Page 5 of The Brothers Next Door

“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked, leading him through the living room and into the tiny kitchen which had just enough room for a tiny two-person table.

“What do you have?”

Opening the fridge, which I assumed to be older than my twenty-six years, I peered in. The fridge section froze many liquids and the freezer section just barely kept things in a solid state. Needless to say, I ate out frequently.

This was embarrassing. As far as liquids went there were two options, a cheapie bottle of white wine and Minute Maid orange juice. I grabbed the neck of the wine bottle and squealed as I turned to find Nate standing directly behind me.

“I’ve got…” I didn’t get the chance to finish my statement. Taking the bottle of wine from my fingertips, he placed it on the countertop beside us and then leaned into me, his lips brushing against mine.

“The wine will do,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I waited with bated breath for him to lean in further and capture my lips with his own, and each second that passed made my heart beat just a little faster. It seemed to take an eternity before it finally happened and his lips claimed mine.

The wait had built up such a need within me that as our kiss deepened, I groaned out loud, slipping my hands up his muscular chest and lacing my fingers behind his neck. Pressing my breasts against his chest, my body seemed to melt into his. Our bodies forming together so well it felt as though they were meant for each other.

It felt so damned good to feel his warm, hard body moving against me, his tongue dancing with mine. As we continued to kiss, his impressive full erection rubbed against my groin, forcing my thong to slip between my slit and entice my clit.

I groaned against his open mouth. The passion within me was stronger than I’d ever encountered before. This was a stranger, and I had no mental or emotional bond with him, but my body didn’t care, and that seemed to be the part of me in control. Despite my reservations of having a one-night stand, the thought that I was doing something shameless and wild fueled the desire within.

His mouth left mine and his lips began a journey along my jawbone and to the side of my neck just as he pushed up against me once more, sending me backwards and into the open refrigerator.

“Oh shit!” I cried out in pain as one of the shelves sharply pressed into my lower back.

“Fuck. Layla. Sorry.” He pulled me out of the fridge and took a step back, allowing me room to make way for the fridge door, closing it. “Are you all right?” He began an unnecessary frantic search of my body.

“I’m fine. Fine.” I was more embarrassed and disappointed the mood was broken than in pain. How many women were so clumsy that they ruined the mood by falling into an open fridge?

“Turn around.”

My brows knit together as I considered his request.

“I want to make sure your dress is okay.”

“It should…” I felt behind me and whimpered as my fingertips found a tear in the material. Slowly, I turned. “How bad is it?” I never spent much money on clothing. I was a Macy’s sale girl all the way. Being an accountant tended to make people money smart to the point of being frugal. I’d seen too many people go bankrupt for frivolous spending. However, to boost my confidence and partially due to the insistence of Misty, I’d decided to splurge on a two thousand-dollar Herve Leger dress—something that my body would ‘rock’. I had to wiggle my way into their largest size, which was the equivalent of a size twelve, but dammit, I’d managed and it looked so good on me. And it was now ruined after wearing it for less than three hours. I could have cried. No doubt there would be a tear or two shed after he was gone over flushing two grand down the toilet.

“I hope this dress didn’t cost a lot. It looks expensive.”

I didn’t reply, embarrassed over the amount I’d paid. He’d think I was a fool had I told him.

“It’s got quite a tear, perhaps an inch or so. You should get it off as quickly as possible before the damage gets worse. You might be able to salvage it.”

He didn’t sound optimistic.

I sighed. Reaching behind me, I realized I was going to need his help unzipping the back, otherwise I might end up making the tear worse. A moment ago, when his lips were on my neck, I would have been happy to be naked in front of him, but in this situation, I was hit with a bout of modesty.

“Let me help with that.” Brushing my hair aside and over my shoulder, he began unzipping the dress, the poor excuse for a bodice loosening and falling away. I grabbed at the bodice, holding it up over my bare breasts as he unzipped the remainder of the dress, the zipper ending at my lower back.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.” Without looking back at him over my shoulder, I scampered into the bedroom.

Closing the door behind me, I discovered that I’d been right about the adhesive holding the bodice in place. It was shit, though in this situation that was a good thing since I could peel the contraption off relatively easily. Slipping the dress off of my body, I stepped out of it and held it up so I could examine the tear. Maybe it could be fixed… hopefully. Considering the type of dress and the material, any fixes would stand out. Guess that would teach me for spending money foolishly.

Folding the garment up, I placed it on top of my dresser and was opening my closet for something to wear when I heard the door opening and a man clearing his throat.

Nate. Shit.

“Don’t bother getting dressed on my account.” He smiled, leaning against the door jamb, making no effort to hide the fact his eyes were drinking in every exposed inch of me.

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