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“Neither are you, but…”
“You’re different,” he whispered.
“You’re different too.”
Beck moved suddenly, as if to escape me, and I released his wrists, not wanting to restrain him. His hips bucked, he shoved my shoulder, and suddenly he was the one on top, pinning me. He shifted his hips, dragging his cock along mine, and a ragged moan escaped me.
He stilled for a moment, and I thought he’d end the heat beginning to boil over between us, but then his mouth slammed down on mine, filthy wet and desperate.
“Yes, fuck,” I gasped between kisses, bucking my hips up to meet his, the sweat between us deliciously slippery. “Give it to me, Beck. I want it.”
“Y-you r-really want me?” he stuttered, sounding stunned. He was breathing hard, body writhing deliciously on top of my dick. My brain was all but melted in my head, but his eyes seemed so desperate for an answer, I wanted to give him a good one.
“Hell yeah, I want you,” I gasped out. “Want you to bust all over me, man. Fall apart for me. Give me everything you’ve got because you’re mine.”
“Damn,” he whispered, shuddering.
Beckett still held my wrists, but he wasn’t holding me in place so much as just holding me. I broke loose and grabbed his ass, rocking him against me more forcefully, chasing the climax that was just out of reach.
He moaned into the crook of my neck, heat blooming between our bellies, and the knowledge that he’d come all over my body was enough to catapult me into orgasm.
As I came back to my senses, Beckett’s gaze met mine again. There was so much love in his eyes that it stole my breath away. But it didn’t last. Between one blink and the next, Beckett’s light went out.
“We can’t do this, Wes. The family…”
“I think we just did.”
“I’m serious,” he said, peeling himself off my body so quickly that the cold swept in and made me shiver. “We have to undo this marriage and hope like hell that no one ever finds out we were so stupid.”
Each word was a small dagger to the heart, but I knew he was right. We were supposed to be brothers, not lovers.
Not husbands.
But for a minute there, it had almost felt possible.
* * *
BECKETT
I soapedup in the shower, mind spinning out with memories of Wes’s big, strong body under and over mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hands on my ass. Damn, but we’d been hot together.
And wrong.
We shouldn’t have crossed that boundary. Bad enough we’d gotten freaking married. At least that could be undone.
But this… There was no undoing this.
Guilt flickered. Wes thought we’d already had sex last night, but I remembered now why I’d woken with cum dried on me, and Wes hadn’t put it there.
It was embarrassing, really, but while Wes had puked his guts out in a club bathroom last night from drinking too much, I’d been one stall over, clumsily jerking off from getting so hot and bothered while dancing with him.
Wes had banged on the stall door right as I’d started to come, startling me enough that I’d managed to come all over my stomach. Luckily, I’d pulled up my shirt, or I’d have really been a mess. I’d hastily mopped up, though clearly not enough, to join him on our wild night of Vegas adventure.
Which is where everything had gone sideways, because I’d suggested we get married for real.
Yeah, me. I was the reason we were in this predicament.
I didn’t know how to tell Wes. He’d wanted to pull a prank on our friends for laughs. I was the one who’d suggested it would be a lot more convincing if we actually got married. This was my fault.
