Page 29 of Torrid Love
I shake my head.
“We might as well get it out of the way,” I concede.
Roark and I are cut from the same cloth. When he wants something, he’s like a dog with a bone.
* * *
“There’s nothing like a slut for breakfast,” my brother jokes.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” I laugh.
“Maybe, but you’re no longer in a foul mood.”
I’ll give him that.
Roark stopped by EggSlut––some of the best breakfast sandwiches in LA—and grabbed a few of our favorites.
“I was a grouch because I was so hungry.”
“You’re lying to yourself. You always get this worked up when things are tense––or weird––between Dom and you. Why are you two fighting?”
“It’s nothing,” I shrug.
“Well, the way you barged out of that party room dragging her behind, spelled anything but. Want to talk about it?”
I study him for a few seconds, unsure if I should fess up or not.
“I kissed her,” I blurt out.
Roark’s eyebrows hit his forehead. “You mean you kissed a woman?”
“No. I mean I kissed Dom.”
“You kissed your best friend?”
“Jesus Christ, are you deaf?” My voice raises several octaves.
He cocks an eyebrow in that fatherly way I haven’t seen in a while. “Pipe it down, little brother, and keep your attitude under lockdown. My hearing is fine.”
Roark is eleven years older than me. Rory is thirteen years my senior. When I step out of line, they’re quick to rein me in. A rock star status and several millions in the bank mean shit to them. I’m still their bratty little brother. After all, they became my surrogate parents and took care of me in a way my own mother and father never could.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Better. Back to what you just said. I thought you didn’t kiss women?”
“I don’t. I haven’t really kissed a woman since Sadie Matthews.”
She was my first. We were both sixteen. We dated for a year, then my career exploded into the stratosphere. Sadie’s parents didn’t want her to be part of my chaotic world.
“Wow. You kissed Dom,” Roark shakes his head in disbelief.
“Yeah.”
“That’s huge.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“You hold Dom on a pedestal. No other woman can touch her pinky toe. You used to warn the guys in your band and in your entourage to steer clear of her. If anyone laid a hand on her, you’d castrate them. Hanging around you for more than ten seconds and you knew Dom was off limits.”
