Let Me Love You: A Best Friend’s Sibling Romance

by Moore, M. K.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Mallory?” he asks.

  “Yes, I am sure,” I say breathlessly. He pulls his shirt over his head in that hot guy way. Is this really happening? To me? He sits on the foot of my bed and takes his shoe off. Then I watch in fascination as he pulls his running blade off and sets it to the side. I stare as he briskly rubs his thigh. “Does it hurt?” I ask, dropping to my knees in front of him. I reach my hand out to touch him, but I stop myself. Just as I’m pulling my hand back, he grabs my wrist and places it on his thigh. I can feel the scars that crisscross the area. The skin is pinker here than anywhere else and it’s so soft, like it’s new. It probably is fucking new. I rub his thigh slowly.

  “You can touch me. It doesn’t hurt much anymore unless it’s cold or raining. I do have odd phantom feelings that the rest of my leg is still there, but that doesn’t last long.” He wipes my tears. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “Don’t cry for me, beautiful girl,” he says in a thick voice.

  “Can I ask what happened?” I whisper. I don’t know if there are rules about this sort of thing, as in what and what not to ask someone who has been through this kind of trauma, but I want to know everything about him. He takes a deep breath.

  “Yes, let’s get comfortable,” he says, and I nod as I push myself up from the floor. He gets into the left side of my bed, which is not my side, and looks so at home with the purple flowers on that pillowcase and the dark gray blanket that I take a second to stare at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I say, climbing into bed and pulling up the covers. It’s freezing in here. Why is it suddenly so cold in here? I settle into his side and it feels like we have been doing this forever. I sigh in contentment as I breathe in his scent. It’s manly; sandalwood and something else, but I can’t identify it. Something Christmassy maybe.

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asks.

  I nod against his chest, “Yes, I’m positive.” But honestly, I don’t know if I can handle this.

  “It was a training accident,” he begins.

  “An accident?” I question.

  “Yes. A private was dicking around with a Humvee, which he was supposed to be learning how to drive. I was on base in Colorado, Fort Carson to be exact. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The private lost control of the vehicle and careened onto the sidewalk. I was escorting my commander’s pregnant wife to his office. She screamed, and since I couldn’t exactly toss her out of the way, I covered her body with mine. She had minor cuts, but her baby was safe, thankfully. My leg was wedged under the wheel of the Humvee for less than two minutes before it was moved. I could tell right away my leg would never be the same again. It was pretty much flattened from the shin down. There was blood everywhere, or so I was told later. I passed out as soon as the Humvee was moved. Thankfully, I had just been accompanying Mrs. Jones from a doctor’s appointment so we were close to the hospital. They were able to get me into surgery immediately. In the end, it was deemed an accident. The private got a strike and I, ironically, got my walking papers,” he says this so casually and without emotion that I am stunned speechless. I try to keep my tears in check, somehow I know that pity isn’t what he needs.

  “Malachi, have you talked to anyone about this?” I finally ask, almost sobbing.

  “I did. I promise you, I’m fine. I said this before and I’ll say it again, don’t cry for me, Mallory. I’m not worth your tears.” I smack his chest. His extremely hard and well-defined chest. I wipe my tears and try to calm myself enough to speak. This man has been through so much, it breaks my fucking heart in ways I didn’t realize were possible.

  “What about your career? I can’t believe Margo didn’t tell me anything about this.” I say, a little sad that she didn't. She’s supposed to be my best friend. Did she not trust me? Did she not think I would let Malachi come here if I knew? I have to push that aside because I am getting pissed when I should be listening.

  “I was upset when it ended so abruptly. I had plans, but plans change. I am making peace with my future, slowly. As for Margo, I didn’t tell her the full extent because I know how she is. My mom was bad enough,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  Through this emotional conversation, I’m able to giggle. “I’ve heard from Margo that she is quite the ballbuster.”

  “She’s something,” he replies, and my fit of laughter causes Giggles to bark from her bed in the corner. She doesn’t move though. I laugh even more when she huffs and rolls her head toward the wall.

  “Your dog is not amused,” he says dryly.

  “She never is,” I reply, sobering up. The air in the room has changed and the laughter from before no longer has a place.

  My fingers trail over his chest. He catches my wrist, and I watch in fascination as he brings my fingers to his lips and kisses them lightly. His other hand tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear and he uses his palm to cup my cheek.

  “Do these mean anything?” I ask, running my fingertips over his tattoos.

  “Yeah. They meant something to me at the time I got them.” His fingers caress my face, so tenderly that I can feel my core clench. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. “You are so beautiful, Mallory. I don’t deserve you,” he says. I press my fingertips to his lips to silence him.

  “Don’t talk like that, Malachi. You deserve everything,” I say. He leans up and pulls me into his arms.

  He starts kissing my entire face.

  “I want my face between your legs, tasting your pretty pussy. The pussy you have been teasing me with, wearing that flimsy nightgown.”

  “Oh God, Malachi. I want that too,” I say harshly. I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice right now.

  Goosebumps take over my entire body and my pussy floods.

  “I am selfish enough to keep you, beautiful girl. I will get to tasting your cunt later. I need you now.”

  “Fuck, yes,” I moan as his lips find my neck. He has maneuvered me so that my bare pussy is sitting right over his hard, fully clothed cock. I rock my core over him, seeking it. I have never needed something so freaking bad in my entire life. “Malachi, please,” I beg, but I have no idea what I am begging for.

  “Tell me what you need, baby,” he groans.

  “You. I. Need. You,” I say, breathlessly. With that, he flips me over, so I am on my back, my head at the foot of the bed. My already tiny nightgown has risen to just under the swell of my breasts. I watch in fascination as he pulls both his shorts and boxers off and tosses them away. I’m face to face with his monster cock and suddenly I think that I should tell him that I’ve never done this before—I’ve never even come close.

  “Your little pussy is so fucking wet, baby. Is all that for me?” His filthy question shocks me, but it totally shouldn’t. I nod. “I want to hear your sexy voice, Mallory. Tell me, is all this cream for me?”

  “Yes, Malachi. It’s all for you.”

  “I’ll take my time later, right now, I need you too much to go slow.” I look down between us and see that his cock is red and angry. Precum has gathered at the tip. He uses his arms and knees as leverage. Once he is above me, cock pointed at my entrance he says, “Put me inside your pretty pussy, baby. Show me how much you want me.” I wrap my right hand around his cock and pump it. He groans and shakes his head no. I smirk but line him up with my opening as he told me to do. Once the tip is inside me, he slams into me without hesitation. Shit, this is painful. My eyes fly open—I’m not even sure when I closed them—to find him staring down at me. Tears are pricking in the corner of my eyes, he hasn’t stopped moving and I don’t want him too.

  “How?” he asks through clenched teeth.

  “I was saving myself,” I say, panting. He starts to pull out of me, but I use my legs to keep him in place. “Don’t you dare,” I gasp.

  “As if I would willingly leave this tight pussy before I spill my seed inside of you,” I shudder and loosen my legs. He pulls out and slams back i
nto me over and over until he does just what he promised. “I should slow down, take you gently, but I can't. You're too tight, too wet and so fucking mine.” I moan and nod like a lunatic, but I don't care. One of my loud screams prompts Giggles to bark repeatedly before calming down. At this point, I suddenly realize he isn’t wearing a condom. I mentally shrug as jet after jet of his cum is deposited inside me. “Are you on birth control?” he asks through clenched teeth. I can still feel his thick length twitching inside of me.

  “Nope,” I say, smirking up at him. His return grin is just what I’d hoped for. He drops to his elbows and kisses me. With a firm grip, he rips my nightgown down the center. He makes a trail of hot kisses down my neck and chest causing me to moan. He is still hard inside me when he takes me again. Finally, we fall asleep, exhausted and tangled up in each other.

  When my alarm goes off later in the morning, I don’t want to leave my warm bed nor Malachi’s side. I am deliciously sore everywhere. When I stand and stretch, the tattered remains of my nightgown fall down my arms. Smiling at the thought of the way he commanded my body, I toss it in the trash can as I head into the bathroom. I turn the shower on and step inside. I have to be on set today since I was finally able to figure out the casting bullshit from yesterday.

  Filming doesn’t officially begin until January 5th, but I am going to meet the actors today. I am super excited Lana Blair is going to be playing Raven. She was the inspiration for my character board when I was writing, so I am beyond excited about that. Sure, at the time she was only sixteen and starring in a cheesy teen drama but then again, I was sixteen too. I’m still not happy about Chad Beesley being cast as my Ryan but I get it. He is known for playing romantic leads and he is a huge box office draw, but he really is a jerk as far as I can tell. I’ve never met the man, but I’ve had no desire to either. Fuck, I’m going to have to apologize for that remark I made yesterday.

  My publicist texted me several times last night, telling me I need to fix it. In my head, I was wondering what I hired her for if I have to fix my own snafus, but whatever. I’ll swallow my pride and apologize to the asshat.

  I quickly shower and throw on some jeans and a Harry Potter t-shirt, finishing the look with snow boots, since one look out the window tells me it snowed overnight. Again. Finally, I grab my bag.

  “Where are you going, baby?” Malachi says sleepily from the cocoon of blankets he is under. The ones I wish I was still under.

  “I have to go to the set today. I should be back around one … unless you want to meet me at Charley’s in Chelsea for a quick lunch?”

  “Set?” he questions.

  “Didn’t you know they’re making my first two books into movies?”

  “Oh yeah, I did read something about that.” He sits up. “Speaking of your books, how did you manage to write such powerful love scenes and still be untouched?” I laugh. No one has ever asked me that before. Sure, only Margo, Gwen and my mom knew that I was a virgin, but still.

  “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Was I terrible or something?” I ask.

  I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry …

  I repeat the mantra in my head, unable to form any other rational thought in this moment.

  “Fuck no. You were incredible. I'm honored that you chose to give me that gift. I’ll admit that I was jealous of all the men I thought you might have known before me. Irrational, I know, but I am grateful that I don't have to worry about that now.” I stand with my hands on my hips.

  “How many women do I have to worry about?” I ask without really wanting to know the answer. He is a gorgeous man who wore a uniform for eleven years.

  “Just you,” he says, leaning back on his pillow with his arms tucked behind his head. Casual as you like. I scoff.

  “What? Yeah right,” I say as though I were a petulant child. He is way too hot to have been a virgin. I honestly thought men who were virgins after the age of fifteen were unicorns.

  “Seriously, my prom date, Amelia, dumped me in the middle of the dance. A quarterback wanted to take her to Billings for the night. I wasn’t going to have sex with her, but still that was just about the only opportunity to do so. There were only about sixty kids in my graduating class, mostly guys. Cody, Wyoming is small. Most people were paired off by my eighth-grade year. I wanted out, so I didn't bother. I went to boot camp two weeks after graduation and I was laser-focused on my career. Besides, I was stationed in some of the most heinous war zones in the world.”

  “What a bitch,” I say, preferring to focus on his nightmare prom date rather than all the danger he’s been in over the years.

  “Nah, she was a kid, she didn’t know what she wanted.”

  “I am not ashamed to admit that I am more than a little glad about that. I'm over here imagining you were some sort of virgin killer,” I say, laughing. His low rumble of a laugh washes over me.

  “If I’m a virgin killer, so are you. So, about those love scenes?” he asks again.

  “I don’t know. I used my imagination,” I say, shrugging.

  “Uh-huh,” he says, unconvinced.

  “Fine. My imagination and lots and lots and lots of porn. Pornspiration, if you will.”

  “There it is,” he says with a laugh. His laugh sends tingles right back to my core.

  “With you around, I won’t need porn anymore,” I say, straight-faced. He stops laughing right away. I walk over to the bed and lean down to kiss him. He clears his throat when I pull away.

  “Damn right, baby. I’ll meet you for lunch at one-thirty. Let me see your phone,” he says. I lean over him and reach the phone from my side of the bed. “Nice shirt,” he says, his face muffled by my boobs.

  “Shit, sorry. Here you go,” I say, standing back up and handing him my phone.

  “Password?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “1234,” I say without hesitation. I have nothing to hide from this man.

  He keys in a number and I hear his phone ring across the hall. He hands me back my phone.

  “In case you need anything,” he says. I nod and kiss him again.

  “See you for lunch,” I say walking out of the room.

  “Have a good day at work, baby,” he shouts from my bed.

  I smile to myself as I walk to the elevator. Last night was amazing, and I am in so much trouble.

  I just fucked Margo’s brother. Bad thing/fantastic thing? I am going to do it again. And again. And again.

  And the “falling for him” territory from yesterday? Gone. I fell. It’s official.

  Crazy as it is, I’m in love with my best friend’s brother after one day … and like, my first thirty-seven orgasms.

  Maybe I should take the day and think on it without the orgasm fog, but I don’t think it will matter.

  I love him, plain and simple. Time means jack shit to something as strong as love. I am just going to have to accept that.

  Chapter 4

  Malachi

  I hear the lock click on the front door as it closes behind her. I still haven't quite wrapped my head around the fact that she’s all mine. She was a fucking virgin. I awkwardly pick myself up from her bed, momentarily glad she isn't here to witness it.

  Mornings are the worst as far as my balance goes. I'm going to have to get over my humiliation of that fact because I want all my mornings with her. If you'd have asked me two days ago if I believed in love at first sight, I'd have said just not no, but hell no. Now, I know just how real it is. Crazy? Hell yes, but I don't give a shit. My first thought is to take a quick shower and then coffee. Mallory must have made some this morning because I can still smell it. After my shower, I throw on some basketball shorts, though it's cold out, it's easier to run in shorts, and a Florida State sweatshirt on.

  Once in the kitchen with a cup in my hand, I grab my phone. I rest my crutch against the counter and notice I have the missed call which I placed to myself and an unread text from the same number. I open the text to see a selfie from my girl. She is on the tra
in and all smiles.

  Fuck, she really is gorgeous. There’s also a string of emojis that would make a porn star blush, but somehow coming from Mallory it seems right. I respond with a selfie of my own, telling her to have a productive day.

  Going back into her room, I put on my shoe and strap on my running blade. I'm about to toss my crutch onto her unmade bed when I notice her blood in the middle of the sheet, so I pull everything off and toss in into the washer. I can't help the giant shit-eating grin I'm wearing. This is just another reminder that she’s all mine. I grab my keys and my wallet and exit the apartment. When I get downstairs in the lobby, I notice that this doorman is different from the one I met yesterday.

  I watch his eyes roam over me. “Do you need a cab, sir?” he asks.

  “No thanks, Thomas,” I say after glancing at his name tag. “I am going for a run.” I like to use people’s names early on when meeting them. My mother taught me that it’s a simple way to show someone you care. That lesson has always stuck with me.

  “Very well, Mr. …” he trails off, waiting for me to supply my name.

  “Goranson. Malachi Goranson.” I extend my hand, which he shakes.

  “Ah, yes. Ms. Margo's brother.” I nod and walk towards the door.

  “Have a good day,” I say, waving.

  To say that I’m not prepared for photographers to be standing here in droves would be an understatement.

  “Do you know Mallory Greer?” one of them shouts at me. I'm surprised to hear that they’re here for Mallory. I walk past these vultures without saying anything. It blows my mind that she’s so famous. I know firsthand how talented she is, but this is so far beyond that.

  I turn left down Madison Ave and jog briskly down the street, avoiding people and their stares. After about an hour, I turn and head back in the direction of the apartment building. I know it’s not time for lunch yet since I checked my phone, so I decide to head down to the basement gym Margo told me about. I use her key card to enter. There are several other guys in here using the treadmills. That won’t be me, I think mercilessly. I make my way to the horizontal chest press. That’s about the only thing I use these days besides the occasional free weight. I pop in my wireless earbuds, tap on my Van Halen playlist, and start using the machine. “Runnin’ with the Devil blares in my ears.