Page 212 of Five Brothers

“Fuck.” I let my head fall back, sliding in and out slower and slower as my release drifts through me and everything starts to relax.

But before we’re done, she sits up and wraps her arms around me, her hair damp with sweat and in her face as she kisses me.

I circle my arms around her, touching her everywhere I can reach.God.

She pulls back but keeps her mouth an inch from mine. “I …”

But whatever she was going to say fades on her lips, and I get it.

There are no words.

Other than I want to do that with her a thousand more times. And slower, much slower.

I step back, doing up my pants, and she hops off the table, quickly slipping on my black shirt with missing buttons.

She opens the door and steps out, and I stay behind, fastening my belt.

“Ms. Conroy, are you okay?” I hear one of the cops ask.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she laughs out. “I’m really sorry about this. My boyfriend … Well …”

“Your boyfriend?” the other asks.

I open the door all the way, seeing the security guards notice me as I step up to her side.

“Macon Jaeger,” one says.

I know him, but I don’t remember his name. They both knowme, though.

“Is … everything cool?” the one I recognize asks us.

“Yeah.” I nod, hooking an arm over her shoulder so they know what’s mine. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

They look behind them to the busted doorframe and back to her again. “Are you sure?”

She leans into my embrace and puts a possessive hand on my stomach. “I’m okay.” I can feel her blush. “Thank you.”

They hesitate, but eventually nod and start to turn around. “We’ll have to call your parents to let them know we responded,” one of them says as they walk for the door.

Krisjen nods. “Good luck with that.”

She walks toward the stairs, glancing at me. “I’ll be in the shower. Hurry.”

I drop my eyes to the cut of breast peeking out through the piece of shirt she neglected to hold closed, and feel my body grow hot again.

I turn to the guard, a flash of amusement crossing their faces. I follow, seeing them out. “I’ll secure the door.”

“Don’t be setting off any fire alarms tonight, either, huh?” one teases as they both leave.

And I can’t help but smile with him. “We’ll try not to.”

Her sheer curtains glow white as the moonlight spills into the room, and I hold her to me as I stare up at her canopy bed.

White fabric is draped around the frame and cascades down the four posts like some bed in a fairy tale.

Her sheets feel like water. Soft and precious and gentle, like a cloud for a doll.

“I need to get you back home,” I tell her, threading my fingers through her hair. “This bedroom is unnerving.”

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