Page 61 of The Bad Brother

Cheeks flaming hot, I keep pushing past the bar on a string of mutteredsorrysandexcuse mesuntil the crowd spits me out in the short hallway that houses the staircase to the second floor and what I’m assuming is the door that leads to some sort of office, directly to its left. Taking one last look at the bar, I manage to squeeze past a couple, making out at the end of it, and plow headlong into a warm solid wall of fantastic-smelling cotton so hard I drop my bag.

“Whoa there.” Rough, tattooed hands wrap around my upper arms to steady me and keep me on my feet. Lookingup, I find Cade standing over me, that shitty smirk of his tugging at the corner of his generous mouth. Whatever he sees on my face kills it in an instant. “Hey—” His hands tighten for just a moment like he’s afraid I’m going to make a run for it. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay?

I just had to take a little girl’s leg because it was crushed by nearly two tons of metal and fill her older brother full of titanium rods and artificial parts so he’d have a fighting chance at ever walking again.

Am I okay?

No, not really, and the fact that I can’t stop thinking about fucking your friend, even after the nightmare I just navigated, makes me feel about a thousand times worse.

“Yeah.” Pushing a smile onto my face, I give him a nod. “I’m fine.”

Still smiling up at him, I watch his brilliant blue eyes narrow slightly and his jaw flex. “Try again, Doc.” When I don’t answer him, his expression darkens even further. “Did something happen? Did someone?—”

Shit.

“No. Nothing happened.” Shaking my head, I let the fake smile fade. “It was a rough shift, that’s all.”

When I say it, his shoulders relax and his hands loosen their grip before dropping away completely. “Okay.” Taking a step back, he stoops down to pick up my bag. Offering it to me, he cocks his head at the bar. “Want me to get Jen?” he asks before shooting a quick look over my head. “I’m sure he?—”

“No.” Reaching for my bag, I pull it out of his grip. “You guys are slammed and I don’t want to bother him.”Shouldering my bag, I give him another smile, this one feeling a little more genuine. “Please, Cade—don’t tell him I’m here. Just… I just want to go upstairs and go to sleep.”

His jaw tightens for a moment before he finally nods. “Alright, Doc—you win,” he says, skirting past me on his way back to the bar. Pushing past the couple making out in the corner, Cade plants his hands on the bar top and vaults over it before disappearing behind the crush of people clamoring around it.

Looking after him, I catch one more glimpse of Jensen and feel a pang of regret because the only thing I want more than sleep is to feel his arms wrapped around me while I’m drifting into it.

Stop it, Sloane.

Stop making it more than it is.

Stop, right now, before you get hurt.

Turning away from the bar, I climb the steps that’ll take me home, alone.

OUT OF THE SHOWER, I HAVE EVERYintention of throwing myself into bed, face down, and sleeping for the rest of my life. That all changes when I step out of the bathroom while shrugging into the soft cotton T-shirt Jensen left here weeks ago because the rich smell of melted butter and fried cheese sets off another round of hunger pangs.

Someone is here.

Stepping close to the railing, I look out over the apartment. From this angle it looks empty but I can hear someone in the kitchen. “Hello?”

“It’s just me, Peach.” Jensen’s voice floats up to me, the deep tone of it sending my heart ping ponging around my chest. When he doesn’t say anything else, I make my way to the stairs, taking them slowly while trying to get myself under some semblance of control.

You’ve had sex with this man, Sloane. Twice. What is there to be nervous about?

Sex, yes.

We’ve had sex.

Mind-blowingly hot, ridiculously satisfying sex, the likes of which I have never experienced and am almost certain I’ll never experience again with anyone else but him.

That’s it.

But the fact that he’s in my kitchen, cooking of all things—unannounced and uninvited—at 3AM says something else. It says that whatever’s happening between us isn’t just about sex.

It says it’s about something more.

Stop it, Sloane.

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