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Well, there went my plans.
As soon as I pull into Kieran’s driveway, Bash pulls up behind me in his black Escalade. So much for hoping he wouldn’t show.
He’s dressed in a crisp black suit with a black button-down shirt and no tie. He looks like the devil in a tailored Armani disguise. They always say the devil is attractive, and now I think I understand. Attractive yet terrifying. Perfect description for Sebastian Gilroy.
His hair is styled like he’s about to be in a magazine shoot. Short on the sides, longer on top, and teased to give him that just-rolled-out-of-bed-but-did-this-on-purpose look. His beard is groomed to perfection. Everything about him screams sex appeal.
Unlike me, who barely slept. Between talking with Paisley until the early hours of the morning and thinking about Bash, I don’t think I got more than a few hours of sleep. Thank goodness for quality concealer and dry shampoo. I might be feeling rough, but I was able to pull myself together before I came here. Just in case I happened to run into the devil in disguise.
“Morning, lass,” he says with a smug smile when I step out of my car.
“You didn’t have to come, you know. I said I would be here, and I know better than to lie to you.”
He arches an eyebrow and pierces me with his gorgeous green eyes. “Do you? I’m not so sure, Little one. Guess we’ll find out in time.”
Whatever the hell he means by that? I let out a sigh, long and dramatic. He saunters up to me, and my eyes are drawn to his tattooed knuckles. They’re swollen and red, several of them cut open. They weren’t like that last night.
“Bash, what the hell happened?” I reach for his hand, but he pulls it away.
“Don’t worry about it, Little one. Quit stalling and go knock on the door.”
With a huff, I glare at him and spin on my heels. He follows closely. Part of me wants to tell him to get lost, but another part of me wants him here because I know Kieran is going to blow a gasket when I tell him everything. Hopefully, Bash will be my shield.
As soon as Kieran opens the door and sees me, his expression brightens until he sees Bash. Then his entire demeanor changes, and the side of my brother I rarely see is there. The deadly side.
“Tell me,” he growls.
He doesn’t move away from the door to let us in. Nope, he stands there like he’s about to go to war. I’m pretty sure he and Bash know each other well enough to read each other’s body language. Either that or Bash already told him, and now Kieran wants to hear it from me.
Annoyed with the big brute already, I press my hands to his chest and push him back. “Sure, I’d love to come in. A cup of coffee sounds lovely, big brother. Thanks for offering.”
Both men stomp through the house, trailing close behind me. I roll my eyes even though they can’t see them. I have a feeling the next hour is going to be grueling.
I lean against the kitchen counter and wait as my brother pours a cup of coffee. When he goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of vanilla creamer, I arch an eyebrow.
“I didn’t take you for a creamer kind of guy.”
He grunts. “I’m not. But I know you are, so I keep it stocked in case you stop by.”
A lump the size of a tennis ball lodges in my throat. Guilt swirls around me like an angry thundercloud. I’m such an asshole. I can’t remember the last time I came here, yet he keeps my favorite kind of creamer in the fridge. Is there an award for the world’s shittiest sister? Because if so, I win.
When he hands me the steaming cup, I give him a grateful smile and sigh as I breathe in the vanilla scent. I don’t even get my first sip down before Kieran snaps.
“What the fuck is going on? You have your coffee. Now, what’s wrong?”
I’m pretty sure most grown men would cower at my brother’s feet if he spoke to them that way. Not only is he big, muscular, and tattooed on nearly every inch of his skin, but he has a deep voice that matches. He doesn’t frighten me, though. I know the loving guy underneath. The one who would never harm a hair on my head. He can’t walk into a room without inciting fear in most people. But I know I’m completely safe. And loved. Even so, he does intimidate me a little when he’s like this.
I look to Bash for help, but he crosses his arms over his chest and smirks. “You said you’d tell him yourself. I’m here to make sure you tell the truth.”
With a huff, I circle the kitchen island and climb up onto one of the stools. “It’s not a big deal.”
Bash snorts. “Don’t start out by lying, Chloe. Jesus. Liars get a red ass. Is that how you want this to go?”
I gasp and narrow my eyes at Bash. “What the hell is wrong with you? Who talks like that? Kieran, tell him to leave.”
When I look at my brother, he crosses his arms to mimic Bash’s stance. “He’s right. A red ass for lying. Truth. Now, Chloe. I’m growing impatient. I’ll only give you so much lenience.”
God, these men are too much alike. I can’t believe Bash threatened me with a spanking. That’s absurd. I’m a grown woman. My clit has a pulse, though, and my cheeks, both lower and upper, feel warm and tingly. Why does the idea of Bash disciplining me turn me on? Didn’t corporal punishment go out of style like fifty years ago?
