Page 65 of Claimed By The Other Brother

We continue drinking. Dancing. Pretending everything is normal. But I can't focus. Can't stop thinking about what just happened in that bathroom. Can't stop feeling the phantom touch of Dax's hands on my body.

Across the lounge, I see Dax returning to his table. To his clients. He sits down, picking up the conversation like he wasn't just fucking me against a bathroom mirror five minutes ago.

He glances back at me once.

The look sends heat coursing through my body all over again.

An hour passes. Jane and Sarah are ready to call it a night, both of them exhausted and drunk. I'm relieved. I need to get out of here before I do something even more reckless.

But before we can leave, I see Dax stand from histable. He shakes hands with his clients, the picture of professional courtesy.

Then he turns, scanning the lounge one more time. His eyes find mine across the crowd.The pull is magnetic. Undeniable. Even from this distance, I feel it.

He holds my gaze for a long moment. Then he turns and walks toward the exit. I watch him go, my phone heavy in my purse where his number is now saved.

"Ready?" Jane asks, linking her arm through mine.

I nod, tearing my gaze away from the door Dax just walked through.

"Yeah. Let's go."

We gather our things and head out into the New York night. The cool air hits my flushed skin, helping me think clearly for the first time in hours.

My phone buzzes in my purse.

I pull it out.

Dax: I meant what I said. This isn't over.

I stare at the message, my heart racing all over again. Jane and Sarah are flagging down a cab, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. I slip my phone back into my purse without responding.

But a small part of me thinks he’s right…

Chapter Twelve

Scarlett

Sunlight filters through the hotel curtains, gentle and unwelcome. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, my head pounding from last night's drinks. Jane and Sarah are still asleep in the other bed, both of them sprawled out and snoring softly. The room is quiet except for the muted sounds of Manhattan traffic below.

Last night plays in a loop. My body hums with the memory. Satisfied in a way I've never experienced before. Not with Miles. Not with anyone.

What was guilt before—shame about sleeping with my ex-fiancé's brother—is slowly being replaced with something else. Something I can't quite name. Something that feels dangerous.

I feel different.Changed. Like a line has been crossed that I can't uncross. I push the thoughts away and slide out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Jane and Sarah.My legs are still shaky. I can still feel Dax between them, inside me, claiming me against that bathroom counter.

I shake my head and pad to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The mirror reflects back a woman I barely recognize. My hair is tangled. My makeup is smudged. There's a faint mark on my neck that I'll need to cover with concealer. I lean against the sink and stare at my reflection.

What the hell am I doing?

By the time I emerge from the bathroom, Jane and Sarah are awake and ordering room service. The smell of coffee fills the suite, and my stomach growls.

"There she is," Sarah says, looking rough.

"How's your head?"

"Pounding," I admit, which isn't entirely a lie.

Jane groans from the couch.