Page 28 of Marrying His Brother

I imagine Andrew’s hand snaking between my legs, his fingers running over my soaked panties, teasing…

A soft moan escapes my lips, jerking me back to the present. I open my eyes, startled by the sound and by the thoughts swirling in my mind. What am I even doing? This is insane.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to calm the racing thoughts. My reflection stares back at me, flushed, eyes gleaming with desire. For a man who was a stranger less than two months ago. A man I shouldn’t be lusting after.

“Get it together, Emily,” I whisper to myself, shaking my head as if to clear the thoughts away.

It’s the stress of the day. That’s the only reason I’m lusting after Andrew. The wedding, Daniel’s outburst, the tension in the air, it was all too much. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be well rested and back to my senses.

I take off my underclothes and step into the shower. The hot water runs over me, washing away the tension, but my mind refuses to fully relax.

Stepping out of the shower, I dry off, slipping into a nightgown before crawling into the massive bed. The sheets are cool against my skin. As I sink into them, I reach for my phone and call my mother.

“How’s Dad?” I ask.

“He’s stable,” she replies, her voice reassuring. “The fever hasn’t come back. He’s resting.”

I exhale, relief washing over me. “That’s good. Thanks, Mom.”

“Don’t worry about us, sweetheart,” she says. “You just focus on settling in.”

Settling in. I glance around the room that still feels foreign. But I don’t dwell on it. Instead, my thoughts drift to Monday—the day Andrew and I start working together. The idea of diving into the work we have ahead fills me with a strange kind of excitement.

I can’t wait to see the changes, to start taking charge and making things happen. That alone makes this marriage worth it.

I say goodnight to my mother and set my phone on the nightstand, turning over in bed, my thoughts still buzzing but slowly fading. Eventually, exhaustion overtakes me, and I drift off into sleep.

A sudden noise jerks me awake in the middle of the night. My heart races as I sit up, straining to listen. There’s a sound—faint but unmistakable. Like someone screaming.

I throw off the covers and slip out of bed, my feet quiet against the cold floor. The noises are coming from down the hall. My pulse quickens as I creep toward the source, each step slow and cautious.

I stop outside Andrew’s door, my breath held.

It’s coming from his room.

The sounds are muffled now, but I can hear them clearly—low, guttural noises, almost like someone fighting in their sleep. Panic grips me for a moment. Is he hurt? Is someone in there with him?

I press my ear against the door and realize that Andrew is having a nightmare.

The sounds grow quieter, fading into silence. I wait, listening, but the house falls still once more. I pull back, stepping away from the door, my heart still pounding in my chest.

Should I check on him? No. It seems like an invasion of privacy. I turn and tiptoe back to my room.

Back in bed, I lie awake for a while, the image of Andrew—strong, composed Andrew—fighting something in his sleep sticking with me.

***

I wake up feeling unusually well-rested. I stretch, glancing at the clock. It’s nine. I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.

After a quick shower, I throw on a comfortable pair of jeans and a loose blouse, feeling relaxed as I head downstairs. The smell of coffee reaches me first, followed by the rustle of paper coming from the kitchen.

As I walk in, I spot Andrew at the table, his hair slightly ruffled, looking surprisingly casual as he sips his coffee and reads the paper.

The sight of him at ease and unguarded, makes my face heat up, a blush creeping across my cheeks as I recall the thoughts that had run through my head the night before. I push them away quickly, trying to focus on the moment.

“Good morning,” I say, grabbing a mug and pouring myself a cup of coffee. The rich aroma fills the room, and I take a sip, enjoying the warmth that spreads through me.

“Morning,” Andrew replies, glancing up from his paper. “How did you sleep?”

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