemmed from a traumatic event.
She downplays the degree of her illness. I would believe her in this moment. I know Lo does. I know Connor can’t.
Even if I told my brother the truth, I can see Lo kicking me out of the room, tossing my bag in my face, telling me to get on a plane. Like he said before, he let me into his life, and it seems like I went after his girlfriend’s little sister like a predator. That was never my fucking intention.
Sure, I want to fuck her. But it’s more than that. It’s always been more than that.
I stay quiet and rub my jaw, so much taken out of me tonight. If I do right by her, I do wrong by him. I wonder if the only way to move forwar...
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He glared. Ryke appraises the ring, and his features darken. “I gave this to you. I don’t want it back.” He grabs my hand, and instead of just handing it to me, he slides it slowly on my finger.
“You didn’t give it to me,” I rebut. “I won it in a poker game.” “Same fucking thing.” I wear the ring a lot. I had it resized to fit my thumb, and the jeweler told me that the design on the front was an Irish coat of arms. A family crest. I never brought it up, but now that we’re together, I kind of want to.
“Truth,” he says, “I don’t want you to take off the ring. I’ve fucking loved that you wear something of mine.” I smile. Loved. I wonder for how long.
He leans forward to press the button, but instead of hitting my floor, he taps the 28. “Are we going for a ride?” I ask him, my lips pulling higher. “You are.” The doors shut, and he turns on me with this masculine power that draws me towards him in curiosity and need. He’s my wolf. And instead of biting me, he kisses my lips passionately, our bodies igniting as soon as they connect.
So I kiss his neck, lightly at first while his other hand rises underneath my shirt. And then I suck deeply, clenching his hair with two hands. He stops going towards my breast, and he uses that hand as a support against the wall. “Fuck,” he breathes.
His favorite word is so overused, but I melt every single time he says it like that.
I stand on the tips of my toes and run my fingers through it, knowing he’ll let me now. But even so, the tension winds between us, causing my body to curve towards him like a magnetic pull. We really need to find more time together. “It’s soft, and I love that it’s long enough for me to grab.” His muscles tighten, and his eyes flicker cautiously to the Russian girls, who’ve begun to whisper even more, their eyes flitting to us.
“And when I was six or seven, my mom hired tutors. They were the ones that taught me.” He stares at the ceiling and then shakes his head. “I curse so fucking much that people assume I’m just an idiot, a good athlete, but a fucking idiot. And I don’t really care to prove anyone differently. There’s no point.”
“I also know Spanish, Italian and French.” I gawk. “Wait, what?” I punch his arm again. “You know French?!” Rose and Connor speak French, and he’s kept this knowledge to himself. “Oh my God.” I smile deviously. “You know what my sister and Connor have been saying this whole time?” “Most of it is stupid.” “Do they speak dirty to each other?” I’ve always been curious. “Sometimes,” he says. “But when they do, I try not to fucking listen. Trust me.”
“Does Lo know?” I ask. He frowns. “About what?” “Russian, French, all of that.” He shakes his head. “No. It doesn’t matter.” “But…it makes you, you,” I say. “It’s a part of who you are, isn’t it?” His jaw hardens. “It’s not a part I like to fucking remember, Daisy.”
“You’re telling me you turned your back for ten fucking minutes and my brother downed what?” “I don’t know. But I can tell he’s had something. He won’t look at me, so I think he’s drinking a Fizz and rum.” “Take the fucking glass from him.”
“Connor, I’m being fucking serious. Grab the fucking drink from him right now.” “We’re at the pub beside the hotel.” It clicks. Lo has no idea that Connor knows he’s drinking. “You want me to be the bad fucking cop?” “He has to have someone on his side, Ryke,” Connor says. “He can’t feel like everyone’s ganging up on him.”
You’ve already proven to be the hard ass. I’m not taking that role.” “I sincerely hate you right now.” I’m shaking I’m so fucking mad, and I don’t know if it’s because Connor accidentally turned his back on my brother or because I did. “You want to be his best fucking friend while I get shit on, fine. I don’t care anymore.”
Daisy and I are always spotted out together, so that rumor mill has been churning for a while. It just makes her mom hate me more, and it makes my brother more cautious of us. But there’s never been proof beyond my hand on her shoulder, my hand on her back, hugging—nothing serious.
I swiftly pick her up, my hands on her hips, and I toss her over my shoulder. She lets out a laugh, and I rest my palm on her ass. Yeah, her father doesn’t really fucking like me. This won’t help.
Connor thinks I’m an idiot to do things that put me in a bad light—especially since I don’t bother to clarify my intentions. But in the end, they’re going to think what they want to think. I can’t empty my soul to every person who thinks I’m an asshole. I can’t even empty it to the people who matter.
He glares at the shelves of liquor behind the bar, looking like a murderous little fuck. I don’t know how else to describe my brother when he starts drinking. He always has that I hate you and everyone in this fucking place look.
Lo doesn’t need a fucking safety net, so I cut it off in one move. Connor stays quiet, not arguing with me.
“Refill?” she asks Lo. He shakes his head. “No, I’m good.” “Cheers.” I raise my glass at him, and he watches me with narrowed fucking eyes. I put the rim to my lips. Stop me, Lo. This is a high stakes game of chicken. And he doesn’t move a muscle or say a fucking word. I tip the glass back, and the sweet taste of Fizz mixes with the sharpness of whiskey. Scotch whiskey. He drank alcohol.
I set the glass down. And it takes me a moment to process the weight of what happened. I just broke my eight years of sobriety. I stare right at him. “I hope you enjoyed that.” “Which part? Me drinking or watching you do it?”
“You can’t do this shit,” I growl. “You’re supposed to call me if you have a craving to drink. I could have talked you out of it.” “Maybe I didn’t want to talk to you!” Lo shouts all of sudden. He hops off the barstool, and I follow, having only an inch height advantage. We face each other, unresolved hate strung between us.
He doesn’t know anything about my childhood, and I don’t expect him to ask. All I wanted was a chance to undo what I had done wrong. To be there for him, to be his brother, and Lo makes it so fucking hard. He never gives me a reprieve like Connor.
“Then call Lily,” I say, “your fucking fiancée, who would be in tears if she saw you right now. Did you fucking think about her when you drank? Did...
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“You’re doing the same thing to him that you did to me. So why don’t you just do what you do best and pretend that I don’t fucking exist.” His words slice cleanly through me, the pain like a fucking swift punch to the gut. Lo never needs his fists to fight.
Ian lets out a short laugh. “I don’t think she needs you to tell her what she can and cannot do. She’s a big girl.” “Yeah,” I tell Ian. “She’s also my fucking girlfriend.” I don’t break his gaze, but I can feel Daisy’s smile fill her whole face beside me. She grabs my hand, restlessly bouncing up and down on her toes like she wants to kiss me but realizes she can’t. Even though I said the fucking words, it’s different than someone having photographic proof.
Don’t bring up your night with her, you fucker. But he does. “Did she tell you that we hooked up during your break?” “Do you want me to rip your head off?” I ask. “Because I’m close to breaking your fucking neck.”
He raises his hands in surrender really quickly. “Whoa, whoa,” he stammers. “I don’t know where you fucking come from,” I tell him. “But where I grew up, a guy would get more than a sucker-punch to the fucking face for what you’ve said to me.” “I didn’t think you were seriously together,” Ian says, touching his reddened jaw like I’ve damaged his career.
She’s cute. She always is.
About 5 kilometers. 3 miles. With Daisy in my arms, I can fucking run that in fifteen minutes or less. I mumble thank you, and I just fucking take off.
“I have to find my little brother,” I say with the shake of my head. I dial again. Nothing. “You’re in shock,” Janet says slowly so I understand. “Please, you need to calm down.” I think I’m being pretty fucking calm right now considering. Hot tears well in my eyes, and I ignore their requests. I call Connor next.
