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"Casual? What does casual mean?"
"It means, we're not putting a label on it. We're friends with benefits. Sometimes we hook up, sometimes we don’t."
"Are you telling me my sister is your fuck buddy? When it's convenient for you."
"Actually, when it's convenient for her. And it was her idea."
"So she doesn't care that you're sleeping with other girls?"
Max growls at me before taking a deep, calming breath and closing his eyes. "There are no other girls. She's not seeing other guys. We're not exclusive, but we are. It's hard to explain."
"Try." Putting my hands on my hips, I stare straight into his eyes when he opens them.
"Our relationship, what we have, what we do, is none of your business, or anyone else's, but I get the feeling you're not going away until you have the information you want."
"Good observation."
"Look, we've been back and forth like this for a while."
"How long?"
"A while," he emphasizes, not elaborating on the length of time. "It works for us. We're both busy, and neither of us want to put in the effort to date. Sometimes we'll grab dinner. Sometimes we just get together and fuck each other’s brains out. Sometimes we don't talk for weeks. I barely saw her over the summer, yet the second she called, I didn't hesitate to meet her and give her what she wanted. Which was an orgasm. Not a kiss. Not to cuddle. There's nothing sweet about this. We don't involve emotions. That would complicate things. On good days we're friends. Most days, we're just acquaintances. And on the rare occasion that we do try to have a normal conversation, we end up being enemies."
"Are you serious?"
I honestly can't believe what I'm hearing. This doesn't sound like anything one of my sisters would agree to. To be a casual hook up. Without emotions being involved. Without at least having the basis of a friendship before jumping into someone's bed.
Hell, I at least knew Brady for a few years before I let him rock my world.
"Yes, and the makeup sex after a fight is the best. Which is why I think she likes to fight with me so much."
Putting my hand up, I shake my head at Max, but he continues anyway.
"And when she's fired up, I can't control her. She takes the lead. She rides me like—"
"Please, Max. Just stop. I don't need to hear this."
"But isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this why you stormed over here and demanded to know if I was sleeping with your sister?"
He's flipped the script on me. The scales have tipped in his favor. And as he closes the distance between us, I realize I'm no longer the predator. I've become the prey, and Max is going to destroy me.
"I like you, Mya. You're a sweet girl. A little presumptuous and entitled, but those are things you can work on. We all have things we can improve. Consider this me giving you a chance to walk away now. I'll pretend we never had this conversation. That you never accused me of being a whore, of sleeping with your sisters, and you can pretend you know nothing. Because I'm sure you want to erase the visual images I’ve painted for you."
Bastard.
He's right. The last thing I want to think about is someone riding him. Someone I know. Someone I respect. One of my sisters. And since I have no clue who the actual person is, I'll end up visualizing it with every single one of them.
I leave Max standing out on the porch as I retreat. I don't get far before a hand wraps around my waist and pulls me through a dark door. I open my mouth to scream, but a familiar set of lips silence me.
Brady.
My body recognizes him as he turns me in his arms, his lips never leaving mine, and presses me against the wall. I melt into his touch for a brief moment before I realize what we're doing.
Pushing out of his embrace, I duck under his arm and take two steps back until I can't move any further away from him. Feeling my way along the wall, I find the light switch and flip it.
We're standing in the laundry room.
Brady is leaning against the washing machine, and I'm next to the door.
