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He motions to me. “Rix, this is Mildred, Dred for short. Dred, this is my sister Rix. She’s staying with us for a couple of weeks.”
Dred smiles at me. “Nice to meet you, Rix.”
“You, too.”
“You up for a movie later this week?” Flip asks.
“For sure, just knock, I’m around most evenings.”
She lets herself into her condo and I wait until we’re on the elevator heading to the lobby before I say, “Is it really a good idea to bang your next-door neighbor?”
“I’m not banging her. We’re just friends. We watch movies and play board games and sometimes we listen to podcasts.”
“Huh.” I didn’t see that coming.
Two minutes later I’m crammed into my brother’s car. It’s a two-door, with a tiny back seat. Tristan pushes the passenger seat all the way back. There’s no room for my legs, and the headrest is almost touching my face.
“Can I get a couple of inches of space?” I grumble. “Or maybe you should stay behind, Tristan.” I’m concerned my stuff won’t fit in here, even without Tristan tagging along, and I’d prefer to get it all in one trip. But his enjoyment of my misery seems to be holding steady, even after all these years.
“And miss out on this quality bonding time?”
“Can it, you two.” Flip pulls out of the underground lot and follows the GPS instructions to turn right.
I’m practically eating Tristan’s hair, his seat is so close. And of course, they put the windows down, so my hair is blowing all over the place in a wind vortex. My hair tie is in my purse, which is at my feet, and I can’t reach it.
I carefully pinch a strand of Tristan’s hair between my fingers and tug it free from his head. He runs his hand through it. He loses four hairs before he clues in.
“The fuck are you doing?” His fingers wrap around my wrist before I pull out a fifth.
It sends an electric jolt up my arm and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Relieving you of your grays.”
“I don’t have grays!”
“That you can see.” I try to free my arm, but his hold tightens.
He reaches between the seat and the door with his free hand and reclines further. The headrest pushes into my stomach and the backrest hits my knees, forcing me to flatten my legs.
“Stop! You’re crushing me!” I yelp.
“Stop ripping out my hair!” Tristan snaps.
“Give me some space!”
“Give it a rest, you two! I missed the turn because you’re distracting me.”
Tristan’s head is almost in my lap. He tips his chin up, his green gaze meeting mine.
I mouth, You’re an asshole.
An amused smirk tips the corner of his deliciously full mouth. “I know. What are you going to do about it, Beat?”
He’s still holding my wrist, and I’m trapped under his seat. I lean forward, my chest pressing against the top of his head, my hair forming a curtain around us. Something shifts, and a tangible, raw energy crackles between us—hate, annoyance, frustration, who knows what else. But I shock even myself when I lick the edge of his jaw.
His free hand slides into my hair and curls into a fist, holding my head. “You know what they say about playing with fire.” He twists my head, his lips dragging across my cheek until they reach my ear. “Bad little Bea,” he taunts, catching my earlobe between his teeth.
Warmth floods my body as he sucks the skin, then nips at it again. “Don’t you dare bite me!”
“Use your manners, and maybe I’ll be nice.” His voice is a gritty whisper. His grip on my hair tightens, and his tongue sweeps the shell of my ear.
I can’t tell if this is retaliation or foreplay. Which is…a messed-up thing to think, especially since my brother is less than a foot away, in the driver’s seat. But that doesn’t stop me from slipping my hand down the front of his shirt. I try not to admire how firm his pec is as I find his nipple and roll it between my thumb and finger.
His surprised sound makes my nipples peak. “Any excuse to put your hands on me, huh, Beat?”
His ego is ridiculous. I stop playing nice and pinch. Instead of releasing my ear, he sucks it, then bites harder. I twirl some chest hair between my thumb and finger and tug.
“Ah!” he grunts. “That was dirty!”
“You’re biting me!” I twist my head away, but he’s still fisting my hair.
The car jerks, and the tires squeal.
Tristan releases my hair, and I sit back in a rush.
“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you two?” Flip gapes at us.
We’re both red-faced and panting. I have no idea why that felt equal parts aggressive and sexual.
“He started it!”
“She started it!”
“I don’t care who started it. It ends right now, or you can get out and catch a rideshare home. Or call one of your fun-time friends to pick you up.” Flip gives Tristan a pointed look.
