Page 59

It’s so damn unfair.

Now, I’m watching Yale cook, and I wish being a naked chef was a fucking requirement.

“He should be home by now, right?” I ask, eager to think about anything other than Yale wearing nothing but a “Kiss the Chief” apron.

He checks his watch. “Not if there’s a delay picking up the car. He’ll be fine, Q, don’t worry.”

“Wow, I’m cured!”

He gives me a pointed look. “Sarcasm isn’t sexy.”

No, but you are.

For fuck’s sake.

The sound of the front door closing echoes, followed by footsteps, and Yale looks up. I wave my hand dismissively. “That’s Xavier.”

“How can you tell?”

I shrug. “I know his footsteps.”

“Hello, brother,” Xavier announces as he strides into the room. He lingers by me as he passes and whispers, “Lover.” I throw my elbow out but miss him. “Zayden not back yet?”

Yale shakes his head, but he’s still watching me. “Silence says she knows our footsteps.”

“Bullshit.”

I sit up straight. “I do. I can always tell who’s who.”

Ten years means it’s hard not to see, hear, or even feel the distinct differences between them. If I had to explain those differences, I’d probably struggle, but they’re enough that I know who’s about to walk through a door before they do.

“I still call bullshit,” Xavier says as he takes the last bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet, along with a glass.

“Hey!” I snap. “Don’t drink that. It’s mine.”

He unscrews the top, his expression one of mock innocence. “What’s yours?”

“The whiskey,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m serious, Xavier. That’s the last bottle.” He swirls the remaining liquid and pours it into the glass, admiring it against the light. “Don’t fucking do it. I will fight you.”

“Do what?” he asks, brows raised as he approaches me. “This?”

He tips the drink against his lips and, in one mouthful, empties the glass. Frustration bubbles up, and I’m about to cuss him out, but he grips my chin, pressing his thumb to my bottom lip. The moment I realize what he’s doing, my toes clench, my body tenses, and heat gathers between my legs. My resolve over the last day crumbles totally, and I’m suddenly greedy for whatever he’ll give me.

I part my lips.

He angles my head up, leans down—and trickles the whiskey from his mouth to mine.

I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body as he stands between my knees. The alcohol leaves a trail of heat down my throat, and once there’s none left, I open my eyes.

Just when I think I can’t get any wetter, Xavier leans down and runs the tip of his tongue across my bottom lip. I’m a speechless mess, and he whispers, “You missed a drop.” I swallow, and he runs his knuckles down my throat, following the warmth of the whiskey. “See the rewards you get when you’re good, little Q?” I’m floating, delirious, too aroused to do anything other than nod. “You were so patient, weren’t you?” I nod again, and he leans closer, our lips almost brushing, the smell of whiskey strong between us. “Do you want a real reward?”

I glance at Yale, who watches the interaction with a small smirk, but before I can respond, the front door opens again.

Xavier remains between my knees but releases my jaw. Zayden enters, looking tired and grumpy, but my heart feels instantly lighter now he’s home. “Salesmen are why stealing cars is easier.” He places his bag by the door and comes to me, dropping a kiss to my lips. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by his brother’s closeness. Instead, he licks my bottom lip, too. “Whiskey.”

I smile, my chest warm. “The last of it. Xavier was greedy.”

“I shared,” he says, grinning wickedly at me. “How did it go? What was the big emergency?”