Page 173 of Fallen Rook

For the first time, my older brother sounded like a child. He was lost, out of his depth, and in need of help.

“Where are you?” I growled.

“Our…the house.” He swallowed audibly. “The house I bought for us. In the ’burbs.”

“Wait there. I’m picking you up. We’re flying to Vegas.”

When I called Achilles, I was informed the plane was already waiting on the tarmac.

It was time for war.

Taking a leaf from Dr. Andrews’s book of self-love, I put myself first this time around.

It meant that before picking up Luca and Achilles, I stopped at Tom’s place. I knew he would be home, because we’d texted earlier and he told me he was doing some home improvement shit to get rid of the pent-up horniness.

I went up the elevator and knocked on his door. When he opened up, the first thing he did was grab me by the ass and hoist me to wrap my legs around him. The way I glued myself to him should be studied by scientists for years to come. I doubted he could pry me off using a fucking crowbar.

I couldn’t get past how his entire face melted into this radiant, gorgeous smile when he first saw me. He was so stingy with his smiles, but they were glorious. They rearranged things inside me that years in therapy couldn’t.

We devoured each other, tongues stroking, coaxing our mouths to open wider. We kissed like kissing was the endgame and the entire point. I didn’t even grind my engorged dick all over his muscular stomach. If that didn’t earn me a Nobel Prize, then what the fuck could?

I arched and melted in his arms, his fingers digging into my ass, his mouth making demanding grunts I tried to placate him with more tongue and more sucks. His heart picked up, and mine did, too. They sledgehammered holes through our chests, trying to merge into one entity.

“Butterfly,” he croaked. “You’re really here?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

More kisses. More nipping, biting, licking, chuckling in euphoria. Oh, God. How was I going to leave this behind even for a few hours, let alone the eternity of death?

“I’m going to Vegas.” The words spilled between us, into the passionate kiss.

He froze, still holding me tightly to him. I waited for him to fight, to argue, to tell me not to go. But I guess Tom had done his share of growing, too, because he realized nothing could tear me from my family obligation, and just squeezed me closer, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“In case I don’t come back…” I rolled my tongue along his chiseled jawline, savoring the saltness of his skin.

“You will come back.”

“Yes, of course, but on the off chance the universe tilts and throws all of us into the abyss…” I brushed the tip of my nose against that spot in his throat that begged to be sucked and worshipped, trembling all over with yearning. “I want you to know that there was never anyone else. Only ever you.”

“We both have pasts.”

“No, Tom. Only you do. All I had before you was camouflage.”

He plastered his forehead to mine, his ragged breath rattling in my lungs. Our eyes met. I couldn’t fucking breathe when he looked at me like that. Like I was the epicenter of the universe.

“My heart won’t take it if anything happens to you,” he warned.

“I know.”

“You cannot, under any circumstances, die.”

“Ever, or…?” I made a comical face, and he narrowed his eyes, awarding me with a sharp nip that left my lower lip smarting.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’ll be careful.” I meant it. I usually wasn’t, but now I had something tangible to come back to.

Loving him was killing me. But not loving him was going to kill me more.