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“I was out of my head last night,” I say by way of apology for something, I’m not sure what.
“No kidding. But I’m not the enemy.”
I drink a long swallow of whiskey before meeting his gaze.
“Thank you for taking care of her.”
He nods. He’s still pissed, though. I can see it on his face. But we both hear the clicking of shoes from inside the house and turn to find Helena coming outside. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a gray sweater over top and has the sleeves pulled down into her palms.
“It’s cold,” she says, and walks to stand with her back to the fire.
I watch her, and she’s being careful to keep her eyes on me.
Gregory, on the other hand, is looking straight at her, drinking his drink. I wonder if he’s remembering last night.
Her on her hands and knees getting fucked.
Her coming.
“We can eat inside if you’re cold,” I offer.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I like it out here. I’m just surprised how quickly it cools off all of a sudden.” She walks over to take her seat and clears her throat before quickly meeting Greg’s eyes and even more quickly blinking away.
Gregory leans back in his seat, one corner of his mouth curving upward. His words replay in my head.
“I’m not walking away next time.”
I get up to pour wine for everyone and dinner is served. It’s probably one of the most awkwardly silent meals we’ve had since Helena’s been on the island.
By the time we’re finished, we’ve also emptied two bottles of red, much of it into Helena’s glass. I want her relaxed tonight for what needs to happen.
When the girl comes to clear, I tell her we won’t be having dessert. I speak in Italian and although Helena doesn’t understand, Gregory does, and he gives me a look.
Helena shudders, hugging her arms to herself.
“Let’s go inside,” I say, standing, pulling out her seat.
Once in the living room, I pour whiskey for each of us.
Helena looks between the two of us when I offer her a glass.
“I may go to bed,” she says.
“It’s early. Stay.”
She opens her mouth to retort, but I push the glass toward her.
“You’ll stay.”
She studies my eyes, cautiously takes the glass and drinks a sip.
Gregory is sitting on one end of the sofa, leaning back, relaxed.
I take the other end.
Helena stands awkwardly.
“Here.” I point to the space between us.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Offering you a seat.”
She’s quiet.
“Sit down,” I say.
She sits.
“Drink your drink.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Drink it anyway.”
She does. She drinks it all down and holds out her empty glass. “Happy?”
I take it, set it aside, shrug a shoulder.
“Now can I go?” she asks.
“No.”
We lock eyes and I know she knows what’s coming. What I want to happen. And she’s scared.
I reach out, cup the back of her head with one hand and pull her in to kiss me.
She pushes against my chest and keeps her lips tightly sealed.
I draw back, look at her, my hand still on the back of her head, holding her by her hair. I drink my whiskey and turn her, push her toward my brother.
“You don’t kiss her mouth.”
Gregory nods.
I wish I could see her face. I see his. And he’s as unreadable as ever.
He takes a long swallow of his whiskey before setting his glass down and reaching to place his hand where mine was. He pulls her to him and she shoves back, harder than she did with me. He fists her hair and with his other hand, undoes the top button of her jeans.
She catches his arm, but he tugs her head backward, closes his mouth over her throat and she lets out a desperate sound.
Gregory pulls back, eyes dark, searching her face before handing her back to me.
“What are you doing?” she asks, rising to her feet.
I rise too, keeping hold of her hair with one hand, unzipping her jeans with the other and sliding my hand inside to cup her pussy.
I lean in close, rub once. “I just want to see if you’re wet,” I whisper loud enough for my brother to hear.
Gregory gets up, goes to the liquor cart and pours himself more whiskey before resuming his seat, knees spread wide, leaning back, his arm draped over the side of the couch as he sips, never taking his eyes off her.
“Is she?” he asks.
I rub again, watch her eyes widen, see the color flush her cheeks. I smile.
“Oh yeah. You should feel for yourself.”
I pull my hand out and push her toward my brother.
“Sebastian,” she starts.
“Quiet, Willow Girl.”
She turns her face to me. “What are you doing?”
“Quiet or I’ll gag you and I’d really like to be able to use your mouth.”
Gregory takes hold of her by the waist of her jeans, stealing her attention.
She lets out a little cry when he tugs them and her panties down to mid-thigh. His eyes drop to her naked pussy for a moment before he gets to his feet and steps toward her, closing his big hand over her sex.
