by Jenika Snow
During all the years we’d lived together after our parents married, I’d seen many sides of Brendan.
Arrogance.
Aloofness.
Knowing he could get what he wanted because he was the epitome of what masculinity looked like.
The knowledge that he could get any girl he wanted had gotten under my skin, but it was my own fault, because I’d let fear hold me back from telling him how I felt.
I’d been too scared to say anything, afraid it would ruin the friendship we had. And it was that friendship I held most dear.
At twenty, I should have had my shit together more than I did, should have had the strength to admit what I wanted. I had never seen Brendan as family, not really.
I tightened my hold on my bags and took a deep breath before walking up to the front door. Before I could even set one of my bags down, the door opened and there stood Brendan, in all his gorgeous, six-foot-four, muscular, gorgeous glory.
I can control my baser urges.
I could think that all I wanted, but being under the same roof with him, alone, would really put my self-control to the test.
Brendan
I opened the door and tried to school my features, but the truth was I was fucking ecstatic to see her. She might have lived less than an hour from my place, but what she didn’t know was that I’d gone to see her at times. I could admit to being considered one of those creepy ass guys too obsessed with the woman he loved to stay away.
I’d been too fucking weak to just come right out and tell her I loved her this whole time.
Hell, I liked to think this was fate, or some shit, telling me I needed to get my life together and be with Meghan. I’d wasted enough time. She was twenty, I was twenty-two, and it was time I finally told her how I felt. I was at a good place in life to provide for her and to make sure she was happy.
You don’t even know if she wants to be happy with you in that capacity.
But first, she needed to get settled, get her head on straight, because I knew she was in a tough spot emotionally right now. I’d make it better for her. I’d make sure she was smiling before the night was done.
No other girl would ever compare to her.
What if she knew the truth? What if she knew that I haven’t been able to even think of another girl, let alone have sex with one since I fell in love with her? What would she think if she knew my ultimate goal was to keep her close to me … to make her mine?
She was hurting right now. The thought of not being the one to be there for her, and to pick her up when she was down, made me feel like shit.
I wanted to be the one for her always.
Is that your excuse for checking up on her, for driving to her school to make sure she was okay, that she seemed happy? Is that your excuse for pretty much fucking stalking her?
I wasn’t stalking her, or at least I told myself that. I was making sure she was okay. But fuck, admitting that to her felt so dirty, like I was this damn creep.
I just love her.
Said every fucking weirdo on the planet that watched the girl they loved.
God, I could have laughed at my own inner ramblings.
“Thank you again.”
I shook my head. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
This look of gratitude crossed Meghan’s face, and I knew tonight would most definitely be a drunk kind of one.
“I have a bottle of whiskey with our names on it.”
I cared about her like no other—whether she’d ever known that or would ever know it. Keeping my distance, not telling her how I felt, and pretending like she didn’t mean more than she really did, had been the worst mistake of my life.
But she was here now, and I was going to use this opportunity to show her I’d grown the hell up and could make her happy.
But only with me. I only wanted her to be happy with me. Selfish or not, that was the reality.
That means telling her you scared off that asshole that had been hitting on her six months ago at school. That means you’ll have to come clean about why you were there and why you gave a shit if she dated someone.
I was going to make her mine, no matter what.
“It’s definitely one of those nights. Whiskey should make everything better, Brendan,” she said and laughed, but it sounded forced.
My body tightened at the sound of my name coming from those lush red lips of hers.
I shouldn’t be thinking anything sexual right now. She’s in a shitty mood, and I’m being an asshole.
What Meghan didn’t know was how fucking happy I was that she was moving in with me. Of course I was a cocky bastard at the best of times, had been when we were living together and our parents were married, but I’d always wanted to be softer, sweeter to her.
The fact she came to me for help made me feel pretty fucking fantastic.
Now, I just had to show her I was not a total obnoxious fucker, and that what I wanted with her wasn’t some perv’s fantasy.
“The situation that bad, huh?” I asked and stepped aside, letting her in.
“I’d say getting booted out of my apartment without notice and having nowhere else to go is pretty bad.”
I took one of the bags out of her hands and set it on the ground. “Good thing you have me.” She looked over her shoulder at me, and I couldn’t help but smirk. But then I saw her shoulders sag, saw that hardness on her face leave, and in its place was thankfulness. Nothing else mattered but making her feel like things weren’t so bleak.
“I’ll get the other stuff out of your car a little later,” I found myself saying, not wanting to push her for the sheer purpose of seeing her squirm. And I did like seeing her squirm for me.
She nodded and set her bag on the ground as well.
“Are you hungry?” I wanted to make her feel better, even if that meant making her the only thing I could cook … something that required the grill.
“Not really,” she said softly, looking around my place. “This is nice, Brendan.” She turned and faced me, and it took everything in me not to check her out. But that would have been a pretty fucking bastardly thing to do, given the fact she was feeling shitty at the moment.
“Thanks.” I stared her in the eyes, and she did the same. She looked nervous all of a sudden. I noticed she twisted her hands together, kept moving back and forth on her feet, and bit her lip.
She looked cute and sexy as hell, and it was clear she was on edge.
“I won’t stay long. I just need to save up and find a place.”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it, Meghan. You stay here as long as you like. It’ll be nice to have someone else here.” I scrubbed a hand over my hair, feeling the short strands scrape along my palm. I was thinking about a lot of things I’d like to do to her while she was here, all of them having to do with her in my bed.
“I’ll pay rent—”
“Get the hell out of here with that bullshit.” I smiled to soften the rough timbre of my voice. A second passed with her looking all serious. “You want to pay me for staying here?” She nodded. “Then you can be in charge of cooking dinner. My skills go to the extent of grilling steaks and burgers. If you can do more than that, we’re golden.” She smiled softly and that small act went straight to my heart. “Listen, let me make us some dinner, we’ll get drunk, and all this bad shit will be a memory. Okay?” It took her a second to respond, but finally, she nodded, her smile widening.
Yeah, this would work out really fucking well.
And if I had my way, she’d never leave.
2
Meghan
I was drunk, and I knew Brendan could see it, but still, he pushed another shot my way. I stared at the house key he’d given me, that bronze piece of metal meaning more to me than he’d ever know.
“I think I’ve had enough,” I said, but reached out and grabbed the shot glass off the table.
“If you can say that you haven’t had enough.”
I laughed, finding that espe
cially funny.
“Not that I condone emotional drunkenness, but hell, a little black-out drinking will help cleanse the pallet.”
I smiled and shook my head, but still reached for the shot glass and tossed it back. The alcohol settled in my belly, and this warmth spread through me.
“That’s my girl.”
I couldn’t help but feel even more warmth—which had nothing to do with the alcohol—fill me at hearing Brendan say that.
His girl.
No, I am not his girl. I never will be. I can’t cross that line. I won’t.
I cleared my throat; that last shot seeming to rush through my bloodstream pretty damn fast. The room tilted a little, and I started giggling like a schoolgirl.
Brendan grinned, a flash of straight, white teeth. “How about some poker?” He lifted his eyebrow, as if in a challenge.
“I haven’t played poker since…” I stopped, remembering when we used to live together. Brendan had been a cocky little asshole to a lot of people when he was younger, but never with me.
“Since back when we were living under the same roof?”
I nodded and ran my sweaty palms over my jeans.
“You taught me how to play poker,” I said softly, doubting he’d remember that one and only time we’d played. “But I doubt you remember—”
“I remember a lot, Meghan.”
His words stopped my heart for a second, and I swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in my throat. That whiskey bottle was looking pretty damn appealing right now, at least to give me something to do so I wasn’t sitting here staring at Brendan.
“Well, seeing as you’ll be living under the same roof with me again, no time like the present to rekindle that moment, yeah?”
I didn’t answer right away, because the look on his face told me Brendan didn’t just have a friendly game of cards on his mind.
Brendan
I’d be lying if I said playing cards was all I wanted to do tonight. Of course, I wanted Meghan, but she didn’t know that. She was drunk, as was I, and she was having a hard time right now. I would not take advantage of her, and if she wanted to say fuck off, I’d respect that one hundred percent.
Strip poker might not have been the best route to go after the day she’d had, but I wouldn’t let it get that far anyway.
“How about a game of strip poker?”
I lifted my brow, my shock filling me.
And she surprised the hell out of me.
“Oh, please. You know that’s what you were about to ask.”
I chuckled. “Am I that transparent?”
She shrugged and laughed softly. “I think it’ll be fun. I mean, yeah, I think it would be fun.” I saw her cheeks turn pink, and that piqued my interest.
“We don’t have to. I mean I was going to throw that idea out there, but hell, I got some JENGA in the closet, I think.” She laughed loud, and I grinned.
“No. I mean I think talking with you, and I think a friendly game of poker—” She looked at me then. “—would certainly get my mood in a better place.”
I lifted my brow. “Are you hustling me?” I was half joking.
“Heck, I think a game of strip poker will help the situation.”
“Well, hell.” I leaned back, hearing my words slur slightly. I drank when I went out, but I didn’t get sloppy. But here I was, getting all stupid drunk and trying to make a situation better, even if this wasn’t the best way I could have gone about it.
I was selfish when it came to Meghan.
I kept my distance when we lived under the same roof, when she was considered my stepsister.
I could be cocky.
I could be intense.
But I’ve always wanted Meghan, and now was my time to show her we’d be good together, that we belonged together.
But the gentlemanly thing would be for me to shut down my own thoughts and tell her no.
“Meghan, as much as I think that sounds pretty fucking fantastic, we’re both pretty wasted—”
“I’m not that drunk to not know what I’m doing. Unless you’re scared I’ll win?” Her eyes were glossy, her lips red. God, I wanted to kiss her, just say fuck all the self-control and restraint I’d had for all these years and go after what I wanted … her.
I grinned, and my cock jerked at the sight of her. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word, pure in appearance, but I knew she had a wicked dirty sense of humor. She had a tongue on her that could give a lashing. Hell, she’d ripped into me more than once when our parents were married and we lived together.
What she didn’t know was her attitude turned me the fuck on.
I reached for the whiskey and took a swig right from the bottle. I handed it to her, and she eyed it for a second before she took the bottle and drank from it as well. She exhaled and ran her tongue along her bottom lip.
I nearly groaned at the sight; instead, I curled my nails into my palms until the pain shot up my arms.
“Well, you’re the boss,” I said and grinned.
“Although getting partially naked in front of my stepbrother probably isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
“We aren’t related in any capacity, Meghan,” I said, my voice thick, which had nothing to do with the fact I was drunk. Hell, even if our folks were still married, I would have gone after her, step-sibling or not. I’d thought about her this entire time and wanted to do something about what I felt toward her, but I’d always held back because I thought that was for the best. “Besides, I sure as fuck don’t see you as a sister in any way.”
God, please don’t say you see me as a brother figure.
I didn’t want to hear that.
She laughed softly, and I couldn’t help but stare at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glossy. She was good and toasted, and I was glad she was feeling better, even if it was the artificial kind because of the liquor we’d been drinking. I didn’t want to see her upset, and if there were something I could do to make her smile, I would do it.
“I don’t see you as family.” Her eyes widened, and she stared at me. “Not that I don’t care for you, well, what I mean is I don’t see you as a brother.” She exhaled and closed her eyes. “God, I’m hoping you know what I mean.”
I started laughing, loving this uneasiness from her because she was nervous and tripping over her tongue.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
She opened her eyes and smiled, and my cock jerked, the sight of her making all common sense leave me.
But fuck, I was taking this as a sign from the heavens or fate; whatever the hell it was, it was giving me this opportunity, and I would show Meghan we belonged together.
“Let’s get the poker on then.”
3
Meghan
I had done it, just said fuck it all and agreed to get naked—semi-naked at least—in front of Brendan. The truth was I was drunk, and I knew he was too, but I was with it enough to know what was going on.
Maybe this wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but it felt good to just let go and say screw all the bad shit.
The air seemed even more chilled than it probably was, but then again I was sitting here in my bra and panties. Although I rationalized this was like a bikini, something Brendan had seen me in before.
Bikini, my ass. This is more intimate, and my damn nipples are hard enough I know he can see them through the thin cotton material.
Despite the fact I’d obviously had no clue this was how the night would progress, I cursed myself for not wearing something sexier.
It’s Brendan. He doesn’t see me that way.
“Well, let’s see what you have, Meghan.”
For a second, all I could think about was him meaning what I had beneath my undergarments, but I snapped out of that real quick and looked down at my cards. I was shit at playing poker, and I knew by the arrogant smirk on his face, Brendan had a good hand.
But even if I sucked, I was holding two aces, and I knew that was better than nothi
ng.
At least I hoped it beat whatever Brendan was holding.
As it was, he was still fully dressed.
I laid my cards down and looked at him, feeling pretty damn nervous. I was drunk, and I knew he was too, but even so, the very thought of taking off one more piece of clothing, one more that would show either my tits or lower, scared the shit out of me.
This was Brendan, the man I secretly loved.
He leaned forward and squinted down at my cards. After a second, he looked up at me, leaned back in his chair, and lifted the bottle of liquor we’d been sipping on to his mouth for a drink. And when he set the bottle down, he shook his head.
“Fuck.”
I felt my grin grow. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms, but when I saw Brendan lower his gaze to my breasts, which were now pretty popped out, I felt self-conscious. I unfurled my arms and sat up straighter. “Let’s see them,” I said and nodded toward the cards. He’d put his shirt on shortly after I arrived, much to my disappointment, but now it was my turn to see some flesh.
He tossed his cards down, and I saw he had a pair of twos. I felt my skin grow warm.
“Take it off.” I gestured to his shirt. I felt my face heat, and Brendan lifted his eyebrow, looking sexy as hell.
“You cheated,” he said, but I could hear the teasing note in his voice.
“Strip,” I said, making myself sound more determined. He grinned, and that sight had my body tingling all over the place.
He only waited a second before he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He set it on the table and pushed it over to me. “You want to keep it like a trophy for beating me at this hand?”
I chuckled, although deep down I was thinking that would be pretty damn sexy.
He leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table, causing his muscles to flex and bunch under his golden skin. He then took the cards, shuffled them, and we started another round.
I felt my pulse start to increase, because I knew if I lost this hand, I had to get rid of something pretty vital. I looked at my cards, got rid of three, selected three new ones, and although I felt pretty good at the hand I now had, I kept my poker face in place.