“It’s obvious that everything you do is because you genuinely care about people. It’s not your fault Ralph had an episode. Hell, it’s not even the fault of the person who dropped the tray. It just is what it is. Everything you did, you did because you care. There’s no fault in that.”
She studies me for a moment, her eyes welling with tears. “You know, I thought you were an asshole.”
I laugh. “I’m aware.”
“I’m beginning to think maybe I was wrong.”
Ours gazes lock and hold until she brings her beer to her mouth and stands from the couch to go get another.
The moment disappears as if it never happened, but I can’t help but hope we have another. Which won’t be good for anyone. Not me. Not Fiona and definitely not Marlowe.
Fourteen
Fiona
I don’t know how long we’ve been drinking, but I’m no longer wallowing in self-pity and obsessing over what went down at the shelter last night. Keane can’t stop telling me all about his ideas for the new restaurant he wants to buy into, all of which sound amazing—if I weren’t vegan.
“Let’s play truth or dare.” The words slip out before I can stop myself.
It was a fleeting thought while Keane was explaining what kind of cuisine each area of Italy is known for. Then before I know it, I’m saying the words. But I don’t regret it. Not really. Not even when Keane gives me a look like I’m crazy. It seems like a good way to get to know him better.
“What are we? Thirteen?” He tips his drink to his lips. The sight of them wet with the liquid from his glass makes me wish I could lean in and lick it off.
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” I nudge his knee with my foot.
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, but you’re up first.”
“Fine. Give it to me.”
His face turns a nice shade of pink. “All right.” A gleam that I’m sure doesn’t mean good things for me fills his eyes. “Truth or dare.”
I debate for a moment and finally go with truth.
“Have you ever had a lesbian experience?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.
“I should have known you’d ask something like that.” I shake my head and take a sip of my drink. “Once, when I was in college at a party. I was pretty drunk, and a girl leaned in and kissed me.”
He leans forward and lowers his voice as if someone might hear us. “Did you kiss her back?”
I wave my finger at him. “Uh-uh. You get one question.” I chuckle when the keen interest in his face falls.
“At least tell me what the other girl looked like.”
“Why?” My forehead wrinkles.
“How else am I supposed to imagine that later when I’m…” He makes a jerking off motion with his hand.
I swear my panties are instantly wet—if they weren’t already. Because now I’m picturing Keane naked, jerking off, me filling his beat-off wheel.
To play off my reaction, I push his shoulder and laugh. “Stop.”
He grins once more and tosses back the rest of his drink.
“All right, truth or dare?” I ask him.
“Dare,” he says, looking me right in the eyes.
“Hmm.” Since he picked a question he thought would make me uncomfortable, I try to think of something that will make him equally or even more so. While I’m pondering, I remember something Marlowe, Jemma, and I did in college when we were drinking and playing this game. “Keane, I dare you grab one of the dill pickles from the fridge and give head to it.”
He blanches and blinks a few times. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I smile and shake my head. “Nope. Not kidding.” When he doesn’t move, I wave toward the kitchen. “Get going. You don’t want to lose to me, do you?”
He gets up off his seat and heads to the kitchen, returning moments later with a large dill pickle, though it doesn’t look that big given the size of his hands. And no, I will not think of what those hands would feel like on me.
Crap. Now I’m thinking of what those hands would feel like on me and I’ll bet the answer is “pretty damn good.” I need to cool off.
He sits on the couch. “You’re really going to make me do this?”
“Yep.” I pop the P at the end.
He looks less than impressed but brings the pickle toward his mouth, his tongue darting out but not touching it.
My lips press together in an effort not to laugh, but it’s getting harder because the look on his face is priceless—a mix of horror, fear, and resignation. “Just do it.”
He locks gazes with me and brings his tongue to the tip of the pickle, swirling it around. Rather than giving it head, I imagine it’s more like he’s eating a woman out.
Great. Now I have the image of him between my legs and my fists gripping my comforter running through my head. My core buzzes with desire. I shift in my seat, trying not to squeeze my thighs together to get rid of the ache, because the last thing I need is him catching on to my reaction.
He grins when I shift in my chair, then he closes his eyes and gives it his all. A low rumble sounds from deep in his throat as he works the end of the pickle with his tongue. Just when my body is about to combust from the sexual tension, he bites the end off the pickle and I’m snapped out of my trance.
“How’d I do?” His shit-eating grin tells me he had one eye on me the entire time. Bastard.
“Not bad.” I shrug as if he was just okay. When really, if he propositioned me, I’d probably shout “SOLD!”
He chuckles and finishes the rest of the pickle. “You’re up. Truth or dare, Squirt?”
I narrow my eyes at him for using that moniker. All the heat and sexual frustration coursing through me vanishes. “Dare.”
Keane smiles as if I just made his day. “I dare you to give head to a pickle.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Can and did.” He leans back on the couch, one leg propped up on his knee.
“Fine.” I stomp off into the kitchen and grab my own dill pickle, making sure it’s the longest and widest one in the glass jar.
He’s going to regret ever giving me this dare.
“Let’s see what you got.” He leans back in the corner of the couch, arms spread wide on the back and arm of the couch.
With a sadistic smile, I bring the pickle to my lips and slide my tongue to rim the top of it several times. My eyes close, but I feel Keane’s rapt attention on me. I continue to tease him until I open my mouth and glide my lips down the length of the pickle until it hits the back of my throat. I suck in my cheeks as I pull the pickle back out of my mouth and make a popping sound once it’s completely out.
I peek Keane’s way. His hands are in fists and his nostrils are flaring. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a definite bulge in his pants. Having this effect on him spurs my own arousal, so I up my game—making wet, slopping sounds as the pickle moves in and out of my mouth, moaning my own pleasure while I work the vegetable as though it’s an actual dick.
My eyes close again, but I hear Keane whisper, “Fuck, Fiona.”
I end my dare abruptly by doing exactly what he did—I take a giant bite off the end. Only I do it with relish and chomp loudly. Poor Keane. It’s all I can do not to laugh at the beleaguered look on his face. As soon as I’m done eating the pickle, I ask, “Well?”
He shifts, adjusting his crotch. “Uh… yeah. Good work.”
I laugh. “Don’t play a player.”
I lean in and poke him in the chest, but rather than let me move back to my spot, he wraps an arm around me, pressing me against him. I startle, unsure what to do, but I don’t want to move.
“Your turn,” I whisper. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he says.
I think of all the things I could ask him, but rather than playing off this attraction, I decide to ask the one question I’ve always wondered. “Why did you tell everyone in high school all that stuff about me?”
A line forms at the bridge of his nose. “
What stuff?”
“You know… that I still slept with a stuffie, that I kissed Danny Gershmire in eighth grade during spin the bottle, why you call me Squirt.” I wince when the memory of me being locked out of Marlowe’s house when we were ten comes to mind. Someone had moved the spare key and I had to go to the bathroom so badly, I ended up peeing my pants. Eventually Keane showed up with the key in his pocket. Once he saw what had happened, he’s never let me live it down.
“I did it to protect you.”
My head rears back. “Protect me?”
He glances away as if it’s torture for him to tell me. “Fiona, you have no idea how many guys wanted to fuck you in high school. I had to listen to it all the time—how you, my sister, and Jemma were the most fuckable girls in the school. You have to understand—those guys were all douches and weren’t out for anything other than to get in your pants. You could do so much better. I couldn’t stand the thought of any of them hurting you. You were going through everything with your dad and—”
I place a finger over his lips to silence him. “You did all that because you didn’t want me to be hurt?”
Something shifts in my chest, like puzzle pieces shifting into place. I think it might be a piece of my heart mending back together.
He nods with my finger still pressed against his lips.
Yeah, it was a stupid, juvenile thought process, but it melts away any of the ill will I’ve held toward him. He was looking out for me during a time when my father wasn’t there, and my mom was preoccupied with all the drama and ruin my father had brought into our lives. Out of everyone, the boy I’d hated most was the one trying to protect me.
I replace my finger with my lips, leaning in to press them against his. He’s seems shaken at first, but his other arm wraps around me and we both give in to the kiss. Small pecks turn into longer ones while we stare into each other’s eyes—his the blue of the deep ocean and mine a lighter shade mixed with green, like a lagoon.
His tongue coasts over the seam of my lips and I open to him. Within moments of our tongues touching, I rise up and straddle him, feeling his hard length pressed between us. The urge to grind against him overwhelms me as our tongues tangle. I move my pelvis so his cock is pressing against all the right places, and he groans into my mouth, shifting a hand onto the back of my head to control the kiss.
Currents of electricity concentrate between my legs as I grind against him. I swear I might come just like this if we continue.
Our tongues meld in a slow, sensual dance, and his grip on my hair tightens. I’m digging my fingernails into his muscular shoulders as though I’m holding on for dear life, and right now, I might as well be. Because I feel as if I could float away, the sensation is so overwhelming. Our kissing reaches an almost frantic level, as though we’re both releasing pent-up desires we’ve been holding on to for so long.
It isn’t until he speaks that I remember who I’m kissing and who is making me feel this way.
“Fuck, Fi, I’ve wanted this for so long,” Keane says against my neck as his lips travel downward.
I still and push off him. And a little too forcefully because I forget that I’m no longer positioned facing the other side of the couch. I’m facing the TV, and so I end up on my ass—or tailbone, more specifically—on the floor in front of the couch.
Keane’s eyes grow wide. “Are you okay?”
He leans forward, arm outstretched to help me up. I get a glance at the rigid length poking out of his athletic pants, then divert my eyes because holy hell, Keane Travis is packing.
“I’m fine.” I swat his hands away and stand, a little gingerly because damn, my tailbone really does hurt. “This can’t happen again.”
He blinks a few times then stands and pulls at the hem of his T-shirt. He scowls. “Why not?”
Is he serious?
“Because you’re my best friend’s brother and I have no idea how she would feel about this.” I motion with my finger between us. “And also because we’re completely wrong for each other.”
“How’s that?” He tilts his head and steps into my space.
“Look, we were just caught up in a moment and we’ve both been drinking.”
A dark chuckle leaves his lips. “Is that why you’re gawking at me every day when I come out of the bedroom with no shirt on? And what about the time I came home from my run? You could barely keep the drool in your mouth. You’re a liar if you tell me you don’t want me, Fi.” He brushes the backs of his knuckles down my cheek and I supress a shiver.
I swat his hand away. “Just because I’m attracted to you doesn’t mean we’re right for each other. There’s more to a relationship than fucking.”
He groans. “If you’re trying to get me to back down right now, you need to stop using the word fucking. Hearing it coming from your lips is like Viagra to my cock.”
I swallow hard. I know what he means now that I’ve heard the word cock in his voice. “Stop it. This isn’t going to happen.”
His jaw tics, the blood vessels in his neck bulging.
“I mean it. Marlowe can’t know about this. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Why do you assume she wouldn’t be all for this?”
“Because I know your sister. And she knows me. She’d be the first one to figure out that you and I would only end in disaster. And she’d be worried every day it would end up affecting my friendship with her.”
He shakes his head in apparent disgust and steps back. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Squirt.”
I resist the urge to punch his beautiful face. Instead, I spin on my heel, stomping out of the room. Screw him. And his abs. And his kissable lips. And that stupid nickname!
I liked it better when we hated each other.
Fifteen
Keane
It’s the afternoon of Jemma and Ollie’s engagement party and I have plans to meet Rod for a quick coffee beforehand. Jacques is letting me come in a couple hours late for prep today. I guess he wants to throw a little more responsibility Billy’s way to see how he can handle it.
We’re in our usual booth in the diner and have been chatting for twenty minutes or so. Rod excitedly filled me in on the vacation he and his wife have planned for an Alaskan cruise later this summer. There’s an awkward pause in our conversation and I know what’s coming next. The question I’ve been dreading since I arrived.
“So did you hear back from the bank yet?” he asks.
A defeated sigh leaves my lips. “Yeah, it’s not happening.”
He frowns. “They won’t give you the loan?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not enough collateral.”
Rod takes a sip of his coffee. “What’s your plan now?”
Letting my chin drop, I push my hands through my hair then look back up at him. “My parents are coming into town for my thirtieth birthday. I’m going to ask them to co-sign.”
He nods slowly, understanding how difficult that will be for me. “And what do you think they’ll say?”
My gut clenches with the thought of their faces and responses. “I’m sure they’ll say no at first, but I’m going to convince them I’m a safe bet.”
He pats my hand. “Good for you. I believe in you.”
I smile. Isn’t that exactly why I always sought Rod’s approval when I was a teenager, rather than my own parents?
“That makes one of us.” I lift my mug to my lips.
“Hey, don’t be like that. Look at all you’ve accomplished already. It’s no small feat to be where you are at your age. You have a lot of responsibility, and the fact is, your boss wants to give you more.”
“I guess.” I shrug. I see his point, but I want it all and I don’t want to wait. Why is it always easier to think of all the things I haven’t achieved in my life, rather than the other way around—a house I own rather than rent, a stable relationship rather than a string of meaningless hookups?
“Listen, Keane, you need to believe in yourself because if you don’t, th
ey never will.”
I bring the mug to my lips and finish it off. “I know. It’s just that, well, you know… it’s my parents.”
He nods, having been my sounding board for many years. “Even so, they love you and just want what’s best for you. Make them see what I see.”
We shoot the shit for a while longer, then I have to head over to Ollie and Jemma’s place.
“That’s why you’re so dressed up?” he asks.
I glance down at my black slacks and light blue button-up shirt. I had to buy this outfit just for the engagement party since the one suit I own smelled like smoke even after I had it dry-cleaned. “Absolutely. You wouldn’t catch me in this stuff otherwise.”
“All right. Have a good time. Keep me in the loop on how it goes with your parents.”
“Will do.” I give him a brief man hug and back away, headed to my Jeep.
Twenty minutes later, I park on the curb a way’s down from Ollie and Jemma’s house. Vehicles line the street on both sides. I have to assume these are all the guests. I reach into the back seat for the bottle of wine I brought, grinning. It’s the same kind I once saw Jemma get smashed on back in high school. I remember the girls all thought they were so sophisticated at that party because they were drinking wine and not beer like the rest of us. Jemma ended up puking all over the coffee table in the middle of the party.
But what really stands out from that party was how Jeremy Sanders said he wanted Fiona straddling his face later that night. My fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle just thinking about it.
I step up the path to the stately red brick home. I’m not usually a “compare myself to someone else” kind of guy, but it must be nice to be in Ollie’s position. If I were, I’d have plenty of collateral to get a loan. I ring the bell, hearing the distinct murmuring of a crowd of people from inside through the open windows. It’s a gorgeous day in the first week of May. The air is fresh with a light breeze, and the sun warms the back of my head while I wait for someone to answer.
The door swings open and Jemma stands there with a smile, Ollie beside her with one hand on her lower back.
Three's A Crowd: A Best Friend's Older Brother Rom Com (Love in Apartment #3B Book 2) Page 8
