Page 53 of The Bad Brother

And what’s even crazier is that I can’t wait to do them again.

Laughing softly to myself, I turn away from my reflection to finish getting ready for work.

LIKE YESTERDAY MORNING, RITA TEXTSme just as I’m locking up to leave for the hospital.

Rita: Given any more thought to the apartment I found? It’s not going to stay on the market for long. If you want it, we have to move fast.

Giving brief consideration to telling her that I know the owner and he’s already told me it’s mine if I want it, I decide against it. The woman’s done more than enough legwork to earn her five-hundred-dollar finders’ fee.

Me: Call him and see if we can set up a viewing for Sunday—that’s my next day off.

Even though Jensen made it clear he doesn’t want me to move out, and honestly, leaving the loft is the last thing I want to do, I have to be practical about this. My stay here was always temporary and besides, just because Jensen wants me to staynow, who’s to say he’ll still feel that way a month from now. A few orgasms—no matter how mind blowing they happened to have been—does not a relationship make. We’re both just getting out of serious, long-term relationships. He’s rebounding and so am I. I can’t let myself make more of it than that. Not without getting hurt when it all falls apart.

Jensen is as far from Ethan as you can possibly get, Sloane. They aren’t even the same species. Who’s to say it’s going to fall apart? Who’s to say this can’t turn into something more?

Jamming my phone back into my bag without waiting for a reply, I bound down the stairs and land in a flurry of activity. Along with the usual pair of revolving church ladies, there are no less than a dozen men with tool belts on ladders, mounting what look like security cameras in every visible corner of the bar. A reminder that what happened between Jensen and me last night was proceeded by him getting attacked with a razor.

By someone sent by his own brother.

Throwing a look around the room, I find Cade in his usual spot behind the bar, despite the fact that he was standing outside my front door only a few hours ago, waiting for Jensen while we?—

Cheeks suddenly hot, I look away from him before he can give me one of his know-it-all, asshole smirks, to find Jensen talking quietly with a man wearing a pair of khakiswith a clipboard, the nameFrontline Security, stitched in red across the breast pocket of his polo.

Deciding to slip out without saying anything, I’m halfway across the parking lot when I hear someone behind me.

“I was kinda hoping you were done ignoring me, Peach,” Jensen says, the sound of his boots crunching across the gravel closing in behind me. “Since we played doctor last night, and all.”

Stopping at my car, I set my duffle on its roof with a laugh. “Is that what we did?” I ask while digging my car keys out of my purse. “I thought we?—”

Before I can finish, I feel rough hands close over my hips, turning me around to find Jensen suddenly standing over me, looking good enough to eat in a pair of worn-out jeans and a faded T-shirt from some local bar I’ve never heard of.

Pushing me back into the side of my car, he lifts a hand from my hip to slip it around the back of my neck. Pressing the tip of his thumb into the underside of my chin, Jensen angles my mouth up to meet his for a slow, lingering kiss that turns my knees to water. Pulling away, he smiles down at me. “Good morning.”

We’re just having fun.

Be practical.

Don’t get attached.

Knees still wobbly, I sigh. “Good morning.”

“Did you sleep good?”

I shake my head, staring up at him. “I didn’t.” After he left, I laid awake for almost an hour, hoping he’d come back.

The smile on his face goes quiet. “Me either,” he whispers while the thumb pressed under my chin slides down the length of my throat, a reminder of what he was doing to it only a few hours ago.

“How’s your shoulder?” I ask, my brow crumpling with concern. I should’ve made time to take a look at it before work.

“Good,” he says before giving me one of his smart-ass smirks. “The stitches held up, just fine.”

“Of course they did,” I say with a smirk of my own. “Iama surgeon, remember?”

Laughing quietly, he strokes his thumb down the length of my throat again. “Did you eat breakfast?”

“Yes.” I give him a nod. “Thank you for the towels. And the hot water.” I don’t mention the flowers because something tells me not to. That mentioning them might embarrass him.

“I promised you I’d be good, remember?” The hand on my hip slides lower to squeeze my ass. When I wince slightly, Jensen frowns. “Did that hurt?”

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