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“Yup,” I say with a wide grin. “Last night.”
“Oh my God, I feel scandalized. But also, you have to tell me every detail,” she says, her tone shifting and putting me on edge. “First though, I think it’s important to note that if you’re screwing Izaac, your reasoning for why I can’t screw your brother is kinda null and void now. You’ve got no ground to stand on.”
My jaw drops, and I pull back, gaping at my best friend. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh,” she says, her gaze darkening, clearly thinking of what it’d be like to be with my brother. “I think you and I both know damn well that I would.”
22
IZAAC
The strobe lights go off as I make my way through the dancefloor of Cherry, my gaze darting left and right as I seek out Austin. He’s going to fucking kill me, and this time it’s got nothing to do with the fact that I’ve buried my cock into his little sister three times this week already.
I’m late. Like really fucking late.
It’s his twenty-ninth birthday, and just like every year, Austin goes hard for his birthday. Guys from high school and college are here, friends we’ve met from our days thinking we could make it as professional ice hockey players, and now, people Austin has met after college.
It’s fucking insane. Even on a normal night at Cherry, the atmosphere is never like this, but when Austin wants to party, the whole fucking world parties with him. He’s just that kind of guy, and it’s one of the many reasons why I’ve always valued him as my best friend.
If only he knew just how terribly I’ve been betraying him. Hell, if only he knew how fucking easy it was for me to do it in the first place. Every time I’ve seen Aspen since we agreed to do this, it’s gotten easier to look the other way, to pretend that what we’re doing is innocent and won’t hurt anybody, but the truth is, when I see her, all of that bullshit seems to fade away.
Hell, it’s even getting easier to pretend that she’s not Austin’s little sister at all.
Breaking through the edge of the dancefloor, I search through the crowd and finally find Austin sitting at a booth with a beer in his hand, laughing animatedly with a bunch of our old friends. I make my way toward him, having to stop a few times to say hi to people I haven’t seen since Austin’s last birthday.
Finally making it to Austin, he stands from the overcrowded booth and immediately pulls me into a tight hug, clapping his hand on my back. “Where the fuck have ya been, brother?” he asks, his tone suggesting he’s already well and truly tipsy.
“Had delivery issues at Pulse,” I explain, not bothering to get too deep into details when he finally pulls away. “Fucking bastards never showed up with my order, but who gives a shit? It’s your birthday.”
“Damn straight it is,” he says, reaching toward the table and grabbing a beer. He hands it to me, and seeing the cap still on top, I take it without question. I trust these boys, but after being around the club life since I was old enough to pass with a fake ID, I’ve learned the dangers of accepting a drink you haven’t personally witnessed being poured. Fuck, the number of ambulances I’ve had to call for women who’ve had pills slipped inside their drinks makes me fucking sick, but no matter what level of security I put at my doors, the drugs always find their way inside my club. It’s inevitable.
Breaking the cap, I lift the rim to my lips and take a greedy sip. I don’t make a habit of drinking in my own clubs. I like to keep it professional around my employees, but every now and then, nights like tonight happen, and if I’m going to drink, then I might as well do it somewhere I love. Though that rule of mine tends to be blurring a little, or perhaps it’s just the presence of a particular woman who’s so far under my skin, I can’t fucking help to break every rule I’ve ever made.
Sitting down with the boys, we talk shit as I steadily make my way through my beer, not down with the idea of getting fucking wasted tonight. Alcohol and I don’t really mix anymore. I always thought I could hold my liquor with the best of them, but now, every time I drink, I pull my fucking phone out and turn into a horny teenager, desperate for his best friend’s little sister.
I’ve gotta keep my cool tonight, especially considering that she’s here somewhere.
I don’t search her out. I’m not looking to borrow trouble tonight, but I can sense her here, sense that dazzling green stare on me from somewhere across the club. I’m desperate to see her, desperate to put my hands on her and pull her against my body, which is exactly why I need to keep my distance tonight.
How the fuck am I supposed to hide this in front of Austin? My only plan is to get him as drunk as humanly possible. I love the guy, but he’s fucking oblivious when he’s drinking. More than down with my plan, I make my way over to the bar and talk with my bar manager, pointing out Austin and our group, and letting her know that anything they want, it’s theirs tonight. Food, drinks, fucking personal dancers, my team is to make it happen. Then because I’m incapable of putting work aside for even a second, I check in with the day-to-day bullshit and make sure everything is running just as smoothly as I expect.
Making my way back to our booth, I glance up to find Aspen and Becs squished in between the group of guys, and it fucking grates on my nerves how they all look at her like a fucking meal, but what really gets me is how fucking gorgeous she looks in that metallic purple dress. It’s tiny and barely held together by the thinnest strap. No wonder these motherfuckers can’t keep their eyes off her. I can’t blame them, neither can I.
This week has been fucking hard. I’m becoming addicted, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to resist. If she were to call this whole thing off, the right thing to do would be to walk away without a backward glance, but to be completely honest, I think I would drop to my knees and beg her not to leave me.
When I’m not near her, I crave her.
When I’m not inside her, I need to be.
And when I come inside her, I wish for things neither of us are prepared for.
I’m fucking screwed.
I think I’m falling for my best friend’s sister—the one thing I always swore I would never do.
Reaching the booth, I move in behind it, not wanting to risk getting too close to her, not with all of these eyes on us. Instead, I hover behind her, talking to a few of the guys lingering around, only keeping my eyes off her is almost an impossible task.
Aspen hasn’t bothered to turn around, but I know she senses me here. It’s in the way she laughs a little louder, how she rolls her neck, showing off that creamy skin I can’t fucking resist, and how she fucking flirts with every guy who pays her the tiniest bit of attention.
