by K. Webster
“Anyway, he thinks that I need to work on my relationship with you—that we need to spend some time together.”
He glances out the window for a moment as he says, “I’m a busy guy.”
My heart explodes furiously in my chest. “Busy? Really, Trent? Too fucking busy for your own brother? You’re not too busy to be a Big Brother at the Salvation Army. How about you find some time to be a ‘big brother’ to your own flesh and blood!”
A deep voice calls out from the kitchen and a burly man—clearly the cook based on his stained, greasy shirt—steps out into the dining room. “You two having a problem over there?”
Trent, ever the gentleman, stands from his seat and strides over to the cook. I palm my cheeks as the two men speak in hushed whispers. Moments later, he comes back carrying two glasses of Pepsi.
“I got The Hawaiian. Hope that’s okay.”
Lifting my eyes, I smile crookedly at him as he slides back into the booth. Mom used to flip out when we ordered The Hawaiian because she hated the smell of cooked pineapple. It became our favorite and we loved the disgusted expression on her face every time we got it. The Hawaiian became our own little joke, a small way we’d terrorize our mother—typical of preteen boys. Even Dad would eat it and then try to kiss her afterwards.
Maybe Trent’s trying here.
“You should call Mom and invite her,” I joke.
He rewards me with a genuine, full-on grin. “I’ll bring her some leftovers.”
We both chuckle for a moment before becoming serious again.
“Trent, why do you hate me?”
There. I said it. What’s been on my mind pretty much ever since the day he turned thirteen. We went from being brothers to archnemeses.
He groans but meets my stare. “I don’t hate you. I hate some of the things you do, but I don’t hate you.”
“Then why do you treat me like shit? Why am I the fucking black sheep of the family?” My voice is rising again—I’m not sure I can control the fury threatening to explode out of me.
Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his soda before answering me. His demeanor is calm and it pisses me right the fuck off. “Because, Thad, it’s like you enjoy stirring shit up wherever you go. You’re always doing the worst possible crap to infuriate Mom. Honestly, it’s annoying. Man the fuck up already and become an adult.”
I’m about three seconds from throwing my Pepsi at him. “Become an adult? Trent, I’m a recovering addict. It has nothing to do with ‘manning up.’ Did it ever occur to you that, because of the bullshit ways you and Mom treated me, I became an addict in the first place?”
My muscles are quivering with the need to hit something—someone. I angrily clench my teeth together and fist my hands in my lap.
It’s his turn to become irritated and he flails his arms in the air. “Who do you think has worked his entire life to be fucking perfect to get her off your ass in the first place? Me. When you were getting high in high school with your friends, I was working my ass off so Mom would lay off yours. I thought that, if I did well, she’d leave you the hell alone. What else was I supposed to do, Thad? Become a fuckup too? Someone had to grow up and take charge. That someone was me!” His nostrils are flaring furiously and his face has turned bright red.
I remember seeing this same look many times as a teenager—it was the look he’d get right before he’d beat my ass in the yard for throwing eggs at the neighbor’s garage door or tackle me in the living room for sneaking shots of bourbon from our parents’ liquor cabinet.
“Why couldn’t you have just been my brother? Why’d you have to make everything a fucking competition—competition that I was always destined to lose?” My voice has lost its strength and my chest feels tight. I could really go for that fucking beer right now.
“I’m sorry.”
I raise an eyebrow at him in surprise. “Come again?”
“I said I’m sorry, okay? Yes, there were times I knew it was wrong. What started as a need to protect you soon became a need to be in the spotlight. The more positive attention I got from Mom, the more I craved it. The more I watched her treat you badly, the more I knew I didn’t want to be in your shoes. I did everything to please her, Thad. I did it at your expense and I’m sorry.”
My jaw must be on the floor at this point because I wasn’t expecting a willing apology. As my throat constricts with emotion, I swallow down the pussy feeling to cry. “I need you, Trent. I need my fucking brother. Enemies? I have plenty—don’t need any more. We were born to be on the same side. That’s what brothers are—lifelong friends.”
He nods. “I want to be there for you, man. I’ll try to do better. I promise.”
For some reason, I believe his promise. Maybe we can find a way to become friends. I just hope he doesn’t let me down—again.
“Oh.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I’ll still always win when it comes to one particular thing.”
My body burns with outrage because he will never win over Opal. Ever. She’s mine. I’m about to throttle his ass when he chuckles and nods over to the arcade games.
Oh.
All fury dissipates as booming laughter bursts from me. “In your dreams, big bro,” I smirk. “Prepare to be dominated!”
After a kicking his ass on our favorite game and filling our bellies with Mom’s “favorite” pizza, we sit back and chat easily about lighter subjects. Neither of us mentions Opal. He doesn’t know that we’re seeing each other and I don’t see any reason in dropping that bomb while things are going so well.
His phone chimes and he excuses himself to answer an important e-mail to a client. After he sets his phone back on the table, he looks up at me in question. “Are you going to Mom’s benefit party tomorrow night?”
A groan escapes me before I can stop it. “Do I have to?”
He cocks up an eyebrow. “I thought you were told by your shrink that you needed to work on your relationships. Coming to Mom’s benefit would be a step in the right direction. I’ve got your back.”
I sigh in relief. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go. But you better fucking keep her claws out of me—I’m not strong enough for that shit.”
He nods his promise before sliding out of the booth. “I need to take a piss before I go back to the office. Lunch is on me.” He grins and tosses me his wallet before striding off toward the back.
I wave the lady from the cash register over and hand her a wad of cash from my wallet. Lunch is on me, big bro.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I flip open his wallet. I’m shocked to find a tattered picture of him and that chick he used to date—the one he truly liked. Carmen? Cara? Candace? Shit. I was so fucked up the few times I met her that I can’t even remember her fucking name. Slapping the wallet closed, I toss it back over to his side of the table.
When his phone chimes, I nosily snatch it up. A text from Mom.
Mom: Are you bringing a plus-one? Anna will be there.
Anna?
I type back as Trent.
Trent: Is Anna hot? You should hook us up. Thad is coming and bringing a plus-one.
The response is immediate.
Mom: Son, you’ve met her a million times. What’s gotten into you? I’ve tried setting you two up on numerous occasions. I’m glad you’re finally coming around though. As for your brother, make sure that he and his date dress accordingly. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of my colleagues.
A fucking embarrassment. That’s all I am to her. I don’t reward her with a response and instead look at his last texts. My eyes widen when I see a conversation between him and Opal.
Trent: Opal, I’m so sorry. I need to see you again.
Opal: Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow. Pick me up at noon.
What in the ever-loving fuck? I check the time stamp—this was from this morning! I slide his phone across the table back to his seat and pull mine out.
Me: I want to take you to lunch tomorrow. Pick you up at noon?
She responds quickly
.
Opal: That’s sweet but I’ve been piled high with work stuff…tomorrow’s just not a good day for lunch. Sorry!
Unfuckingreal!
I thought she was done with my brother. Why in the fuck is she having a secret lunch date with him? She didn’t get fucked over enough the first time by him—she needs a second helping?
“Okay, little bro. Lunch was fun, but I really do have to get back. I have a client coming in at two and—” he rambles, but I interrupt him and stand abruptly from the booth.
“She’s mine! You don’t even fucking like her!” I spit out at him and advance until my chest touches his.
“What the fuck is your problem, Thad?” he demands in confusion.
At this point, our noses are practically touching. Then he scoops up his wallet and phone before storming from the restaurant. I must be a fucking embarrassment to him as well. After stalking after him, I grab his shoulder and spin him toward me once we’re outside in the warm May air.
“Stay away from her!” Spittle sprays out as I vehemently lash out my warning. My chest heaves and I tighten my fists.
“Away from who?” he asks innocently. Innocent my fucking ass!
“Opal!”
He glares at me. “She’s not yours.”
“The hell she’s not! I fucking rescued her ass from your apartment. You slept with her and treated her like a piece of garbage. She’s not yours—she’s mine!” I snarl.
He winces at my words, but anger builds within him and his face turns bright red. “Opal’s a good girl.”
“I know, and you need to stay the fuck away from her,” I warn loudly.
Several people walk past us quickly and eyeball us as if we’ve lost our mind but sidestep around us as not to get in the middle of our squabble.
“No, Thad,” he growls. “You need to stay the fuck away from her. She doesn’t need someone like you in her life.”
I fucking explode and haul off to punch him in his face, but he dodges me. “Motherfucker!”
“That”—he points to me angrily—“proves my point. You’re a fucking train wreck waiting to happen. Do you really want to take her down with you? Get a clue, man. Like I said before, grow up and man the fuck up. I’m out.”
His words cut me to my core. Helplessly, I watch him stride away from me.
Me.
The fucking embarrassment.
The train wreck.
I lied to him.
What kind of person am I?
A knock sounds on my apartment door, so I tug my T-shirt over my head on the way to the door. After work, I rushed home to change before tonight’s dinner at Olive’s. Thad never responded to my text earlier, so I worried all day that maybe he’d forget about our plans this evening.
Why didn’t I just tell him the truth?
I reach the door and exhale heavily before plastering on a fake smile. When I open the door, my knees buckle. God, he’s so fucking hot.
He’s freshly showered, and his longish, chestnut hair is styled haphazardly all over his head. His green eyes are filled with heat but not lust. Instantly, guilt consumes me.
He knows.
“Hi,” I squeak out. I want to look away from his piercing glare, but I can’t. He’s too delicious for me to not look at him.
My eyes travel down his strong nose down to his lips, which are pursed together in a firm line. His jaw clenches every few seconds. I can tell he’s shaved his face—his normal scruffy look has been replaced by a clean-cut one. He’s sporting a navy, button-up dress shirt over a white T-shirt. I smile when I see that he’s wearing one of his signature pair of holey jeans and his tattered Doc Martens.
“O.” His voice carries a hint of accusation, and I try not cringe.
When he looks past me into the kitchen, he grinds his teeth together. He’s pissed.
“I lied,” I blurt out as tears fill my eyes.
His emerald eyes darken at my admission. “About?”
I whimper and advance toward him, but he stumbles backwards as if I’m carrying the black fucking plague.
“Don’t,” he instructs firmly.
The tears spill over and a sob chokes me. I reach a hand in the direction of him, but he eyes it as if it’s poison. I drop it and mutter out his name.
“Thad.”
“I won’t be played, Opal.”
I wince. He hardly ever calls me Opal—I’m his O!
“I’m not playing you! I want you—not him!”
A growl rumbles in his chest and he advances on me like a lion stalking his prey. “Then why did you lie about having lunch with him tomorrow?”
My heart patters along. I didn’t tell him the truth because it was supposed to be a quick, painless lunch to tell Trent that I was done chasing him. I knew it would hurt Thad, so I didn’t even mention it.
“I did it for us!” I hiss as he closes in on me.
My entire body flushes with heat at his nearness. Will it always be this way when I’m around him—with my body out-of-control wild for him?
“Fucking my brother a second time to see if the first go-round was a mistake? How is that for US?!” His chest bumps mine and he glares down at me.
I know he’s angry, but I’m not afraid of him. He’d never hurt me in a million years—no matter how pissed he is at me.
I slide my hands around his waist and hug him to me. Tension immediately leaves his body, but he doesn’t reciprocate. Tilting my head upwards, I look into his pained eyes.
I did this to him.
His eyes leave mine and flit back over to my kitchen.
“I wasn’t going to fuck him, Thad. I was going to let him apologize for ‘that’ night and then I was going to tell him I was seeing you. End of story. I shouldn’t have lied about it and I’m sorry.”
He groans and tangles his hand in my hair. Dragging his eyes from the kitchen, he peers back down at me. The fury has left him and his expression is almost embarrassed.
“O,” he whispers and nudges my nose with his, “I’m goddamn losing my mind today. I feel like getting fucked up.”
I can tell that he’s horrified to admit such a thing because he shamefully squeezes his eyes shut. Hugging him tighter to me, I lift on my toes and kiss his lips hard.
“Fuck me, Thad,” I order heatedly. “Fuck me hard. Use me so you don’t think about using anything else. I’ll be your drug, baby.”
His eyes fly open and he scowls at me. I don’t cower under his gaze. In fact, it’s hot as hell and I’m wet just from imagining him taking me roughly.
“Are you sure about this, sugar?” he questions with a growl from deep in his throat.
When I nod, his hand tightens in my hair, pulling my head backwards. The exposed flesh on my neck is where he attacks first. His lips are on my neck in an instant, nipping and sucking hard. A needful moan leaves my throat and echoes through my apartment.
“Take me, Thad,” I beg.
And boy, does he take me.
My whole world spins as he flips me over his shoulder. He ignores my squeal of surprise and kicks the door closed. As he stalks into my bedroom, I bounce against his chiseled back. Panic momentarily fills me as thoughts of Drake peek from their carefully locked-away chamber in my mind.
Get the fuck out of my head, Drake!
When we make it to my bed, Thad drops me down onto my back and pounces on me. His lips and teeth taste and nip at my neck again. Once I spread my legs around his hips, he grinds his hardness against my throbbing center and I moan.
“Goddamn it, I need to be inside you.”
“Then get rid of your clothes, lover boy,” I taunt.
Tearing off me, he sits up and begins yanking off his clothes. His body is amazing—fucking amazing. His chest ripples with every movement, and I’m reminded that I still want to know more about those tattoos on his chest. Once he’s completely naked, he sets to undressing me frantically. By the time he’s rolled on the condom and is between my legs, my body is practically quivering desper
ately for him.
He descends upon me and grabs each of my wrists. Needing for him to be inside me already, I writhe beneath him. Without words, he understands what I want. Inch by inch, his cock slowly fills me, and I lift my hips to urge him all the way in. When he’s completely seated inside me, he pushes my hands above my head and holds them together with one hand. Nerves immediately cause my body to quake.
“Thad.” My voice is off—unrecognizable.
“You’re not getting away, princess.” His lips softly press against mine as he thrusts into me.
And.
I.
Fucking.
Lose.
It.
“You’re not getting away, princess,” Drake taunts hatefully.
Tears angrily roll down my cheeks. I will not beg—he gets off on begging. Instead, I glower at him.
“I hate you,” I seethe between gritted teeth.
He clicks his tongue in admonishment. “You’ll learn to love me, Olive.”
My eyes clamp shut. This man is demented. I knew it the night I lost my virginity against my will that first night. Now, I’m used to his psychotic ass.
“Opal, asshole.” Opening my eyes again, I spit in his face.
With his free hand, he forcefully grabs hold of my chin so I can’t look away from him. “Olive, you’re such a naughty bitch. I think I need to remind you who’s the fucking boss around here!”
I cry out when he slaps me hard enough to see stars. Big, ugly fucking stars.
“I’ll kill you one day,” I promise.
He chuckles darkly. I’m not sure why I am poking the bear, but I do it anyway. I’ve had enough.
“Not if I kill you first,” he growls.
Pain slices through my core as he takes me hard. Again.
“O!” Thad screams, shaking me wildly from my daytime nightmare.
I blink several times in confusion but soon realize that it was only a memory. A very bad memory. Thad, even having angry sex, is still a beautiful, loving soul. I couldn’t be afraid of him if I tried. It’s quite the opposite with him. I can’t get enough.
“What the hell just happened?” he demands. He’s still inside me, but he’s no longer hard. His eyes are wild as he searches mine for answers.