by London Hale
If the growing wetness of my panties was any indication, I wasn’t as broken as Barry had made me believe.
“When’s the last time someone made you scream, Hannah?”
Definitely not broken. “I—”
Before I could say more, the sound of footsteps on the stairs made me jump back. Aaron appeared in the kitchen, sliding to a stop when he noticed the two of us. “Oh, hey. Sorry to interrupt—”
“You’re not interrupting anything,” I said, my voice a little too high. My words spoken a little too fast. I was a horrible liar.
Luke shot me another wink before turning to look toward Aaron. “What’s up, man?”
“I just came down to make sure the sump pump was working. I don’t want to wake up to a new lake in my basement.”
“Need some help?”
Aaron headed for the basement stairs across the kitchen. “Nope, but thanks. I think I’ve got this.”
He disappeared through the doorway, leaving Luke and me alone once more. I clung to my beer bottle, my back against the cabinets across from the island. Needing space.
Luke didn’t seem to want to give it.
He stepped closer, slipping through the shadowy room with ease. Silent. Stealthy. So fucking sexy.
“Longer than six years, I assume?”
Oh God, back to that. Something in the way he said the words, the way he watched me so intently, gave me a courage I’d never felt before. Loosened my lips even more than the beer could have.
“Never,” I said, trying hard not to notice the way his jaw ticked. How his stare grew more intense. “No one’s ever—”
“Hey, Luke,” Aaron yelled from downstairs. “I think I’m going to need a hand, after all.”
Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He kept his eyes on mine as he leaned closer, running his thumb over my bottom lip and making me go weak in the knees. “Just so you know, I’m up for the challenge.”
I closed my eyes and fell back against the counter, not breathing until I heard his footsteps head down the stairs. Did he just…? No. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have. Luke wasn’t the type of guy to make a move like that. He’d never looked at me as more than a friend, or even worse, as Barry’s girl.
Yet my lips still tingled from where he’d touched me, and my panties were still wet from whatever had just happened between us. Something had changed, and I wasn’t sure if I should like it or be afraid.
Maybe a little of both.
With weak knees and a racing heart, I hurried up the stairs and slipped back into the room I was to share with Barry. I didn’t look at Luke’s door at all as I passed, too worried I’d head that way instead if I even glanced at it. Barry was asleep when I entered, which was at least a small blessing. I definitely didn’t want to have to explain where I’d been.
I grabbed a pillow and a blanket off the bed and curled up in the chair, staring at the wall that separated this from Luke’s room. Wondering when he’d come back upstairs. Wondering if he’d be thinking about me over there. If he’d end up as turned on by our kitchen encounter as I was. Would he…take care of things? Stroke himself while thinking of me? Would he groan loud enough for me to hear it, knowing I’d be listening?
Would I be able to resist him if he did?
After helping Aaron in the basement for more than an hour last night, I’d had some misguided fantasies of Hannah waiting for me in my bedroom. They’d varied, everything from her pacing the room while muttering to herself, totally lost in thought, to her reading a book in the side chair, to her gloriously naked and sprawled out in my bed. Sadly, the bed—and the room—had been empty, and since Aaron and I had been in the basement where the previously offered pullout couch sat, that only meant one thing.
She’d gone back into Barry’s room.
The thought had driven me crazy all fucking night, making me toss and turn as I’d wondered about the possibilities. Had she gotten in bed with him? Slipped right under the covers and pressed her body against his? Had I gotten her so worked up she’d decided to see if he could actually do his job and make his girl come?
And there’d been no mistaking it—Hannah had been aroused last night while we’d been in the kitchen together. Horny as hell if my radar was spot-on, and it usually was.
But had it been circumstance? Or me?
Rain still battered the windows, the guest room dark even though it was eight in the morning. The storm had continued all through the night and showed no signs of quitting, which meant I was stuck here, at least until the bridge cleared of water. Though stuck here certainly had a whole new meaning after the interaction last night with Hannah.
After a quick shower in the en suite bathroom, I put on my day-old jeans—commando because I wasn’t recycling my boxer briefs—and a T-shirt Aaron had let me borrow. Then I shot off another text to AJ, letting him know it looked like I wouldn’t be able to get there until tomorrow at the earliest. Once I’d taken care of that, I slipped my phone into my pocket and headed downstairs with equal parts apprehension and intrigue.
The door to Barry’s room was open, the space beyond empty, which meant they were both downstairs. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stomach seeing him with his hands on her. I’d suffered through seeing it for two years during high school, not to mention the ten years since then that I’d thought about it. It hadn’t been easy, but I’d done it because I’d assumed Hannah had been happy. Now that I knew she wasn’t? Now that I knew she thought Barry was an asshole and was only with him out of convenience? The gloves were coming off. Hannah deserved so much better than my jackass of a brother, and I wasn’t going to stop until she believed it.
The smell of coffee greeted me even before I rounded the corner into the large kitchen. My eyes immediately sought out Hannah, finding her leaning against the counter where the coffeemaker was. She looked hot as hell, even in a T-shirt and a modest-length skirt. Neither did anything to hide her subtle curves, and I longed to peel each piece off her body. Longed to finally see what I’d only fantasized about for so long. When I was done with my slow perusal of her body, I lifted my gaze to her eyes, finding her staring at me—cataloguing me much the same as I’d done to her. When our eyes met, she smiled—just a tiny curve of her lips, but it was enough. Part of me had worried I’d overstepped last night. Worried she’d be pissed at me, and that had been why she’d gone to Barry’s room. But her smile set me at ease.
It felt like we were the only two people in the room, but that wasn’t the case, much as I’d like it to be. Aaron stood a few feet away, brow creased as he scrolled through something on his phone, and Barry sat at the island, guzzling some orange juice.
He drained the glass before slamming it on the counter, not even sparing Hannah a glance as he demanded, “Banana, get me some more OJ.”
Hannah shook her head and finally tore her eyes from me to glance his way. “What?”
I cut in before he had a chance to repeat his order, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Get it yourself. She’s not here to wait on you.”
“Nah, she loves doing stuff for me,” he said, waving me off, then turned to Hannah. “Don’t you?”
Hannah narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth—hopefully, to tell the prick off—but Aaron’s sharp curse stole everyone’s attention.
“Shit!” Aaron hurried over to the French doors that opened to the deck. “One of the collapsible doors on the boathouse blew open. The furniture’s gonna get soaked!” He grabbed his shoes and started putting them on. “I should probably check to make sure the Jet Ski is secure, too. I need to run out—”
A loud beeping sounded from the open door to the basement at the other side of the kitchen. “Aaron! I need some help down here,” Jessica yelled.
“Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing outside, then toward the basement door, finally settling on Barry.
Barry held his hands up with a snort. “Don’t look at me. These are thousand-dollar loafers. There’s no way I
’m going out there.” He jerked his chin in Hannah’s direction. “Banana can go. She’s not wearing anything nice anyway.”
I narrowed my eyes at Barry, restraining myself from punching him square in the jaw. A quick glance at Hannah proved she’d heard his comment. She stared at the floor, picking at the hem of her T-shirt. Barry had no fucking idea what he had—Hannah could be wearing a goddamn potato sack and she’d look gorgeous.
“You’d seriously send her out there by herself?” I asked as calmly as I could considering I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands.
“What?” He shrugged. “She can handle it. She deals in blood and guts every fucking day. A little rain isn’t gonna hurt her.”
“It’s fine.” Hannah waved a hand and headed toward the French doors, her back straight. Determined. “I can go out there so the prince here doesn’t dirty his pretty shoes. God forbid his socks get wet.”
Without waiting for a response from anyone, she was out the door. With a mumbled curse, I grabbed my shoes, hurrying to put them on. I didn’t want Hannah to get far without me.
“Here, take a walkie,” Aaron said. “Call if you have problems. I’ll have the other one with me downstairs.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed it from him and headed to the French doors. Before I left, I looked at my brother. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
Barry laughed, tipping his freshly refilled glass of orange juice at me, sitting like a fucking king while the rest of us busted our asses. “So they tell me.”
I slammed the door behind me and hustled into the pelting rain, jogging down the steps to the dock leading to the boathouse. Hannah was at the Jet Ski by the time I got to her, securing one side that had broken free in the storm. She was soaked to the bone, her T-shirt plastered against her body, and I had to force myself to look away so we could get this done as quickly as possible. Less than two minutes, and it already looked like she’d taken a dip in the lake.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it were just some heavy rain, but the lightning was what concerned me. Just as the thought went through my mind, a sharp bolt flashed simultaneously with the rolling boom of thunder.
“Go in the boathouse,” I yelled to be heard over the rain. “I’ve got this.”
“It’s faster if both of us work on it.”
I tightened my jaw, irritated as hell that we were arguing about this when she was out here in the middle of a fucking lightning storm. “I don’t care if it’s faster. You’ll be safer inside.” I took the rope from her hands then jerked my chin in the direction of the boathouse. “Go. Please.”
She huffed, wiping rain from her face. “Fine, but I’ll be inside moving all the heavy furniture by myself, then.”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “Just go inside and wait for two minutes, all right? I’ll be there in a sec, and we can do it together.”
She narrowed her eyes, then mumbled something I couldn’t catch. But she turned her cute little ass around and did as I’d asked, marching straight into the boathouse.
I secured the Jet Ski as quickly as possible, then hurried inside, afraid I’d find Hannah attempting to heft a couch all by herself. Fortunately, she was just dragging an Adirondack chair away from the edge of the slip and out of the way of the rain. Still, it irritated me that she hadn’t waited for me.
“Dammit, Hannah, I said we could do it together.” Before she could get the other chair, I grabbed it and moved it farther inside, then closed and secured the collapsible doors, shutting out the pelting rain.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to move furniture by myself, Luke. I moved all of my stuff out of your brother’s apartment completely alone when I left him. I can handle some patio furniture.” She stood in front of one of the chairs, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed on me.
Because, of course, my shithead of a brother had never helped her, especially when she was moving out. If only she’d moved on, too, instead of yo-yoing back with him time and time again. “Maybe not, and I know you’re perfectly capable. That doesn’t mean you should have to.”
She froze, her mouth open as if to argue, but she snapped it shut and conceded my point with a short, “Fine.”
Great, ten minutes into the day and we were already curt with each other. Once we’d made sure the rest of the furniture had survived the open door, I glanced outside to assess the situation. The rain came down in sheets, so heavy we couldn’t even see the house. Lightning illuminated the sky nearly constantly, and thunder shook the floor of the boathouse. If it were just me out here, I’d chance going out to get back to the house. But with Hannah beside me? No fucking way.
“Looks like we’re stuck in here for a while,” I said. “I can’t even see the house from here.”
“Crap.”
“Anxious to get back to your boyfriend?”
“He hasn’t been my boyfriend in a long time, but no. Not really.”
“No? What about last night?”
“What about it?”
I shook my head, not sure if she was being purposefully obtuse or what. I’d been going crazy wondering about what had happened last night, and she acted like it was nothing. After opening a few doors, I found a laundry room tucked into the back and grabbed a couple beach towels from the cabinet in the corner.
“Here.” I handed her a towel, using the other on my hair. “We can toss our clothes in the dryer.”
“And sit around in what?”
I held up a towel, raising an eyebrow. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced around, clutching the towel to her chest. Tipping my head toward the laundry room, I said, “Go ahead and change in there.”
She headed to where I gestured, and I used the time to strip myself, peeling off my soaking wet T-shirt and jeans and trying not to think about the fact that there was only a door blocking me from a naked Hannah. Though, if I thought the towel would deter those fantasies, I was dead fucking wrong. She came out a couple minutes later, the beach towel so big it covered her from under her arms to mid-calf. Didn’t matter. All it would take was one flick of my finger before that piece of fabric pooled at her feet.
Shaking my head, I walked around her, carrying my jeans and T-shirt into the laundry room before tossing them in with hers.
I found her sitting primly on the couch, her shoulders curved in. “Are you cold? You want another towel?”
She glanced up at me, her eyes taking a path down my bare chest and stopping somewhere near the vicinity of my cock, barely hidden by the thin towel wrapped around my waist. Said cock twitched at her attention, the action no doubt noticeable. But who the fuck cared anyway? I’d made my desires known last night.
“Um, no thanks. I’m okay.”
I took the seat next to her, my body completely aware of the fact that a nearly naked Hannah was six inches away. And as much as I wanted to use that to my advantage and show her what she’d been missing these last however many years, I had to know about last night. “Did you sleep in his room?”
She snapped her head in my direction, her lips parted. “Is that what this is about? Why you followed me out here when I could have handled tying off the Jet Ski?”
“I followed you because I care about you, and I wasn’t about to let you wander out here by yourself. You lived on the island nearly your whole life—you know exactly how fast the storms can change.” I raised an eyebrow. “What would you have done if I’d stormed out by myself?”
She narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips. Then she blew out a deep sigh. “I’d have followed you.”
“Because you think I’m not capable of doing it on my own?”
“No, because you’re just reckless enough to get yourself killed on the water. And I…” She picked at the hem of the towel, ducking her head before looking back at me. “I wouldn’t want that to happen.”
I reached out and brushed a loose piece of hair back from her face. “Where’d you sleep last night, Hannah?”
“It shouldn’t matter.”
“It matters to m
e. I thought that’d be pretty obvious after last night.”
She shrugged. “I figured last night was the alcohol talking.”
With a laugh, I said, “Two beers don’t even get me buzzed. So, no, that was Sober Luke talking, and he meant every word.” But hell, maybe she’d been drunk? She hadn’t seemed it—tipsy, yes. But not so drunk that she hadn’t been aware of what was happening. Then again, what the hell did I know? I hadn’t seen Hannah drunk in a decade. “What about you?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I was tipsy but not out of control. I know what I said. Being sober doesn’t change any of it.”
“No? Then why didn’t I find you in my bed when I came upstairs?”
Lifting a shoulder, she dropped her gaze. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
Was this girl for real? I huffed out a laugh. “I’ve been serious about it for a long damn time, Hannah.”
“I didn’t know.” Licking her lips, she brought her eyes back to my face, glancing down to my lips before meeting my eyes. “I slept on the chair. I wasn’t in Barry’s bed.”
“Why not?”
“He’s not what I want.”
What I really wanted to ask was what, exactly, she wanted, but something told me even she didn’t know. Not yet. Instead, I shifted closer to her, allowing my thigh to brush along hers. When she pressed against it, maintaining contact, I took that as a good sign. Slipping an arm behind her on the couch, I turned toward her, lifting a piece of her ponytail and rubbing it between my fingers. “Did you mean it last night?”
She mimicked my position, turning toward me and lifting her knee up just enough to rest it on top of my thigh, parting her legs enough that the towel pulled taut. My cock twitched, thinking about what she hid beneath that towel, how easy it’d be to slide my fingers up the inside of her thighs… Hannah tipped her head ever-so-slightly toward my hand, bringing my eyes up to hers. The move elongated her neck, making me want to run my nose, followed by my tongue, along the delicate skin.
