Beast Brothers

by Stephanie Brother

  Back downstairs, I step out onto the front porch and hurl his bag in the direction of his car.

  Returning to the reception, I walk at a calm pace. I unclench my jaw and paste a smile on my face as I approach my lying, cheating, never-again boyfriend.

  Clay looks surprised to see me. "Back so soon, babe?"

  "Yeah, babe." I'm sure I sound extremely sarcastic, but he doesn't seem to notice. "I need your help with something. Can you follow me?"

  I watch him get up. He does that annoying thing where he pushes the front of his hair up and then sweeps it to the side, checking to make sure it’s all still neatly in place. It’s so vain and and I can't figure out what I ever saw in him.

  I lead him to the front of the house and turn on him as soon as we're out of everyone's view.

  My eyes are narrowed and my voice is cold. "I need you to leave right now, and I never want to see you again. Your bag is over there—" I gesture to it, and am tickled to notice that it also is lying in mud. "And here's your fucking phone." I jab the device into his chest and then I turn and leave. He starts to speak but I interrupt him. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Ever." I yell this at him as I walk away without a backward glance.

  Chapter 16

  I'm proud of myself for holding it together long enough to kick Clay to the curb, but as I watch his car pull out of the driveway, I break down. I go back upstairs to the guest bedroom, thankful for the privacy of the quiet house, and I sob until my head hurts.

  I'm not upset that he's gone. At the moment, I can't imagine missing a single thing about him, but I'm wrecked by the realization of how stupid I've been. I saw him at the bar a month ago — with "N." apparently — and I let the asshole sweet talk me into thinking my suspicions were my problem. He made me think I had trust issues, when in reality, I was too damn trusting! He manipulated me, and I let him.

  I think about him spanking her, and I feel so disgusted I could spit. I get up and start pacing the small room, when there's a knock at the door.

  "Kate? Are you okay?" It's Billy.

  I try to make my voice even. "I'm fine."

  There is a long pause, then he says, "That's clearly not true." His voice is low and sounds muffled, as if he's leaning in close to the door.

  "Are you alone?" he asks.

  "Yes. I'll be out soon, Billy."

  There is silence outside the door. I bring my thoughts back to the wedding, and then think about what my face must look like after all the crying. I'm hopeful that a cold washcloth and a full makeup reapplication will set things straight.

  I wait a few more minutes in my room, hoping that Billy has gone away quietly, but I know that's not going to be the case. I find him leaning against the wall opposite my bedroom door. He jerks to attention when he sees me.

  "What happened?"

  "Oh, I just finally wised up, that’s all. About a month too late," I say. I try to smile, but it doesn't quite happen.

  "What did he do?" Billy’s jaw is clenched. He sounds murderous.

  "He didn't do anything today, but apparently he's been doing someone named Nikki for who knows how long." I manage a bitter laugh. Something about Billy's presence and his clear concern for me is comforting.

  “I’ve been wondering what you were still doing with him," Billy says, his voice softer now.

  "I know. I was an idiot. He told me a story and I believed it."

  He steps forward, puts an arm around me and pulls me close. "That does not make you an idiot."

  I lean into his embrace for a moment, breathing in his scent and relishing his comforting warmth, but then I gently push away from him, aware of the fact that I sought comfort in his arms the first time I found out Clay was betraying me, and that didn't turn out so well. "I need to clean up and get back out there," I say.

  "Okay, let me know if you want to talk later," he says.

  "Thanks." I start for the bathroom but then stop and turn back to him. "I just remembered. I rode here in Clay's car. I don't have a way home."

  "That's not a problem. I'll take you."

  "Are you sure?" When he nods, I continue, "Thank you. I'd really appreciate that. I don't want to tell my mom what happened yet. I don't want to worry her today."

  I tell my mom that Clay had a weekend work emergency, and I make up a story about allergies to explain the puffiness that remains on my face. I’m not sure she buys my story, but she doesn’t push for details. I’ll correct my white lies when she and George return from their honeymoon.

  The reception continues without any problems despite the windy day, and I even manage to enjoy myself. Any time thoughts of Clay arise, I focus on the relief I feel that I'm through with him. I realize how much I’d been forcing myself to be with him because he seemed right for me on paper. And because, I will admit, that I enjoyed having someone there that I could rely on. Or so I thought. Anyway, he can't hurt me again. I won't let him.

  In what seems like no time, the sun starts to sink in the sky and guests begin to leave. The caterers and the musicians pack up, and soon it's just Billy, Tommy, and I, and a few close relatives gathered to say goodbye to the bride and groom, who are headed to a hotel for the night, and then they’ll be off to Hawaii in the morning.

  After they leave, Billy tells me that he's made arrangements for his aunt and uncle to stay with Tommy while he drives me home. I change into comfortable clothes, pack up my things, and find Billy downstairs. He's changed into jeans and flannel, and as good as he looked in his wedding finery, I find I like him even better in his everyday clothes.

  He leads me out to his truck, which triggers a flashback to our night in the parking lot. This time I'm climbing inside the cab — not an easy task — and when I'm perched inside, I feel like a kindergartner in a giant school bus. Billy slides in behind the wheel, and puts the key in the ignition. He seems to hesitate, turning towards me as though he has something to say. But then he seems to stop himself. I jump as he starts the truck’s noisy engine and then we're city-bound.

  "You doing okay?" he asks, when we're just a few miles into the trip.

  "I've been better, but I've been worse,” I admit.

  After a minute of silence, Billy asks, "You want music?"

  "Whatever you want."

  He turns on the radio and country music fills the cab. It's not my favorite, but it's not unpleasant. He turns the volume down so it's more like background music.

  "I hope you don't mind me saying this," Billy says. "I'm sure he must have had some good qualities, because I know you're a smart woman, but Clay was a jerk and you are better off without him." There is anger in his voice that makes my heart flutter. His comments seem tinged with something more than just a simple statement of fact. That he is angry on my behalf makes me smile.

  "I don't mind you saying that. He was definitely a jerk." Billy smiles back, but still wears a concerned expression. "We don't have to talk about him. I'll be fine,” I say.

  Aside from the twangy descriptions of heartbreak coming out of the speakers, we ride in silence for several miles. I shift somewhat uncomfortably when we pass the bar where we'd met, and I'm grateful when Billy doesn't acknowledge the place.

  After we merge onto the highway he says, "The wedding went really well. You and your mom did a great job planning it."

  "Thanks. That's my job. Not weddings, but big events."

  "That's what Rebecca told me. What's that like?"

  We talk for a while about my work at the museum, and about the types of events I arrange. Then talk shifts to Billy's work and his current living situation, which is part time at George's, and part time with a friend of Billy's in town. I'm curious about what his plans are for the future, but I don't want to let on that my mom and I have talked about him. I just let him tell me what he chooses to, and by the time we reach city limits, I realize that he's mostly asked questions and let me do all the talking while he's been a good listener.

  I direct him through the highway interchanges and surface str
eets until we arrive at my building.

  "You can drop me off out front," I say.

  He arches a brow. "Did you forget that I’m a gentleman? I’ll escort you to your apartment."

  It occurs to me that having him come inside might not be a good idea, but I'm oddly flattered by his insistence. There had been nights when Clay dropped me off out front and drove away before I was in the door. It's nice to be accompanied by a man with manners and courtesy for a change, even if that man is, as of today, officially my stepbrother.

  Chapter 17

  Billy looks so out of place in the elevator. I typically share the space with women in dresses and men in suits. Even on a weekend, his jeans, flannel and boots make him stand out.

  We ascend to the twelfth floor and as we walk down the hall to my unit, I realize how rude it would've been for me to send Billy off without inviting him in to rest for a while after the long drive.

  "Would you like something to drink?" I ask.

  "Sure."

  I unlock my door and flip on the light. My apartment looks so small after spending time at George's big farm house with all of its room and its wide open spaces. I like to think of my place as "cozy" but with someone of Billy's size inside of it, the place just looks cramped.

  He sets my bag on a chair. He'd insisted on carrying it for me, claiming it as another obligation of being a gentleman. I watch his head slowly turn as he looks all around my apartment and I wonder what he thinks of it.

  "What would you like? Soda, tea, coffee?"

  "Coffee would be great."

  "Have a seat." I gesture to my trendy little couch and suppress a giggle at the thought of his bulky frame trying to get comfortable on it. I heat up my single-serve coffee maker and pull down a mug. I get a glass of water for myself.

  "What do you take? Cream? Sugar?" My kitchenette is mere steps from my living room. I don't even have to raise my voice.

  “Just black," he says.

  I bring Billy his coffee and sit in the chair opposite him. He does look awkward on my small furniture, even though I can tell he's doing his best to act like he's comfortable.

  "Thank you very much for the ride, and thank you for being a good friend," I say. "I'm really grateful that you were there for me today."

  He takes a sip of the coffee, which must still be scalding, then says, "I care about you, Kate." He looks into my eyes and I have to look away briefly before I reply.

  "I care about you too, Billy. I'm glad we're family." A part of me knows I'm mentioning family to remind myself as well as him that we're practically related. There's no denying that my stomach fluttered when he said he cares about me, but I'm not supposed to be admiring my stepbrother’s body and wishing his strong arms were wrapped around me. "It's going to be really nice to have brothers,” I continue.

  He sets his mug on the table and leans toward me. "I'm not interested in being your brother, Kate. In case you hadn’t noticed, I'd like to have a very different kind of relationship with you."

  His eyes pierce into mine, and I have to look away. There is fire in them, desire that sends a shiver down my spine. I try to think of an effective response, something that will reset us both on the path of clear thinking. Something that will make him realize that what he has in mind shouldn’t happen. Cannot happen.

  I meet his gaze and he's still staring at me. How am I supposed to be the strong, logical one when he's sitting so close and looking at me like that, like he wants to pick up exactly where we left off in the parking lot a month ago?

  I wonder if it's just sex he wants. And if we were to finish what we started, would it get it out of both of our systems, so that we could move on with our lives and not be left wondering how it would be? I know men love the conquest, and I know that leaving him mid-action during our first encounter must have left him frustrated. Maybe if we… continue… and reach a, ahem, conclusion, maybe he'll no longer be frustrated.

  The mere thought of continuing with him is enough to quicken my pulse and send a rush of heat downward in my body. The rational part of me is still here but there’s another part, the one that was awakened in that parking lot at the hands of Billy, that needs to find closure too.

  I feel my face flush and I'm sure he can see me turning red.

  "I know you want to, Kate. You know you want to."

  I can't bring myself to deny it. Hard as I've tried not to, I've been thinking about him ever since that night. I’ve barely admitted it to myself, but I’ve even pleasured myself while thinking of him and what might have been. Now he's here, I am definitely a single woman, and we are not in a public parking lot.

  Billy lifts himself off my silly little couch and comes to kneel in front of me. He takes my calf in his palm, encircling my leg completely, and slowly runs his hand up and down my leg as he looks up at me. "I want to make you purr, like you did that night." He reaches briefly up to my outer thigh and then runs his caress all the way back down to my ankle, trailing his finger over the delicate skin there. "I want to make you whimper."

  "Billy—"

  He gently pushes my legs apart and slides both of his hands halfway up my inner thighs. I'm wearing pants, and I'm completely covered, but at the same time I feel so exposed. I can feel myself getting wet for him.

  "Just tell me you want me to leave, and I'll leave." His voice is sexy and confident, but I hear his honesty too. I know he'll stop if I want him to, but I can't make myself say a word.

  His upper lip curls into a smile as I remain silent. Then he scoops me up out of the chair as easily as if I were a kitten. I wrap my legs around his torso and grab onto his hard shoulders, digging my fingers in just for the sheer pleasure of it.

  "Please tell me you have a bed that's bigger than your couch," Billy says.

  I laugh and tilt my head in the direction of my bedroom door. "I don't know if it's big enough for you, but we'll make it work somehow.”

  Chapter 18

  Now that I’ve made the decision not to resist my attraction to Billy, I’m all in. I savor his every touch and push away any lingering doubts. This is going to be a one-time thing, and I intend to enjoy every second of it.

  We kiss as he angles us through the doorway to my bedroom, and we carry on kissing when he lays me on the bed. I can feel his hunger as our lips come together more urgently. I start to tug at his shirt but he pulls back, holding himself a few inches above me. “I want to be inside you right now, but I’m gonna make myself wait a little longer.” He runs a finger diagonally from my shoulder to my hip, and then he circles it in a wide path over my thighs and across my stomach. My skin lights up at his touch and all my nerve endings come alive.

  “Let’s take this nice and slow tonight,” he says, as he narrows his trail. He continues to draw circles on my body, making each one slightly smaller than the last, as he zeroes in on his target. His finger lazily draws closer and closer to my mound, which throbs as he approaches it.

  I gaze at his face as leans over me, his attention focused on my body. He can probably see me starting to quiver. Meanwhile, I get lost staring at his eyes. They’re so beautiful with their long, dark lashes, and there’s something so kind about them, though currently they’re starting to look devilish.

  My pants are still on, but I’m wishing desperately that they weren’t. His finger is now sliding just one inch above my pussy, then over to the very tops of my inner thighs. I raise my hips toward him and see him grin, just before he starts widening his circle again, moving further away from the area I want him to touch so badly.

  I groan and his smile widens.

  “Is this payback for the parking lot?” I say. “Payback for me being a tease?”

  “Oh, am I teasing you?” he asks with mock innocence. He leans into me, and right before he kisses me I feel him, long and hard, straining against his jeans.

  I gasp as I both feel and remember the size of him, which had intimidated me the last time I’d felt his erection against me.

  “I just want to mak
e sure you’re ready for me,” Billy whispers as he presses down on me.

  I grab his muscular back, needing to touch him, needing to bring him even closer. I spread my legs, giving him space to sink onto me, and wish our clothing could just disappear.

  “I’m ready for you,” I say as I pull his shirt up in the back, untucking it from his jeans.

  Now Billy groans, and pulls back from me. “You’re making it really hard for me to take it slow,” he says.

  “Slow is overrated,” I say, as I reach for the front of his shirt and pull it free of his pants.

  He backs out of my reach. “We’ll see about that.” He slides his hands under the waistband of my pants and shimmies them slowly down my hips, inch by inch, as if he’s got all day.

  To counter his glacial pace, I sit up halfway and pull my shirt over my head as if it’s on fire. Then I reach behind me and unsnap my bra just as quickly.

  Propped up on my arms, I stare at Billy, wondering if my bare chest will inspire him to move a little faster. He stops his movement entirely and stares at my breasts, transfixed. My frustration is momentarily replaced with pride.

  “Gorgeous,” he murmurs, as he reaches up and runs his thumb across one of my nipples. He pinches it softly and it instantly hardens at his touch. Then he’s by my side again and he pulls my nipple into his mouth.

  “Mmmm.” I close my eyes and let my head fall back as I succumb to the sensations he’s arousing. I imagine sparks shooting throughout my body, originating at his point of contact with my breast, and radiating outward, all the way to my toes. Billy’s still moving slowly, but it feels incredible as he swirls his tongue around my pebbled nipple and sucks my breast deeper into his mouth.

  He moves to my other breast, as I run my fingers through his thick brown hair, and then down under his shirt collar to the muscles in his back. His skin is smooth, and I can feel such strength beneath it. I’m fascinated by the contrast between the power his body holds, and the thoughtful, delicate way he’s attending to my body.