Page 50 of The Wrong Brother

I get a sexy lopsided grin as he slides his shorts off. He starts to sit and bolts back upright, giving me a ‘hold on’ gesture before coming back with a towel. He quickly spreads it out and sits on it. God, he’s the best. I’ve been recovering and admiring, but now I want to claim him. Positioning myself over his lap he slides in easily. His eyes drop closed for a moment and I savor how it feels to be connected with him. I love how completely he fills me and how he looks at me as I begin to move.

His hands glide up my thighs, not stopping until he’s slid them up my body and takes my camisole with them. His touch is tender, caressing softly. Big hands hold my ribcage and his thumbs stroke my erect nipples while I kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue. The kiss deepens, bodies and tongues meeting as tentative tenderness blooms into passion. His hands find my hips, holding me down firmly as he thrusts into me, and I rest mine on his thighs, leaning back. The angle makes me moan, circling my hips with each deep thrust. I feel the soft brush of facial hair as his tongue circles my nipple. He bites gently and I shudder in response. Moving to the other breast he slips a thumb over my clit and taps with every nibble. The urge to pull away is strong again, but he holds me firmly, speaking into me.

“Don’t you fucking dare hold back. You’re going to give me everything, aren’t you, Kitty Cat?”

I whimper, nodding shakily, and that thumb presses with more pressure. He doesn’t speed up, but every thrust is deeper and harder. I lean forward, trapping his hand between us as we kiss with moaning breaths and tangling tongues. I’m hurtling toward another climax while Rafferty’s movements become harder and faster. My breath is hitching, body straining, arms holding him tightly, and he rasps against my cheek.

“Look at me.”

We’re sweating, panting, and flushed with exertion. It feels like he’s peering deep into my soul, but I can’t look away. Everything fades away except for the motion of our bodies and the connection between our eyes. I’m gazing, seeing myself reflected back in his eyes, as we both let go. The orgasm pulses through me and I feel broken apart—raw and completely vulnerable.

Rafferty’s breath is shaky and his face tells me he feels as exposed as I do. More than anything, I don’t want this vulnerability to be a bad thing. I trace his features with my fingertips, still unable to look away, and press my lips to his. Finally, he closes his eyes, but it doesn’t break the connection. I can’t explain the joy I feel at that. We kiss gently, sweetly, giving those newly exposed places space to breathe.

“Nap friends?” I whisper, loving all our little inside jokes and nicknames. His nod is barely perceptible and there’s a flash of something sad in his eyes that I don’t understand. He uses the towel to clean us up, leaving it on the washing machine as we walk, fingers linked, back to the bedroom.

We stretch out on the bed, the linens cool and the overhead fan making a comforting, quiet noise. Rafferty dozes off in less than two minutes. I’m tired too but my brain is buzzing. I’m more alert than I’ve ever been, feeling high on what just passed between us. Then I get an idea. I text Griffin and he responds immediately. I’m not wanting to go behind his back, exactly, but I don’t want Rafferty to know either. More surprise than lies. Subterfuge, not outright deception. I hope. I pull my camisole back on, take a deep breath, and press call, slipping out into the hallway to keep from disturbing Sleeping Hottie.

A handsome face comes on my phone screen. Bronzed skin, a broad nose, friendly dark brown eyes, and a big smile that lights up his whole face.

“Hello? I don’t recognize this number and your face is also unfamiliar. This may be a first for me: wrong number video chat.”

“No, I meant to call you. I should say, if you’re Ka‘eo I meant to call you.”

“I am! And you are?”

“I’m Catherine Brookner. Mina is my sister.”

“Sweet! I’d say I see the resemblance but outside of the lips you guys look nothing alike.”

“Oh, don’t I know it! Sorry to call like this but I had an idea and was hoping for your help. It’s about this guy.” I open the door and point the screen so he can see Rafferty, stretched out on my bed, thankfully with a throw blanket loosely draped over the lower half of his body.

“Oooh, who’s the sexy man candy, babe?” a female voice asks. “Wait, I know him. That’s Rafferty!” I close the door and go out to the living room.

“How doyouknow Raff? I know him because he’s Griffin’s brother. And no talking about sexy man candy in front of me, you’ll hurt my fragile feelings.” He’s smirking, broad mouth quirked up and eyes crinkling.

“Babe, you know you’re no candy, you’re the whole fucking dessert and the only one I want! Plus, he’s sleeping in her bed. And I told you about Raff, you must have been distracted. He’s the one who’s been training us1. I’m Norah, by the way.”

I laugh. Her bright green eyes are crinkled as she smiles at me.

“Sorry, Catherine, this is my wife. Are you with Raff?”

“I am,” I sigh like a silly schoolgirl.

“Ooooh, did you hear that? She IS. Sexy man candy is locked down by this blonde beauty!” She gasps loudly and then covers her mouth, eyes wide like she figured something out. “Sorry, I just remembered something. About, um, personal training. Unrelated. Never mind.” She gives Ka‘eo a look. Couples’ unspoken language is funny. They’re on the same page but I have no idea what’s going on. “Ignore me. So you and your sister are dating brothers?”

“Yep! Coincidentally though. It definitely wasn’t planned.”

“Norah, my nani, you’re getting us way off track. I don’t think Catherine called because she wanted to talk relationships or for you to objectify her man.”

“I’m fully capable of doing that all on my own.” I giggle. “What I can’t do, however, is anything involving social media. Griff said you’re a photographer and have a big following on Instagram, ya?”

“True. Mostly because I shared some pics of my sexy wahine while we were falling in love. It was a whole thing.”

“One: text me your handle because now I need to follow you. Two: can you help me do the same thing for Raff? He is such a talented artist and he’s being stubborn about setting up an account. I think he’s afraid of having something so quantifiable to judge his work—like the value is only in the number of likes. I want to set it up for him and show him that he’s too talented to let something like that hold him back. But I don’t know what I’m doing. I should clarify. I could easily set up an account, I’m not entirely useless, but I don’t know how to make it worthy of him. It needs to be special.”

“We can totally help you,” Norah chimes in.

K asks, “Do you have a free evening any time this coming week?”

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