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He stands, his expression hard with passion. I’ve never seen his handsome features so severe. I’ve never seen his eyes so dark. Hunger. That’s what’s making him this way. Need.
Two fingers slip inside me, and I rock my hips, begging and wordless.
Desire rises heavy in the air, but there’s something else, too. Something sweet. Like the scent of honeysuckle on a humid summer night. The distant flicker of fireflies. A memory that’s all too fleeting. That’s how he makes me come, with his fingers inside me, his thumb on my clit, the moment slipping away no matter how hard I try to hold on.
Chapter Twelve
Finn
I’m answering an email from the VP of Product when my secretary knocks. She stands at the door to my office, a stack of folders in her arms. There’s an odd expression on her face.
“Yeah?” I say, still distracted by this earnings projection.
“Your brother’s here.”
My brother. I close the email. It’s going to have to wait. “Send him in.”
There’s no point in wondering what happened. I know what this is about.
From the expression on Hemingway’s face, my suspicions are correct. He’s been kicked out of Pembroke Prep. Again. He strolls into the room, hands in his pockets. “Hey, big brother.”
“Hem,” I say, my voice even.
He drops into a chair across from my desk and kicks his feet into the opposite one. “Don’t give me that look. The one that says: I’m not angry, just disappointed.”
My eyebrows rise. “Should I be angry?”
He grins. “Definitely not.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you did and I’ll decide?”
He drops his head back, and from this weird angle I can see the resemblance to our father. I know I sounded bitter to Eva, bitching about my future. It’s not mine that bothers me. It’s my brother. My father was interested in raising me as his heir. My mother checked out after his symptoms grew intense. There weren’t any parents left for Hemingway. I’ve had to step in, and I’ve done a fairly shitty job, considering he keeps getting expelled.
“Who was it this time?” I ask, resigned.
“I don’t know why you assume I got into a fight with someone.”
“Why would I assume that?”
“I mean, yes. I often get into fights, but that’s not why I got expelled this time.”
I give him a hard look and wait for the reason. He doesn’t have any bruises on his face, which is odd. Usually, when they kick him out, he’s got a black eye.
The other kid always gets worse, but they’ll get in a few hits. I think partially, that’s what Hemingway likes about it. Something real is happening to him, a physical sensation he can react to, instead of the hollow emptiness and distress. At least that’s how I would feel about it.
He sighs. “I got caught doing something against the rules.”
“Drugs?”
“Do we really have to talk about this?”
“Yes, we really do.”
“It wasn’t drugs. I was caught having sex in the bathroom.”
Fuck. My stomach clenches. I should have had the sex talk. I’m late. I’m always too late. I scrub a hand over my face. “I’m failing you, Hemingway.”
“No, you’re not.” He sounds indignant. “Me having sex had nothing to do with you.”
