Marcus jabbed a finger at him. “Just make sure your breakup doesn’t fuck up Charlotte’s plans or I swear my boot will be so far up your ass—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s an amicable parting.”We’re all reasonable adults. Right?
“Just be careful.” Nick turned to Marcus. “How are the wedding plans going?”
Avery tuned out the rest of the conversation, the doubt his brothers had manifested crowding his thoughts. It stayed with him even after they called it a night and the entire way home.
Instead of the charge of excitement he’d felt all day to see Jo, he entered the condo feeling guarded and unsure of their plan. It was dark. Quiet. Empty. And smelled like vanilla. Like Jo.
Deepening his strides, he headed for his bedroom. Light from the crack in the curtains outlined the curve of her shoulder, illuminating her face, clean of makeup yet just as beautiful. One hand under her cheek, she found peace in sleep, her features relaxed and free of stress.
Every rise and fall of her breast breathed life into his need for her. His dick had been hard off and on all day when he thought of her. It now strained against the back of his zipper.
He wanted to wake her, to kiss her breathless, to spread her legs and slide into her hot, velvety glove until he was balls-deep. Instead, he fingered the hair cast in shadow above her brow and lightly kissed her forehead.
Pivoting, he stalked out of the bedroom, stopped to grab a beer, and sank onto the couch. He took a deep draw from the longneck, dropped his head back against the cushions, and closed his eyes.
What if they were right and she was catching feelings for him? What if, instead of helping her, he was setting her up for a bigger fall? That was the last thing he’d intended.
Maybe he should end things now. Tonight.
He sensed her before he heard the soft padding of her feet on the carpet. Her silhouette paused at the edge of the living room, and a sharp and resolute “fuck no” slammed into him. He couldn’t do it. He wanted more of her.
“Avery?” Her voice was tentative, questioning. He knew what she was asking. Why hadn’t he woken her up? Why was he sitting in the dark? Why wasn’t he giving her everything he’d insinuated he would?
Lifting the beer to his lips, he forestalled answering, forcing her to come closer.
Sleepy blue eyes stared down at him as she stopped in front of him, framed by the light and his wide-spread thighs.
“Sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t.” She edged closer, hesitation emanating from her. Her knees bumped the couch. “What’s wrong?”
He should tell her, let her confirm or deny his brothers’ concerns. “Long day.”
“You wanna talk about a long day?” She folded her arms across her chest, pushing her tits higher. The T-shirt she wore—hisT-shirt—flattened her nipples, and his mouth watered. He ached to lean forward and claim them through the thinning cotton. “I’ve been poked, prodded, pinned, and forced to “suck it in” so many times I feel like a shop vac sucking up a desert full of Spikes.”
She pointed to the phallic cactus on the island, and all he could think about was her sucking his dick. “So you had a good time?”
“Yes, I did actually. Thank you.” Her fingers fidgeted at the hem of his T-shirt. Despite her complaints, she was nervous. “Honestly, though, all I could think about was you.”
The bottle froze against his lips. What was she saying?
“You told me to think about everything you were going to do to me when you got home. Well, I did as you asked and got all worked up, and you couldn’t bother to wake me up?” She pulled the T-shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. Her tits, full and perky, jiggled as she replanted her hands on her hips…just above her yellow panties. “Come on, fuckboy. Where’s the follow through?”
Relief settled into his bones, and a smile teased his lips. His brothers, as well intentioned as they were, were full of shit. She wasn’t in love with him. But then, they didn’t know his Jo, the one who called him fuckboy. Or Legs, who busted his balls and demanded more orgasms.
“Right here, baby.” Avery downed the rest of his beer and stretched to set the bottle on the end table beside him. When he straightened, he flattened his hands on his thighs. She wanted to play, he’d play. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“I believe those are mine.” His gaze trailed over the damp shadow tracing the lips of her pussy. He rolled a wrist and crooked a finger. “Gimme.”
She snorted. “I’m not gonnagimmeyou nothing. If you want them, you’ll have to steal them, same as you did before.”
“Is that so?” He sat forward, hooking his hands behind her knees. Sliding them up the back of her thighs to her ass, he filled his palms with soft flesh and drew her toward his open mouth. He grazed his teeth over her mound and relished the tremor that shook her.
She sighed, and her fingers sifted through his hair as he darted his tongue along the silken crease. The salty-sweet flavorof her cream burst along his taste buds. Cream she’d left for him. Because she’d been thinking about this—about him.
