“And I guess Jackson never talked about it again.” Typical Jackson.
“Yep. Not a word.”
“Okay, your turn, what scares you?” He suddenly looks a little flummoxed, but his answer comes rather quickly.
“To lose someone I love.” A shaky breath escapes me, and for a single moment, and totally without consulting my brain, my hands cup his face.
He lets out a husky, “Mel.” His mouth is so close that his lips lightly brush over mine, barely touching. And, mind lost, body still in charge, my fingers glide into his hair, and with a hungry little sound, I pull his mouth down to mine.
The kiss goes from soft to feral in less than two seconds, egged on by years of sexual tension and a fire burning low in my gut, and some other biological and probably chemical reactions I can’t even begin to understand.
But I swear there’s nothing – flat-out nothing – better than his mouth on mine.
He slowly pulls back with a groan and strokes his thumbs over my jaw. A moan escapes from the back of my throat – I try to pull it back – but it’s too late. He heard. And smiles.
“Mel, we need to -”
“Damion!” My brother’s voice echoes through the air, making both of us jolt up and I fall off the sofa. “Hey, GRIMM!”
“Fuck!” Damion scolds, “I must take back my freaking keys,” he grumbles irritatedly.
“Stay here and out of sight, I’ll handle him.”
He gets up and walks to the house and I pull the blanket tight while I peep over the back of the coach. Jitters fight with my curiosity.
Jitters lose.
Slowly I get out and creep up to the window where I can hear Enrique’s voice coming from the kitchen. My knuckles turn white from clinging to the blanket tight.
“Try Jackson or Axel,” Damion winches. He’s sitting cross-legged on a chair looking highly uncomfortable.
“I did,” Enrique grumps, “Axel is tired and Jackson is in an anti-sex mood, has been ever since he returned from his previous New York trip. If I didn’t know any better I would swear he fell in love or something. He’s even worse than Ilkay -” My brother walks up and down the kitchen.
“Who I understand fell for the bimbo that did a Houdini on him – but he’s never been a big player to begin with. Jackson is the quintessential man-whore.” True. Very true. It is strange for Jackson not to exploit an opportunity. And yes, Ilkay fell on his face for some girl he met a little while ago. They spent a week together and then she disappeared without a trace … the only thing he has is her name – Amy.
“What about Logan?” Enrique stops dead and glares at Damion as if he just said something utterly disgusting.
“He’s on a fucking date tonight.” He shakes his head as if it’s hard to believe. Which it’s not. Logan and Ilkay are the only ones in the group that do a little bit of casual dating between whoring.
“What the fuck is wrong with you guys these days?” Enrique seems on edge. “It’s as if all of you turned into queer priests all of a sudden.” Damion looks something between horny and agitated.
“Dude, I don’t know what’s up with the others, but I just don’t want to fuck around anymore.”
“So what … decided you’re batting for the other side … or are you gonna become a celibate monk now?” Enrique seems truly spooked by his statement. Hell, I’m spooked by his statement. Or I would be spooked if my brain was working … which it’s not … because my brain and body are still recovering from that kiss.
Damion doesn’t move, doing his best to perpetuate that lazy guy image they all have perfected.
“You know your dick will fall off if you never use it!” Enrique pauses and I move to get a better view.
“I’m not gay, nor am I giving up sex, bro,” Damion cocks his head to look straight at where I’m hiding. “I’m just breaking a few rules.”
“Your rules? Are you fucking cat dragged?” Cat dragged? What does that even mean? I seriously need to top up my sexual education, that’s for sure.
“What if I am?” He slides my brother a look.
Enrique peers at the counter, squinting his eyes, and then he gets an oh-shit expression on his face. I notice the two cups, waiting to be filled with coffee. Flip! My heart drops to my knees. If my brothers find out I kissed their friend … all hell will break loose. And yes, let’s face it … I kissed him first. I feel like smashing my head against the wall, and would gladly do that if it would give me some common sense. I sure as hell seem to need some of that.
“Who is the extra cup for?” Enrique asks walking around the table as if to find a name popping out of the beaker.
Damion is also looking at the betraying cups, his face unreadable.
“Your sister.” His civil answer pulls the plug on my heart. Flatline. Complete and utter standstill.
Enrique’s face loses all of its previous comicality and instantly turns sour.
“Not funny, bro,” he puffs.
Damion smirks and holds up his hands.
“The cups were for my mom and your sister, but they left before drinking anything.” Enrique scrutinizes him with blistering eyes. But Damion smirks unaffected.
“You’re an asshole.” The flip-flopping palpitations in my chest agree.
“Now get the fuck out, I’m tired.” I sigh deeply and lift my arm to put it on my heaving chest. And my elbow hits a potted cactus.
SHATTER.
The little succulent hits the floor. A dead giveaway.
Fuckity fuck fuck.
Enrique laughs his evil laugh and aims straight at the sliding doors.
He’s going to find me here … in Damion’s shirt, with popped nipples and damp underwear. There’s no explaining that away.
Panicking, I run around the corner of the house. I push my back tight against the wall, holding my breath. The coldness of the concrete sweeps through the blanket and the thin T-shirt material, but I’m not even feeling it.
All I’m aware of is Enrique’s footsteps leading up to the corner, stopping inches from where I’m trying desperately to be unseen. I’m sure he’s going to hear the thunder of my now eagerly beating heart. Yeah, the organ is absolutely inconsistent. Poor thing doesn’t know what it’s doing.