Page 73 of Claiming Pretty

“Fuck.” Ava shoved me back, her palms pressing against my chest with more force than I expected.

I let her push me, the steam billowing between us like a veil, but it couldn’t hide the guilt etched across her face.

“Coming!” she yelled, her tone singsong, but when her glare snapped back to me, it was icy and cutting. “Don’tdo that again.”

I tilted my head, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the heat of the moment. “Why? Afraid you can’t say no?”

She let out a noise of pure frustration, a mix of anger and something else—something raw and unspoken.

Without another word, she shoulder-barged me, her wet skin brushing mine as she stormed past, the faint scent of her still clinging to the air, her towel clung precariously to her body.

I leaned against the counter, watching her go, the corner of my mouth curving further. Her retreat only left mehungrier, more determined. Whatever lines she thought existed between us had long since blurred.

But this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

I let out a sigh, tamping down my desire and willing my erection to fade before following out after her.

I slipped out of the bathroom, my bare feet making no sound against the hardwood floor as I walked down the short hallway toward the living room. The muffled hum of Ciaran’s computer monitor was the only thing I could hear—until I froze.

There she was. Ava. Sitting on his lap.

Ciaran lounged back on the couch like a king on his throne, one arm casually around her waist. His keyboard was tossed to the side, forgotten, and his other hand—fuck—his other hand was up her towel.

Ava giggled, a soft, breathless sound, and shoved at his hand, though not hard enough to make him stop. The sound cut into me, sharp and unforgiving, carving a hollow ache in my chest.

I would wait forever for Ava to realize she was mine, but watching her with my brother—with thewrongbrother—was killing me.

Ciaran noticed me first, his sharp blue eyes narrowing.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

I realized belatedly that my hair was still damp from the bathroom steam and there were wet patches from Ava’s hair and body on my shirt.

“What have you got?” I said, ignoring his question and striding toward them like I didn’t just have my hand right where his was not thirty seconds ago.

Ava shifted in his lap, her posture suddenly tense. Her cheeks flushed pink as she shoved at Ciaran’s hand again, more forcefully this time.

He smirked, withdrawing his hand, but the smugness in his expression made my fists curl.

She slid off his lap, settling to his side so he could reclaim his keyboard. Her towel rode up slightly, exposing more of her creamy thigh than I could handle, and I felt the fire of jealousy burn hotter.

She avoided my gaze as I settled onto the couch beside her, deliberately brushing my shoulder against her damp one.

Her skin was warm from the shower, her scent sweet and intoxicating. And her nearness sent blood rushing to my dick again.

I brushed my finger along the side of her exposed thigh, out of Ciaran’s line of sight.

She shot a glare at me, yanking her towel down her thigh and pulling it tighter around her as if it could shield her from the tension crackling between us.

I lifted an eyebrow and rubbed a finger along my pulse point.

Her cheeks flamed red and she pulled her hair down around her neck to cover the spot where I’d marked her with my teeth.

I smirked to myself, reveling in my brand on her.

My teeth marks on her skin.

My fingers coated in her juices.

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