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“No. Never,” she stammers back immediately, almost too eager to deny it. “Wait, have you?” I can’t hold the smile back as I see her flustered cheeks when she realizes the truth.
“I am a man. I have eyes!” I echo the words I used earlier. I scan her body over once again, in that tight, sinful dress, and I know now it’s screaming revenge and liberation. She doesn’t curl to hide from my eyes. Instead, she stands straighter, perking those sexy nipples towards me again. “Now I have actually seen you naked. Thanks for providing me with a much more accurate mental picture.”
“I would be ashamed to even say I need that. Can’t you find anyone to satisfy your needs, brother?”
“I have. And you will.”
“Aw, look at the two of you getting along.” My mom cues in, tagging Henry behind her. Dad, as I’ve grown used to calling him. “See? You can play nice when you want to.”
I’d rather play as dirty as I can. I fucking will.
I inwardly chuckle, almost choking on the scotch I drank to keep my mouth busy while Mom and Dad each take turns smothering Rose in hugs and kisses as they always do.
“I always play nice, Mom. Buttercup here is the problem child.” I always made sure the blame for my pranks and tricks landed on her. Come to think of it, I might have a good idea why she was always slamming those doors after all.
“Well, as long as you don’t burn the house down this week, I’m good,” Dad replies, glancing over at the both of us in a silent warning, before pulling me into a hug. Rose is staying for the week. “We’ll be leaving tonight after the party, so you kids be good.” He extends his arm, uncovering his expensive Breitling from under his sleeve. “What time is Greg arriving, Rosy?”
Her eyes dart straight at me, almost popping out of their sockets, just before she grabs my pinky and bends it back. “Hum… he won’t be able to make it tonight, Dad. I’m sorry.” Her smile is faint and not quite as convincing as she’s hoping. If she wants to keep Dad in the dark, she’ll have to put more effort into it.
“Snow’s a bitch this time of the year,” I chime in to save her day.
“Archie! Language, sweetie. We have guests. Speaking of which,” Mom turns around and scans the room, looking for people she hasn’t welcomed yet. It’s the same dance every single year.
I raise my glass to them as they leave us, while Rose finally breathes out in relief, pulling me towards the dining room for some privacy. The table is impeccably set, with more silverware than one could use, and the seats assigned as usual. I don’t even have to look to know I’ll be next to Mom and Rosy next to Dad.
“Thank you for helping.”
I scoff and take another sip of my scotch. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Rosy.”
“What is your game, Archer?” She accuses, her arms crossing in front of her chest. She means business. Whenever Rose calls me Archer she’s doing one of two things; either showing me we are opposites on the battlefield or negotiating the terms of her rendition.
“I’ve shown you mine, buttercup. You’re the one who’s all bothered. You need a good rebound to recover and forget. Shake all that vanilla off, it doesn’t suit you.”
“Greg isn’t vanilla!” I couldn’t hold the laugh from rumbling out of my chest.
“Greg couldn’t find your clit with a map and a flashlight,” I reply, watching as my words aggravate the inner nun in her. I walk closer to her until her back hits the wall leaning in to whisper. “You need someone who knows how to read you like Braille. Just. By. Touch.” I slide my finger down her neck making her shiver under my touch. I step back, that’s all confirmation I need.
“Do you mean you?” She manages to speak.
“Why not me? We have cause and opportunity. Just imagine how many times I can make you forget Greg during a whole week.”
“Oh, I don’t know, let me think. Incest?”
“I’m not your brother, Rose. We are not blood related.”
“By marriage is enough. No, James. Hard pass.”
“I can prove to you that you want it too. No hands.”
“No, you can’t.”
“I can, Rose.” I step closer again, before sweeping my surroundings for prying eyes, my lips glued to her ear. “How many times can you come before you pass out, Rose? I can’t wait to taste that sweet ass of yours. I’m betting my balls that it’s uncharted territory. How long will you last before you’re calling me Daddy and begging for more? How long until my balls are hitting your chin as you swallow me whole? I’d say… end of dinner.” I take a step back, appreciating the flustered mess she’s become. I tilt my head with a satisfied grin on my face. ‘I told you so’ plastered all over my attitude.
“That proves nothing, Archer.”
Archer. Surrender or pointing out our differences? Both suit my purposes.
“You want proof?” I chuckle, darting to the table and rearranging the seating cards so that Rose is now sitting next to me. “I’ll show you proof, Valentine. Just wait until I step in.”
