Page 7 of Knocked Up by my Best Friend's Brothers

“What’s wrong?” River asks, his lips glistening. His eyes are dark.

“You’re a Hawthorne,” I say, though it doesn’t sound as logical to him as it does to me.

He narrows his eyes in confusion. “And?”

“You and your brothers, you’re like… brothers to me.”

“But we’re not your brothers.”

There he goes again with his sound reasoning while I’m grasping at straws here. In the meantime, the hungry looks he’s giving me turn me on and on and on to the point where I can barely fucking breathe unless I feel him buried deep inside me.

“Teagan is my best friend,” I weakly protest.

River’s smile deepens as he looks into my eyes. “So, what? Teagan’s brothers are off limits?”

“Yeah. I promised a long time ago.”

“Okay.” He pauses and takes his jacket off. Then his vest. His bowtie. His belt.

All I can do is stare and practically drool as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing the ropes of sculpted muscles hiding underneath.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

He licks his fingers—the very fingers he used to touch me down there, and it blows my mind to pieces. “I was going to take a shower. You were going to leave.”

“Right, right…”

But I don’t want to leave. My body won’t let me. My heart’s twisted, too. Only my conscience hangs on by a thread, an annoying resilient thread.

“Unless you changed your mind?” River asks.

His shirt reaches the floor. His pants. Boxers.

He’s naked, hung and hard as a rock, waiting for my surrender.

“I… Dammit, River, I’m between a rock and a hard place here,” I manage, then immediately want to slap myself for the analogy.

“It can be our secret,” he says.

“Teagan can never know,” I reply, surrendering to the incoming deluge.

“Understood,” he says. “Come here.”

I walk toward him, and once I’m in his reach, he pulls me into a kiss—a merciless conquest, our tongues clashing, our lips crushed as we finally give in.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispers as he trails kisses down the side of my neck. I’m drunk with champagne and desire, burning up on the inside as his hands go to town.

He shoves a hand in my hair and yanks my head back.

“Oh, River,” I gasp as he fondles my breast with his other hand, then closes his lips around the nipple. Every nerve ending in my body comes alight, sparks flying everywhere.

I let my hands wander, fingertips following the sinuous lines of his muscles, from his shoulders and down his strong arms, then back over his chest. My fingers comb through the short curls covering his chiseled pecks as he devours my breasts, suckling each nipple until the sweetest sting sends a shockwave straight into my core.

“No one can ever know,” I moan as he pushes me onto the bed.

“Christa, look at me,” he says, and I meet his gaze as he settles on his knees between my parted legs. “Let go of whatever’s haunting you. Tonight, you’re mine. We’ll handle tomorrow when it comes.”

“River, I—oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” I cry out as he dives head first into my wet pussy.

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