Page 25 of The Wrong Brother

I imagine my palm replacing her hand, the way her skin would feel against mine, and the thought sends a jolt of heat straight to my core.

Her gaze flicks to the glass in my hand, breaking my train of thought. "Is that wine?" she asks softly, her tone curious but cautious.

I nod, swirling the glass lazily. "It is."

“Care to share?" she ventures, her voice gaining a bit more confidence.

I let out a low laugh, though it’s rough with the effort of restraint. "I don’t think it’s suitable for minors."

Her lips part slightly, surprise flashing across her face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Her eyes narrow, and with measured grace, she straightens her posture, holding herself with quiet strength. "Minors?" she repeats, her tone calm but laced with unmistakable challenge. "Do I look like a minor to you, Zack?"

Her words are deliberate, each one cutting with restrained anger. She’s not raising her voice, but the weight of her indignation is impossible to miss. It’s not just a question…it’s a reminder that she’s no longer the kid I once thought she was.

I ignore her, but she takes a step closer, closing the gap between us. Her eyes meet mine, searching, and I know I should step back. My mind goes back to the conversation she’d had with herfriend, and I straighten away from the railing. My intention is to return to the room before I find myself pinning her against the wall or her, down on her knees with my cock in her mouth. But instead, I stand there, for some reason unwilling to leave, the tension between us tightening with every passing second.

I let out a low laugh, though it’s rough, barely masking the strain I’m under. "I don’t think it’s suitable for minors," I say, the words sharper than they need to be.

Her lips part slightly, surprise flickering across her face, but it quickly hardens into something else. Offense. She straightens her back, her posture composed but tinged with quiet anger. For a moment, she just looks at me, and I feel the weight of her thoughts before she even speaks.

"I’m not a minor," she says softly but firmly, her voice steady. "I’m nineteen. Almost twenty."

Her words land with more impact than they should. Nineteen. It shouldn’t make a difference, but somehow, it does. She’s not that little girl running around the estate anymore, and she wants me to know it. Wants me to feel it. And damn it, I do.

She pauses, her hazel eyes searching mine, looking for something I’m not ready to give. "Do I really seem like a minor to you, Zack?" she asks, her tone quieter now, less sharp but no less piercing. Her words are calm, but her eyes... they dare me to answer, to acknowledge the obvious.

I don’t answer, not immediately. How the hell am I supposed to? I look away, swirling the wine in my glass like it holds some kind of escape. But there’s no getting away from this. From her.

She takes a step closer, the soft shuffle of her bare feet on the balcony tiles pulling my attention back to her. The moonlight frames her face, her hair glowing like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare. She’s close now…too close…and every nerve in my body is on fire. I grip the glass tighter to stop myself from doing something stupid, but all I can think about is the way her lips would taste if I closed the space between us.

"Zack," she says again, her voice softer this time, hesitant, but her eyes flick to the wine glass in my hand. She tilts her head slightly, her loose waves catching the light. "Will you share? Is there any more left? I can’t sleep… it might help."

I glance at the glass, then back at her, measuring my response. She’s asking, not demanding, but there’s a challenge in her tone, an invitation almost. She’s too damn close. Too calm for someone who was inches from danger just hours ago.

I swirl the wine slowly, buying myself a moment. "Can you handle it?" I ask, my tone light but edged, deliberately baiting her.

Her brows knit together, just slightly, enough to show her irritation. “Really? You’re extremely condescending you know this right?”

The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself as her pride and stubbornness once again rear their ugly heads.

“Being an adult is not just about being able to handle wine," I say, my voice dropping as I tilt the glass toward her. "It’s about everything it requires…for instance, ensuring your safety, especially as a woman, is your priority at all times.”

She frowns at me deeply, clearly not interested in being scolded.

She hesitates for a beat, her eyes holding mine, searching for something I’m not sure she’ll find. Then, without a word, she steps closer and takes the glass from my hand, her fingers brushing mine. The touch is brief but electric, and it takes every ounce of control I have to stand still, to let her set the pace.

She lifts the glass to her lips, her movements slow, deliberate. I watch as she takes a sip, the wine staining her mouth a deeper red. She licks her lips once, catching a stray drop, and something inside me twists, sharp and primal. My cock throbs painfully, and I have to clench my fists at my sides to keep from reaching for her.

She hands the glass back, her gaze steady. "Is there anymore, or was that all you had left?" she asks softly, her tone careful but curious.

I gesture toward the bar cart near the balcony doors. "There’s more," I say. "Come inside, and I’ll pour you some."

She hesitates for a moment, as if considering, before nodding and slipping back into my suite. I follow the sound of her barefeet on the floor blending with the faint hum of the city outside. The room feels smaller now, the air is thick with something I can’t name but can feel all the same.

At the bar cart, I pour half a glass for her, the deep red liquid swirling like blood under the light. I turn and hold it out, watching as she takes it, her fingers brushing mine again. This time, the contact lingers, just for a second, but it’s enough to send another jolt of heat through me.

She drinks, slower this time, savoring it. I can’t look away, my eyes fixed on her mouth as it moves. A drop spills over the edge, sliding down the curve of the glass and onto her hand. She catches it instinctively, licking it off her skin in a single, unthinking motion.

The room tilts slightly, or maybe it’s just me. I’m losing it. I’m losing control, and I know it.

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