Page 45 of The Wrong Brother

I remember the way the orgasm had overtaken me…violent, unstoppable, leaving me trembling and clutching at him like he was the only thing anchoring me to reality. My thighs had shaken uncontrollably, my cries muffled against his chest, and he hadn’t stopped. He’d kept going, drawing wave after wave of pleasure from me until I was nothing but a trembling, gasping mess in his arms.

My face burns at the memory, a mix of shame and something far more dangerous pooling low in my stomach. I squeeze my thighs together, but the dull throb there only reminds me of how completely he’d undone me.

And now… now I’m lying here in his arms, no longer a virgin, no longer the same girl I was yesterday.

My chest tightens as Brett’s face flashes in my mind. Brett, who was supposed to be the one. Brett, who I’d imagined for years as the boy I’d give myself to. Brett, whose name now feels like a distant echo compared to the man lying beside me.

God, what have I done?

I glance over my shoulder, careful not to move too much, and my breath hitches. Zack is still asleep, his face relaxed in a way I’venever seen before. His dark hair falls in messy waves across his forehead, his jawline sharp and dusted with stubble. The sheet rests low on his hips, revealing the hard planes of his chest, and I feel my pulse quicken.

He looks... devastatingly handsome. Untouchable. Like something out of a dream I’m not yet sure I want to have.

The worst part is, I can’t stop staring at him. Last night, in the dim lights of the club, he’d looked like a force of nature…fury and power incarnate as he defended me. And then later, in this bed, he’d become something else entirely. Tender. Consuming. Irresistible. The way he’d whispered my name, the way his body had moved against mine, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered…it’s all imprinted on me, and I know I’ll never forget it.

But how can I feel this way about Zack when my heart is supposed to belong to Brett?

The thought sends a sharp pang through me, and I carefully lift Zack’s arm, sliding out of the bed as quietly as I can. My dress is crumpled on the floor, a stark reminder of the reckless decisions I made last night, and I grab it hastily, pulling it on with trembling hands. My panties are nowhere to be found, and the realization sends another jolt of embarrassment through me.

I glance at Zack one last time before I reach the door. I shouldn’t. But I do.

And the sight of him nearly undoes me.

He’s sprawled across the bed, the sheet tangled around his hips, his arm stretched across the space I’ve just left. The sunlightstreaming through the window catches in his hair, painting him in gold, and his face is serene in sleep. Soft. Beautiful. Devastating.

My chest tightens, and for a moment, I can’t move. My heart races as I take in the sight of him, my pulse thundering in my ears. He looks like everything I’ve ever wanted…everything I didn’t know I needed. And the realization terrifies me.

How can I feel this way about Zack? How can I feel anything for him when it’s supposed to be Brett?

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I force myself to turn away, to shut the door quietly behind me. But as I step into the hallway, the ache in my chest only deepens, and I know one thing for certain.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

The morning feels like a whirlwind, my head still spinning as I rush to pull myself together. The haze of last night clings to me.

The memories are vivid, too vivid, and they’re making it impossible to focus.

I force myself into the shower, letting the cool water wash over me as I scrub away the remnants of sleep and something deeper…something raw and dangerous that has settled under my skin. My legs feel weak, my body sore in places I’ve never felt before, and I can’t stop thinking about how I’d given him everything.

And then there’s the gnawing worry about protection. I hadn’t even thought about it last night, lost in the heat of the moment, but now it’s a steady thrum in the back of my mind. I push the thought away as I dry off quickly, wrapping the towel tightly around me as I glance at the clock.

There’s no time to wallow. My schedule today is packed, starting with a photoshoot for Tod’s at Castel Sant’Angelo.

I dress quickly, pulling on a simple but elegant outfit for the day…high-waisted trousers, a fitted white blouse, and sleek flats. My hair is still damp as I gather my essentials, shoving my phone and lipstick into my purse with shaking hands. Just as I sling the strap over my shoulder, there’s a knock.

The sound startles me, freezing me in place. My heart leaps into my throat, and for a moment, I don’t move, listening intently. The knock comes again, softer this time, and I realize it’s not coming from the main door. It’s the adjoining door between Zack’s room and mine.

Panic flares in my chest. I can’t face him. Not now, not after everything. My heart pounds as I step back from the sound, trying to pretend I haven’t heard it. If I stay quiet, maybe he’ll go away.

But then my phone buzzes in my purse, the shrill tone breaking the silence. My hands fumble as I grab it, silencing the noise. Too late. He knows I’m here.

“Jenny,” Zack’s voice comes through, low and clipped. “Answer.”

I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. Slowly, I lift the phone to my ear. “H-hi,” I manage, my voice hoarse and shaky.

“Where’s your first shoot today?”

The question catches me off guard, his tone devoid of anything that hints at the intimacy of last night.

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