Page 5 of Brother's Keeper

“That was not good boy behavior,” he said, but not gruff enough to mean it.

Leveraging both hands on my head, he drew me back in. Rapid thrusts rattled my brain as I clung to him. When he yanked hard on my hair, I knew he was close. Seconds later, his cock pulsed against my tongue, spurting hot jizz that I gulped greedily down.

Nash sagged against me, grinding my face into his groin as he emptied. Finally, he stepped back, buttoning his jeans while I filled my starved lungs.

I sat back on my heels and wiped my arm across my mouth. “On second thought,” I said, cumdrunk and grinning, “Imightlick peanut butter off your dick. But only if you said please.”

He drew me to standing, then looped his fingers through my belt loops to pull me forward. I staggered into his chest, immediately caught up with him tugging on my waist.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you smile,” he said.

I struck a pose, knowing full well I was on the sloppy side of average today in a white A-shirt and ratty jeans. My blond mop was due for a trim unless I wanted to become one of those manbun-wearing hipsters. I was almost desperate enough to try a topknot to keep it out of my eyes.

“I’m pretty cute all the time,” I replied.

Nash chuckled. “Cuteandmodest. What a catch.” He folded his arms and leaned against the washing machine. He was pretty cute, too, with humor alight in his golden-brown eyes and his cheeks dimpled, but he didn’t needme to tell him that.

Beside us, the dryer chimed the end of its cycle. Grabbing the trash bag I’d brought from the kitchen, I shook it into shape, then flung the dryer door open. Heat wafted out as I crouched and began stuffing fresh, hot clothes into the sack.

“Is that really all you came for?” he asked. “I could have brought it over. Would’ve given me an excuse to see your new place.”

The dryer door closed with a clang, and I stood, knotting off the bag full of laundry. The size and heft of the thing reminded me of Santa’s Christmas sack, which made me the bearer of the least exciting presents in history. Clean clothes and underwear mingled with shirts and a suit jacket that claimed to be dry clean only, but we would see about that.

“It’s all the way across town,” I replied. “Last I checked, you don’t go farther than your front door.” Not to mention that Donovan’s reaction to the houseboat hadn’t made me eager to show it off to anyone else. At least not until after I’d cleaned it up a bit.

“Exceptions can be made,” Nash said, shrugging.

I hummed a skeptical sound.

Shouldering the laundry bag, I started down the hall with Nash in tow. We made our way to his bedroom, where the rest of my things were stored. There wasn’t much, considering I’d left everything at Lazy Daze and hadn’t looked back.

Two weeks crashing at the Bitters’ End had made me comfortable. There was a sense of ease here that I’d never felt around the gang. At the motel, I’d learned tosleep light and keep a chair against the door, neither of which felt necessary with Nash pressed in beside me every night.

Rounding the doorframe into his room, a sense of loss panged in my chest. I stopped in place and dropped the heavy sack while my eyes swept over the dark room. Earthy shades of brown and green covered the walls and furniture, antique wood pieces that may have been original to the house. Nash was only a decade older than me, and his sister Pippa was in her fifties, so I wondered who owned the large colonial before it took on its new life as an alchemy bar.

Nash mentioned his parents occasionally. They were fellow alchemists who fled the city years ago, before the Capitol ruled that the gate should only open one way. Humans could come and spend a weekend sightseeing our habitat of a home, but we witches could never leave. Now Mr. and Mrs. Nash lived as expatriates in Canada, and their children were trapped here.

I was mired in contemplation when Nash bumped me with his elbow. “You don’t have to leave, you know.”

His touch was enough to propel me into the room. I walked to the bedside table I’d claimed, tugging open the drawer to fish out my phone charger and an extra pack of smokes.

“We put you out long enough.” I wound the power cable around my fingers, then stuffed it in my pocket. “We need our own space. Plus, Donnie wasn’t crazy about sleeping on your couch.” My smile was meant to be reassuring, but Nash remained dubious.

“You told me the boat only has one bed,” he saidfrom his post in the doorway. “So, who’s on the couch now?”

I raised my hand sheepishly.

Nash laughed. “Pushover.”

There wasn’t much to grab, so I found myself stalling again. I almost went to the balcony on the far wall. It overlooked the bluff, so I could stare out across the ocean. But I was about to have all the ocean I wanted and then some.

“Here’s a thought.” Nash picked at the folded sleeve of his button down. “Why doesn’t Donovan stay at the houseboat, and you come back here? That way I don’t have to miss you.”

I rubbed my hand down my bare arm. “I can’t leave him alone, Nash. Especially not now.”

Moving away from the bed, I returned to the doorway where Nash embraced me again. I leaned into him, inhaling the crisp, herbal scent of his cologne. It was something Pippa made, no doubt. Her field of alchemy specialized in smells—perfuming—so I could blame her for making her brother smell like an actual breath of fresh air.

“I just want to know you’re safe,” he said softly.

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