“Jeeesus,” Teya laughs. “I’ve never seen my brother drunk before.”
I haven’t either, but I just smile, running my fingers gently along the side of his face. A soft moan escapes his lips and then,to my utter surprise, he opens his mouth and wraps his lips around my jean-clad dick. My cock instantly thickens against his soft lips.
“Elijah?” he mumbles around a mouthful of my cock.
“Mm-hmm…”
I hold my breath and wait for his question.
From the front seat, Teya adjusts the rearview mirror. “What happened? Is he okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” I manage, voice rough. “Yeah, he’s fine. I think he just fell asleep.”
And with his lips still hugging my dick, he begins to snore softly.
33
ELIJAH
For a forty-two-year-old man,I’m in decent shape. But after carrying a squirming Alex from the car, through the house, and into the bedroom, my back is screaming in protest—a harsh reminder that I’m no longer a spring chicken.
Teya kneels beside him, tending to the deep gash on her brother’s face. The love she holds for him is clear in the gentle way she handles his wounded skin. I can’t help but admire their bond.
“He’s all set,” she says, packing away the first-aid supplies. She leans in and seals her handiwork with a kiss to his cheek.
I look down at Alex, sleeping peacefully, wrapped in bandages. There’s no doubt he’ll be sore when he wakes, not to mention the epic hangover waiting for him.
“What were you thinking, baby?” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. My thumb traces the ugly red bruise on his cheek. He doesn’t stir.
On my way out, I close the door partway and follow the inviting scent of coffee down the hallway. In the kitchen, I findTeya brewing a pot. “Mm, smells delicious.” Exhausted, I flop into a chair at the table.
A lazy smile stretches across her face as she stands on her tiptoes to grab two mugs from the cabinet.
The kitchen is cozy and simply decorated. A solid oak table and four matching chairs are tucked into a nook. A large bay window frames a peaceful backyard, where a firepit rests beneath a towering maple. Tree trunks circle the firepit like stools, and a wooden swing hangs from an oak branch, adding to the camp-like charm.
Sighing, I stretch out my legs and gratefully accept a steaming mug of coffee. The tension begins to melt away. This rural setting is a welcome escape from the hustle and bustle of the city. A full moon casts just enough light to outline the ancient oaks lining the yard.
“You have a nice home. I’ve always liked Connecticut,” I say, thinking back to all the times Gabriel and I drove through this picturesque state, visiting friends along the Long Island Sound.
“Thank you. It actually belonged to our parents. Alex and I grew up here.”
“Is that so?” I pause with the mug at my lips. “I just figured Alex was from the city—he’s got that New York vibe.” I take a sip, letting the warmth spread through my chest. “If you don’t mind me asking… where are your parents now?”
She peers at me over the rim of her mug. “Dead.”
“Dios mío. I had no idea. Alex never said anything.”
She grimaces slightly, setting her mug down before sliding a napkin toward me. “Well, I’m not surprised. It’s never been easy for him to talk about.”
I raise a hand gently. “You don’t have to explain. Losing your parents is never easy.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” she exhales slowly. “But it changed him. In more ways than I think he realizes.”
She shifts in her chair, glancing toward the window before leaning back and closing it.
“He was only seven when it happened. I was twelve, just a month shy of thirteen. Mom and Dad were flying to Greece when their plane went down in the Aegean Sea.”
She pauses, her voice softening.
