Bad For You: (An Older Brother's Best Friend Romance)

by Ferrell, Charity

  Then dial her again.

  “It’s me … again. I shouldn’t have said that. Please erase that last message. I shouldn’t tell you how much I fucking crave you, but I can’t keep lying. I wanted to touch you so fucking bad. Shit, I still want to. I want to be back inside of you.” I glance down at my cock. “And fuck me, I’m hard as a rock just thinking about your pussy. Shit! Call me if you’re still awake. I need you.”

  I hang up.

  And call her back.

  “It’s me … again. I’m drunk and horny. If you’re still awake, come over.”

  Click.

  Short, simple, and straight to the point.

  chapter eleven

  nautica

  “Hi, it’s me again. Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that shit, but I can’t stop myself from blurting out the truth … what I feel … right now. It’s just I want you so bad it’s killing me. Physically killing me. I’m going to go jack off now. Bye.”

  I feel hot underneath my blankets, my body flushing with heat, as I clench my phone and listen to Bracken’s voicemails from last night for the third time. I had my phone on silent, thank God. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d answered and been given that proposal.

  It would’ve most likely been on the lines of showing up with my panties in my hand and letting him have his way with me. No matter how much the man pisses me off, he never fails to turn me on.

  He overtakes my train of thought. His touch, and the way he talks to me sets me on fire. I should delete every message, but I can’t. I’m keeping them so I can relieve myself to his drunken mistake as many times as I like.

  I lower my hand down my stomach and underneath my pajama shorts. I’m already soaked. My heart races as I sluggishly rub my tiny nub. My soft fingertips brush along my sensitive spot. I stroke myself but imagine it’s Bracken’s finger doing the job for me. I shut my eyes, seeing his face, and hear his voice until my release shatters through me.

  So much for the whole moving on thing.

  * * *

  Simon and my mom are in the kitchen eating breakfast when I walk in, post-Bracken’s-voice-induced orgasm.

  I know Simon and Bracken went out for drinks last night, and I’m pretty sure Bracken didn’t drunkenly confess about us because Simon didn’t come barging into my bedroom in a fit of anger.

  “Good morning, dear sister,” Simon says. He ruffles his fingers through my hair as he strolls past me. Yep, he definitely doesn’t know anything.

  I swat his hand away. “You better not have bacon grease on those paws,” I grumble.

  He falls down in the seat next to me. “Where did you run off to last night?”

  “I went out with some friends.” Some girls from high school invited me to a party, so I left before Simon got out of the shower. I didn’t want to play the hundred questions game.

  He cocks his head to the side. “You went out with some friends?”

  I snag a piece of bacon from his plate. “Yes, incase you didn’t know, I do have friends. Heather Scott had people over last night so everyone from our class could catch up.”

  Heather’s is where I ran into the guy who’d been the quarterback of the football team. Quinton King. We had sophomore Chemistry together, and even made out once during a middle school game of Seven Seconds in Heaven. He’s attending college in Kentucky, where he got a full ride scholarship to play football. By the end of the night, we’d exchanged numbers, and he asked me to hang out before we both headed back to school. I said yes.

  Maybe he’ll move my attention away from Bracken, although I’m not sure how realistic that is. Bracken has consumed me for eleven years. It’s hard to let something like that go.

  I prepare myself to hear whatever lecture Simon is about to give on boys and parties. “That’s cool,” he says, with a shrug. He looks at our mom. “Bracken is coming over for chili tonight.”

  I almost fall out of my chair at the mention of his name, and for the fact that Simon isn’t pissed about me going out.

  Did he trip and his head? My high school days had been filled with dateless nights and unfair curfews. No proms. No staying out after midnight. Teenage boys didn’t line up to date the girl whose brother threatened to kill them.

  “So do you care if I have someone over too?” I ask my mom, as a good idea bursts into my head.

  Bracken has been playing me like a yo-yo. He’s giving me a taste of whiplash, and I don’t like it. He wants to be with me. He doesn’t want to be with me. He wants us to stay away from each other. He leaves me voicemails begging for me to come over. The man can’t make his mind up, and he needs a taste of his own medicine.

  “Who?” Simon asks, cutting in. The old Simon is reemerging.

  “Quinton,” I answer.

  “Sure,” my mom says, the word barely making it out of her mouth before Simon interrupts her.

  “The kid from the football team?” he asks.

  I nod. He doesn’t look elated at my response. “Don’t mess with him,” I warn. “He’s a nice guy.”

  He snorts. “There are no nice guys, little sister.” He taps me on the tip of my nose. “You need to remember that before you do something stupid.”

  Too late.

  “So you’re not a nice guy?” I question, throwing his answer in his face.

  “Would I want you to date a guy like me? Hell no.”

  “Not every guy is like you.”

  He scoffs. “Yes, they are. When you’re thirty and meet a good guy who drives a Honda, or is in the military, then you can date him. But these college boys, especially college athletes, are not interested in anything serious. Trust me. I told you that before you left for school. I hope you haven’t forgotten it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re always right,” I say, sarcastically.

  He’s really going to fly off the handle when he finds out about me screwing Bracken.

  chapter twelve

  bracken

  I ignore three more of Kelly’s phone calls and don’t even bother opening up the text messages. It’s a jackass move, I’m well aware, but it would be a bigger jackass move if I fucked around with her, especially if Nautica found out about it.

  There’s too much chaos on my mind to be worrying about Kelly sucking my cock, like the fact that I just pulled up to Simon’s house to have dinner with everyone, including his sexy little sister. I have to get my head straight and play it cool.

  I let out a rugged breath and rub my neck. I’ve been over here for dinner hundreds of times, but everything is different now. I have to go in there, take a seat across from her at the table, and stop myself from touching her. It’s going to take all of my restraint to hold back the mental images of her taking my cock while her mom tries to have a conversation with me. I already know shit isn’t going to end well tonight if my dick has any say in it.

  The savory smell of chili powder and cayenne pepper bombards my nostrils when I walk through the front door, not bothering to knock. I walk straight to the kitchen where I hear laughing. I find Simon and his mom, Pamela. Nautica is nowhere in sight.

  “There’s my second son,” Pamela greets, when she sees me. She moves away from the stove to give me a hug. “I’ve missed having you over for dinner.”

  “Trust me, I’ve missed it just as much,” I say, chuckling. “It sucks having to make your own meals. Thanks for having me.”

  She slaps me on the chest. “Oh stop it. You know you’re always welcome here.”

  Simon gets up from his chair. “Let’s watch the game until the food is ready.” He glances over at Pamela, whose attention is back on the stove. “You mind, ma?”

  She waves us away with a smile on her face. “No. You two go ahead. It’s easier for me to work without Simon trying to stick his finger in the pot repeatedly.”

  I follow him into the living room. He flips on the TV. “Where’s Nautica?” I ask, taking a look around. I’m trying to appear as casual as possible, but the question has been eating at me s
ince I walked through the door.

  Did she bail because she knew I was coming?

  He lets out an agitated grunt and falls down in a chair. “Get this. She’s upstairs in her room with some fucking dude.” He tosses the remote down on the table roughly.

  My pulse races, and I have to sit down. “She’s what?”

  How the fuck is Simon okay with this? The old him would be kicking out the asshole and putting Nautica in time-out.

  His jaw clenches. “Yeah, I’m not too fucking happy about it. I guess she ran into some football player last night at a party and invited him over for dinner. I told her to stay her ass in the living room, but does she listen to me? Nope. Apparently she thinks the rules don’t apply to her anymore now that she’s in college.”

  “Can’t you tell them to come down here?” I don’t know what would be worse: seeing her with him, or sitting here with the endless thoughts of what they could be doing up there.

  Fucking, that’s what. That’s the only reason I’m ever in a chick’s bedroom.

  He shakes his head. “My mom sided with her.” He mimics her voice. “She’s eighteen now. That gives her more freedom.”

  I swallow down the anger boiling in the back of my throat. My cock was in her mouth only a few nights ago, and now she has some other dude in her bedroom? That’s not fucking cool. She’s going to hear about it.

  My knees are bouncing. I want to charge up those stairs and ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing. No one else should be in her bedroom … in her bed … but me.

  But I can’t. My punishment is sitting here and acting normal, like this shit doesn’t bother me. I have to suppress my anger and watch this stupid ass game, which is easier said than done.

  I grit my teeth. I can’t wait until she gets her ass down here. She has some explaining to do.

  * * *

  Dinner is hell, to say the least, which sucks because I usually enjoy Pam’s chili.

  Nautica didn’t come down until Pam texted her telling her dinner was ready. By that time, I was on the verge of dragging her friend down the stairs and kicking his ass out. I needed to talk to her.

  When they got down, I still didn’t get the chance. Nautica didn’t act surprised to see me, so she must’ve known I was coming. She’s trying to make me jealous. I’m sure of it – and it’s working. Douchebag stayed by her side, flirting with her non-stop. I’m surprised I didn’t cough up my damn food.

  My dad told me about him a few years ago. He was the only guy, other than myself, to make varsity his freshman year. Word is he received a scholarship to some hotshot college and is on his way to the NFL.

  “Here, let me help you,” I rush out. I slide my chair out and get up as soon as Nautica offers to clear the table. I grab my bowl, then Simon’s, and follow her into the kitchen, my pulse spiraling with every step. I set the bowls down on the counter as soon as we make it into the kitchen and out of earshot from everyone else.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I whisper, harshly. I gulp, watching her as she turns around, ignoring me, and starts to load the dishwasher. My fingernails dig into the edge of the counter. “Answer me.” It’s becoming more difficult to keep my voice down.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answers, keeping her back to me. “What I’m doing is cleaning up after dinner, obviously.”

  I take three long strides to her. My chest bumps into her back as I cage her in-between the sink and me. Her breathing quickens. “Answer this, then. Why the fuck did you invite another guy over for dinner, and more importantly, have him in your damn bedroom?” I hiss in her ear. My fingers tightly wrap around her hips and I push into her. “You knew I’d be here. Are you trying to torture me?”

  She stays still, but I can feel the goose bumps rising along her skin. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we were watching the game.”

  “And why couldn’t you watch the game downstairs with everyone else? With me?”

  I grunt and take a step back when her elbow slams into my stomach. “Maybe because I wanted some privacy. Damn, Bracken. You have no right to question me about what I’m doing.” She shuts the dishwasher with her knee and keeps her distance from me.

  “Privacy for what?”

  She lets out a heavy sigh as her hands fall slack to her sides. “Quit being an asshole. I don’t owe you answers. You’re the one who blew me off. You’re the one who fucked me twice and then said we were a bad idea.”

  I throw my arms out. “I didn’t expect you to start blowing someone else a few days later.”

  I dodge a kitchen towel flying my way. “Fuck you,” she spats. “I’m allowed to hang out with other guys. I’m sure you’re not planning on keeping your dick in your pants while you’re home. You probably have a long list of girls waiting to fuck you as soon as you leave here.”

  “I haven’t touched anyone since you.”

  I notice a faint smile appear on her lips before she fights it off. “I really appreciate that, but you don’t want me, so it’s okay. We’re both free to do whatever we want. Oh, and don’t leave me any more messages of you jacking off. They’re annoying.” Her hand smacks into my chest playfully before she saunters out of the kitchen, her hips swaying from side to side.

  I lean back against the wall. She’s playing mind games with me, fucking with me, and it’s working.

  I count to ten to calm myself down before I go back into the living room with Simon. Nautica must be back in her bedroom with lover boy. I fall down on the couch. I’m not leaving until he does.

  Twenty minutes pass until I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. I turn around to see Nautica and him walking outside.

  Thank fucking God.

  chapter thirteen

  nautica

  Quinton tells me goodnight with a kiss on the cheek and a wave before climbing into his black, four-door Jeep.

  He acted like the perfect gentleman tonight. He made no sly moves, no hand up the shirt maneuvers while we watched the game, nothing – which surprised me.

  Like Bracken, he had the whole man-slut reputation in high school. Girls threw themselves at him, and he was rumored to only date the ones who put out.

  Apparently, I have a type.

  But he’d been nothing but sweet. It might’ve been the fact that my brother and Bracken were downstairs cock-blocking him. I’m not sure.

  We went back upstairs after dinner to watch a movie and hangout. Even though I was still pissed about Bracken questioning me in the kitchen, Quinton helped me take my mind off him. He told me about the overwhelming pressure football puts on him. I told him how refreshing the independence of being in college felt.

  I wait until I can no longer make out his taillights before heading back inside. I know what’s coming. The annoying interrogation from Simon, and Bracken is most likely going to join him since he finds it necessary to suddenly be in my business.

  They are watching a movie in the living room. I quietly try to creep back up the stairs to head back to my bedroom, but have no luck.

  “Hold it,” Simon calls out. I stop and look back at him. “Did your new little boyfriend leave?” You can sense the sarcasm in his tone.

  “Don’t be an asshole,” I mutter, flipping him off. “Or I’ll invite him back over tomorrow.”

  “Sit your mean ass down and hang out with your big brother. I’ve missed you.” He points to the open seat next to Bracken on the couch.

  I stretch out my arms and fake a long yawn. “I would, but I’m actually feeling pretty tired. I’ve had a long night.”

  Bracken turns around to look at me. “A long night?” he asks, with a raised brow. “What did you do that made it so long?” He’s trying to hold back the venom in his tone because of Simon, but he isn’t doing that great of a job at it. I turn around and start to head up the stairs again, but he keeps talking. “Oh come on, party pooper. It’s only nine o’clock. Hang out with us now that your little boyfriend is gone.”

&nb
sp; I whip back around to face him. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “You two sure looked awfully tight and cuddly.”

  “Then I’d suggest you get your eyes checked.”

  Simon’s gaze whips back and forth between him and me. He isn’t used to hostility with us. Shit, I’m not used to it. We’ve always gotten along.

  “Fine,” I say, around a groan. “But I’m only staying for awhile.”

  The last thing I need is Simon suspecting something, so I walk into the living room and plop down on the couch, as far away from Bracken as possible. Unfortunately, our couch isn’t that big.

  I glance over at Bracken briefly and become annoyed at the giant smirk on his face. The asshole loves getting his way.

  I survive an hour with them, and Bracken’s subtle touches, before faking another yawn. “I’m headed to bed,” I tell them, getting up. I’ve had enough. An hour is adequate time to prove my innocence. Now I need to get the hell out of here.

  “Goodnight, sis,” Simon calls out, not looking away from the TV screen.

  Bracken stays quiet. Thank God.

  I turn on my TV and climb into bed when I get to my room. Another hour passes and my phone chimes with a text from Bracken.

  I open it. “I’m about to leave.”

  I hit the reply button. “Okay? Bye.”

  “Where’s my kiss goodnight?”

  God, the nerve of his asshole.

  I take a deep breath and hold back the impulse of marching down the stairs and giving him a slap goodnight. Who the hell does he think he is? He can’t play games with me like that.

  I slam my finger down on the reply button. “No. I’ve already given someone a kiss goodnight. Thanks anyways.”

  I’m lying, but so what? He needs to feel like shit for basically telling me I don’t mean shit to him and blowing me off. I want him to experience the jealousy I’ve felt for years.