Page 5 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

It was almost like fate had picked her up and dropped her — right in our arms.

She could’ve huddled below with Bishop, against the spray. She could’ve avoided the Mediterranean wind that whipped her long hair rhythmically against her pretty cheeks.Instead, she was standing beside me, eyes forward, resting her head against my shoulder. Her warm, porcelain face felt wonderful against my upper arm.

“So… how would you do it?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“The murder you were talking about.”

Still pressed against my arm, I felt her chuckle. Guiltily, I couldn’t help but watch the gentle bounce of her breasts, as the bow of the boat rose and fell.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she admitted, coyly. “It wouldn’t have to be cruel or painful, but it would definitely have to be shocking. The type of murder where, once people found out about it, they knew never,everto fuck with you.”

“Damn,” I swore.

“Of course, it’s not like I’m ruling out cruel or painful, either. Not entirely.”

“No?”

“Hell no,” she cried. “If anyone deserves cruel and painful, it’s Jeremy and Ashley.”

Acid dripped from every aspect of Jocelyn’s voice as she mentioned the names of her former business partners. Even over the hum of the cruiser’s twin engines, I could hear the disdain.

“Yes, well, you are certainly not one to be fucked with,” I laughed in agreement.

Jocelyn nuzzled her face deeper against my arm for a moment, before pulling back.

“Ah, but Kayden, my brother’s best friend…” she replied slyly. “You’vealreadyfucked with me, haven’t you?”

I stood up a little straighter at her words. My hand gripping the helm tightened, as the boat shifted beneath us.

“Fuckedwithyou?” I said carefully.

“Oh yes,” Jocelyn grinned. “All those jokes growing up around each other. All the pranks, all the insults.”

I relaxed a little. “Like what?”

“Like when you boys caught over a hundred fireflies on the fourth of July, then released them all into my room.”

I smiled in remembrance. “That was Bishop’s idea.”

“Or when you lined the top drawer of my desk, filled it with water, and turned it into a live aquarium?” she sighed. “Complete with goldfish?”

“Also Bishop,” I smiled. “But hey, you ended up getting a free pet out of that.”

“How about when I got my first car, and you jerks wrapped the entire thing with cling wrap?” she huffed. “It took me hours to peel it off. I was late for work.”

“That was your brother’s idea, actually,” I told her. “Although Iwasthe one who brought home the three-foot roll of plastic.”

“Umm-Hmm,” she mused. “And then of course there was that snowy, Christmas Eve night, during my senior year. You know, the one where Jason fell asleep drunk, and I threw myself at you?”

I didn’t have time to react. She leaned forward, cupping her hand as she whispered into my ear.

“And you took my hand, and led me downstairs, into the basement. And then we…”

Maybe it was the heat of her breath, or the feel of her lips lightly brushing my earlobe. But in just a few seconds, my entire body had broken out in goosebumps.

Of course, it could also be the hot, breathless retelling of the things we’d done that night.

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