Page 24 of Better Watch Out

But I need this anyway.

“Just tell me Boone isn’t somewhere nearby waiting to take a picture of me.”

Fletcher doesn’t speak, and it makes my heart twist in my chest, like it’s trying to wring out all the blood so I can justdieon the spot and save myself any further misery. But then Fletchergives a small scoff, followed by a chuckle, and he rolls his eyes at me.

“No one is going to take a picture of you without your consent. And any pictures of you taken by us aren’t for anyone else. Okay, princess?” His words send a shudder through me, and I remind myself that I can’t trust him.

“Whatever.” I hesitate, and let out a huff. “Can you move now?”

“No.” Amusement replaces the worry in his eyes, and his mouth curls in a smirk. “You’re not going to your room.”

My brows climb toward my bangs, and I stare up at him, incredulous. “You want to repeat that? I’m not about to have sibling bonding timein a towel.So either you give me my clothes back, or you let me in my room to grab more. It’s one or the other, Fletch.”

“Actually, I think there’s a third option.” He steps closer to me, until we’re nearly chest to chest.

“Is it one where I run you over with your truck and crash it into a tree?” The words are out of my mouth before I can really think that the threat might not be smart, but they only make Fletcher chuckle.

“Not quite. We can explore that one later, but for now, I’m thinking you need to learn some manners, Conor.” He leans in close, and I find I can’t pull away. “And learn that your actions have consequences. Especially with us.”

Footsteps coming from the living room make me look up, and I catch Boone’s harsh grin just as he reaches us, hands out and reaching for me. I barely have time to make a noise of protest, trying to yank away from him, but in seconds he has me thrown over his shoulder, the towel riding up so that my ass isdefinitelyon display.

“Put me down!” I howl, grabbing his hair with one hand as my phone clatters to the floor. From the corner of my eye, I seeFletcher pick it up and pocket it, but I’m too busy digging my fingers into Boone’s scalp and t-shirt, trying to convince him to put me down any way I can. “Goddamnit, Boone!” I kick at him, but he only traps my calves against his chest, his low chuckle vibrating through him and into me.

A jolt is my only clue that we’re taking the stairs, and I gasp in surprise at the disconcerting feeling of being carried up them while over Boone’s shoulder. His hand wanders as he walks, reaching up to cup my thigh and prompting me to smack the back of his head.

“You’re only making this worse, snow bunny.” He laughs, as if he doesn’t care about the pain. “Only making me want to take this further.” His steps level out, and suddenly it dawns on me that we’re going to their room.

“Put me down!” My words are lost on him, and on Fletcher, who disappeared somewhere on the first floor. Though when we turn off of the landing I see him start up the stairs, a few bottles of water in his hands.

“Fine.” We pass through their doorframe and with a few more steps I’m hefted off of Boone’s shoulder, tossed down with his hand gripping the towel that barely covers me. The result is that I land on their beds which have been pushed together in front of the bay window, though I immediately cover myself and drag my knees up to my chest.

I watch as Boone tosses the towel on top of the dresser, where I can also see my pjs. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I hiss, heart pounding as I nearly shake with surprise and frustration. “Have you fucking lost it, Boone?”

“No, princess,” Fletcher sighs, closing the door behind him. Casually he walks over to the dresser, setting down the waters and my phone on top of it. “He hasn’t lost it, and you’re not leaving here.” He moves to stand behind Boone, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his shoulder. “At least,not until you’re begging for us to forgive you for how shitty you’ve been to us.”

“And not until you mean it,” adds Boone, leering down at me and leaning his face against Fletcher’s.

My mind scrambles, trying to come up with a plan. But all I can do is stare up at the two of them and hope to God I’m about to wake up from some kind of depraved nightmare so that this isn’t really happening.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“You think…” I trail off, still shaking with a scary combination of emotions. “You think forone secondthat I’m going to beg either of you for anything? After what you did? After everything you put me through?” I don’t have the guts to stand up, even though I wish I did. I wish I didn’t care what they see, or their reaction to my body being on display for them.

But I do, and the feeling of vulnerability and anticipation of humiliation makes me squirm visibly under their combined gazes. There’s a feeling of being powerless when I’m curled up on their bed, naked, with both of them standing over me completely clothed and incredibly confident.

“I think you’re holding onto this grudge a bit too hard. And what, exactly, is there for you to hold onto, hmm…Conor?” Fletcher moves, coming around to kneel at the side of the bed until he’s right in front of my knees with a sweet, interested expression on his handsome face.

Not that I believe its validity for asecond.

“Oh, shall I list them? Would you prefer chronological order, or in order of how much I’m not over them?” I hiss back, havingto rein in my temper a little bit with Fletcher so close and so still that every word feels like a dare for him to take this further.

“Chronological,” Boone answers, walking to the opposite wall where a long dresser sits, a match to the taller one where my clothes and phone are. He turns on the television, but instead of putting on a movie or show, music drifts through the room, reminding me that Boone doesn’t like the silence.

“Fine. Chronological. Well, both of you were born, first of all—” Fletcher’s hand darts out, fingers clasping around my throat.

“No,” he tells me. “We’re not playing that game. You can give us serious reasons so we know if we’re missing anything, or you can give up your right to discuss things until after we’re done with you.” I don’t mean to flinch, but I can’t help it. Not with the way he looks at me and the cold anticipation in his tone. It makes his eyes darken and I can see a small smile twitch at his lips. He considers my reaction a victory, and I promise myself not to give him more.

If I can help it.

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