The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister

by Quinn, Meghan

  “That works.” I take a seat at my vanity, the one I’ve had since I was in high school, and start taking out my makeup while Clarissa stands behind me and gets to work with my straightener. While applying eye primer, I say, “I’m nervous.” I still feel a little stupid telling Bram that twice, but he does understand me. And part of that means I can trust him. But I am still a little wobbly nonetheless.

  Clarissa divides my hair into sections and pins the top pieces to my head so she can start straightening the bottom layer. “Why are you nervous? You’ve known Bram forever.”

  “I know, but this is different. He isn’t simply my brother’s friend; he’s actually interested in me. What if I say something stupid?”

  “Then he’ll probably laugh and call you out on it. Just because you two are dating doesn’t mean he’s going to change. He’s still the same guy, but now you get to kiss him and hold his hand and stare at him all you want. Don’t think of this as a first date. See it as going out with a friend with extra benefits, the good kind of benefits.”

  “I never really thought about it that way. All day I was trying to come up with points of discussion.”

  “You were not,” she scoffs with humor.

  I pick out a neutral light brown eyeshadow and start spreading it over my eyelid. “I did too. I came up with twenty-two points of discussion, real conversational topics.”

  “Oh my God, Julia, you’re looking too much into this. Just relax and have fun, enjoy the moment.”

  “I’ll try.” I add a darker shade to the crease of my eye and then pause, looking into the mirror. I stare back at Clarissa. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jumping into this relationship. So many things could go wrong.”

  “Are you talking about Rath?” I nod. “Does he know?”

  I shake my head. “No, and I asked Bram not to tell him.”

  The straightener runs through my hair, the steam from the hot tool hitting my neck. “Honestly, I don’t think Bram would have even considered making a move if he wasn’t serious about being with you. We need to talk about something else, because all of this worrying isn’t helping you. You should be excited, not worried.”

  “You’re right.” I pick up my eyeshadow brush again. “What should we talk about?”

  “Tell me about the kiss,” Clarissa sighs.

  “It was . . .” I take a deep breath and close my eyes, remembering the moment he pressed his lips against mine. “It was everything.”

  * * *

  Deep breaths.

  In and out. In and out.

  That’s not helping, I still feel like I’m going to throw up. Clarissa left five minutes ago after helping me into my skin-tight black jeans and purple blouse that I paired with a black bralette, since the front of the top dips low, we thought it would be sexy to have some lace showing. We kept my makeup neutral, not too heavy, and we straightened my long blonde hair and pinned the front strands back. With glossy lips and black, red-soled pumps, I finished off the outfit.

  But even looking and feeling beautiful, I’m a ball of nerves as I stand in the middle of my apartment staring at the door and wringing my hands together.

  Did I put deodorant on? I sniff my armpit. Yup, at least I have that going for me.

  The elevator down the hall dings and the heat in my body skyrockets, my stomach twisting and turning.

  Footsteps sound through the hall and grow closer and closer until . . .

  Knock. Knock.

  Oh God, he’s here.

  This is it.

  I blow into my hand, checking my breath, smooth down my blouse, perk my boobs out one last time, and take a deep breath. Just relax and have fun.

  I open the door to find Bram standing on the other side holding a bouquet of flowers. Styled in an expensive pair of dark-wash jeans and a white sweater that clings to every contour of his chest, with his scruff and unruly hair, he looks like a GQ model. Handsome and hard not to stare at.

  Without a hello, his eyes roam from the tips of my heels, up my legs, to the V of my blouse that’s showing off a good portion of my bralette and cleavage to my face where our eyes meet.

  His gaze narrows and carefully I watch as his jaw tightens, the muscle near his ear bulging as he clenches down on his teeth. He says nothing. Instead, he takes a step forward and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling him flush against his body. Nose to nose, he slips his hand down to my ass where he holds on to me tightly, sending a shrill of excitement through me.

  “You look fucking amazing,” he whispers right before placing a soft kiss on my lips. When he pulls away, he looks into my eyes. “You’re going to kill me tonight.” He moves his mouth to mine again, but this time he’s more demanding as his hand slips into my back pocket. Again, his hold on me leaves no room for confusion. He wants me close. Very close.

  I slip my hands up his chest to his cheeks where I revel in the feel of his rough facial hair and wonder what it will feel like against my soft skin, brushing, scraping, taking everything he wants.

  My kiss intensifies, images of Bram running his cheek down my body to the juncture between my thighs, his breath hot and heavy, my need burning deep inside me. Every muscle in my lower half clenches as I press into him, my tongue slipping past his lips, demanding he opens his mouth, which he does with zero coaxing. When I rub against his pelvis and feel how hard he is, we both groan in unison.

  “We have to stop,” he says, tearing his mouth away. I try to catch my breath, my body wanting so much more. “Unless you want me to slam this door and walk you back to your bedroom, skipping the date altogether, I think you need to take a step back.”

  I want him.

  But I also want this date.

  And I want to take this slow.

  Good lord, what just got into me? Feeling a little shy, I step back and stick my hands in the back of my pockets. I sheepishly look down at the ground. “Sorry.”

  He tips my chin up with his index finger. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry for giving me affection. I know you want to take it slow, so I’m warning you. That’s all.” He moves me closer. “Because I’m not going to be able to have much restraint where you’re concerned. I’ve wanted this, us, for years.”

  Because he’s so sweet, I press one more kiss across his lips, light and soft, and then take the flowers he’s holding. “Are these for me?”

  He shakes his head. “Your neighbors. I wanted to butter them up so when I get the chance to finally be with you, they don’t complain to your landlord about the moaning coming from your apartment.”

  I playfully swat at his chest and take the flowers to the kitchen. He follows closely behind.

  “I’m serious, those are for 6B. That’s the apartment that shares a bedroom wall, right? They are going to get one hell of a soundtrack.”

  “Keep going, Bram. See where it gets you.” I place the flowers in a vase and fill it up with water.

  He comes up behind me and kisses my neck while holding on to my hips. I can’t resist this man, so I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access. His lips work up and down the column of my neck. My nipples harden to aroused peaks, the bralette doing nothing to hide them. And he notices.

  Groaning, he moves his hands from my hips, skimming my stomach to just below my breasts and that’s where I stop him. Flowers on the counter, I spin in his hold, my nipples rubbing against the brick wall of his chest as I wrap my arms around his neck.

  “What were you about to do just now?”

  Not even shy about his answer, he says, “Squeeze your tits, pinch your hard-as-fuck nipples, maybe tear open that blouse and feast on your chest for a good half hour until you couldn’t take the pleasure anymore and you give in, coming from the feel of my wet, hot mouth on your aroused and pebbled tits.”

  Good God, I don’t think I’m going to make it through the night.

  I’m wet.

  I’m throbbing.

  My
legs rub together with need. I’ve never felt this level of heat before . . .

  My body clenches, wanting him desperately to forget everything I’ve said about taking things slow.

  “You’re dangerous.” I play with the short hairs on the back of his head. “That mouth of yours is wicked.”

  A lopsided grin pulls at his mouth. “It’s a hell of a lot more wicked than you know.” He leans forward and whispers into my ear. “Just wait until this mouth of mine gets to feast on your pussy. You won’t think I’m dangerous then. You’ll know I’m lethal.” He nips at my ear and then steps away, putting space between us.

  Breathless, I stare at him as he walks to the front door, adjusting himself in his jeans. He’s trying to act like he’s not affected, but I can tell from the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw he’s just as turned on as I am.

  We’ve spent five minutes together so far and we’re already about to combust, so what does that mean for the rest of the night?

  * * *

  This is so not what I expected when Bram asked me out on a date.

  The man is suave. Playful, but suave. So I expected him to take me to a fancy restaurant where the cheapest thing on the menu was fifty dollars. But instead, he surprises me and takes me to SoHo, to a hotel restaurant called Harold’s Meat Plus Three.

  To say I was shocked is an understatement.

  When we first arrived at the hotel, I gave him a sideways glance. A hotel with Bram, I could only imagine what his idea of a date could be, but then he led me into Harold’s, told the waitress his name and that he had a reservation for two. They didn’t guide us to a back corner or a special room. Nope, we’re sitting in the middle of an old-fashioned-looking diner with teal and white geometric tiles, beautiful wood tables with elementary school-like chairs, and a bright neon sign on the wall across from us. It feels like we’ve transported back in time and honestly, I love everything about it.

  It’s not flashy. It’s not ostentatious. It’s just perfect.

  “Have you ever been here?” he asks, picking up his menu.

  “No, have you?”

  “Many times. The boys and I like to come here. We each order our own meal and then share. It’s a giant food fest and we spend at least two hours taking down everything on the table.” He looks over his menu and winks. “Don’t worry, we won’t be doing that tonight, because I have other plans after this.”

  “Does it involve a room upstairs?” I give him a pointed look.

  “Nice try.” He shakes his head. “You’re going to have to learn to keep it in your pants around me.”

  My eyes bulge. “Me?” I point to my chest.

  “Yeah, you.” He tilts his chin in my direction. “If I recall, when I gave you a sweet kiss earlier, you were the one trying to clean my tonsils with your tongue.”

  My face flames, and I bring my menu up to block his view. Not even a second passes before he’s pulling down on my menu, that smirk of his in full-on flirting mode. “Don’t get shy on me now, Jules. It was incredibly hot.”

  I clear my throat and try not to think about how his voice just dropped lower or how I really like the way he flirts with me. “So, how does this work?” I glance at the menu, all the letters mixing together like alphabet soup.

  He chuckles and lowers my menu again, pinning it to the table with his. “So the name of the restaurant pretty much describes the menu. You choose a meat and then pick three sides.”

  “Mmm, okay, that I can do.”

  “Hungry?” He wiggles his eyes at me and to torture him like he’s been torturing me, I glance down his body and nod my head. When I reach his eyes again, they’re dark, turned on, ready to pounce. “Watch it, Julia. If you think I won’t make a spectacle in the middle of this restaurant, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  “What kind of spectacle?”

  He leans forward and says, “I have no problem lifting your legs up onto this table and eating you out in front of everyone.”

  “You would never,” I scoff, turning down to my menu.

  The sound of a chair squeaking across the floor, followed by Bram’s large body kneeling beside me, startles me. He moves my body so I’m facing him, and then he spreads my legs and reaches for the button of my pants.

  I swat him away immediately.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Giving myself a little appetizer.”

  “You are not about to . . . do that here.”

  “What? Lick your pussy?”

  Mortified from how loud he just said pussy, I clamp my hand over his mouth and look around the room to see if anyone is staring at us. I notice a couple to the side taking us in as I feel Bram flicking his tongue against my finger.

  And for some godforsaken reason, instead of pulling my hand away right away, I slowly bring my focus back to him as he stares at me, determination in his eyes. He flicks and then flattens his tongue.

  Oh God.

  I ache.

  My legs quiver.

  My arousal spiking, my body heating, and my need to ditch dinner and really go to one of the hotel rooms gets stronger by the second.

  When he pulls away, he stands and leans down into my ear. “Did you like that, Jules?”

  Oddly, I nod. I really liked it. He licked my hand, but all I could envision was him licking me elsewhere and not only between my legs. I want him all over my body.

  A conversation from our initial interviews comes to the forefront of my mind.

  Forty-five minutes.

  Forty-five minutes of foreplay was his average, what he thinks should be the amount of time spent touching, feeling, kissing, and teasing. Now I can imagine it. Now I desire it. Now I need it.

  A light dew breaks out over my skin, and my hand goes to my neck as I think about what forty-five minutes of Bram playing with my body would feel like.

  Absolute decadence.

  “Jules, you okay over there?”

  Bram is back in his chair, menu in hand, giving me a lazy smile, his eyes knowing exactly what I’m thinking about.

  Caught red-handed, I nod and turn back to my menu. Clearing my throat, I say, “The salmon sounds good.”

  He laughs and shakes his head, completely aware of the hold he has over me.

  The hold he’s always held over me.

  * * *

  “You have to tell me.”

  He shakes his head. “That shit is sacred.”

  We’re almost finished with our meals, just picking at our plates now. We shared our dinner with each other like an old married couple, dividing up our plates as if we’ve done it for years. It was really sweet.

  “Come on, Rath has said nothing.”

  “Which is exactly what he’s supposed to do.”

  Leaning forward, I prop my breasts up on my crossed arms and give him a good show, which he takes full advantage of. “Come on, just at least give me one story.”

  He licks his lips. “Give me a quick flash of your tit and I’ll tell you.”

  “What?” I sit back and laugh. “No way.”

  He shrugs his shoulders casually. “Then no story. Sorry.”

  “Do you really think I’m about to flash you my boob in the middle of this restaurant where anyone could see? Is that what you want? Some other guy to see my boob?”

  His jaw grinds together. “Damn it. No, I don’t.”

  I chuckle. “You forget I’ve learned the ins and outs of you, Bram. You’re a ruthless animal, territorial and alpha when it comes to the physical. One look from another man in my direction and your dander will rise and your fangs will show.”

  “I’m not some wild beast,” he scoffs. I give him a pointed look, a lift of my eyebrow. “Fine, if another guy spends more than a second looking at you I might freak the fuck out, but that’s beside the point. I’m not telling you anything about pledging for our fraternity.”

  “Why? Because it was embarrassing?”

  “Yeah, it’s embarrassing and I’d rather not paint that p
icture for you. I want you to always see me as this sexy millionaire with a giant cock.”

  What an egomaniac. Maybe he is more red than I thought.

  “That’s not how I see you at all, actually.” I lean back in my chair and take a sip of my drink.

  “No?” he challenges, interest piquing.

  “No, I don’t. Not even in the slightest. And for the record, I have no idea how big your . . . cock is.”

  “How do you see me?”

  The clanging of silverware against ceramic plates and light chatter ring though the restaurant, reminding me that we aren’t alone, but even though we might be surrounded by other diners, it feels like we’re in our own little bubble.

  I knew this is what it would be like with Bram, playful and sweet with a truckload of heat, I just didn’t know I would like it this much. He’s unlike any guy I’ve dated and not because he’s successful in his career and business, but because his personality is consuming. I get caught up in it. In him.

  “How do I really see you?” He nods, waiting patiently for my answer. “In my head, you’re still the guy who talked to the nerdy girl in college. A man with a giant heart, a playful spirit, and a caring soul.” I take another sip of my water trying to act as casual as possible even though my heart is beating a mile a minute.

  His eyes don’t budge from mine, his facial expression remains neutral, and the only change is the smallest of lift at the corner of his mouth. If I wasn’t staring at him, trying to observe his every move, I would have missed it.

  Seconds go by, the air around us stills, the pressure of his gaze eating me alive. But neither of us waiver.

  Until after what feels like a minute. Bram reaches into his wallet, pulls out a few bills, and leaves them on the table. He stands from his chair and holds out his hand to me. Caught off guard, I place my napkin on the table and take his hand in mind, letting him guide me out of the restaurant and through the hotel. When we get into an elevator, I almost protest, thinking he’s going to take us up to a room, but when he presses the second floor, I hold my tongue.

  Bram might be humble and not your typical millionaire, but he’s also not a second-floor-room guy. He demands the best.