Didn’t do anything that would get her in trouble…at all.
She just needed to keep her cool, act normal around Luke, drink some good whiskey, and in six short weeks, she’d never have to deal with either of the Miller twins again.
The next thing she knew, she felt a tug on the back of her collar. She cried out in surprise, but Noah hissed for her to be quiet as he pulled her off the path.
“What are you doing?” she hissed right back, tripping over herself to keep up with him.
He stopped and spun her around. They were behind one of the barns, out of sight of the tasting room and the farm entrance. It wasn’t lost on her that none of their friends could see them. She was pretty sure nobody from the farm could, either.
“You need to stop acting strange,” he said.
The. Nerve. Of. This. Man.
“Me?” she sputtered. “You’re the one who needs to keep it together.”
“You’re being so cold to Luke in there.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You were the one who was standing next to me and then went out of your way to walk all the way to the other side of the bar.”
“We never stand next to each other, Amanda.” He said it with such patronizing calm. Did he think she needed the reminder that they weren’t friends? The only person who tied them together was Luke.
Which was why Noah needed to chill.
“Thanks for the reminder that you’ve never liked me,” she said. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. Okay?”
“Amanda—”
She held up her hand to stop him before he could say something else equally condescending. “I just mean you’re being a little obvious about how much you desperately want to avoid me.”
“He’s going to get suspicious if you don’t—” He faltered. She raised an eyebrow. Noah, who always had an answer for everything, couldn’t finish his sentence?
“If I don’t what?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“You know.” He paused then mumbled, “Act like you normally do.”
She had no idea what she was talking about—and then, suddenly, she did.
The only reason she didn’t physically shove him away was because that would involve touching him. Which she was not going to do.
“You mean if I don’t tart it up around him,” she spat. “Thanks, this has been a great chat. Fuck you very much.”
Noah’s cheeks turned pink. Which was satisfying, at least.
“I just mean that you’re usually falling all over him.”
“I don’t fall over anyone,” she said hotly.
Although she could guess her cheeks were pink now, too.
She thought again of Gregg, ghosting her after they’d been sleeping together for weeks. The “thanks, but no thanks” texts she’d gotten back from dates over the years. And then Luke, who she could barely be in the same room with right now.
Her mom was right. Nothing good came from putting herself out there.
“I’m just saying you need to relax,” Noah said.
“You’re telling me to flirt more with your brother and you think that makes this less weird?”
“I’m just telling you he’s going to get suspicious.”
“Yeah—suspicious that his brother is an asshole.”
His palm hit the barn wood just over her shoulder. He leaned in close, his green eyes glittering. “I’m serious, Amanda. This isn’t a joke.”
This time, she did touch him. She had to. She stabbed her index finger to the center of his chest. At least it was minimal contact. It wasn’t like she was running her palms all over him.
But she could feel how hard the muscle was. That—and the fact that she knew exactly how the rest of his body was cut—made her mouth go dry. She could barely remember what smart retort she’d been about to come up with.
“I’m the one trying to forget this ever happened,” she finally managed. “You’re the one dragging me God-knows-where to hash it out all over again.”
He grabbed her hand to pull her finger away from him. “Sorry it was so horrible for you last night.”
“Oh, come on.” There was something downright pleasurable about rolling her eyes in his face.
“No, I get it. It was probably your worst nightmare.”
“Something like that.”
But he didn’t let go of her hand. And instead of stepping away like he was supposed to, he moved closer, until her back was against the barn wall and she had nowhere to go.
“The funny thing, though, is that I don’t remember you complaining,” he said. “In fact, I seem to recall you thought it was pretty good.”
His eyes were bright and hard. He didn’t look away. Only millimeters between them, such a flimsy excuse for not touching.
“You’re so full of it,” she said.
But even she could hear that her voice sounded soft. Achy. Like they both knew she was remembering last night…and how she’d moaned for him.
Even when she’d said Luke’s name. Even when she’d thought it was Luke in bed. It had been Noah making her pant. Noah making her need.
“Prove it,” he said, his voice husky and deep.
It was barely more than a whisper. It wasn’t even a command. But she felt herself responding.
She shifted, spreading her legs just slightly, her lips parting to let a breath escape. The next thing she knew, there was no more space between them. Noah pressed her against the wooden barn, his hand hitching up her long flannel shirt and nestling between her thighs. Her leggings let her feel everything—his fingers, his insistent heat. Her own heat radiating back to him.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want this,” he practically growled in her ear.
All she could do was whimper in response.
In full daylight, right behind the barn, he kissed her hard, his stubble scratchy against her lips, his chest and thigh muscles firm against her body. His hand made circles through her leggings until she couldn’t even scream at herself to stop this. She spread her legs wider and kissed him back with the pent-up longing she didn’t even know she’d had.
Who cared if it was a disaster? Who cared if this wasn’t even someone she liked? Who cared that he was so recently out of a long-term relationship, he probably had no clue what he wanted—except to know it clearly wasn’t her?
And it was daylight. They were in public. Their friends were right around the corner, for crying out loud. The last thing she wanted was another hookup bound to go nowhere—especially with someone so close to her friends and the rest of her life.
But the sun was strong on her skin, the smell of hay and apples and whiskey and crisp fall air filling her. And Noah was here, now, doing things to her that went far beyond what she’d imagined with anyone else. With Luke.
For a moment—for this moment, at least—she didn’t care about the reasons not to. She closed her eyes and let a cry escape her. She pressed her hips against his hand and gave in.
Chapter Six
Noah pressed his hand between Amanda’s legs and felt the sweet, soft warmth of her thighs. It was wrong, impulsive. Everything he wasn’t. And he couldn’t make himself stop.
He was still waiting for his smart, sensible self to kick in. The person who’d recognize that this was neither the time nor the place. And it sure as hell wasn’t the person.
No one was the right person. After Kristina, he hadn’t been able to imagine kissing anyone else, let alone wanting more. Luke kept pestering him to get “back in the saddle.” But there was only one place he’d wanted to be, with a woman he no longer had.
Yet here was Amanda, her lips so soft, her kisses both naughty and sweet, and suddenly his better judgment couldn’t say a word. She bit his lip then sucked in a moan as he bit back harder, pushing his tongue against hers, devouring her with his mouth. He pressed hi
s finger along the seam of her leggings, right at the place that he already knew would make her body unlock. Was there any greater pleasure than feeling a woman spread her legs? Any greater pleasure than hearing that delicious moan, her eyes closed, head thrown back against the barn door as he pressed his palm against her?
The sun was warm on his back, the barn wall rough against his palm where he braced himself. He closed his eyes and imagined he was someone else, someone far away from here.
Someone who could do anything he wanted. Kiss the wrong person. Slide into an impulsive mistake without caring what came next.
“You want this,” he growled in her ear, nibbling his way down her neck.
“We said we weren’t letting this happen,” she panted, jerking him out of his blank non-thinking and back into the insanity of what they were doing.
But her breath hitched, her hips ground against him, and he noticed she did nothing to push him away.
“Just don’t fucking tell,” he whispered hoarsely.
“As if I ever would.”
She said it with such venom. Like the worst thing in the world would be for anyone to know she’d locked lips with him. Like she hated him, or was embarrassed by him, or didn’t want him. Or all of the above.
But of course he knew what the problem was. He wasn’t Luke.
He wasn’t his sweet-talking, flirtatious twin brother who could charm the pants—and the panties—off any woman without stopping to wonder if it was actually a good idea. He wasn’t the one Amanda wanted. The one she’d wanted for years.
It should have been a total turn-off. The dose of cold water to make his dick stand down and knock some sense back into him. Getting over Kristina by getting with someone else was a terrible idea. A guaranteed way to leave everyone angry and hurt.
But this time, the reminder that Amanda had been dreaming of Luke only spurred him on. He wanted to make her admit it. He was the one making her pant like this. The one making her legs buckle and her breath hitch.
He was the one she was here with.
And he was the one who was going to make her come.
He slid his hands down the front of her leggings and pushed her panties aside. Maybe it wasn’t gentlemanly. Maybe it was too rough.
But the way she gasped in pleasure when he pushed his finger inside her said she didn’t want gentlemanly. She didn’t want slow, sensual—things they didn’t have time for. Not with their friends and his brother only steps away, inside.
And not with how wet she was, panting and moving against him. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders, pulling him closer as his hand worked inside her pants. He pushed his finger deeper, deeper, then slid another inside. She was so warm, so eager, and he couldn’t get enough of how it felt to hold her like this, to feel her fall apart for him.
“Fuck me,” she gasped into his ear, making his dick strain so hard in his pants it almost hurt.
“I don’t have a condom,” he said, regret thick in the back of his throat.
Obviously, it hadn’t occurred to him when he’d packed for the long weekend that he should have prepared for that. Obviously, this morning, trying to keep his eyes on his own pancakes without straying, the thought that they’d wind up here, like this, had been the furthest thing from his mind.
Obviously, he really fucking wished he had one now.
If he was honest with himself, he’d been thinking about it all morning. Ever since she’d come downstairs in leggings that hugged her so tightly, they hardly counted as clothes.
And the belt that cinched her shirt around her curves, making her breasts look even fuller. The hint of skin where the collar gaped. Those goddamn black leather boots like she had to be ready to kick someone’s ass at a moment’s notice.
“Fuck,” she groaned, grinding against him, a mix of desire and disappointment in her voice. “Okay.”
But that didn’t mean he was about to stop. Or that he’d let her stop, either. He didn’t want her to start thinking and change her mind. He didn’t want anything getting in the way.
He worked his fingers inside her then pulled them out and circled her clit, using the slickness of her body to smooth the sensations as he tried to find the rhythm that would most drive her wild, her breath in his ear telling him when he was closer, closer…when he was there.
It was one thing to fuck a woman. Usually the pinnacle—the whole point of getting into bed as far as most dudes were concerned.
But they weren’t in a bed, that was for damn sure. And nothing about this felt usual. Because right now, to do it with his fingers, to feel her every shudder and sigh, was driving him out of his mind.
Her nails dug into his shoulders. His finger worked her clit. “Noah,” she gasped into him, her voice octaves higher than he’d ever heard before.
Fuck, yes. That was the name he wanted to hear on her lips. The name he wanted her saying over and over, followed by those two delicious words: “I’m coming.”
He fingered her until she stopped trembling then touched her slower, softer, until the waves were done. “Oh,” she said softly, a single note of surprise. As though he wasn’t the only one who would’ve never guessed this could happen.
He put her underwear back in place the best that he was able and pulled out his hand. She tugged her shirt down, but that only showed more of the swell of her breasts. Hunger surged through him. He wanted to see those breasts, that body. He didn’t care that this was crazy. He wanted to devour her whole.
He brought his fingers to his lips and licked his fingertips. She was so sweet. And it was so dirty, what they’d just done.
Her eyes widened at the gesture, as though surprised he wanted to taste her that badly. But how could she doubt it? He brought his fingers from his lips and put them in her mouth. Her tongue darted out, tasting her sex and his mouth and his skin. He kissed her, his fingers still probing her mouth, as he felt her reach down and press against his erection straining impossibly hard against his zipper. He never would have done something this wild and risky with Kristina. Suddenly, that seemed like a goddamn shame.
She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his fly. He stopped kissing her enough to glance around for a second. They were still alone, right? No farm employees were heading out to pick more apples or checking to make sure no one from the whiskey tasting group had stepped out back for a quick fuck in the haystacks?
Shit, this was the world’s worst idea. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done, bringing Amanda to orgasm back against a barn wall while his brother, their friends, and plenty of strangers could stumble upon them at any second.
But he was hard as a hammer, and all the blood in his body was clearly going to his dick and not his brain. The first touch of Amanda’s fingers to his shaft had him gasping. Her palm cupping his balls had him bracing himself against the wall so his legs didn’t give way. Those firm strokes sent his eyes fluttering shut, because if he didn’t count backward from ten and bite his tongue, he’d spurt all over her hand in seconds. And while he knew they needed to be fast, there was such a thing as embarrassing.
“Oh, God,” he murmured as she stroked him. “Just like that.”
“Harder?” she asked.
He groaned, unable to speak. It didn’t matter what she did to him. It was all too much and way too good. Her taste on his lips. The firmness of her hand, her quick strokes, the way she held him just right.
And then—
Was she actually—?
She crouched down in front of him, her hands on his thighs for balance, and took him into her mouth.
She was so warm, so soft, her tongue like velvet as she licked over the head and took his whole length deep into the back of her throat. Her head moved up and down, up and down, sucking him, enveloping him completely.
He braced himself against the barn, looked down at her head moving over his cock, and all it to
ok was a few more strokes of her tongue and the tightening of her hands around his thighs before a noise escaped him and he came in her mouth.
Amanda kept sucking him, swallowing, taking everything he gave until he was spent. She licked him softly, flicking her tongue over the slit. He felt the softness of her lips against the head, one last suck to clean him, and then her eyes looked up at him, huge and bright. It jolted him, in some strange and unexpected way he couldn’t name, to see her looking up at him like that.
But before he could think about what the hell it meant, he heard a shout that sent his heart racing.
“Noah?” his brother called. “Amanda? Where’d you guys go?”
He was still shaking, still shuddering, still didn’t have his legs. But whatever wild thing had just possessed them was suddenly gone.
Replaced with nothing but pure, hot panic bubbling like lava all the way through him.
Chapter Seven
An earthquake, the zombie apocalypse, her mother walking in on her while her vibrator was going full blast—nothing in the universe could have made Amanda move as quickly as the sound of Luke’s voice calling from around the corner.
She jumped up from where she’d been crouched. Just the reminder that she’d done that—gotten on her knees for him in the leaves and the dirt by the barn—made her face flame.
She tugged at her shirt, trying to pull her clothes into place as Noah frantically zipped his jeans, fumbling with the button.
“Your shirt,” she hissed, barely coherent.
“What?”
“Your—”
“Shit, shit.” He pulled out the flap that had gotten tucked into his jeans in his haste.
Not like she was any more put together. Her belt was sideways, her shirt rumpled, and she could feel the stickiness between her thighs. Even if that would stay hidden, thank God.
Wrong Bed, Right Brother (Accidental Love) Page 4