Shouldn’t Want You: A Brother’s Best Friend Romance

by Monroe, Lilian

  Too bad he died before he could teach me.

  Leaning against the car, I close my eyes.

  I won’t think of that.

  Instead, I pull out my phone. My fingers find Benji’s phone number, but I can’t bring myself to press ‘call.’ The mechanic’s voice grates on me, and I don’t want to hear the gloating that’s surely coming my way. Instead, I shoot him a quick text asking for help.

  If he sees it, great.

  If not, even better, although I’ll have to find my own way out of this mess.

  I blame Sacha. If he wasn’t in town, I wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I’d be able to deal with things like a broken down car and memories of my parents without feeling like I needed to be committed to the psych ward.

  Sacha’s the one who’s knocked me off-balance. He’s the one who made me remember what it’s like to feel—but feeling too much is dangerous. Letting myself feel things that have been dormant for the better part of a decade is playing with fire.

  I’m going to get burned.

  A car comes to a stop behind mine, and a mix of dread and excitement curls in the pit of my stomach. It’s a rental car. I’ve seen it twice before, parked in the driveway of my childhood home.

  Sacha emerges from it and my breath stays stuck somewhere between my lungs and my throat. A weight sits on my chest as I watch him lift his eyes toward me.

  Tousled hair, stormy eyes, broad chest. It should be illegal for someone to look that good in a plain white T-shirt. His black eye should be ugly, with the edges already turning greenish and yellow, but it’s impossible for him to look anything but perfect. His gaze darkens when it sweeps up and down my body, sending heat flowing to the pit of my stomach and butterflies exploding across my abdomen.

  With every step he takes toward me, my thoughts war with each other.

  I should tell him to go away, but I want to beg him to never leave.

  I should tell him to leave me alone, but my body is screaming for just the opposite.

  His full bottom lip drops open as his tongue slides out to lick it. My eyes follow the slow movement as my body turns to one, torturous ache.

  “Hey,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Hi.”

  “Car trouble?”

  “Sharp as ever, Black.” I try to hide the trembling in my voice as heat spatters across my cheeks. I look away from him, trying to shield myself from the power of his gaze.

  “Sarcastic as always, Frogface.”

  I steal a glance at him long enough to see his eyes drop to my lips. I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking: that I want nothing more than to taste his kiss once again. The memory of his lips has been branded in my memory since I was seventeen years old.

  One kiss. One memory. One man.

  A lifetime of heartache.

  I didn’t realize that by kissing him, right there on the old sofa in my parents’ living room, I’d be giving myself a life sentence. From that moment on, I was locked in a prison called Sacha Black.

  Reading my mind, Sacha takes a step toward me. His hand sweeps over the stubble on his jaw as my chin tilts up toward him. My voice stops working.

  “You’re not very good at asking for help, are you?” The gravelly timbre of his voice shakes something loose in my chest.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, faint and almost unnoticeable.

  But I notice.

  I always notice.

  A smile from Sacha Black is dangerous. It threatens to knock me clean off my feet.

  Sacha nods to the car, arching an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” He glances up and down the empty freeway, swinging his eyes back to me. “Looks like I might be your best hope.”

  “Lucky me.” I try to drench my voice in sarcasm, but a hint of the truth peeks through. I am lucky he’s here.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, Frogface.”

  “Don’t pretend you know me.”

  “Don’t pretend I don’t.” He erases the distance between us, sweeping his hand over my hip. His fingers sink into me, pulling me closer. My heart bangs against my ribs, asking to be let out of its cage. We’re magnetized. I couldn’t resist him if I tried.

  Not that I’m trying.

  My fingers crawl up his chest, feeling the hard muscle under his thin T-shirt. Hard planes of his body that are begging to be explored with a drift of my fingers, a flick of my tongue. My heart thunders at the thought, drowning out the noise of the hissing engine and the soft breeze whipping through the landscape.

  All that exists is him. Always him.

  Sacha’s hand slides to my lower back while his other hand cups my cheek. A hurricane swirls in his eyes as his thumb sweeps across my skin, sending liquid fire pouring down my body.

  I want his lips like nothing ever before. I want to taste the pain on his tongue and steal the hurt from his eyes. Even after everything that happened between us. Even after he walked away. Even though I know he won’t be here for long, I still want him.

  His touch is like a lifeline, a single strand of hope sent into my lifeless heart to get it to start beating again. His kiss?

  Well, that would be the AED that gets it started again.

  The dead organ in my chest stirs, wanting to come alive under his touch. Sacha’s tongue sweeps across his lower lip as his eyes drop to my mouth. Embers swirl in my veins as heat grows in the pit of my stomach. I clench my thighs together as a needy ache grows between them.

  Then, over the roar of my own heartbeat, I hear the faint sound of a car in the distance.

  My phone dings, and Sacha stiffens.

  The moment is over.

  10

  Sacha

  If I could have a superpower, it would be super-strength, so I could grab that oncoming car and fling it into the sun.

  The moment Willow pulls away from me, my chest squeezes painfully and the hope in my heart fades.

  No matter how close I get, I’ll never have her.

  I shouldn’t have her.

  She isn’t mine. Never was, never will be.

  Roughing a hand through my hair, I watch as Willow pulls her phone out of her pocket and lifts her eyes to the vehicle on the road.

  A flash crosses her eyes as she arches an eyebrow. Almost unconsciously, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a hard candy. I say a silent thank you that I won’t have to watch her sucking on a lollipop again.

  Willow smacks her lips as she pops the candy in her mouth. “Looks like I might not need your help after all.”

  I watch the vehicle—a tow truck—slow down and come to a stop in front of us. Willow throws me an undecipherable glance, taking a step away from me.

  I feel that distance in my gut, and my hackles rise as a man exits the tow truck.

  Long, shaggy, blond hair and a broad smile. Blue eyes that probably make women melt. A fucking arrogant attitude I can smell from all the way over here.

  I hate him already.

  “Hey, Willow,” the man says, offering her his best smile. They’re on first name basis, apparently. How well does this asshole know her?

  “Hi, Benji,” she answers. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Sorry it took so long. I was on my way home when I got your text. Had to go back to the shop to get the truck.”

  Hold on a fucking minute. She texted this piece of shit? This is the guy she immediately thought of when she needed help?

  Steam whistles out of my ears.

  Who is this dipshit? Anyone can own a fucking tow truck, but can he make her eyes darken and her pulse thud like I can? Can he make her wet with one glance? Because I would bet that her panties are drenched right now, and it’s not because of his fucking truck.

  The mechanic glances at me, and then at my rental car, and back at Willow. “Who’s that hero?” He jabs his thumb toward me.

  Heat sears across my chest. Who does this guy think he is?

  Willow tak
es another step away from me to let Benji access her car. “He’s my brother’s friend,” she explains. “Here for Max’s bachelor party.”

  “You upset the wrong guy last night?” Benji grins, nodding to my black eye.

  “Something like that,” I growl.

  “Let me guess, he looks worse?” He lets out a braying laugh, glancing at Willow to see if she appreciates his humor.

  A small sliver of satisfaction passes through my chest when I see she’s as unamused as I am. She flattens her mouth and nods to the car.

  “You know what’s wrong with it?”

  Benji leans over the hood, pulling a rag out of his back pocket. I glance at Willow, but her eyes stay glued on the engine. Benji pokes around her car. Does this guy even know what he’s doing?

  I hate that he’s familiar with her. I hate that he knew her name, and that he was the one she called.

  I hate the way he looked at her, like a wolf about to feast on a lamb.

  She’s not a lamb. Of course not. She’s the toughest chick I’ve ever met in my life.

  Still, a protective instinct fires up inside me when I see the man glance over his shoulder at her. Even from where I stand, I can see his eyes on her chest.

  I want to rip his eyeballs right out of their sockets and stuff them down his throat. I want to smash his head into the engine until his face looks worse than mine. I want to make him promise he’ll never look at Willow again.

  Instead, I just stand there, vibrating with rage.

  Willow doesn’t seem to notice. She doesn’t even look at me. Her fingers trace her bottom lip as she stares off into nothing.

  Benji straightens himself up, wiping his hands on his rag.

  “Looks like your car’s overheating. I might have to replace the radiator. The steam you saw might’ve been smoke, which would be bad, but I can’t be sure until I have a good look at it. I can tow your car back to the garage and check it out, if you want? Free of charge except for parts.” He flashes her a roguish smile, and my hatred for him intensifies.

  How does she not see through this bullshit? How can she not tell that all he wants is to spread her legs? Whatever he does to her car won’t be free, even if he doesn’t want money for it.

  Willow gives him a tights smile. “You’re saving my hide, Benji. Of course I’ll pay you.”

  The man glances at me, puffing his chest out slightly.

  Pathetic.

  He nods to the truck. “You want a lift back into town?”

  “I can drive you,” I interject, a little more forcefully than I intended. Willow’s eyes finally meet mine again, but they’re unreadable. She glances from me to Benji, worrying at her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Benji sizes me up, staring at me through slitted eyes.

  Willow lets out a sigh, shaking her head. “Thank you, Benji, but I have a few things to drop off at my brother’s house. I might as well ride with Sacha.”

  “Suit yourself.” His shoulders slump, and I try not to grin. Sweet satisfaction tugs my lips upward, though, knowing she chose me.

  Sure, she did it because it was the convenient option, but still—she chose me.

  I help Willow load some things into the back of my car—a few decorations, a laptop, and a couple of folders full of paperwork.

  I pick up an ornate bowl full of flowers and assorted decorative items, with the word ‘love’ carved out in glittery writing.

  “I want to show Isabelle, so she can see a few options for her own wedding,” Willow explains. “She’s still deciding on centerpieces.”

  “Ah,” I answer, putting the bowl next to the paperwork. “Very Pinterest-worthy.”

  Willow snorts, grinning. “Welcome to my life.”

  Benji works at the front of Willow’s car, hitching it to his tow truck. I watch as Willow walks up to talk to him, wanting to do nothing more than stand by her side and show that piece of shit that she’s mine.

  But she’s not mine.

  Instead, I just stand by my rental car—another reminder that I won’t be here for long—and I watch her talk to him. When she puts her hand on his arm, I almost throw up. When he wraps his dirty arms around her slim waist, I want to scream.

  I’m not used to this feeling. I have no right to feel this way. Willow and I aren’t together, and even if we were, I shouldn’t be a possessive asshole. I don’t know what it is about this girl that makes the primal part of me rear its ugly head.

  Breathing a sigh of relief when she disengages from Benji’s embrace, I wait by the passenger’s side door to open it for her.

  Willow’s hips sway as she walks toward me. She tilts her head, grinning at me. “Cheer up, sunshine.”

  “What?”

  “Your face.” She laughs. “You look like you could murder someone.”

  “Maybe I could.”

  “Wow, you’re such a manly man. How attractive.” She rolls her eyes. “My poor panties are destroyed.”

  Fuck. I know she’s being sarcastic, but the mere mention of her underwear is enough to make my cock stand to attention.

  The tow truck drives off as Willow stands on the other side of the passenger’s side door, lifting her chin up to look at me.

  “What was that little alpha display about?”

  “What alpha display?”

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “As soon as Benji got out of his truck, you acted like you wanted to rip his head off.”

  “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

  “It’s the exact same way you’re looking at me, Sacha,” she snaps, arching an eyebrow. “Should I rip your head off, too?”

  “Only if you promise to do it with your thighs.”

  I didn’t mean to say that, I swear. It just slipped out. I can only handle so much time in the presence of the woman of my dreams, thinking of all the filthy things I want to do to her without one of them slipping out.

  Willow stares at me, slack-jawed. She scoffs, shaking her head.

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “So, what, do you want to be with me now? That’s quite a departure to last time you were in town. If I remember correctly, you left without saying goodbye.”

  “That was ten years ago.”

  “And you think that I just waited around all these years for you to come back?” Her voice is hard, but Willow’s eyes are clear. Tears pool inside them and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.

  I’ve hurt her. I’ve done nothing but hurt her over and over again, but if I tell her the truth, it’ll rip old wounds apart again. She doesn’t deserve that.

  I have no right to kiss her, or touch her, or stop her from talking to other guys. I have no right to her at all.

  So, why is it so hard to walk away?

  Willow slips into the car and closes the door, and I have no choice but to walk around to the driver’s side and get in. She stares out the window without turning to look at me and I let out a sigh, pulling onto the freeway.

  We drive in silence for a few minutes, and I let my eyes drift over to her legs. Today, they’re covered in black dress pants, but that doesn’t stop my mind from wandering. Her dark blouse clings to her breasts, and I wonder what it would feel like to bury my face between them.

  I preferred the rainbow girl of my youth, but this goth version of Willow has undeniable appeal. To be fair, she could wear a paper bag and I’d still be salivating. Willow’s attractiveness isn’t born of the clothes she wears. It’s so much more than that. It’s who she is.

  Clutching the steering wheel tighter, I turn my eyes back to the road.

  The silence stretches onward.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I was a coward when I was young, and I didn’t expect you to wait for me. I thought you’d be married by now with a couple of kids.”

  That makes Willow laugh. “No, I don’t thi
nk that’s in the cards for me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She doesn’t answer. I slow the car down, not wanting this drive to end. She’s so close to me, and even though I know she hates me, it’s still better than being apart.

  “It hurt me when you left without saying goodbye,” Willow says quietly, still staring out the window. “The day before, you’d been my first kiss and you told me you cared about me.”

  “I did. I do.”

  “So why leave? You abandoned me when I needed you most. Your father ostracized my parents after they stopped working for him. We suffered, Sacha. Then, they died. The worst years of my life began right after you left. We needed you, Sacha. I needed you.”

  Heat jabs at my chest as memories try their best to escape the box where I locked them away, all those years ago. There are things I haven’t told Willow. Things I haven’t told anyone. Being in Woodvale is a little too close to those memories for comfort.

  I suck a breath in through my teeth and try to find the right words, but nothing comes to mind. The silence between us grows longer, and Willow leans away from me.

  “I had to,” I finally say, not explaining anything and not expecting her to understand.

  11

  Willow

  The entire car ride back into town, my mind is at war between hating the way Sacha hurt me and loving the way he makes my body feel.

  Mostly loving the way he makes me feel, though.

  I can’t help it. Sparks of fire speckle my skin whenever he’s around. He’s everything I’ve wanted and he’s completely out of reach.

  After dropping off the centerpiece ideas for Isabelle to look at, I practically run from the house to make my way back home. As soon as I leave my brother’s house, I breathe a sigh of relief. A walk will do me good.

  By the time I’m halfway down the block, I’m able to take my first full breath of the evening. It’ll be a twenty-minute walk back to my own house, but at least it’ll give me time to cool down. The heat sparking between my thighs is still distracting me from thinking straight.

  I don’t get a chance to cool down, though, because a familiar rental car pulls up beside me.