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“Yeah,” I echo, “all the princesses in the land have evacuated their castles in search of this rugged blacksmith who has these hands…” I lift up his hands in mine, his palms calloused from all the rocks he climbs. “…these manly hands that they want slowly stroking their sensitive skin. You’ve unintentionally emptied kingdoms, Ryke Meadows. How do you feel about this?”
His rough exterior hardly changes. Even as he says, “I’ve already found my fucking princess.”
“I bet she’s proud to be with a man like you.”
He kisses me on the lips, and I reciprocate before breaking it and letting him go by sliding off his lap again. He hesitates, checking on me and then deciding to stand. He holds the towel at his waist.
I watch him watch me, and I gently roll onto my stomach, hugging my pillow against my cheek. My body throbs, a dull ache at the new pressure but I don’t want to lie on my back again.
His tanned skin is nearly dry, his dark brown hair still damp. And he continues to hold my gaze, standing about two feet from our bed.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” I tease.
“And how am I looking at you?”
“Like you love me.”
“I do fucking love you.” He removes his towel, using it to dry his hair. I can’t contain a smile as his cock comes into view. Warm all of a sudden, I kick the quilt and blanket down towards the edge of the mattress. His shirt that I wear has rolled and bunched at my waist, leaving my ass completely exposed.
His eyes drift down my body, and his movements slow as he drinks in my frame.
“Like you want to make babies with me,” I add with a growing smile that lights up dim places within me.
His arousal pulsates in his brown eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn’t look at you like that?”
“My boyfriend would be upset—the one with the ten-pack.” I grip the hem of my gray tee, teasing the possibility of pulling it higher, revealing more of my lower back.
Ryke proceeds to dry his hair again, but his eyes bounce between my bare ass and my gaze. “Trying to make me fucking jealous, Calloway?”
“Maybe.” I smile. “Is it working?”
“No,” he deadpans, his eyes all dark and features all brooding. We’re both silent, my body almost thrumming instead of throbbing. I think we’re both picturing him taking me from behind, kissing me between my legs, driving into me—
The door blows open. We forgot to lock it.
RYKE MEADOWS
“Jesus Christ.” Lo curses as soon as he barrels inside, abruptly rotating away and setting his hands on his head. “You’d think you two would know what a lock is by now. Wasn’t Connor seeing you come on your girlfriend’s face embarrassment enough?”
“Fuck off.” I throw the nearest thing I have at him—which happens to be the fucking towel I was holding against my cock. Things I never planned to do today: flash my little brother. But he can’t keep using that moment as ammunition, and truth is, I don’t fucking care enough to go grab another towel.
Nutty barks once.
My focus immediately pulls to Daisy. I study her quickly, concern hardening my jaw. She sits on her ass, clutching a blanket to her chin, looking younger than usual. Like her actual age. She’s not as panicked as she could be for an intruder, and I relax only slightly.
I question Lo, “What the fuck do you want? And by now, you would think you’d know what a knock is.”
He turns and his gaze instantly lands on my dick. His irritated, amber eyes drill into me. “I don’t want to see that, bro.”
“Then get the fuck out.”
“Gladly. I have shit to worry about anyway—shame on me for wanting to include you.”
My face falls. “What does that mean?” I ask, but he already slams the door on his way out.
“Fucking A,” I curse roughly and spin towards Daisy. “Are you—”
“I’m okay.” She must see my doubt because she adds, “Not shaken but stirred.” She gives me a real smile. “I have Coconut, and I might call Frederick to check in.”
I like that she has better outlets to help her overcome simple fears that impede everyday life.
Nutty nudges her arm, and Daisy rubs her thick fur. “Go,” Daisy tells me.
I hesitate for a brief second, scanning her one more time—making sure she’s okay—before I shut the door closed behind me. I rush through the entertainment room and up the flight of stairs, only now fucking realizing that I’m buck naked.
Fucking fantastic.
I’ve only ever flashed Lily once since we’ve lived together. It was my ass. Not a full-frontal. She says her retinas still burn, but I worry about making her uncomfortable because of her addiction. It’s something that fucking kills me. Because I don’t want to be the cause of a bad day for her. I want her as healthy and as stress-free as my brother.
So when I go into the kitchen, no one around, I veer down a short hallway to the laundry room. I literally grab the first black item I find on the dryer. Walking back into the kitchen, I try my best to step into a pair of boxer-briefs.
They’re tight as hell.
I glance at them and skid to a halt by the barstools. Tiny yellow bat prints are scattered on the fucking fabric.
What the fuck?
I think I might be wearing Lily’s underwear.
Fuck it. I continue my stride, pushing through the kitchen door to the living room—too worried about my brother’s comment to change. I don’t give a fuck how I look anyway.
The television plays Winnie the Pooh, Moffy and Janie watching the film from their colorful yellow and pink beanbags. Connor and Rose are the first to see me, a straight shot from their loveseat. She has her legs propped on the cushion, sprawled over Connor’s lap, heels off.
His grin begins to fucking mushroom, and I’m over it before he starts. Rose’s amusement is fucking palpable too, her eyes alight with humor.
I walk further into the living room, not asking why they’re here. It’s clear they stopped by so their daughter could spend t
ime with her cousin. Both kids lean close to each other, babbling and pointing at the screen. Janie giggles more than once.
“Where’s Lo?” I ask.
“Where’s your pants?” Connor says in his annoyingly calm voice. Rose actually laughs, the sound widening Connor’s million-dollar grin.
Rose tries to control her vocal cords and narrows a piercing glare towards him. “Stop grinning like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you created my laughter, Richard.”
“Didn’t I? Because if I remember correctly, my words made you laugh.”
She growls. “You’re impossible.”
“I would have gone with accurate, but we can talk about definitions for my charm later.” For fuck’s sake.
She tries to hone another glare, but her smile shines through. “I hate you.”
“Say that a little louder, darling, and our daughter will grow up believing hate is actually love.”
“Maybe it is,” she muses, “at least for me.”
He rubs her legs and then leans closer, whispering something in her ear. I sidle near the couch and finally spy my brother slouched on the fucking chair. Ignoring me.
His phone is clenched in his hand, and his gaze descends to my underwear. “And I thought a goddamn Pooh bear without pants was weird.” Lo swivels more towards me, his brows furrowing. “Are those Willow’s?”
My stomach drops. What. “They have to be Lily’s,” I say—but Willow does live with us too.
Lo stands. “Batman’s DC.”
“So…?”
Lo gives me a look like I still can’t comprehend simple comic book facts after five years. “I hate DC.”
Right.
“Lily doesn’t own any DC apparel,” he spells it out for me, even though that just clicked one step before.
Color must drain from my face because Lo frowns deeply at my reaction. It’s just a little fucking weird wearing my half-sister’s underwear. I’ve always seen Lily as a friend. One who I’ve known much longer.
I raise my hands to my head, actually contemplating stripping right now, but since two little kids are in the room, I trash the fucking option.
“Don’t freak the fuck out,” Lo says, his attempt at calming me, even with his harsh, edged voice. “It’s not like she’s your sister.”
