Page 87 of A Little Complicated

“You don’t have to,” I whisper. “I can sleep on the couch in the family room or—”

“Lay down on the bed,” he orders. “As your best friend, I insist.”

He lies on the floor and spreads the olive green blanket over his long legs, pulling it up to his chin. But he doesn’t close his eyes. He simply stares at me with a look telling me, if you don’t listen, I will spank your ass.

It works.

With a smile, I murmur, “You really are the best. You know that, right?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I know. Goodnight, Ophelia.”

“‘Night, Archer.”

28

MAVERICK

My brother must be shit in bed because I didn’t hear a sound last night other than a few whimpers early on. Regardless, it didn’t quiet my imagination. What she’s doing with him. What he’s doing to her. If she likes it. If she’s comparing him with me. The possibilities have been on a constant carousel in my skull, driving me crazy until I can’t take anymore.

It’s different this time. Knowing they’re having sex. Knowing she was holding back because of me. Because I was her first and only.

Until last night.

When she let me go for real, and I did nothing to stop it. Hell, I pushed her into his waiting arms.

It fucking wrecks me.

Rubbing my hand over my tired face, I head toward the bathroom when the door opens. Steam billows around a freshly showered Ophelia. Her long, strawberry blonde hair hangs in ropes around her shoulders, down her back, and her makeup-free face, showcasing the freckles along the bridge of her nose I could draw from memory. The little knot of cloth between her breasts is the only thing keeping her perfect body from me. My hands fist at my sides. It would be so easy to reach up and tug at it. To let it fall at her feet. To drink her in. Every inch. Every curve. Every freckle.

She probably just finished showering off her fuckfest with my brother. The realization makes my stomach curdle.

“Mav,” she whispers.

I blink slowly. “You done?”

“Done?”

“With the bathroom.”

“Oh.” She swallows and nods, stepping aside so I have plenty of space to slip past her.

“Thanks,” I grunt, closing the bathroom door behind me.

It feels like the four walls surrounding me are closing in, leaving me dizzy and nauseated. I rest my head against the door and take a slow, controlled breath as memories I’d give anything to keep hidden rise to the surface.

* * *

“We should play Truth or Dare,”Finley announces. “Come on, guys!”

We’re all hanging out in the back of Griffin’s house. His parents, Ash and Colt, insisted we come home for Thanksgiving. Grudgingly, we agreed, giving up our freedom for a few days so we could catch up with everyone while Everett’s family’s in town.

“Truth or Dare?” Griffin asks. “What are we, twelve?”

I laugh at his response, well aware of the game nights we’ve thrown at LAU and how many times we’ve played Truth or Dare with our friends.

“Ah, come on,” Finley begs. “It’ll be fun. Please?” She presses her hands together in a begging motion, and Dylan does the same. With a laugh, Ophelia and her little sister, Tatum, join in, giving us their best doe eyes.

“Fiiiine,” Everett grunts.

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