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Even though she makes me want to claw my fucking eyeballs out, I can’t help but appreciate that quick wit and razor sharp tongue of hers.
She squares her shoulders, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder as she shuts the door and heads toward the kitchen, dropping her bag on the floor.
“Where have you been?” Brennon asks, no doubt trying to defuse the tension – something he’s had to master over the years.
“I had to work.”
“How’s that going?” he asks, his head tilted toward his sister.
“Good.” She flitters around the kitchen without looking in our direction.
I watch her for a long moment, her long hair sweeping freely across her back as she moves.
While Barlow Ross may be the most infuriating woman on the planet, there’s no denying my physical attraction to her. She’s always reminded me of one of those ballerinas in jewelry boxes. Slender. Graceful. Beautiful.
Silky dark hair. Bright blue eyes. Cute button nose. Perfect pink lips, the bottom slightly plumper than the top. But honestly, what really does it for me is that she’s completely clueless about her looks. And even more clueless about the effect they have on me.
God, what she’d do if she found out how many times I’ve pleasured myself to the thought of her. How many times I’ve pictured those pretty pink lips around my cock. How many times I’ve imagined pressing that tiny body of hers against the wall as I fucked her from behind.
Not that I would ever admit that out loud to another living soul. I’d rather have my eyeballs carved out with spoons before giving her the satisfaction of knowing what she does to me, or to my cock.
“By the way, before I forget to tell you, I won’t be home Friday night,” she calls over her shoulder as she places a mug in the microwave, heating water to make tea.
“Aww, whatever will we do with ourselves?” I can’t stop myself from saying. She really does bring out the worst in me.
“Hmm, probably try your luck at contracting another STD if I had to guess.” She spins around, arms crossing in front of her.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your voice?”
“Of getting an STD?” She looks at me like I’ve grown five heads. “So, so jealous.”
“Why aren’t you going to be home?” Brennon interrupts our bickering.
“Actually, I have a date.” She gives me a pointed look, as if to sayha,before turning back to her brother.
“With whom?” he asks, his protective side peeking its way out of the shadows. You don’t see it often, but make no mistake, when it comes to Barlow, Brennon is very, very protective.
“A guy from work.”
“And where is thisguy from worktaking you?”
“Just around.” She shrugs, turning back to the microwave to retrieve her mug when the timer beeps.
“Do I at least get to know his name, you know, in case you end up missing?” Brennon inquires.
“Oh god, don’t start that with me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Yeah, all eighty pounds of you.” I snort.
Okay, so Brennon’s not the only protective one. How could I not be at least a little protective over her? I’m not completely heartless. She’s my best friend’s sister and I’ve known her almost my entire life. I’d fuck someone up if they messed with her. But I’d still be an asshole to her while I did it. Case in point – that douche canoe the other day with the fucking football. He’s lucky I didn’t shove that pigskin straight up his fucking ass.
“For your information,” Barlow spins back around, hot mug pressed between her hands, “I weigh a lot more than eighty pounds, and you’d be surprised what my boney knee can do to a pair of balls should I feel so inclined.”
My nuts tighten at her words as a protective reflex.
“Besides,” she once again turns back to her brother, setting her mug on the counter, “we’ll be out in public and I’ll have my cell phone on me the entire time. If I need you for any reason, I’ll call.” She drops two tea bags into her cup.
“I don’t know how I feel about you going out with a complete stranger in a city you don’t know.”
