Page 2 of Starts With a Bang

“I love it.”

He cocked his head toward the dance floor. “Do you want to dance?”

I shook my head. “I’m happy right here.”

Broody tugged my stool forward until I was within kissing distance. I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth as it slowly descended. I wasn’t sure if I had closed the distance or if he had, but nothing mattered when his warm lips pressed against mine. The kiss was tentative at first, chaste and dry. I lifted my hand and fisted the hair at his nape, showing him I meant business. Broody’s lips parted, and I took advantage of the opportunity, sweeping my tongue inside his mouth with the same confidence I did everything. Broody tensed briefly, then matched my energy with a sexy little growl. I kept one hand in his hair and rested my other on his thigh. Broody’s hands slid from my hips down to cup my ass. I had the feeling he was about to haul me into his lap right there at the bar. Did I care? Not really.

I wrapped my lips around his tongue and sucked. Then I slid my hand higher up his thigh until my fingertips grazed against Broody Jr. Damn, the dude was hung. There was no doubt in either of our minds where our night was headed. We went at itheavily, and I lost sense of time and place. I just knew my dick was as hard as a pike, and we’d only petted each other over our clothes. The music tempo changed again. Had we kissed through one song or two? I sucked Broody’s tongue again and traced the outline of his erection with my finger.

It was time to move someplace more private, especially when someone shouted, “No fucking way!”

I knew that voice as well as my own, and I ignored it. My brother, Kerry, was not going to cockblock me again. Broody tightened his grip on my ass, and I was glad to see he was just as determined.

“Stop tongue-fucking and ass-grabbing my brother, Dom!” Kerry yelled.

Broody jerked back so fast he nearly toppled off the chair, and since he didn’t let go of my ass, he pulled me with him.

Kerry, the troublemaking asshole, gripped us both by the shoulders and pulled us apart. “No way. Huh-uh. Not happening.”

Broody looked between Kerry and me, his expression growing more confused by the minute until something must’ve clicked in his brain. Green eyes widened. In horror or surprise, I couldn’t be sure. “Oh man, I forgot you had a stepbrother.”

Blood didn’t define family, and Kerry was my brother in every way that counted. My dad married Lucinda when I was eight years old and Kerry was sixteen. He’d taken his role as protector very seriously, and old habits died hard. Annoying asshole. Then it hit me that Kerry had addressed Broody by name. Dom. Alarms were going off in my head. Dominic Babb? As in Kerry’s best friend since elementary school? I studied Broody for any signs of the easygoing guy who’d hung out at our house all the time but came up empty. Then again, I hadn’t seen him since the summer after Dom and Kerry graduated from high school.That was twenty years ago, and I’d only been ten. No wonder he hadn’t recognized me either.

“Stevie, right?”

I managed not to groan at that old nickname. “No one calls me that anymore. I go by Sven.”

“Sven?” Dom asked in disbelief.

“One of our second cousins couldn’t say Steven when he was little and called me Sven. It just stuck.”

“I can’t believe it,” Dom said.

“I can’t believe you’re still groping my brother’s ass,” Kerry snarled.

“Oops!” Dom jerked his hands back.

“Now your turn, Sven,” Kerry warned.

I’d maintained my hand in Dom’s hair and left my fingers near his dick. I turned my head and hit Kerry with a glare that would quell most men. Not my brick house of a brother. “And why should I? We’re both consenting adults, Kerry. Go away.”

“I’ll tell you why,” Kerry replied. “Dom is in the middle of a nasty divorce, and he’s a hot mess.”

Dom flinched but didn’t bother denying it.

“And you,” Kerry said, rounding on me. “There’s nothing you love more than nursing the walking wounded back to life. Have you learned nothing from past mistakes?”

“Hey,” Dom protested weakly. “Walking wounded is a bit harsh.”

Kerry crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Dom shrugged and dropped his gaze. “He’s not wrong.”

I leaned forward and rested my hand on Dom’s leg, keeping it clean since Kerry was hovering. “It’s true I want to tuck you into bed, but not to feed you chicken soup and read you a book. I’m more of a Fuckingale than Nightingale.” I wanted to ride that enormous cock and allowed my gaze to broadcast my thoughts.

Dom let out a soft groan and leaned toward me.

“No!” Kerry barked. “I forbid it.”

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