Page 6 of Does He Know?

“Tomorrow?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Night.”

“Night.” Tossing my phone onto my bed, I slip into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. I don’t bother with a bra. Instead, I grab an oversized flannel from my closet and pull it around me to ward off the chill of the air-conditioning. I don’t bother to do anything other than brush out my hair, pull it up in a messy knot, and call it good.

Tearing open my bedroom door, I rush down the stairs. It’s been way too long since I’ve wrapped my arms around my big brother. Before my foot hits the bottom step, I’m calling out for him. “Forrest! Forty!” I add his nickname that only I use. I was irritated at twelve when he kept calling me kid and started calling him Forty, telling him he was old. He hated it, which only made me love it even more.

I hear a noise in the kitchen, so I head in that direction. However, as soon as I pass the threshold, my bare feet skid to a stop. Standing in the kitchen, looking hotter than should be legal, is Roman Bailey.

He stares at me.

I stare at him.

“Emerson.” His voice is deep. Gruff. Sexy as hell.

“Rome.” I manage to find my voice. “Where’s Forrest?”

“He had a client run late. He didn’t want you to come home to an empty house.” He places his hands on the counter. The tattoos on his arms seem to come to life as his muscles flex with his grip.

I can’t help but think about that night. The way his fist gripped his cock. The veins in his arms did a similar dance that night. One might say they put on a show for me while we were putting on a show for each other. And the piercing… damn, I wasn’t expecting that, but it was hot as hell.

“I’ve been home for a while. I took a shower,” I say lamely. Not that he couldn’t already tell from my wet hair. Feeling self-conscious in front of this Adonis of a man, I reach up to tighten the wet knot of hair on top of my head.

“Looks like you forgot some of your clothes.” His voice is tight, and his eyes stay riveted to my chest.

Shit.

When I reached up to my hair, my flannel came open. I forgot all about forgoing a bra in a hurry to see my big brother. My instincts tell me to rush to close my flannel, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not with the way he’s looking at me.

There’s hunger in his eyes. It’s a look I told myself for years that I was imagining. I repeated that mantra after that night he slipped into my room during spring break, but right here, right now, there is no mistaking he likes what he sees.

He sees me.

Sure, it’s just my tits that have him enthralled, but I expected indifference. “I was just coming down to say hi and hug my brother before going to bed.”

“Is that how you dress at college? Your bare tits beneath a thin piece of fabric not leaving anything to the imagination?” There’s bitterness in his tone.

“How I dress isn’t your concern,” I fire back.

“The hell it’s not.” He stands to his full height and glares at my chest before his gaze captures mine once more. His green eyes are blazing with something I can’t name.

“I must have missed that memo,” I say sweetly.

“Emerson.” My name is a growl, and it sends heat pooling between my thighs. I ignore it.

“Roman,” I retort.

He moves around the counter, but I’m too slow. I turn to run back to my room, but Roman is there. I step backward until my back rests against the kitchen island. His hands cage me in as his green eyes blaze with his stare.

I hold his gaze, refusing to be the first of us to look away. Not that it matters. Roman changes the game when one of his hands slips beneath my thin tank top. He traces just above the waistband of my shorts with his index finger.

My chest rises and falls with each labored breath, but still, I hold his gaze. He steps in closer, the heat from his body wrapping around me like a warm embrace. When he bends his head, I lick my lips, certain he’s about to kiss me. His eyes flash to my lips and then back again.

Two can play this game.

I stand up, which pushes our bodies together. We’re so close, I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. His hand slides around to the small of my back as he holds me close. His eyes remain locked on mine.

His head falls forward, and his lips hover above mine. His hot breath breezes across my skin, causing goose bumps to race down my spine. In my mind, I’m willing him to kiss me. With my eyes, I dare him, my body tempting his. I’m about to make a move, taking what I want—a kiss from the man I’ve crushed on since I was old enough to be interested. However, just as I work up the nerve to take what I’ve always craved, the front door crashes open.

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