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I ask myself that again as I slip the key into the old-fashioned lock and let them into my room. We’re on the top floor of the enormous house, in a corner suite with an ocean view. I paid extra to be as far out of the way as possible, considering I’m not part of the wedding at all. I thought I could use the space to think, to breathe for a few days before going back under the thumb of my family’s rule. At the time, it didn’t occur to me I’d use the suite for much of anything else.
Raleigh and Callahan stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. Raleigh’s chewing on the side of his lip like he’ll say something he’ll regret if he lets it go. Callahan has her hands gripped in front of her, something I happen to know she does when she’s upset.
Finn does the exact same thing.
The thought of him has me stifling a gasp, an abrupt reminder of all the reasons I won’t be laying a hand on Callahan Hale tonight, or any other night.
She’s eight minutes younger than he is.
They have almost identical scars over their left eyebrows, from running into the same nightstand when they were toddlers. Finn told me his mother swore she’d burn the thing after the second set of stitches, but his father sold it before she had the chance.
They both love dim sum and hate polka music. They love puzzles—Finn prefers sudoku, while Callie goes through crosswords like crazy.
So many similarities between them, yet standing here in my hotel room, I can’t say I’ve ever felt for him what I’m feeling right now.
“Now what?” Callahan turns to me, the defiance in her eyes stoking my arousal back to life with a vengeance. “You started this. You brought us here, to your room. For what? Watching TV, maybe?”
Raleigh smothers a snort.
A few slow strides are all it takes to bring me right up next to them, so close I have to tip my chin down to meet Callahan’s eyes. She’s petite, and I can’t look at her without noticing the way her curves went from “vaguely appealing’’ to “bombastic” sometime in the last several years. It’s a struggle to keep my hands at my sides.
“Listen to me, Callahan Elizabeth Hale,” I say. I barely recognize my own voice. Raleigh shivers, sending a dark bolt of satisfaction through me. “And listen carefully. You seem to have forgotten that I know you, that I’ve known you for years. If you didn’t want to be here, you would never have left that bar.”
Her eyes narrow. It’s different between us now; she knows it, and she knows I know it, too.
“I know you,” I repeat, just to make sure we’re clear. “And whatever that bullshit was earlier tonight about you being weak is just that—bullshit. So don’t come to my bed expecting me to treat you like that.”
“I’m not in your bed,” she says, her beautiful blue eyes flashing.
“I’m keenly aware of that fact,” I say. Stepping back to put myself apart from her is a struggle, one I almost lose. “Raleigh.”
He sucks in a breath and is right beside me in an instant.
“Yes, sir?”
I’m positive he didn’t intend to call me that, but my cock doesn’t know the difference, surging hard against the fabric of my jeans.
“You haven’t kissed the woman yet, Raleigh,” I say, cupping my erection, letting them both watch me. Raleigh blushes when he realizes he’s been caught looking—God, that blush is sweet—and he doesn’t waste any more time. He grabs Callie’s hand and kisses her fingertips, then her palm, gazing up into her eyes like some Victorian prince, amusing and amazing me all over again.
This kid. If I hadn’t seen him get up on that stage earlier tonight, nervous as could be, I’d think he’d never had a self-conscious thought in his life. It’s like nobody ever told him there’s stuff you don’t do.
I wonder, not for the first time tonight—and doubtless not the last—what that must be like.
Callahan doesn’t object to the cheesy gesture. On the contrary, her mouth drops open into a lovely, perfect O. Raleigh is no fool; he seizes the opportunity and pulls her close to kiss her.
Watching them tears me in half, but I’m shocked to realize I don’t feel jealous. Not even a little bit.
What the hell does that mean?
Callahan’s mouth resumes that perfect O shape when Raleigh pulls back. She blinks up at him, then at me. Power surges in my veins at the realization that she wants this, too, that maybe—just maybe—I can have her this way, even if I can’t have her the way I truly want.
“His shirt, Callie,” I say. “Be still, Raleigh. Let her do it.”
Callahan unbuttons his shirt slowly, her gaze darting back and forth between our faces until she reaches his waistband. I nod at her questioning look and she tugs the fabric free. Raleigh’s flat, faintly muscled abdomen tightens visibly, goose bumps dotting his skin in the cool of the room. I wonder idly whether he likes having his nipples played with before remembering that the man is straight. If I’m going to use his hands to stand in for my own tonight, better keep my head in the game.
Callie strokes a hand over his chest and stomach. When her fingertips brush his waistband again, I see him shudder. It’s a stronger reaction than I’d have expected from such an otherwise innocent touch, and a thought occurs to me.
“Are you a virgin, Raleigh?” I ask, keeping my voice mild this time. Callie gasps and looks up at Raleigh, whose face, neck, and chest flush bright red.
