He stiffens. I don’t let that deter me. I follow the path, applying light pressure, and some of the tension falls away. His muscles flex and Desmond takes a deep breath, no longer talking. I can sense his wolf, and it's almost like the beast sighs at my touch. My own animal is curious about the effect we’re having on it.
When I reach the dip at the base of his spine I lean forward, resting my head against him. A tremor rolls through his body. His muscles twist beneath my palm and I can sense more than see that he’s peering over his shoulder at me, but I refuse to look up, holding my breath as I wait to see his reaction. I should move away. Stop touching him.Why am I touching him?
That thought gets me out of my head and I jerk back, but he’s there. He turns, grabs my still raised hand, and pulls me to him. Not in an embrace or anything like that. Desmond doesn’t do public affection. Not that he’s ever been affectionate with me. No. We fight. I guess we also sometimes angry kiss and dry hump, but whether that was a one off or will be a repeat event is yet to be decided.
So no, no embrace. But I’m right beside him. The heat from his bare skin seeps into me.
“What are you doing?” he asks. I meet his dark-brown stare. He doesn’t look mad, at least not right at this moment. He looks … confused.
“Are you done?”
His brows pull together. “Am I done with what?”
“Being an asshole.”
I open my mouth to add that he needs to stop laying into Deacon over nothing, but catch myself. He’s calming down. I’d be stupid to say something I know will just piss him off again.
“You wanted me out of the pool. I’m out. Okay? Can we just … I don’t know, go inside? Cool down for a bit?”
He works his jaw, but nods and relief sweeps through me. Good. “Come on, then.” I wait to see if he’s going to follow before heading for the door when I catch sight of my brother right as he’s turning.
He sees me. Smiles. Waves. But then he sees what I’m wearing. A wrinkle forms between his brows.
“What are you—” He eyes the shirt I’m wearing and then spots a shirtless Desmond behind me. “Why are you wearing his shirt?” There’s genuine confusion in his voice and my heart starts to race because shit, um … I go with the first thing that pops in my head.
“Because Desmond is an asshole.” Yep. True and relevant. Score one for me.
“Huh?” Why does he sound confused? It's not like this is a new revelation.
I decide to elaborate. “He’s a dick and made me put this on because my swimsuit isindecent.” I make air quotes and glare at Desmond for exaggerated effect. “Did you tell him to cock block me?” I add, turning my glare on my brother. “Because that shit is not cool, Zheng. I know you guys are roommates and all, but I don’t need babysitters at my own house.”
His eyes widen and he gets this look on his face that screamsabort. Abort.
I love my brother, but he’s never really been one for confrontation. Not with me, at least. I happen to have a bit of a mean streak and a solid record for always getting revenge. What I just said basically implies I’ll cock block him the rest of the year if he tries to cock block me. I should feel bad. The panic written all over his face is just too good.
“I wouldn’t do that. I—” he sputters, and I fold my arm over my chest, lifting a single brow.
“Bullshit. You absolutely would.”
He huffs and then seems to rally himself, which surprises me.
“Was it?”
“Was it what?”
“Indecent. Was the swimsuit indecent?” No. Maybe. Okay, yeah, I mean, have you seen it? It is a lot. But I wasn’t going to admit that to my brother.
“It’s a swimsuit.” I argue. “Top. Bottom. The usual.”
“Meiying—” He’s glaring. At me. What the hell?
“What is going on right now. This is not how this,” I wave at the space between us, “works. Desmond is an asshole. I yell at you and you apologize for him being an asshole. That's how this works.”
He just stares for a beat and says, “Fine, let’s see it. If he’s wrong, I’ll apologize for him being an asshole.”
My eyes widen. “What? No!”
He gives me anare-you-serious expression.“It’s a swimsuit. I’ve seen you in a swimsuit.”
