At Dad’s garage, in the Army, and then back again, when it was my turn to take over Cole Automotive.
Now I wonder if Brody’s underestimating me too as he watches me carefully. Every once in a while, his left eye squints a bit like he’s looking beneath my surface. It’s an itchy, uncomfortable sensation, like scrubbing at a rash. You know it’s a bad idea, but it feels so good that you do it anyway.
“You always sit like that? Manspread like your dick needs breathing room?” He’s sitting in Reed’s chair with his thighs wide apart, dick on display again.
“Maybe. You always sit like that? Like you’re airing your cunt out?” He lifts his beer my way, pointing with the neck, and I look down at my legs, crisscrossed in front of me in the chair. They’re so short my knees still fit between the armrests.
I don’t flinch a bit at the crass language, overly used to it. Those same guys who call me ‘baby’ are the types to try and make me squirm with commentary on my pussy. As if the mere word would make me clutch my nonexistent pearls. Something about Brody’s tone is different, though. Like he’s not trying to make me uncomfortable but is actually just thinking about my cunt. Maybe the way I’m thinking about his dick.
I go offensive to play the asshole-odds, though. “Yep. Gets hot in the coveralls, working and sweating my balls off all day. A little air feels nice.” I use my hand as a fan, flapping air toward my hot (but not because of my coveralls) core.
He chuckles deep in his belly, a grin slashing across his face that flashes his white teeth. He doesn’t smile, I realize. He smirks, he grins, and he bares his teeth. But there’s something predatory about him even in this relaxed state.
Emily’s going to be in over her head with this one. Hell, I might be too. Not that I’m thinking about that . . . because he’s Emily’s.
“I started riding horses when I was a kid. It probably fucked with my hip sockets because this is just how I sit.” He shifts in the chair, the fake leather creaking beneath him, and tries to rearrange his legs. He ends up with one ankle resting on the other knee, taking up exactly zero less space.
I snort derisively at his ridiculousness. It’s cute, in a dangerous sort of way. I finish the last dregs of my beer, tossing it toward the empty recycling bin. I don’t even follow its arc with my eyes, trusting that the same shot I’ve made a thousand times will sink this time too. It clatters against the bottom of the rubber bin.
“I am such a dumbass,” he says out of nowhere.
“Not arguing that fact,” I interrupt, not able to skip the lobbed softball opening. “Any specific reason?”
“I can’t believe I thought she was you.”
Wait . . . that should be the other way around. People mistake me for Emily. Always. And they’re disappointed when I’m the wrong sister, the prickly, bitchy one.
“I even asked Sophie about it because I didn’t get how you could be so different here and at the resort.” He’s talking out loud, but I get the feeling it’s really to himself as he puts puzzle pieces together. I’ve seen this show before so I quietly wait him out. “And now it all makes convoluted sense.”
“Yep, we’re freaks of nature. Identical twins, eighth wonders of the world. And no, we’re not into threesomes.” Might as well crush that dream. Sorry, not sorry, Cowboy.
He blinks blankly before his eyes go razor-sharp. I’m pinned in place like a bug, but I’m not a butterfly, pretty but helpless. I’m a goddamn hornet, so I stare right back.
“Me neither. I don’t share well.” He growls the heavy, weighted words, giving them deeper meaning.
The air gets sucked out of the room like a black hole just opened up between us, around us, inside us.
“You thought Emily was me. At the resort?” I need clarity like I need my next breath. Fuck that. I need clarity like I need dick. But I won’t be a stand-in for him to pretend that he’s fucking my sister. That’s one boundary I’ve never crossed, and I have zero intention of ever doing so.
“Seems stupid now, but yeah.” He licks his lips, and I want to taste his tongue. Hell, I want to ride his tongue.
I stand suddenly. “Leave.” I shouldn’t soften the order, but for some reason, I add, “Please.”
He stands slowly, like he’s in no hurry to comply. He drains his beer, and I expect him to toss it to the bin the way I did, an answer to my own skill like he can’t let me have one over him. But he sets it down on my desk quietly. A win for me then, but it feels like such a loss.
He stalks toward me, or maybe toward the door. I’m not sure, even though I’m watching his every move closely, looking for meaning and intention in every nuance. He backs me up, two small steps of give. A win for him too as my spine meets the bed of my truck.
I should feel threatened. I should be grabbing for the closest weapon and attacking him. Hell, I should punch out and catch him in the balls to drop him to his knees like I’ve been trained to do.
I do none of those things.
To my shame and horror, my voice is quiet as a whisper. “What’s my name?”
“Erica.” He groans the one name no one has ever called me and then covers my mouth with his.
This is not a kiss. This is him shoving his tongue into my mouth to show me how he wants to fuck me.
Me! Not Emily.
Guilt rushes through me, but when he cups my face in his big hands, lifting me to my toes so he doesn’t have to bend down so much, all I feel is wild. A scrape along the floor tells me he’s grabbed my stepstool, and when he deposits me on it, I battle against the urge to wrap my legs around him. Instead, I use the new height to angle myself up to him, kissing him back as aggressively as he’s devouring me.
I don’t submit to him. That’s not my way. It’s not his, either. Instead, we invade each other with our tongues but only succeed in setting fire to the thin shred of resistance either of us held.
He tastes like beer and bad choices, and when he bites my lip gently, I return the nibble ferociously, leaving the wet heat of his mouth to bite the tanned skin of his neck. I pull at the collar of his T-shirt to expose the thick muscle where his neck joins his shoulder and bite there too.
“Goddamn, Lil Bit.” His hissed curse might mean stop, but since he’s thrust his fingers into my hair, holding me to his neck, I’m pretty sure it didn’t. I suck it sweetly to soothe the sharp nip, but it only creates another type of ache. A deeper one.
His hands mold over my body, learning every angle because there are very few curves to be had. But he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He’s not gentle, which I appreciate. Sometimes, guys see me as this tiny, fragile thing and touch me like I’ll break if they go too rough. Brody has no such hesitation, kneading my skin and muscles hard as he takes my mouth again.
I’m about to fuck him right here against the bed of my truck. It won’t be the first time I’ve had sex in this garage. I lost my virginity in bay three in a Toyota Corolla. And it won’t be the last time either, most likely, but I realize one important fact.
I can’t do this to Emily.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
I’ve already betrayed my sister with this so-much-more than a kiss, but I won’t, can’t do this to her.