Page 2 of Dirty Love

That can’t happen.

I can’t be away from Kade, and this is the only way to ensure we stay together.

Knowing we have no choice but to agree, we nod our heads and he nods back with silent approval, his nostrils flaring slightly at the sight of Kade’s arms wrapped around my waist. He doesn’t like it when he holds me like this, says it makes us look like faggots, but luckily for us, he won’t say anything like that in front of a room full of his own friends.

He guides the blonde lady away from us and I let out a quiet sob, dropping my face down to my brother’s shoulder. “Kade…”

“I got you,” he whispers, gently rocking me back and forth with his hand on my cheek, his soft lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You’re okay. I got you.”

I cry harder and he wipes my stupid tears with his thumb, then he takes his iPod from his pocket and places the headphones in for me. I have my own iPod with my own songs on it, but I like his better and he knows it. His music fills my ears and I close my eyes, curling myself up into a tiny little ball on his lap.

“I love you, Kade.”

He squeezes me tighter and slides his fingers through mine, hiding them between my chest and his to ensure Dad doesn’t see. “I love you, too, Nicky.”

CHAPTER 1

KADE

Eighteen years old…

“Nicky,” I growl. “Get the fuck out.”

“Five more minutes,” he calls, a quiet laugh leaving him when I continue to bang on the door between us. “Go take a piss in the kitchen sink if you’re that desperate.”

This fucking brat.

I walk away and exit my bedroom, making my way down to the next room over to let myself in. I open the bathroom door from his side and he jumps, almost slipping on the white tiles beneath his feet.

“Dude, knock first.”

“I did knock, you idiot.”

He laughs at me again and I pull my cock out to do my business, my shoulders tightening when I catch a peek at his reflection in the mirror above the counter. He’s leaning back against the wall in the shower with his dick in his hand and his thumb pressed against the tip, the soapy water falling over his pale chest and abs, his breathing shallow. I narrow my eyes and search his face through the steam surrounding him, unable to stop myself from wondering what he’s thinking about.

Is he picturing them to get off?

Are they the only thing that can make him hard?

Fucking boys?

It makes me sick just thinking about it.

So fucking sick.

Just as I think it, his black eyebrows crash in the center and he stares at me, his light gray eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like heat. He traps his bottom lip between his teeth and I blink, only just realizing that if I can see his face, he can see mine, meaning he knows I’m watching him.

Look away, you weirdo.

I clear my throat and put my dick away, keeping my back to him while I wash my hands at the sink. I’ve seen him naked more times than I can count and I’ve never thought twice about it before, but ever since his big confession six months ago, it feels… different.

We’re related by marriage, not blood, but we might as well be. Our parents met when we were three years old and we’ve lived together ever since. We were raised as brothers. My dad is his dad. His mom is my mom.

Was my mom.

She died when we were fourteen and took our hearts with her, leaving two broken sons to fend for themselves against a father who likes to hit things.

I hate her for dying.

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