by D. M. Burns
“You do know that when your one comes along, I’m going to miss you hanging around, right?” I tilt my head and study his sideways smirk that falls into place. He grooves his arms around my back on a chuckle.
“You do know that your delusional, right?” He quirks his brow.
“Channing, you won’t have to fight for the woman that’s meant for you. I don’t want you wasting your time on me.” I pat his cheek.
“Maybe I like the chase and the fight is simply fun.” He chuckles lightly.
“No, you like being a butthole to your baby brother, period.” I step away and round his bulky frame for my nightstand. “Channing, don’t get me wrong; I love spending time with you, but this is never going to develop into anything more than the close friendship that it already is.” I pull out a tank top and sleep shorts then turn back to face him.
“People change, Brea.” He says while scrubbing his beefy paw over his five o’clock shadow. I shake my head on a humorless giggle as I walk in his direction. He steps up to me gripping my hips, almost painfully, in his oversized hands as those silver-outlined bottomless black holes bounce between mine. “You’ll have a good life with me when you decide to open up and let me in. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, nothing.” It’s not lost on me that he talks as if this is already carved in stone.
“And if you need me there’s nothing, I wouldn’t do for you too as a friend. Something instead of nothing.” That’s a statement that can be shared. “Most importantly, there’s nothing more in this world that I want for you other than immense happiness. So, what makes you think I’d let you settle for anything less? Because that’s exactly what you’d be doing with me, Channing.” He shakes his head at me, and his jaw locks up.
“You’re a stubborn woman.” He smiles.
“Channing, choosing me would be a settling type of love for you because my love belongs to another. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me, period. One day when you find your partnered soul, you’re going to thank me, I promise.”
Before Brogan, Channing would’ve been perfect for me. Our relationship is that of best friends. I’m fairly sure he’d realize this if he made time for others in his life. I can’t change the past though. I’m not sure I want to. Brogan Creed may be invisible but his unseen impression in my life lingers. There’s nothing I can do about that fact.
“Sunshine, your wrong, and I can prove it to you.” He grates out. His chest is rising and falling in a harsh pattern and the heat resonating from his skin is making my palms tingle. “Ask me how.” Those words are tempting but feel harmful. Like fractured ground over hell, and I’m damned to fall through. I want to say no, but instead, I simply shake my head. “ASK ME, GOD DAMNIT.” His feral voice is a menacing sound that frightens me.
“You’re scaring me, Channing,” I whisper out. He pulls air through his nose like he’s trying to control his temper then looks up to the ceiling. He flexes his grip slightly over my hips returning his gaze to me.
“Just ask me, Brealyn.” His voice has transformed into a lullaby as he skims one of his hands slowly over my hips hitting the base of my back.
“How?” I ask.
When I’m jerked off the floor abruptly, the clothes fall from my grip landing to a soundless stop on the ground. I latch onto both sides of his broad shoulders in scary shock. I feel like a ragdoll in the hands of a predator. He swiftly buries his hand into the silk threads of my hair then growls, “Keep an open mind, sunshine.”
Channing's mouth melts over mine taking a forceful descent into me. At first, he’s an angry assault to my system. He has a point to prove, that being, he’s the better choice. The better brother. The better man. I whimper into his harsh strokes as he grips my hair manipulating me to his liking. It’s a sad attempt laced with desperation on his part.
That empty cold feeling inside of me is replaced with momentary smoldering heat. Burning me from the inside out. It’s heady and energy consuming. I thread my fingers through his hair falling deeper into the dark side of things with him. Something instead of nothing. His hand slides over my backside applying pressure and the throbbing outline of him can’t be ignored against my heating core.
Of course, my body reacts to him, he has an extraordinarily huge design with wicked intent pouring from his fingertips. This feels sinful in nature though. This is the wrong turn. Down the wrong path. With the wrong brother. This is wrong.
Channing changes it up to slow and sensual, caressing my body and mouth like I’m an expensive shot of bourbon that he wants to savior without room for waste. He scrapes his teeth across my bottom lip on a sinister snarl. He slightly jerks my hair back causing my head to tilt up at him and my breath catches in my throat.
“That’s something that sure as hell shouldn’t be categorized as nothing, sunshine. Plus…” He swipes his tongue out across his thick red lips then continues, “You taste like cherries.” He smirks.
“That’s my lip gloss, you weirdo. Now put me down you overgrown grizzly bear.” I breathlessly say. He smirks back at me but deposits me back down. I grab my clothes off the floor and move my butt to the bathroom while calling out over my shoulder, “You’re going to keep on pushing me until you bruise our perfect friendship apple. No more kissing, Channing. I mean it.”
“Friendship apple…? Girl, really?” He laughs out loud a hearty sound that makes me giggle and I peer over my shoulder at him. He shoots me a wink as he falls onto the couch nabbing the controller and powering on the TV. “Right… You liked it, sunshine.” He shakes his head at me.
“I’ll scratch your eyeballs out if you attempt it again. I’m not playing, and you can go.” I whip around and cross my arms over my chest.
“What? You’re tossing me out because I kissed you. Seriously?” He folds his arms across the back of the couch and pretends hurt feelings by poking his bottom lip out while batting those thick glam black eyelashes at me.
“Whatever… Don’t do it again, Creed.” I point my finger in his direction and he quirks his eyebrow looking just like Brogan. “GOD! You look just like him when you do that. Ughh…”
I push my bathroom door shut and lean against the wooden structure. Tossing my nightclothes onto the counter, I fan myself trying to get my body temperature back to normal. This entire thing is starting to spiral out of control. Channing doesn’t understand but in due time. He’ll see.
When I step out of my bathroom after a long shower, my smile grows from ear-to-ear. Well if this isn’t a fine twist of events. Tamera is sitting on the couch with Channing snickering at something he has said. I’ve never heard or known Tamera to giggle like a schoolgirl but that’s exactly what she’s doing. She’s even twisting a lock of her black shiny hair around her index finger like a lovesick chick. I love my best friend and her impeccable timing.
Leaning into the door, I watch as Channing throws his head back and that thick neck of his is on display as he laughs out loud. Tamera swats at his leg playfully and I giggle at her efforts with him causing both of them to look my way. Channing’s easy-going smile lands on me, and he points at my best friend while shaking his head.
“Your girl came to see you, sunshine.” He states the obvious and I nod my head while going back to towel drying my hair leisurely. “She’s too much.”
“She’s probably just enough for you.” I smile and quirk my eyebrow at him. Take the hint, Creed.
“Hey, Brea-bee. Love the new TV.” She throws her hand out and I nod back at Channing.
“Christmas present from my overgrown grizzly,” I say. She turns her head slowly back to him.
“Add me to that Christmas list, Creed.” She giggles again then turns those topaz gems back my way. “But I came over to see if you wanted to go with me to listen to another band that’s playing tonight at Brandy’s Bar.” She shifts her stare over to Channing then right back to me. I got you girlfriend.
“No, I’m about to crash but you two should go,” I say.
Tossing my h
and out in their direction as I move across the room and drop my towel into the hamper. Tamera smiles wide at me silently saying thanks but Channing squints at me. He knows my play too. Something instead of nothing. The only difference is that I’m offering up someone to him that’s more than willing to entertain his flirtatious crap. Tamera would give his mean streak a new coat of coloring, blood red.
“You’re welcome to come with me.” Tam swivels around to Channing. “Wanna go?” She asks.
“Can I get a raincheck.” He asks.
“Nah, I don’t do those, Creed. Imma one time offer only kinda chick.” Tam bounces up off the couch and hugs me then moves for the door. “Call me later Brea-bee, love ya.” Tam looks over her shoulder as she opens the door sending Channing a mischievous smile. “Take care, big guy.” Then she exits without another word.
When I turn my eyes back to Channing, he’s standing right in front of me. Those holes of his are brewing with the making of fire and brimstone. I stumble back because this entire sneak and invade move has caught me off guard.
“What’s wrong with you?” I rasp out. “That was the perfect opening for you two.” I toss my hand out.
“Brealyn, do I strike you as the type of man that needs help finding female companionship in any capacity?” His voice has a low disgruntled undertone to it.
“Well, uhmm…” I look down and fumble with my hands feeling somewhat bad about having put him on the spot. “I was only trying to help. I’m sorry.”
“Jesus Christ, lady… You’re driving me insane; you know that?” He encases my face with his hands. “If I wanted your friend or any woman for that matter, I’d damn well make that happen for myself, but I want you.” I wrap my hands around his and slowly shake my head.
“I’m so sorry.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Channing, I’m so deeply sorry that you want things that I’ll never be able to give you. They're not mine to give anymore. They belong to him.”
His jaw flexes and his hands drop. Slowly he turns around and grabs his coat pulling it over his broad shoulders. Then he stalks to the door grasping the handle in his hand but before he leaves he turns back around to me and says, “I’m a strong and patient man Brea, but sticking around only to watch you suffer and pawn me off like I’m a meaningless fill-in is something I’m not equipped to do.”
“C’mon, Channing. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry you feel that way, but I can’t help it, Channing. I thought you were my friend.” I say.
“Yeah, well I thought so too, sunshine. But what you just pulled on me and Tamera was nothing short of a shit move.” He pulls the door open and leaves me standing there feeling like the crappy friend I truly am.
chapter 8
Brogan
“And to this brilliant woman right here whose marketing magic has put a stronghold on our recording breaking profits, increasing them by thirty percent.” Carson pulls Brea up out of her barstool and holds his shot up high in the company crowd. My eyes take in the schoolgirl blush coating her face. She’s surrounded by her peers that are packed inside of Crellan’s Cellar.
Normally, I wouldn’t even think twice about attending this shit. Hanging back and watching her is what I do best though. Plus, it provided me with a good reason to be the creepy motherfucker that I’ve become when it comes to her. My ass is firmly tucked away in the far corner observing while shutting out the voices that surround me. I observe as everyone else follows Carson’s lead tossing one back.
When those beautiful blues find me like they always seem to do, I wink and hold up my glass then kill the contents. Here’s to you Southern Comfort. She turns her head but not before I see her shy smile. That’s the best reward ever.
The Cellar is a laidback bar that’s rumored to be owned by one of New York’s notorious gruesome mobsters. I know this bit of information to be facts but that’s only because of previous business amongst us men. The one and only Crellan Haze is a quite but aggressive gunman with uncaring brutality for “family” business. It’s something I can appreciate and relate too sans the illegal attributes.
Those Italian good fellas live by a certain code and standard that not many are accustomed to. My dealings with Crellan have always been clean and precise though. Therefore, my encounters with him are favorable.
Then again, I have enough pocket change to buy the underground out. That kind of cash clout either ensures a seamless transaction of any kind or you become a walking target. If the latter ever comes into play then my Lone Walker ways are sure to even the scales.
Either way, I come to The Cellar more often than not because of the twenty-four-seven accommodations made available for exclusive members like myself. Plus, their high-end stock of cognac and cellar level of privacy is always a plus. When downtime is needed then this is one of the few places that I can go without the hassle of flashing lights. Camera happy assholes tend to steer clear of the venues that inhabited the mob.
Of course, this type of gathering is just outside those peaceful realms of what I’m accustomed to, but this hotspot caters to the normal crowd as well. One notable thing to keep in mind is that this little get-together is for Brealyn. So, of course, my ass was going to show face. Following the beautiful fluttering butterfly around is something my cutthroat corporate ass can’t seem to shake.
A company celebration was Carson’s idea to show thanks to the marketing department's record-breaking sales. Notably, this is due to one little blonde-headed blue-eyed country girl.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of having the Wallstreet God grace the commoner crowd.”
Swiveling my head to the side, I see that Crellan Haze himself has decided to make an appearance. My lips tip up in a smirk. His cold dead holes are void of fucks, but that signature toothpick is hanging out of the corner of his mouth. His blacked-out suit is primetime and his kicks are polished. He’s holding a glass with a hefty amount of what I can only assume is some refined spirits of sorts.
“What are you drinking?” I nod toward his tumbler and he looks down swirling around the smokey liquid.
“Ahhh, this is my personnel collection of Macallan Valerio Adami. This little indulgence is a sixty-year-old newfound craving that I’ve acquired.” His hollow eyes come back to me and he shrugs. “I’ll send you some over. You can tell me what you think.”
“Look forward to it.” I nod then look back over the heads in the crowd for her. When I hear Crellan loud and clear my eyes return to him.
Time to move my ass away from this boardroom bastard and find out who the stunning blonde is.
Letting out a low growl, I scrub my hand over my face trying to tamp down my army of demon’s bloodthirsty desires. Lashing out at this soon to be dead mobster would have harsh blowback. Plus, explaining my mystical but medieval actions with the audience in attendance might prove to be difficult. I loosen my tie pulling it out from around my collar on an angry motion, I roll it up then tuck it into my pants pocket.
“Tell me Creed… Who is the beautiful blonde that Carson has his clown claw wrapped around?” He tilts his head in their general direction then those soulless eyes come back to me.
“That’s not important Haze.” I pin him with my high beams. My humorless fuck you smirk can’t be overlooked.
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s not important for me but you’re a different story.” He points his glass holding index finger at me. Crellan looks back at the darkened drink like it puts him in a trance, spinning that whittled slice of wood around between his lips then says, “Don’t let the things you long for slip through your grasp.” He turns on his heel without another word and walks through the bar. He’s a peculiar prick.
“Figured you’d show.”
The only reason he’s here is because of Brea, period. Damnit, are they an item or not? It’s hard to tell.
I let my head fall back and I roll my neck around hoping to release the tension but I’m unsuccessful. When I focus back on Damien, my other side suit, I wait for the punc
hline. This asshole has bad timing. He always seems to materialize when I’m in a pissy mood. Hell, he simply amplifies my agitated side. Somewhat like sandpaper scrubbing across an open pulsating wound.
“I’m trying to be more sociable.” I deadpan.
“This is compliments of Mr. Haze.” I turn my eyes to the server. “He said it was supposed to curve a special craving.”
The waitress smiles wide as she slides a tumbler filled with a familiar brown liquor my way on a wink. I ignore her fuck me eyes, pick the drink up, and toss it back letting the angry heat coat my throat. I look back to Damien and quirk my brow at him. I still have a hefty amount of animosity toward this asshole. It was months ago that he was trying to hit on Brea. I should be over that by now, but I’m far from it. I still want to snap his god damn neck.
“So, are you and Brea a thing?” Damien asks. This asshole right here is a nosy little bastard.
Turning my head to the waitress that has yet to move her ass from my side, I smile and ask, “Can you please get me a bottle of that Macallan’s to go. Tell Mr. Haze to bill my account.” She nods her head and off she goes. I turn my icy stare back to Damien. I really don’t care for this conversation nor do I need to do a mental evaluation to know why he’s probing into my business. I thought we had a clear understanding, but I guess not.
“Whether or not I have a relationship with Miss. Winters is irrelevant Damien. We’ve already discussed your wandering rod below. You’re not to fuck the staff, ever.”
I don’t want to fuck the staff… Just the southern sweetness tucked between her legs. This motherfucker…