Page 12 of Crushing On My Brothers BFF

“Oh, puh-please…” She rolls her eyes again, making me want to grab her hips, turn her around, bend her over, and spank that thick ass to punish her for daring to criticize her body. “I’m fine with it. Maybe I wasn’t, once. So what if I’m f?—”

I bolt to my feet and almost spill my coffee. If she calls herself the F-word, I know it’ll cause me to cross a line. I won’t be able to stop myself from telling her she’s curvy, sexy, and full in the best way. Notthat.

“What’s wrong?” she says.

“I’ve got a meeting,” I reply, thinking quickly. “I should leave. A long evening ahead of me. Lots of bullshit to take care of. Thanks for the coffee.”

Putting it down, I march for the door and basically run onto the street. There’s no way I can sit there and listen to that crap. Her wide hips, that big ass, those thick legs… Nothing about that isbad.

Sitting in the car, I look across the street. She stands at the window, her shape outlined in a silhouette, causing my rod to stiffen. It would be so easy to charge back into the house, wrap my arms around her, drag her to the bedroom, throw her down, and spank her thick, delicious ass.

Instead, I drive away, tires screeching. I have to put as much distance between us as possible. Otherwise, I won’t be able to stop myself.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sophie

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” I ask Riley, the nurse Kaleb hired for us. He didn’t just hire a nurse. He paid to fully convert the guestroom into a hospital room with an electronic bed and pulleys so Paul can drag himself around in addition to twenty-four-hour care.

Riley is just one nurse who will take care of him. She’s a short, kind-looking woman with a purple bandana over her shaved head.

“All I need from you is to relax, doll,” she says. “Believe me;Pauldoesn’t want you to help with this bit.”

Ah, I get it. She’s probably going to give him a sponge bath or something. Paul hasn’t been in a great mood since he came home. Earlier, he almost fell out of bed trying to use the pulley system. I heard him yell all the way through the house. I heard how angry he was withhimselfmost of all.

“Okay, thank you.”

I go to my bedroom, looking across the beach, thinking of the last time I saw Kaleb. It was the day before yesterday—day two. That’s where we’re at right now. I shouldn’t think of life in terms of the last time I saw my man.Hell, the last time I sawKaleb. He’s not my man, but I can’t help it.

He left so quickly like he was pissed at me for calling myself fat. There was so much tension in his tall, muscular body. I heard Paul talking on the phone with him earlier, but I didn’t linger long enough to eavesdrop. I guess Kaleb is too busy with work.

I try to focus on college stuff, but it’s not easy. I’m glad when the doorbell rings, giving me an excuse to procrastinate for just a little longer. My professor would be so ashamed if she knew how I was approaching college right now, but everything that isn’t Paul-related feels difficult to focus on.

Nobody is at the door—just a letter on the floor with a lipstick kiss and Kaleb’s name. I pick it up, my heart suddenly thudding hard in my chest as I stare at the lipstick and think of the woman who sent it. Why would she send ithere?Maybe she doesn’t know the address of his hotel?

Returning to my bedroom, I place the letter on the desk, biting my lip, knowing I shouldn’t. This is none of my business. Just because I crushed on him once upon a time doesn’t mean I have any right to do what I’m doing.

I use a nail file to pry the envelope open carefully. This is so wrong, but I keep going. It’s more painful not knowing than knowing. I should stop. That makes it worse, right? The fact IknowI should stop, but I keep going.

Ew!

It’s a photo of a naked woman bent over, her face hidden because she’s not looking at the camera. On the back of the photo are a few words:Anytime you want me, any way you want me, I’m yours. You can do ANYTHING you want to me.

I bite down so hard my teeth hurt. My fists clench as a reflex. This is so wrong, so sick. Who the hell does this woman think she is sending thishere?Maybe I shouldn’t do this, but fuck it. I don’t give a damn. I tear the photo into tiny pieces and throw them all in the bin. Then I grab the plastic bag, tie it, and take it outside.

None of that was okay. I had no right, but if women want to send him stuff like that, they’ll have to send it somewhere else. It’s not that I’m jealous. Okay, that’s a lie, but either way, it’s gross. I don’t want to see or think about that.

After about twenty minutes of college work, and I actually manage to edit a few clips—go me—the doorbell rings again. This time, I hear Riley answer. “Oh, hello, Mr. Kennison.” My blood starts rushing hotly through my body, everything tingly, steamy, everything burning. Just hearing hisnameshouldn’t be enough to do that to me.

My entire body tenses when I hear them walk past my closed bedroom door. It’s just like when I was a kid, and he’d visit. Everything in me would tighten up as I imagined all kinds of things that could never happen.

Paul laughs at something a couple of minutes later. That’s what this is all about. I have to remember that. Paul is happy to see his friend, andIshould be happy that he is. Nothing else is more important than that.

Am I doing this on purpose? I’m in the living room. It’s an open-plan beach house, so Kaleb has to walk past me to leave the apartment. I’m eating a sandwich, sipping some soda, and definitelynotthinking about the fact I’m wearing shorts that show off my legs. Not that there’s much to show off, but still.

It would drive me crazy if he came in here, saw me, fell to his knees in front of me, and groaned as he grabbed my legs like he’d never experienced anything hotter. Then he’d kiss up my thighs, getting closer and closer to my tingly pleasure palace.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Riley says.

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