Page 23 of Little Stranger

Before he shut me out.

Is it wrong to feel like he’s betrayed me by going on that date? I don’t think any of my friends do that with their brothers.

They definitely don’t imagine fucking them.

But for some reason, I don’t care. I don’t care that it’s forbidden to want to lie in his arms and feel the heat from his body—to want to watch him when he isn’t already looking at me, to feel butterflies when I hear my window slide up or my door creaking as he pushes through it.

Sick—I’m sick for wanting my brother.

Malachi pulls down the duvet, and I shimmy under it, keeping the towel around me. My bare legs are smooth under the fabric, and my heart thumps as he slips his belt off and pulls down his biker pants, standing in only his briefs.

Mom has music playing next door—“One Way or Another” by Until the Ribbon Breaks is louder than necessary, and she keeps repeating it and belting the words out, probably using a paintbrush as a microphone.

She’s so goofy sometimes. I love my mom.

My eyes stay on Malachi, his large presence changing the energy in the room.

I hope he doesn’t see how badly he’s affecting me—my pulse is hammering, and my mouth is watering as I try to gulp silently. I think there’s a puddle between my legs.

I should be mad, but I’m a little blindsided right now. I’ll be mad again tomorrow and make him apologize for being an asshole to me for weeks.

My clit aches as I watch his body move. He pulls his shirt off as well to reveal his sculpted torso—the abs he works on every day, the newer ink designs on his chest and shoulder, crawling down his bicep—gilded by the moon shining through my window.

He slips under the duvet and pulls it over us, and I tighten my hold on my towel, even as it opens at the front, exposing me—but he can’t see my bare skin. He can’t see the goosepimples all over me, and hopefully he isn’t some sort of lycanthrope and able to smell my arousal like they can in romance books.

“How was your date?” I ask, hoping there isn’t a touch of jealousy in my tone.

Before he can respond with his hands, I shake my head in annoyance and force out more words. “And don’t think by me talking to you that I forgive you for being a jerk. If you need to sleep in my bed, fine, but we will talk more about it tomorrow. So, yeah, how was your date?”

You’re mad at me, he signs, stating the fucking obvious.

“Not at all,” I say sarcastically. “How was your date?”

It was over as soon as it started, he signs, very messily given the way he’s positioned.Why are you mad at me?

Is he for real? “Because you shut me out after what happened in the tent,” I say, a blush creeping up my neck and cheeks. “You said you wouldn’t touch me, and you tried to kiss me!” I hiss, throwing my hands upwards and forgetting about my towel. “And then,poof, you’re gone. Not a word. You haven’t come to my room, and it’s been really lonely.”

I glance at him, seeing the silent chuckle as he grins. “Why are you laughing at me?”

You’re cute when you’re mad.

A huff, and I cross my arms over the duvet. “What do you mean by ‘it was over as soon as it started’?”

I’m not… His hands freeze, his eyes searching my face before he continues.Experienced.

“Liar,” I snap. “You didn’t seem inexperienced in the tent with me. In fact, you seemed to know exactly what you wanted.”

From you, yeah, he signs.I only felt comfortable doing that with you.

“Oh,” I say, my brows knitting together. “Did you at least kiss her?” The words are like poison on my tongue, and I’m inwardly begging—no… pleading that he didn’t. But there’s no reason for me to be annoyed if he did. Again, hypocrisy, because I’ve had to date Parker and Adam.

No, he signs.I’m not experienced with that either.

“You haven’t kissed someone before?”

He shakes his head, and I sit up, holding the covers to my chest. “But you tried to kiss me.”

What part of me feeling comfortable around you don’t you understand? Have you kissed someone before?

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