Page 34 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

“Get in bed,” I command, my voice low. “And don’t put your clothes on… I want to fuck you again tonight.”

She does as she’s told, crawling into bed, and I curl around her back with a possessive arm over her, my hand grasping her breast and idly playing with her peaks. I can’t look her in the eye, can’t acknowledge what we’ve done.

And yet, I’m gonna do it again.

Yes, this was a mistake… but as long as we’re stuck in this motel room, I’m going to make the most of it.

Chapter fourteen

Shiloh

The light sneaks inthrough the cracks of the motel blinds, painting stripes across the sheets and onto my skin. I'm warm, too warm, and there's a weight on my hip that isn't mine. My eyelids flutter open, and I'm staring straight into his face.

Liam Nolan.

My boss, my ex’s big brother… with his hand possessively resting on my hip as if it belongs there.

Panic grips me like a vice. Last night wasn't just a dream. It was real—the first time we had sex, then the second time when I woke up to find him moving inside me, and then a third...

I remember how he whispered my name, each syllable heavy with lust as he demanded more, gave more, drew climax after climax from me until I was sure my body couldn't take any more pleasure.

My heart races, and I can feel the heat flooding my cheeks.

What have I done?

The memories come crashing back in flashes of entangled limbs and broken moans. There's a dull ache between my thighs,a reminder of how thoroughly he used me all night, leaving me spent and yet somehow still craving his touch.

But the pleasure is quickly overshadowed by a surge of anxiety. This wasn't just a night of reckless abandon; this was with Liam—my employer, my paycheck, my stability. Images of walking into the office on Monday, of whispers and smirks from colleagues who somehow know, start to swirl in my head.

What if he fires me for this?

I can practically see the dismissal notice, the way his cool business tone would cut through any plea.

And then there's Chris.

If Liam tells him… I shudder at the thought. Chris, who once said he loved me, who’s been telling me to get the hell out of his apartment for weeks.

Would he even let me grab my things before showing me the door?

My breath quickens as the walls of the motel room feel like they're closing in on me. The humiliation, the gossip—it could ruin everything. How did one night of surrendering to forbidden desires lead me here, to the edge of losing it all?

I'm spiraling now, each thought more catastrophic than the last. Homelessness looms over me, an all-too-real possibility. No job means no income; no income means no rent and no rent...

I can't even finish the thought.

It's too much.

And the worst part—the absolute gut-twisting, heart-palpitating worst part—is that as I'm drowning in this panic, there's a part of me—a reckless, wanton part—screaming that I would do it all over again. I press my eyelids tight, trying to silence that voice, trying to calm the butterflies—no, more like bees—buzzing wild and erratic in my stomach.

"Shiloh," Liam's voice cuts through the morning stillness like a lifeline—or an anchor—pulling me back from the edge or dragging me deeper down, I can't tell which.

My eyes snap open to find him awake, his gaze on me. It's like looking into a lake at dusk; there's depth there, but it's obscured, unreadable. His hand, the one that's been resting possessively on my hip, tightens just a fraction. A silent communication, a connection that neither of us has the words for right now.

"Morning," I manage, my voice a husk of confusion. I'm not sure what we are in the light of day—boss and employee tangled in sheets, or something far more complicated.

His thumb brushes against my skin in a small, almost comforting gesture, and I fight the urge to lean into his touch.

What is he thinking? Is he regretting this as much as I am? Or is he just as caught up in the tangled web of desire and consequence?

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