Page 57 of Stepbrother Dearest

“You know what, I do.”

“I hate both of you.”

“No you don’t. You love us and can’t imagine a life without us.” Sloane grabbed my arm and dragged me toward one of the many supply closets.

“Need a third?” Benji waggled his eyebrows as he strode past.

“Maybe next time.” Sloane winked but didn’t break stride.

I let her shove me into the closet. “Couldn’t have picked the break room?”

“Too far and too many people.” She closed the door and gave me a look that clearly said “spill.”

“You know, I almost wish it was the full moon again.”

“Bite your tongue.” She smacked my arm lightly. “We don’t joke about that because the last thing we want on this Thursday night is for the universe to decide we need some excitement. Now tell me what’s going on.” She softened her tone. “What happened?”

I drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a dramatic sigh. Sloane was my best friend. She could read me like my every mood was written over my head in neon lights. I’d tell her what happened eventually, might as well do it now when we were on a time crunch and I wouldn’t be trapped for a million questions and theories.

“I fucked Graham.”

She froze comically, her eyes wide with shock.

I let her process.

“Holy shit.” She shook her head and blinked a few times. “Holy. Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“When? How?”

“I went to check on him before my shift and he was being a dick—”

“So, his usual self.”

“Actually, no. Not really. I mean, yeah, he’s always a dick. But this was different. He was mean and kept goading me. He taunted me about not standing up for myself and actually said ‘make me’ when I told him to shut up.”

She snorted. “Bet he was shocked when you did.”

“Oh yeah.”

“So how did that turn into fucking and not beating the hell out of each other?”

“I honestly have no idea. I slammed him against the wall—”

“Hot.”

“Surprisingly, yeah. We were both hard and he was being a brat. Saying I wanted him and something in me just snapped.”

“Did you want him?” Her tone was careful.

“Yeah.” Distractedly, I scrubbed my hand through my hair.

“I mean, it makes sense. He’s your type. He might be an asshole, but he’s gorgeous. And you do like ’em bratty.”

“He takes bratty to the next level.”

“Was it good?”

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