Page 37 of Never Say Yes To Your Brother's Best Friend

I’m out of my chair and scooping her out of hers before she can say anything else. I’m too ferocious. I want her too badly. I need to tone it down, or I’m going to scare her.

She grabs my shoulders and wraps her legs around my waist like she’s not afraid at all. She also claims my mouth like she’s not afraid of this kind of battle either. She’s okay with my level of intensity.

By the time we get to the bathroom upstairs, her dress is puddled at her waist, and my shirt is gone. Her bra has been yanked down, exposing her beautiful breasts, and her legs are locked so tightly around my waist that I’m not even sure I can feel my dick anymore. I’m kidding. He’s too painfully hard not to feel. He wants to be freed. He doesn’t want to be trapped between us with all these clothes on. He wants to be slippery andwet, with her hand wrapped around him. He wants to be inside her, with her walls clenching around him.

Jesus, if I keep thinking this way, I’m not going to last any decent amount of time. If I thought last night was embarrassing, this would be a new level. It’s been a long time for me. Definitely not since I got back to the States this time. I’ve been motivated enough to use my hand in the shower a few times over the past year and a half, but not really. It’s kind of been like sleeping. I do it only when it feels atrociously necessary.

I set her down and start the shower. By the time I turn around, her dress is fully off. She’s stripping out of her bra and panties, and heaven help anyone who gets in her way. She looks like a furious goddess who has one objective in mind. And that one objective isme.

Technically, I’ve always had a home. I’ve always had family, or at least I did until my grandpa died. But I know there are others out there. His brothers and his sister. Two of them are still alive. His sister is still alive. They’re all over the world. My dad was an only child, and my mom’s parents are dead now, but I have an aunt, though she’s never reached out. However, I don’t know that for sure. She might have at first, but if my grandpa continuously rebuffed her, and she didn’t know where I was, then maybe she just gave up. It has been a long time since I was a kid. More than thirty years.

I’ve traveled extensively, but I felt like I half belonged where I was at the time, with the people who surrounded me. A team. My brothers.

I do know this place has never felt like home. My grandfather never felt like any family I could know or love. And even if I had brothers, I didn’t belong to them the way Aspen has claimed me. Right now, even before this moment, ever since she first showed up on my doorstep, she was determined I shouldn’t have to face the rest of this life alone.

She didn’t have to do this.

She didn’t have to know me, want me, or upend and reorganize her life for me. She didn’t have to care about me or befriend me.

She didn’t have to show me how to belong to someone.

But she did.

Chapter twelve

Aspen

Rick’s eyes on me light up my body. I feel like I’m a thousand degrees, boiling in a cauldron of my own skin. I feel like those charred fries—already quite overdone. Something wild and untamable twists inside me, and I feel feral. Like a wild beast. Watch out; the double tree girl is going to turn into this monstrously awesome thing with the strength of a bear and the speed of a cheetah. It’s not funny imagining myself as this sexed-up mix-and-match beast, but I smile.

Rick doesn’t smile, but his eyes never leave me, and that’s more than enough. I’ve never been so aware of anyone in my life. He’s the only thing I can focus on. He’s been the only one I could focus on for a while now.

He watches me intently while I slip my hands into my panties and pull them down my legs. I’m wet there. Totally soaked. My bra is already half off, but I unclasp it and let it go. It can run wild and free. I don’t need it anymore. I’d much ratherhave Rick’s hands on my breasts. I want his mouth. I want him touching me everywhere my clothes just graced.

He’s always in control. He’s so in control of himself and every situation. He’s learned and been trained that to be out of control means death. It means danger. It could cost other people their lives. He doesn’t know how to surrender, and I’m not sure how far he’ll let me go before he needs me to stop. I’m not going to push him. This isn’t about me taking the lead or needing it. It’s about our combined pleasure, and I need to find and learn what makes this man feel good. I’m not going to push him and make him retreat.

I don’t feel like he’s in control now, but that’s far from surrendering. I just feel like…like we’re something special. Like we’re more than fire and gasoline around each other. This is us wanting each other, but it’s a choice. It’s not something we can’t help.

I think.

Maybe I’m thinking too much.

I kiss Rick while the shower runs in the background. I pull him to me, and god, his lips are so freaking delicious. He’s so hard, but his skin is soft under my fingertips. Softer than I expected a man so muscular and so battle-trained to be. When his shirt was on, I thought he’d be stone under it, but of course he’s not. He’s warm with smooth skin and some puckered scars. Like the huge one on his side where that blade entered or grazed him. Either way, it caused damage. We’re standing in the light in here, and I trace my fingers over it. He doesn’t flinch or pull away.

He opens his mouth to me, and I slip my tongue in. I guide his hand up to my breast and curl his fingers against it. My knees go weak, so I wrap an arm around his neck and pull him to me as I back up against the wall. I love the press of his body against mine. His skin might be silky, but he’s so hard and so hot. Maybewe are combustible after all. I feel like one of us might go up in flames at any second.

I lose myself in kissing him. I’ve never had a kiss like this. I’ve never felt like every single second was a dance and a masterpiece. I love the way he groans when I scrape my teeth over his bottom lip. I’m the one who feels like I’m going to fall over when I run kisses over his short beard, down his neck, to his chest. I keep going. We’re not even in the shower yet, but I don’t need it. I want the taste of him too badly. I don’t want the water washing it all away. I like that he’s sharp and masculine and somehow soft under his sharpness. He tastes so good that it makes my head swim.

I slither down to my knees, and they give out like melted goo. I’m doing a very good impression of a jellyfish down here.

But I don’t want to be a jellyfish. I want to have bones. I need bones. I finally get my hands in working condition, and I move to tackle his jeans. I want them off.

“Aspen,” he groans. “Maybe it’s best to—”

“You can’t shower with your jeans on,” I interrupt.

I wait for him to undo them. Letting out a soft groan, he steps back and pulls them down. His boxers too. He’s as naked as I am after he steps out of them. Naked and magnificent. He’s chiseled from his hard, square jaw all the way down to his freaking ankles. Chiseled ankles? Yeah, they’re apparently a thing.

His cock is so hard that it looks like it might be an issue. I mean, an issue as in painful, which I sort of get. I’m so hot between my legs, so empty, pulsing, and aching that it’s not comfortable. It’s physical discomfort I’ve never known. I want his hands all over my body, but I reach for him instead. I want to make him feel good. Right here in the bathroom, beside the running shower that neither of us is in any hurry to get into. It will probably be cold by the time we do. Then again, this is a rich person’s house, and I doubt rich people ever run out of hotwater. There’s probably a backup tank for a backup tank for a backup tank.

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