“Hey, D,” Sloan says to me as he uncaps a bottle of beer. “Can you take my sister’s bags to her room?”
When did I become the butler?
“Yeah.” I glance over at the pile of crap Ash brought from her apartment and groan. “Sure. Where am I putting it?”
“I’ll do it,” Ash announces. She slides off the couch and strolls past me. “I don’t want anyone touching my stuff.”
“Whatever,” I deadpan.
She bends forward to lift the large plastic container and whines, grabbing her lower back in pain. Annoyed with her independence, I close the distance between us, stopping a few feet behind her. I throw my hands onto my hips, willing my cock to calm down because she’s wearing the tightest spandex shorts ever made.
Fuck, I need to get away from her.
I haven’t had sex in a while, not with how busy we are with Date Crashers, and Ash is not helping the situation.
“Now, do you need help?”
Wincing, Ash rises to her full height and glares at me. “Like I would ever ask you for help. You would have to be the last man alive, and even then, I would rather die trying before I came to you for anything.” She lowers her voice. “We both know how well that turned out the last time I needed your help.”
“Can you not do this right now?” I lean into her, my voice low. “How many times do I have to apologize? It’s in the past. Leave it there.”
She grits her teeth. “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t get on my bad side, or I’ll have to spank you,” I say under my breath.
Ash gasps, while I laugh on the inside. She holds her breath for a few seconds before she rolls her eyes and snorts.
“Like I would ever let you touch me.”
Again.
I have committed every part of Ash’s body to memory. She has a crescent moon birthmark on her side that every time I kissed it, she bucked her hips. She fisted my hair between her fingers and moaned my name. She encouraged me to keep going when I kissed my way down her stomach.
She wanted it all.
And I wanted to explore every inch of her.
Feel her thick thighs in my hands.
Grip her sweet ass as I fucked her with my tongue.
Our first kiss turned into more than either of us had anticipated. We got carried away, desperate to shed years of pent-up sexual aggression between us. Ash wasn’t a girl anymore, even though she was still my best friend’s little sister. And after years of thinking about her in inappropriate ways, I couldn’t stop myself.
Ash slings a garment bag over her shoulder. She has so many clothes stuffed inside that the weight of the bag forces her to lean forward to maintain her balance.
I take it from her hand. “Stop being so stubborn and let me do it.”
She laughs, following me down the hallway.
“Which room do you want?”
“Which one am I allowed to use?”
“Pick a room, or I’ll choose for you.”
“The one with the rock-and-roll wallpaper, I guess.” She smiles. “I like that one.”
The designer Sloan and I hired suggested theme rooms to match each of our personalities. For the most part, the common areas in the house are pretty basic. The exterior walls are mostly made of glass, the ceilings high and vaulted. There’s a lot of white space and clean lines, simple but perfect for a bachelor pad. But the bedrooms each have their own identity.
I push open the door. Inside, the bedroom looks like a replica of the Hard Rock Café interior. Our designer turned sheet music into wallpaper that’s covered with guitars owned by famous musicians and framed vinyl records. Ash’s eyes widen as she stares at the four-poster bed at the center of the room that’s overflowing with fluffy pillows that have music notes on them.
She darts over to the bed and jumps on it, making angels with her arms and legs. I almost laugh out loud and stop myself. Ash is still the girl I have known for most of my life. Not much has changed about her over the years.
I hold up the heavy garment bag. “Where do you want this?”
Ash sits up and tucks her hair behind her ears, her cheeks flushed. And now, my mind is drifting to that night. To the look on her face as I took her innocence, stripping her of the one thing I knew she saved for me. My mind always wanders back to that night when I’m around Ash… because it changed everything between us.
She points a finger. “In the closet.”
I hang her clothes on the rack, and when I emerge from the closet, Sloan is standing in the doorway with three bottles of beer in his hands.
“You must have read my mind,” I say as I swipe a bottle and raise it to my lips.
Ash takes a beer from Sloan. He taps his bottle against hers, and then all three of us at once.
“To surviving you,” Ash mouths to me.
Chapter Five
Ash
Slightly tipsy and not hating Dylan’s company, I sit on the couch next to him and sip from my beer. Dylan is drunk now, much less annoying than when I first arrived. More like the boy I once knew. Back then, Dylan was so chill. He had this nerdy coolness about him that always intrigued me.
It made me want to know him.
Sloan is lounging on the opposite side of the sectional couch, flipping through television channels as he drinks his beer. He speaks into the remote in his hand, and I can’t help but laugh. They have more technology at their disposal than Best Buy.
Even the stove works through the Wi-Fi signal. I’d never heard of such a ridiculous thing until I accidentally clicked a button on the fancy remote, and the oven came to life, warming the house. It’s like I’m in a real-life episode of The Jetsons.
“You can carpool with us tomorrow,” Sloan says.
I cock my head at him. “Are you talking to me?”
“Who else would I be talking to?”
Dylan groans and then stretches his long body across the cushions, wearing a bespoke navy suit that perfectly fits his lean muscular frame. A silver tie hangs loosely around his neck. The top buttons of his white oxford are open, revealing a hint of dark hair on his chest.
My eyes drift to him on occasion, though it feels like every second. He steals glances in my direction, keeping his cool around my brother. I do the same to maintain the charade. If Sloan ever found out about us, he would never speak to Dylan. He would never look at me the same way again.
“What if I want to drive myself?” I ask Sloan.
He gives me a bored look. “What’s the point? Our office is a few blocks from you. And you don’t have enough money to fill your gas tank for the rest of the week.”
“How do you—"
Sloan frowns. “Because you barely make it from one week to the next. You know I got you, right? If you need anything…”
I wave my hand to dismiss him. “I’d rather saw off my arm than ask you for money. But thanks for the offer.”
Dylan drinks from a bottle of vodka, acting uninterested in our conversation. He has upgraded in the past few hours to more potent alcohol, probably because he can’t stand being in the same room as me. But Sloan insisted we celebrate my first night in the house like one big dysfunctional family.
“While you’re living under my roof,” Sloan says with an authoritative tone. “I don’t want you spending any money. If you need anything, let me know.”