“Take your shirt off.” His gaze went to my chest now. “If this is the last time I see you, I wanna see all of you.”
My limbs weren’t working right, and I got myself all twisted in my shirt until finally I had it over my head, but wrapped around my wrists. He seemed to like that, because with his other hand, elbow braced in the bed beside my head, he held my wrists above my head as his fingers continued to work me. He seemed frustrated until he tore down my panties and tossed them somewhere before his hand was back at me.
“Legs wider, baby,” he murmured.
And I spread them, because of course I did, because in that moment, I might have done anything. I might have held a gun to my brother’s head. Maybe Lance knew that too, and that was why he didn’t push. Why he didn’t fight for me. Because I’d do something I’d regret.
His lips were on mine again, and despite the harshness of his hands between my legs, he kissed me gentle, sucking my lips and tongue. His mouth trailed down my neck, over my chest, until he drew a nipple into his mouth. He bit down, hard, hard enough that I cried out, that I tried to twist away from him, but he had me pinned, a hand on my wrist and the other in my pussy.
“Jesus, fuck, I can’t wait,” he said against my skin as he swirled his tongue around my other nipple. “I need inside you.”
“Then come inside.” My voice was breathless. He was turning me inside out, making me question everything. He let me go enough that I was able to unwrap my shirt from my hands in the time it took him to undress. Then he was kneeling between my legs, rubbing the tip of his dick around my clit, through my wet folds. Something passed over his face, a different kind of hunger, as he continued to rub his dick against me until he pressed at the tight entrance of my ass. He watched me with heavy eyes, and I held his gaze, only spreading my legs wider.
His nostrils flared. “You’d let me?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Your first?”
“Yes.”
“You’d let me.” This time it was a statement.
I circled my hips as he put pressure there, and that was my answer.
The pressure eased, and he dropped to his forearm, weight on me, dick slipping along my core until the tip teased at my clit. He cupped my cheek, and pressed on my bottom lip with his thumb. I opened my mouth, and he slipped it inside. I closed my eyes as I sucked, as he continued to thrust lazily against me without entering my body.
“You’d do anything for me right now if I asked, wouldn’t you?” He whispered, watching his thumb plunge in and out of my mouth.
I nodded, unable to speak and not just because my mouth was occupied.
“You’d let me fuck you in the ass,” he said softly.
I moaned around his thumb and wrapped my legs around his hips.
“But you’d do more, wouldn’t you?” His dick pressed at the entrance of my pussy, and I worked my hips as much as I could, feeling the head slip inside. His eyes fluttered, but he didn’t press any more of his length into me. “You’d fight for me, you’d betray your brother for me. You’d do it right now if I asked you, wouldn’t you?”
His thumb pressed on my tongue, and I stared into his eyes, into the dark depths that weren’t so dark anymore. They were blazing, and they were full of me.
Then I nodded.
“Because you love me?” He pressed.
I nodded again, this time with a squeeze of my thighs.
He exhaled raggedly, like it was painful for him to do, like his lungs were full of razor blades. “And that’s why I won’t ask you to do it. Because I love you too.” Then he surged inside.
I arched my neck, pressing down into his cock, wanting more, wanting to be filled so full I was brimming and at this moment I was—mouth and pussy full of Lance, his body sinking into me in the bed, every inch of me feeling claimed in a way I knew his mark would be on me forever.
He pulled back his hips and snapped them into me, plunging, fucking, imprinting, the type of fuck that was meant to make a statement. He was breathing hard as he pulled his thumb from my mouth and then claimed it with his own. I felt his brand scorching down my throat.
His wet thumb went right to my clit, and he angled his hips to hit me just right, because of course he knew how, because of course he knew my body better than I knew it, better than anyone would. So when the orgasm hit me, it hit me like the crash of an ocean's wave, bowling me over, dragging me against the rough sand along the bottom, leaving a brush burn that would scar, turning me inside out so I didn’t know which way would take me further under or which way would bring me sweet oxygen.
All I knew was that Lance was with me through it, even as his hips stuttered, as he groaned in my ear and pressed me tighter to his chest, as he unloaded inside of me until I was dripping with him.
He didn’t leave my body, probably couldn’t if he wanted to, because I had him in a vice grip, my arms and legs locked around him like I was protecting a vault. I was—this vault had my heart.
He pulled back slightly to brush the hair off my face, to wipe the tears from my cheeks that hadn’t stopped coming, that were still coming now. He whispered. “Love you.”
I mouthed the words back to him, because I wasn’t sure what would happen if I let myself speak.
He pressed a kiss to my lips, and that was when we heard his phone beep. He didn’t leave my body, didn’t have to, just reached for the phone that was beside us in the bed. He glanced at the screen, and then I saw his entire body slump in defeat.
He dropped it back on the bed and pulled out of me with care before rolling onto his back and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes on a muttered, “Fuck.”
I knew it was my brother. I didn’t have to ask. I curled into a ball and pulled my knees to my chest. “How long do we have?”
“Two hours,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He turned to face me, and for just a moment, lightness passed over his face. “A librarian named Samantha? Really?”
And with that, I burst into laughter, which turned into tears, but through it all, Lance held me.
Finally, he said into my hair. “Gotta get up.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, running my hands over the hair on his chest. “I’m sorry but once we leave this bed, we can’t—I can’t—”
“I know,” he said. “This is it.”
“This is it.” I hoped the finality of this hit me long after Lance was gone. When he was in a place where I couldn’t find him, where I wouldn’t be able to call him in a moment of weakness and beg him to come back to me.
His lips brushed over my forehead. “I’m going to get up.”
I closed my eyes. “Go.”
He squeezed me, a last hug. I opened my eyes as he bent to press a kiss to my lips. Then he was up, walking toward the bathroom, and I took in his naked back, his ass, the surety of his strides, before he closed the door behind him.
I heard the shower turn on, and that was when I sobbed and screamed into a hotel room pillow until it was drenched with my tears. When that was over, I got up, and I forced myself to move the fuck on. It was time to see my brother.
Thirteen
Lance
Bryan Drayer was charming—he had a wide, easy grin, light hazel eyes, and was built like a baseball player—tall, lean, muscled. I knew all this before I met him because I studied him, I talked to people who knew him, and I had surveillance pictures and videos.
As I walked into the 24-four-hour diner that Bryan had us meet him after three hours of dicking us around and making us drive in circles, I finally met him face to face. He sat in a booth in the corner, that easy grin on his face, sprawled across the cracked plastic booth, a hand over the back, casual as can be, like he didn’t care that I dreamed of wrapping my hands around his throat. Like he wasn’t a murderer, a drug dealer, and a gun runner. Like he wasn’t on a bulletin board in every police department in the tri-state area as they sought to pin something on him that stuck.
>
I didn’t touch Tara as we walked toward him, her at my side. The diner had a counter with old-fashioned metal stools, which were all empty at this time of night. The outer rim of the diner was lined with booths, with a couple of tables making up the rest of the floor. When I walked, the peeling linoleum crunched under my boots. But hey, the place smelled like coffee and grease, which was the sign of a good diner. Not that I cared. I wasn’t sure I could eat anything if I tried.
I hadn’t spoken for three hours, not once, because I didn’t trust my vocal chords. I didn’t trust my muscles not to pull Tara to me and beg her to stay. She hadn’t spoken either. She’d sat in the passenger seat while I silently fumed about Bryan’s directions. Her eyes were clear, but her body was stiff, and I ached to touch her, to talk to her. We made a deal though, and that deal meant the minute we left that bed, we ceased to exist for each other.
Bryan looked like a regular guy who worked a blue-collar job and came home to his wife and wrestled jovially with his three kids before their bedtime. Then he made sweet missionary-style love to his wife before they went to bed and did it all over again the next day.
Except that wasn’t Bryan Drayer. He’d ruled southern New Jersey’s organized crime for nearly a decade. He used his charm to reel his street soldiers in, and then showed them what was under that charm. And what was under it was ruthless and cold. He’d smile as he held a gun to your head, and laugh when he pulled the trigger.
Just the sight of Bryan’s smile sent my heartbeat into overdrive. I had to clench my fists when his gaze shifted to his sister. I braced, but then Bryan’s expression changed. It was so slight, I almost missed it, but there was a softness, an inner light—Bryan loved Tara. The dark that lurked in his eyes cleared for a brief moment as he looked at her. He rose from the booth so quickly he bumped his knee under the table—and I knew from observation that Bryan had complete control over his body at all times, so that small bit of clumsiness let me know just how eager he was to see her.
The vice around my heart squeezed tighter. He meant what he said. If I stayed in Tara’s life, he’d never let me go—never, not ever, because he would always see me as a threat to him and Tara.
He hugged her tightly and she held her body stiff for a moment before she sighed and melted into him. Yeah, she loved him too. If anything happened to Bryan, it’d kill her. I refused to force her to make a choice. I was making it for her and removing myself from her life, even if I would leave a chunk of my heart behind in her hands.
Bryan pulled back and held her at arm’s length, eyes scanning her body. “You all right?”
“That’s a loaded question, Bryan,” she murmured.
“Right,” he muttered back. He gestured to his side of the booth, indicating for her to slide in beside him, but she ignored that and slid in across from him, then looked pointedly at me. I knew I should just leave. Turn around and walk out, leave her to her brother. But her gaze held mine, and so I sat down next to her
Bryan’s eyes narrowed slightly before his jaw clenched and he settled across from us. He lifted his finger in the air, and a waitress hurried over. She wore a black shirt, jeans, and white sneakers. For the middle of the night, she looked pretty peppy, but then she was easily early twenties. It was also clear she’d managed a crush on Bryan in the short time he’d been here.
He grinned at her, clearly liking the attention. “Hey honey, I think my friends might want to order.”
“Sure thing,” she said brightly, her eyelashes fluttering at Bryan, and not bothering to look at us.
Good Christ.
“Coffee, please,” Tara said. “And do you have wheat toast?”
The waitress finally turned her attention to us. “Yep, you want some?”
“Yes please.”
“Yeppers.” She scribbled on her pad with her hip against the table near Bryan. “And for you?” She didn’t look at me.
“Coffee is all,” I said.
She turned in a flourish and strutted away like she was on a catwalk. Bryan turned to his sister with a cheeky grin.
“You’re honestly ridiculous,” Tara hissed, jerking her chin in the direction the waitress left, but there was underlying affection there. I knew what that was. I’d had it with Trent. My gut churned.
“Can’t turn it off. They just flock to me.” He leaned back against the seat and spread his arms along the back. Finally his grin lessened, his charm subdued, and he tilted his face to study me. Face, chest, all he could see, he shamelessly sized me up. I kept my hands clasped in front of me, and stared right back at him. I’d spent so long hating him, imagining the pain I’d inflict on him. The gun at the back of my waistband was a firebrand in my jeans, but I’m made a promise to Tara.
The waitress came over, poured our coffees, then scurried away when she sensed the tension.
Tara leaned over the table to whisper shout at her brother. “I’m not going to sit here while you glare at ea—”
“Tell me how his happened,” Bryan said, and his voice held a tone I didn’t like, something that turned my spine into a steel rod and raised the hair on the back of my neck.
Tara heard it too, I could tell by the way she drew her chin into her neck. “Excuse me?”
“Tell me how this happened, because I’m not sure I believe this story that he didn’t know who you were. And I’m not really here for this whole star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet bullshit that you’re laying on me, like I’m the reason you can’t be with your one true love.” He said the last three words with a sneer.
Tara didn’t back down. “Bryan, you really have some balls asking to know about my love life.”
I flinched at the words love life, and so did Bryan. Still, he powered on. “No, I got balls because I’m going to confront some psycho with a gun who is fucking my sister to get close to me.”
Tara’s body went electric, and her cheeks flushed bright red.
But I’d had enough. Enough of Bryan’s presence, enough of his mouth and his words and the smirk I wanted to wipe off his face. So yeah, I was fucking done. “If I was a psycho with a gun who fucked your sister to get close to you, then you’d be dead now.” I spoke as calmly as I could. “Because here you are, right in front of me. I could take out my gun and shoot a hole in your head. The only reason I’m not doing it is because of Tara. But that’s all you’re getting out of me. You don’t get to hear how we met, or how we feel about each other because that’s ours. That’s not yours. I’ll walk away and never see Tara again, but everything that happened will still be ours. You can have her, but you don’t get to dissect us.” I leaned back in the booth and took a gulp of my coffee. The bitter brew scorched down my throat. “One last thing, I didn’t know who the fuck she was when I met her.” I made to stand then held up a finger. “No wait, that wasn’t the last thing I wanted to say. This is—fuck you.”
Bryan had gone completely still. I couldn’t read him, as he’d wiped his face to a frustratingly neutral expression, but the gears were turning in his head. He’d heard me, every word.
I glanced at Tara. She wasn’t moving, eyes on her coffee, hands circling the mug. Then she slowly lifted her head to face me. And she nodded. Just a nod, an agreement. A pact. To keep our truth to ourselves.
That meant it was time for me to go.
I stood up, tossing her keys on the table, and that was when her body jerked. “No,” she said.
I couldn’t do this with her. I didn’t have it in me to draw out the good-byes. “I need to leave, babe.”
“No, I know that, I’m saying take my keys. My car.”
I downed the rest of the coffee. “I’m sorry?”
“I’ll go with Bryan. You don’t have a way to get back. I don’t need my car. Just… take it.”
“I’m not going to take your car—”
“Take it,” she snapped.
I looked to Bryan, but he was watching his sister. He still hadn’t said another word to me, and I was okay with that.
W
ith a flick of her finger, she sent the keys skittering across the table back to me. I slapped my hand over them before the fell off the edge. “Fine, I’ll take the car.”
“Great,” she whispered.
I turned to Bryan. “Keep her safe.”
He held my gaze, and something was working there behind them, something I couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t my concern. I was done with the Drayers. He nodded. And that was my cue.
I didn’t know what to say to Tara, because we’d already said everything we had to say. So I looked at her and said softly. “Eat some toast, get some rest, okay? Take care of yourself.”
She bit her lips. “You too. Be happy, Lance.”
I didn’t nod to that, because I wasn’t sure that was in the cards for me. Then I turned on a booted heel away from her brown eyes and walked out of the diner.
Tara
I ate my toast even though it tasted like cardboard and drank my coffee even though I’d poured three sugars in it and it still tasted like motor oil. I didn’t blame the diner. I blamed my taste buds and my stomach, which was currently staging a riot in my body.
Lance had left. Just like that. Walked out reminding me to take care of myself. Still looking out for me like he’d promised he would.
Now I was here in this diner with a waitress who was still sending my brother flirty looks.
Except Bryan wasn’t looking at her. He actually hadn’t said a word since Lance left. He alternately looked out the window then back at me. He knew I was upset, and normally he’d say something goofy to lighten the mood, but there was no lightening this. He’d ruined my life. Again. And I wished again that I didn’t love him as much as I did. As I always would.
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