When he’d kissed me. When he screamed my name.
When he watched me come.
When I fell asleep between his legs and woke up in his arms.
I add my photos to the album. When they load, I look over them. I stop on the one selfie Mack took of us on the bus. The one where he threw his arm around me, pulled me closer and grinned. It was taken right before… I trace my fingers over the photo, sighing because I also remember the morning after. I knew he’d regret it, but I was used to being a regret, wasn’t I?
Yes.
So why does this feel different? Why should Jordan Mackenzie be any different than any of the other guys—and girls—I’ve been with?
I relent as I set the alarm on my phone then plug it in.
What I need is sleep. It’s been a long few days, and the next two days are going to be the most draining.
Tomorrow is the rehearsal dinner at Luigi’s, then we’re all off to the Pine Ridge Resort in downtown Ashbourne to stay overnight.
This way, the entire wedding party is in one place, and it’s easier to get ready and transport us to the church.Plus. we all have a place to crash after the wedding when we’re drunk off our asses.
Nerves threaten to swallow me whole as I realize in two days, my little brother is going to be married.Before me.
That shouldn’t bite as much as it does. But fuck, does itbite.
I force myself off the bed, so I can get comfortable and out of my clothes. I remove my shirt first, flinging it across the room, directly into the hamper, followed by my jeans. Slivers of my body reflecting from the various fractured veins on my walls catch my attention.
Some who know me might say having shattered mirrors decked out all over my walls and a mirror on my ceiling is perverted, but being as the only person I’ve ever seen naked in this room is me, I would beg to differ.
I think it’s pretty, and it’s fitting.
Because I, too, am broken. I tear off my chain and drop it on the nightstand next to my phone.
I pull down my blue velvet comforter and crawl into bed. Sandwiched between plush fabric and satin, between the warmth starting to build and the chill of the sheets, I let the exhaustion take hold.
I sigh, curling into myself, trying to get warm, but the kind of cold I am isn’t the kind that can be fixed with a king-size bed and luxurious covers. The warmth I need can’t be bought.
My mind wanders to the one place it shouldn’t. To large arms wrapped around me, and the deep, comforting scent of alpine. To that perfect sliver of a moment before I opened my eyes, when there was nothing but silence and peace and warmth. Where I felt like everything was perfect.
I wake up at three am in a feverish sweat, needing to piss. Throwing off the comforters, I make my way to my bathroom to do my business. When I get back in bed, I can’t sleep.
I toss and turn, trying to get comfortable, but it’s no use. I huff out a sigh of annoyance, debating if I should get up, or put on a movie until I fall back asleep. I have to be up in four hours, and I know I’m going to need the damn rest. Especially if I’m going to seehimlater today.
I should not let my mind wander the way it does when I think about him. I look up at my ceiling, at the mirror above me, imagining him in its reflection instead of me. Imagining those perfectly corded back muscles rippling in its reflection, those solid glutes clenching as he drives into me, pushing me over the edge into space I crave so badly. The place where the world quiets and all I am is a bundle of nerves and bliss and—
I close my eyes, trying to quell the thought, the fantasy. I know that will never happen, but just the thought …
“Fuck,” I bite as I close my eyes, realizing my error.
My cock presses against my boxers. I’d fantasized about Mack for years, and now I know nothing will ever hold a candle to thememoryof what happened between us.
Now that I’ve had him, I only want more.
I try to ignore the heaviness and the small bead of wetness forming at the tip from the sudden onslaught of memory.
I shouldnotbe thinking about him like this. In the middle of the night, with my hand wrapped around my cock, but I can’t help myself.
I close my eyes, knowing this will put my ass to sleep. I build my rhythm slowly as I remember his hand around my neck, pulling me down until his lips met mine. A soft moan escapes my throat as the memory of his tongue stroking mine resurfaces through the haze of alcohol and desire.
I let my thoughts wander to the memory of him beneath me, staring up at me with those deep, dark eyes. Eyes full of lust, mischief, andrelief.
