Page 38 of The Wrong Brother

Before I can respond, she leans into me, her body swaying slightly from the alcohol. I’m seated on a barstool, and within moments, she’s closer…too close. Her hips press against my knees, her hands lightly gripping the edge of the bar for balance as she tilts her head up to look at me.

“Why so serious?” she drawls, her voice soft but teasing. Her hazel eyes lock onto mine, her lips curling into a faint smile. “You should loosen up. Let’s dance.”

“No,” I say firmly, my voice steady as I shake my head. I glance around for the bartender, intending to order another whiskey, but she’s quick to intercept.

“Then buy me another drink,” she demands, her tone playful but persistent.

“You’ve had enough,” I repeat, my tone edging toward exasperation.

“Fine,” she mutters, her lips quirking mischievously as her hand moves to rest on my chest. The sudden contact sends a jolt through me, her palm warm and soft against my shirt. My breath catches as her fingers linger, her touch light but charged.

“Jenny,” I say quietly, reaching up to take her hand and pull it away. My voice is firm, though there’s no edge to it. “That’s not a good idea.”

She frowns slightly, but she doesn’t protest as I let go of her hand. Instead, she leans back against the bar, her gaze flicking between me and the now-empty glass on the counter. There’s a beat of silence, and then she smirks, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Still no dancing?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

“Still no,” I reply, my tone dry but amused.

She huffs softly, shaking her head before motioning to the bartender again. The playful challenge in her eyes lingers, but I can’t help the way my gaze follows her every move. She’s a contradiction…daring yet delicate, bold yet vulnerable…and it’s driving me insane.

“Another, please,” she orders, and I shake my head at the bartender.

“No,” I say. “Water,” I tell the bartender, and thankfully, this time she doesn’t protest, just looks sourly at me and pouts, and I swear to God I nearly kiss her right there.

The air feels heavier, charged with the weight of unspoken tension. Jenny sits close, her hazel eyes bright with mischief and softened by the glow of the club's dim lighting. Her pouting lips, her playful challenge, the way her hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders…it’s all maddeningly irresistible.

She leans back against the bar, swirling the water I insisted on ordering for her in the glass, her movements lazy yet deliberate. I should be relieved she’s finally drinking something nonalcoholic, but the way her pout deepens with every sip almost makes me regret it. Almost.

I want to taste the alcohol on her tongue, taste the heat of her. Sighing once again, I shut my eyes for a moment and lean against the counter, but then all I can think of is what she would look like on her knees with my cock in her mouth as she sucks me off. Hungry, greedy, excited, radiant.

Fuck!

“Uh oh,”she suddenly says and eye yes flash open in alarm.

“What is it?”

Her gaze shifts past me, and I follow it to see one of the men from earlier making his way toward us, his posture cocky, his expression smug. My entire body tenses as he approaches, his intentions as obvious as the cheap cologne trailing behind him.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asks, his tone laced with challenge. His accent is thick, his words sharp.

I force myself to remain calm, though my fingers curl tighter around the edge of the bar. “No,” I reply evenly, my voice low and measured.

The man smirks, emboldened. “Then you have no reason to worry, eh?”

He steps closer to Jenny, leaning in as though I’m not even there. She stiffens, her cheeks flushing as she tries to step back, but the bar limits her movement. “I’m fine, thanks,” she says quickly, her voice firm but polite.

“Come on,” he presses, his hand reaching for hers. “Just one dance?—”

That’s it. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve moved, stepping between them with deliberate force. My hand finds Jenny’s arm, pulling her gently but firmly behind me as I plant myself in front of the guy.

“She said she’s fine,” I say, my voice dangerously calm. My eyes lock onto his, the challenge clear.

The man hesitates for a moment, taken aback by the intensity of my tone, but he recovers quickly, his smirk widening. “Relax, man,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get aggressive.”

I don’t respond, my glare enough to make him shift uncomfortably. He looks between us, clearly weighing his options.

The man doesn’t back down. Instead, he steps closer, his hand moving toward Jenny’s arm again.

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