by Quinn, Cari
That freaking body of his. All ripped and tight, muscles layering upon muscles, shifting and bunching.
He turned to grab his shirt behind his head and pulled it up, creating a ripple effect from his neck right on down his back. A black ink tattoo of the SEALs' trident stretched between his shoulder blades, connecting the full sleeve on one arm and partial sleeve on the other. On one arm he had Poseidon and what appeared to be a shipwrecked boat, and, on the other, he had a skull with crosses in the eye sockets. Dates scrolled up the sides. It was creepy as hell, but the overall effect was stunning. He’d had a few tattoos before, though nothing compared to this. Liam had become a living canvas, the pictures etched on his skin ten times more evocative than the musical piece I’d struggled over all night long.
His comment from earlier came back to me, snatching my focus from his taut ass.
Is that your so-called work? Tinkling the ivories?
Pain jabbed me between the breasts as he pivoted to face me again, his attention directed just off-center from my face. He reached out, sketching his fingers over the scale tattoo on my neck as if he were reading Braille off my skin. “All this ink. Your music…it means a lot to you.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting him to see my tears. God, I couldn’t let him do that to me. Hurt me so carelessly with one blow, then smooth away the pain with an equally offhanded remark.
“Yes.” It was all I could manage.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he hauled me up, pulling me against him so that I had no choice but to wind around him like a vine. His lips slanted over mine, ravenous and searing. The taste of my own arousal hit my tongue, and then he was stroking in and out of my mouth, hard and fast, not giving me time to catch up. He carried me to the door to kick it closed, slamming my back against it. I moaned at his welcome roughness, arching up at the forbidden feeling of his bare cock slipping against my soaked flesh.
“You want me to fuck you? Is that what you’re asking for?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He didn’t give me another chance to speak before he surged up, burying himself inside me to the root. And it still wasn’t close enough. He jerked out and into me again and again, hitting all of the over-sensitized nerve endings he’d set to screaming.
Already lost, I bit his lower lip, triggering a long groan as he bottomed out inside me. So damn deep. I’d wanted control, but he’d impaled me against this door, and, damn, if I didn’t love it with every fiber of my being.
“Oh, shit, you’re tight.” He jockeyed me in his embrace until he could slide his fingers between our bodies, his aim for my clit precise. With the first touch, I clenched around him, getting impossibly wetter, riding his shaft for all I was worth. “Getting tighter, too,” he gritted out, shoving his length deep as I threw back my head, bumping the door. Even that minor pain barely registered over him stretching me open for his desperate invasion.
My fingers slipped off his sweat-dampened shoulders, and I couldn’t take him in far enough to suit me.
“Liam, fuck me,” I begged, hoping he’d be able to get me there, just a little more—
A door slammed in the apartment. “Hey, Abalicious, where are you?”
Slater. Oh, God.
Liam paused for a heartbeat, just long enough to pin me in place with a truly terrifying glare. His eyes were wild, unfocused, the green as bright as lasers. A muscle ticked along his jaw, and perspiration dotted his forehead. Another moment, and he would’ve come inside me.
But he’d stop now. He had to, right?
I pushed at his shoulder halfheartedly, not really wanting this to end so soon. It was bad enough that it had to end at all.
Shaking his head, he growled and redoubled his efforts, soundlessly hammering into my hips over and over. Giving me no choice but to come, bucking against him as I drenched his cock. He pushed the finger still wet from me between my lips to stifle my cries, and then he was dragging himself back to slam home one final time, pulsing his release inside me.
He flashed a smug smile and dropped his forehead to mine. “Admit it, baby,” he said breathlessly. “You know he can’t give it to you like I do.”
Three
In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have picked that exact moment to do my version of a lion’s roar over that day’s catch. Because I was no lion—and I definitely hadn’t caught Abby. I’d had my chance there once, and I’d bungled it. I still wasn’t entirely sure how.
One day, we’d been happy, headed toward a future together. I was moving up in the ranks, and she was enjoying her position as a clerk at a women’s clothing store. Or so I’d believed. We’d had plenty of sparks and plenty of good times together.
Then she’d closed off and grown distant, and I’d severed our relationship for her benefit. At least that was what I told myself when I remembered the way she’d cried and accused me of being an adrenaline junkie and only concerned about my job.
Those words had hit too close to home. I’d heard them before, after all.
Maybe I wasn’t certain what had ended us then—though I had a number of disturbing theories—but I definitely knew how I’d screwed things up now. Her glower as she pushed me away, forcing me to leave her body, told the tale pretty clearly.
I’d invoked the cocky brother clause. You know I’m better than him.
I’d said variations of that phrase so many times as a joke to my parents. They’d laughed me off every time.
Slater hadn’t laughed.
“Abby?” My brother called again from the other side of the door. I swore under my breath as I reached for the condom that—
Wasn’t there. No condom.
My gaze shot up to Abby’s. Since she currently had her back to me while she retrieved her scattered clothes, she couldn’t see my puzzled expression.
“We didn’t use protection.”
The look she directed over her shoulder could’ve cut glass. And I was pretty sure the inscription would read fuck you.
“Yeah, I just realized that. Keep your voice down.”
“Hell, no, I won’t.”
After she pulled on her top, I gripped her arm and spun her to face me. “Is it okay? Are we okay?”
I couldn’t interpret the emotion that pinched her eyebrows. “I’m on the Pill.”
“Of course you are,” I muttered, not realizing quite how obnoxious that sounded. Her shove against my chest as Slater knocked on the door drove the point home, though.
“Babe, that’s you in there, right? Because, if not, I’m going to start thinking I’m sleep-hitting on chicks and bringing them home.”
All it took was that single word babe in Slater’s genial voice for me to set my jaw. Goddammit. For one second, I’d had a more pressing concern than Abby banging—and apparently living with—my brother. Skipping a condom was a biggie, especially since I never forgot. I also hadn’t planned on having sex today, so I hadn’t stocked my wallet. Which meant even if I’d realized, my only option would’ve been to pull out because there was no damn way I would’ve missed being inside my Abby again. Not for the world.
I shut my eyes at my brother’s next knock.
Not your Abby, dickhead. Time you realized that.
“It’s me, Slater. I’ll be right out,” Abby called, flattening me with a disgusted look. Probably because I hadn’t yet started getting dressed. I was just standing there, hands on my hips, scowling in my brother’s general direction through the door. I wasn’t enjoying one bit of the afterglow, and I wasn’t happy about it.
Damn Slater.
I did a quick clean-up job with some tissues and grabbed my jeans, boxers, and shirt, dressing swiftly. I managed to get my shirt over my head approximately ten seconds before Abby opened the door and eased out, shutting the door in my face.
In. My. Face.
Grinding my teeth, I listened as she talked in low tones to Slater. Softening the blow, I supposed. I waited until she said my name to yank open the door.
Slater stood on the ot
her side, his face emotionless. He took his time shifting his focus from my ex and even longer to address me.
“Liam,” he said coolly. “This is unexpected.”
“Yeah, I bet. About as unexpected as me showing up here to find you living with Abs.”
She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “My name is Abby.”
“Oh, but Abalicious is okay?” I shook my head. “Sorry, bro, I just slept with your chick. I’d apologize if you hadn’t done the same damn thing to me already.”
“Classy, dude. Nice to see you haven’t matured any in the years away.”
“I’m not your chick, Liam. I’m not his, either.” Abby jerked her chin at Slater and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously, if this is going to devolve into a pissing contest between you two, I’ll just head over to my new place now instead of Monday.”
“What new place?” I demanded, trying to ignore the knot in my gut.
“She didn’t tell you she was moving? I’m shocked.” Slater glanced at his watch. “I would’ve figured in the, oh, three hours I’ve been gone that you would’ve had plenty of time for pillow talk and everything.” He flashed a smile. “Speed’s always been your thing, brother.”
“Slater, jeez, don’t start that stuff. That’s not like you.” Abby laid a hand on Slater’s chest, and I couldn’t help the rumble in my throat. That whole seeing red thing apparently wasn’t an exaggeration because I would’ve sworn Slater’s shaggy brownish-blond hair had reddened around the edges.
“Sorry, but he brings it out in me. Always has.” My brother paced away to grab the brightly colored surfboard on its side near the front door, carting it toward the windows. It still gleamed with drops of water.
So that was where he’d gone so early—surfing. The boy never changed much. That was both a comfort and an annoyance, though I was currently saving all my irritation for his involvement with Abby. Even our personal struggles paled in comparison, and that morning, they’d been all I could think about.
The difference a few hours could make.
“You’re moving,” I said again to Abby as she stared after Slater.
I might’ve gotten more peeved at her mooning after him if I hadn’t been able to read the resignation in her defeated posture. She didn’t want to be dealing with this right now. I understood perfectly.
If she and Slater had something going on, it had definitely cooled. I wasn’t picking up any overt signals that they were still regularly hooking up, but, then again, my vision was now miles away from 20/20. Forget hindsight. I couldn’t see clearly in any direction anymore.
“Yes,” she said quietly, passing a hand over her choppy hair.
Frantic door fucks had a way of wrecking hairstyles. Shit, even the sight of her flipping her fingers through the tangled strands reminded me of when it had crossed my lips, vanilla-scented and so fucking soft.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want you to know where she’s going,” Slater said, putting his back to us to wax his board.
All at once, it hit me what he was missing. I was used to seeing two things with Slater—his board and his dog.
“Where’s Barnabas?”
My shitty vision didn’t keep me from noticing the rigidness to his stance as he rose. “He’s gone, Lime. A lot happens when you take off for years at a stretch.”
Even as I acknowledged with unavoidable pleasure—and relief—that he’d used his old childhood nickname for me, the rest of his statement sunk in talons-deep.
“I didn’t take off, Slater. I was serving my country.” I crossed my arms, tightening them until the seams of my shirt threatened to pop. No one could get to me like my little brother—and Abby.
Always Abby.
“Yeah, I know that.” Venom laced his words, taking his normally laidback surfer-cool voice to a smoky depth I’d never heard. Evidently, I wasn’t the only one who could growl. “You were always out serving the greater good while me and Jen sat around waiting to get that knock at the door that the last member of our family was gone.”
Shock had me struggling to speak. “Slater—”
“Don’t. Just don’t lecture me about how you were doing the right thing, okay? My dog’s dead, and you’re not, and I’m supposed to be grateful? And maybe I would be, if I could get over being so goddamned pissed.” He kicked his prized surfboard away, and I reeled back as if he’d punched me in the jaw.
Slater didn’t touch his boards with anything but respect. We’d come to blows half a dozen times before our last explosive battle that felt like a million years ago now, but those boards were like his babies. For him to kick one was a show of rage I’d never expected.
He’d never confessed his worries to me, not once. He hadn’t been looking down on me for choosing to fight—my brother had always fallen on the love part of the make-love-or-war spectrum—as I’d always assumed. He’d been afraid to lose me like we’d lost our parents.
Why hadn’t I seen that before? Why hadn’t I pulled my head out of my ass long enough to put myself in Jen and Slater’s position? It had always been about me.
Just like it was now with Abs. I hadn’t considered that maybe the two people I’d left behind had found something in my absence. Something that didn’t have a damn bit to do with me.
“I’m sorry about Barnabas. He was a great dog.” I cleared my throat. “How long ago?”
“About a year.”
“Maybe you could think about getting another one. Someday,” I added as his eyebrows snapped down over his eyes.
“Not everything is replaceable, Liam.” He shot a pointed glance at Abby, and, damn, if shame didn’t burn the back of my neck. I certainly hadn’t let her go to trade her in for a new model, but, for all I knew, Slater might believe I had.
He didn’t have the best opinion of me. His fault and mine. I should’ve tried harder to talk to him, to help him understand that I wasn’t just doing the job for my team, but for my family too. Supporting them and making them proud had always been my goal. I knew they’d been in a difficult place emotionally after our parents’ deaths, but I just hadn’t spared the time to tell them in so many words how much they meant to me.
Now I would. In the end, family and the brotherhood I’d become part of was all that fucking mattered.
I forced myself to breathe through the painful constriction in my chest. “How’s Jen?”
“She’s fine. Better than fine. Something you should know without asking me.”
I shut my eyes and balled my fists, resisting the urge to pound the hell out of the sheetrock. I needed to get my frustrations out with a run and some physical fucking aggression before I said words I couldn’t take back.
I’d come too close to that already.
But that didn’t mean I could walk before getting some answers. I didn’t have a right to know all I wanted to ask. That wouldn’t stop me from trying.
“What’s with the fighting, Slater?” I finally opened my eyes.
Abs was standing at the window, her gaze cast on the busy Brooklyn street below. The strengthening morning sunlight set fire to her hair and put a glow to her skin. The glow she’d once had all on her own.
If I’d dimmed any of it, even unintentionally, I deserved to be shot. Again.
Slater sat on the sofa and shuffled the DVDs I’d left on the coffee table. “Been snooping, huh?”
I couldn’t see his smirk from that distance, but I heard it in his tone.
“Guess your little brother inherited the need to kick ass too.”
“Bullshit.” I strode forward, vaguely aware of Abs pivoting to watch us. “You’re not violent. Never have been. And, even worse, you’re messing around in the underground scene? That’s fucking illegal.”
“Ah, I should’ve known. The problem isn’t me being involved in the fights. It’s that it isn’t strictly legal.”
“Strictly legal? Why would you get involved with something so bloodthirsty and dangerous?” It took eve
rything inside me not to cross the room and shake some sense into him.
“You’re not my father.” Slater bolted to his feet and tossed the DVDs onto the couch. “Got that?”
That stopped me dead, as intended.
“I know that.”
I swallowed hard as the memory of our pop filled my head. Jack Walsh had been a grizzly salt-and-pepper outdoorsman who didn’t take shit from anyone. He’d loved to be active. Hunting, fishing, riding ATVs—he’d done it all. “I wouldn’t ever try to replace Dad. Or Mom, either.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Because that would require you to stick around and actually deal with your family instead of chasing glory.”
“You honestly think that’s what I was doing? Trying to get accolades?”
He stared at me steadily. “You tell me.”
I couldn’t, because maybe there was a grain of truth in what he’d said. And even a grain was too much.
“Why are you fighting?” I asked again instead of reopening the past hurts I wasn’t equipped to deal with. Not yet.
“I’m not fighting. I’ve worked in Fox Knox’s corner for the last couple of years since a short time after I got to the city.”
“Yeah? What’s so special about him?”
“He’s my best friend. And he needed my support.”
It was stupid to want to flinch at his carelessly cruel answer. My brother and I hadn’t been best friends in too many years to count. Years ago, we’d spent every hour we could together. Building sand castles, swimming, starting bonfires, off-roading. Later, we’d picked up girls together, bragging about our conquests. We were only a few years apart, and back then, that distance had barely seemed to matter.
Now it felt like a lifetime.
“Needed?” I asked hollowly. “Past tense?”
“He doesn’t fight anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because he was tired of chasing the attention. He proved what he set out to. And he found someone that mattered more to him than risking getting hurt for nothing. Fuck.”
My brother shoved a hand through his hair before striding out of the room in the opposite direction from where Abby and I had come. Thanks to the open floor plan, I could see a short hallway that branched off the main room. A moment later, a door slammed.