Page 58 of Love Thy Brother
I shut the door behind me and wiped my feet, before stooping to yank off my boots, and set them next to River’s mismatched pair.
My socks were drenched. I peeled them off too and padded barefoot through the dark hallway in search of River.
I found him in the kitchen, tugging his wet T-shirt over his head, and holy hot jam on a cracker, I was not prepared for that.
River had lean muscles for days. Inked skin that smelled of diesel and rage. The only light in the room came from the cooker hood. It had warm yellow bulbs that cast a golden glow over him, washing away the pale blue my mind had imagined in the car.
I took an unconscious step forward.
He heard me coming but didn’t turn round. Just braced himself on the counter, head bowed, breathing a slow inhale as I ditched my own shirt and wrapped myself around him, my chest to his back, my heart finding a home thumping against his shoulder blade.
I buried my face in the crook of his neck, tasting salt on his skin, easing along his jaw until I found his mouth and kissed him.
For real this time, on my terms, not his.
I wasn’t careful. I fucking claimed him, swallowing his groan, holding him against me, my dick finding a home where it wanted to be most. And for long moments, I let it happen, grinding a slow rhythm as I smashed our lips together, stoking a fire that had never truly gone out.
Then he shivered, and the fact that we were both cold to the bone pushed me back to reality.
I eased off, breaking away to stare at him.
He stared back. “Did you get a lobotomy?”
“Did you? We haven’t vibed so well in years.” I waggled my brows.
River shoved me. “Go take a hot shower. Oscar’s clothes will fit you.”
I didn’t want to be apart from him. I wanted him in the showerwith me. But following his instructions gave me a viable excuse to check the rest of the house—windows, doors. Under the goddamn beds.
Shoulda done it already.Worst bodyguard ever.
Yup. But I was kiss-drunk and a giant salty sea dog. I wasn’t thinking straight.
Never ever could around River.
I left him in the kitchen and took the scenic route to the stairs, scoping out the living room, taking in the guitars, engine parts, and children’s toys.
Oscar’s kid.Somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten that. Or maybe I hadn’t cared. The dude was nothing to me except a man who got to do too much of the stuff I wanted for myself.
I’m a jealous motherfucker.
Who knew?
The ground floor was secure. I took the stairs two at a time and reached the landing and the small window that looked out over the street.
I checked the catch and shut the blind, cloaking myself in darkness, but River’s house was small, just four other doors—two bedrooms, a bathroom, and an airing cupboard that contained nothing but the Rebel Kings cut his dad had given him on his eighteenth birthday.
The sight of it twisted me up more than his bare skin. I touched the patches stitched into the leather. The skull and roses on the back. I had a cut just the same, but this... it felt like a past I couldn’t quite reach.
I shut the door on it and moved to the first bedroom. It was the biggest, with a double bed and a single tucked into the corner with a jungle canopy hanging over it.
Oscar’s.
It felt wrong to poke around in dude bro’s stuff. I checked the window and peeked under the beds, then slipped out, closing the door behind me.
River’s room was at the back of the house. Smaller than Oscar’s, it held nothing but a bed and a chest of drawers with a record player whacked on top.
Stacks of vinyl covered the floor. Clean clothes he hadn’t put away yet, if he ever did.
