Page 69 of The Wrong Brother

“Fine,” he repeats, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes my chest tighten. “So that’s it, then? Everything you’ve ever wanted?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears back. “I thought it was,” I admit, my voice breaking. “But… I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I want.”

His footsteps are soft against the tiled floor, but I feel every step like a jolt to my system. When I open my eyes, he’s standing directly in front of me, so close I can see the faint lines of tension around his mouth. He doesn’t touch me, but his presence is overwhelming, like gravity pulling me toward him.

“Jenny,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and impossible. My lips part, but before I can answer, his hand lifts to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. The touch sends a shiver through me, and I tilt my head slightly, leaning into his palm despite myself.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

He tilts my chin up gently, his eyes locking onto mine. “Yes, you do,” he says, his voice low and certain. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

The room feels too small, the air too thick. Every inch of me screams to answer him, but my voice refuses to cooperate. And then his lips are on mine, slow and deliberate, claiming me in a way that sends my head spinning. This isn’t like Brett’s kiss…this is something entirely different. Zack kisses me like he’s unraveling me piece by piece, like he’s pulling down every wall I’ve built.

The distance between us disappears as his lips brush against mine, slow and deliberate, and the world falls away. The kiss isn’t rushed or frantic…it’s steady, like he’s savoring every second. My hands move on their own, gripping the front of his shirt as I pull him closer, desperate for more.

The world fades away, and all that’s left is him…his lips, his hands, the way his body fits against mine. The kiss deepens, slow and sensual, and it’s like he’s drawing every ounce of tension and longing out of me, leaving nothing but raw need in its place. My fingers grip his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to lose myself in him completely.

When we finally pull apart, my chest is heaving, my thoughts a jumbled mess. His forehead rests against mine, his hands still cradling my face as he searches my eyes.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and barely steady. “What do you want, Jenny?”

I close my eyes, the weight of his question pressing down on me. I don’t have the answer…not yet. But in this moment, with his lips still tingling on mine, all I know is that I never want him to stop asking.

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

ZACH

Isaw them from the window of my bedroom.

Brett’s car was parked just outside the house, the headlights cutting through the night as the front door swung open. She stepped out first, her auburn hair catching the faint glow of the porch light, and I felt it…sharp and hot, like a blade twisting deep in my chest. Then Brett followed, leaning in casually as he whispered something to her that made her laugh softly. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I watched him take her hand and pull her close.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed, not a fleeting brush of lips. It was deliberate, tender, the kind of kiss I’d only imagined giving her. My jaw tightened, my teeth grinding together as I forced myself to look away, to focus on anything but them. The papers on my desk. The ticking of the clock. The steady rise and fall of my own shallow breaths.

But it didn’t work.

The jealousy burned so fiercely inside me that I could barely think straight. Soon enough, he drove off, leaving her there alone, and before I realized what I was doing, I was moving…striding out of my room, down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the storm raging inside me.

By the time I reached the ground floor, she was no longer there. The front door clicked shut behind her as she stepped inside, and the sound echoed in the silence of the house. I waited and watched, stopping just short of the doorway to the conservatory, my hand hovering over the frame.

What was I doing? What was I going to say? I had no idea. All I knew was that I needed to see her, to say something…anything…to make sense of this mess. The thought of her in Brett’s arms, of her lips on his, was unbearable.

A little while later, I watched her reappear with a bottle of wine in hand and couldn’t help but shake my head. She was at it again. Stopping here was all the permission I needed, so I headed in.

The kiss had been phenomenal, and the despair I’d seen in her expression afterward changed everything.

But now, as I stare at her, I truly wonder where this will go. Where I want it to go because unless we figure it out, and quickly, the damage to the family will be too grave.

So, I blurt out the words that have been ruminating in my head all day.

“Move to Paris with me,” I say.

She blinks hard, flabbergasted. “What?”

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