Page 4 of The Older Brother
“I know. Now just sit with me and forget about my jackass baby brother. He’s not worth it.”
I glance to my lap, the skin on my thighs beading up with goosebumps from the cool night air. My gaze flits toward the screen, toward Caleb, who is quite comfortable with Neveah on his lap. Without giving myself a chance to think myself out of it again, I unravel my towel from my body and scoot into the space between Rowan’s legs, lying back against his chest before pulling the towel over my body like a blanket.
“There. That better?” His breath is warm against my ear, and my mind instantly wishes for a graze from his lips, his nose, teeth, tongue. Anything.
“Yeah,” I say, the shiver from my chill causing my voice to quiver.
Rowan breathes out a soft laugh that warms the crook of my neck, moving his palms up and down my biceps over the towel, I think to try to warm me up.
“Thanks,” I say as I scan the pool and deck, curious if anyone sees us. We’re behind everyone, though, and I’m the last thing people are curious about. I feel silly worrying so much about how everyone would react tonight. They’ve all basically erased the fact that Caleb and I were once an item. Like . . . days ago.
Rowan’s hands continue to slide up and down my arms, slowing as the minutes pass, and I finally exhale a deep breath and turn my attention to the movie. I saw this two weeks ago in Caleb’s room. It’s still good, though. He hasn’t ruined that, at least.
My body warms and dries after a while, and Rowan’s hands move to the armrests on either side of us. His chest is hot against my bare back, and when I concentrate, I swear I can feel his heartbeat against my spine. The scent that put my bestfriend into a trance when he parked her car has fully invaded my senses too. He may have refused his father’s money, but he smells of wealth and privilege—embers of mesquite, linen, and the sweet lingering tail of a half-smoked cigar. He smells like every Christmas afternoon I spent at this house when his father held private parties for his clients and staff.
I’m locked into the feel of his chest as he breathes when he moves his right hand back to my bicep, this time under the towel. My eyes widen as his fingertips brush against my bare shoulder, but I force my face to remain still—a true poker face with zero hints at what I feel inside.
When his fingers travel over the strap at the front of my shoulder and along my collarbone, I swallow hard, and Rowan’s touch stalls. I turn my head slightly, just enough for him to notice, my gaze dropping to where his hand rests inches away from my now ice-hard nipple. My lips part with a quiet but audible gasp, and his hand begins to slide toward the center of my chest. When his fingertips reach the edge of the small triangle of fabric covering my left breast, I steady my breath and inhale deeply, hoping he’ll sense my invitation.
He does, his fingers inching over the material until they gently run over the hard tip aching underneath.
My lips part with another gasp, one I swear others can hear, but a quick scan in front of me says otherwise. Everyone is either making out with their significant other, or theircurrentother, or watching the movie.
Rowan’s fingers circle my nipple, and more than once, he teases me with the hope that his thumb will finally work in concert to pinch the hard bud. When his hand begins to move, I feel my shoulders drop as I exhale in disappointment. A short breath warms my ear, and I turn my head again, enough to catch the faint smile on his lips before his chin stubble brushes against my cheek. Just then, his hand slips underneath my bikini top,and he gives me what I’m desperate for, squeezing my nipple between his finger and thumb, then rolling it as I shift my hips, suddenly needing relief somewhere else.
“Say yes.”
His words are a whisper, but I know I don’t imagine them.
“Yes,” I say.
He rolls my nipple in his vice again, and I arch my back against him, suddenly wanting to push myself into his hand harder. I’m no longer wet from the pool. I’m wet from him. My bikini bottoms soaking with need. My mind buzzing with caution and thrill. My heart racing. Stomach tightening.
Rowan’s left hand tugs on the slip knot fashioned at my hip, pulling the threads free and loosening my bikini bottom. My legs part under the towel, my knees falling open and resting against his as I sit between his legs, and feel his growing erection. His hand glides under the fabric that covers my abdomen, his fingertips moving softly over the small strip of hair before his finger slips between my legs and dips inside of me.
“Oh,” I breathe out, still quiet, but maybe not enough. I try to focus on the people closest to us, but I’m starting not to care.
“Say yes again,” Rowan says, this time his tongue flicking my earlobe. I can feel my core beginning to tighten, an orgasm begging to be set free.
“Yes,” I croak in a breath.
Rowan tugs my nipple and sinks his finger into me while pressing his thumb against my clit, and I begin to writhe beneath the towel.
“Shit,” I mutter, unable to stop the small swivels of my hips that match the circles Rowan is now making against my pussy with his thumb.
“Come.”
His words are a command, and my body listens as I fall apart on his hand, every nerve ending in my body firing away,practically rejoicing. It took him seconds to undo me. And he drags every rush of pleasure from my body before pulling his hand away.
“I’ve gotta go. But happy graduation, Saylor. And fuck Caleb,” he whispers, then places a kiss just below my ear.
Rowan slips out from the space behind me, and I look up at him, practically . . . nodefinitely . . .helpless as I look up at him with what must be awe on my face. The devil’s smile graces me one more time just before he puts his finger in his mouth, sucking the taste of me before he leaves.
Under this towel, my raw nipple pulses, exposed and wishing for that warm hand to come back. My bottoms are untied and open, my pussy wet and still flickering from the welcome onslaught to my swollen skin.
What the fuck just happened? And how the hell do I get that to happen again?
Chapter 2
