I can feel Knox’s hands gripping my waist tightly, eyes fixed on mine in the mirror as he rams into me from behind. “Let go for me, Kitten,” he says. And I do. My whole body trembles like a violin string being pulled taut. His breath is hot on my neck, and my moans echo in the restroom. There’s a knock at the door. A voice. It's Finn yelling my name, telling me not to do this. ‘I don't want you screwing my brother, Sloane.’ But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I— My eyes snap open. My head is pounding. My mouth tastes like regret and bourbon. And the sounds from that terrible dream are reverberating inside my skull. I groan and throw an arm over my eyes. God, I hate alcohol. I’m also starving. I glance at the nightstand clock. It's almost eleven. How did I sleep this long? I could have sworn I was just a little bit tipsy last night. Of all the things my brain could’ve rehashed from last night—the fight, Finn's anger, my shame—it chose the part where I had sex with Knox. I
Victoria rolls her eyes and strolls over to her husband. She kisses him lightly on the cheek. “Of course they can, silly.” “I don’t think so,” he says. “If anyone walks into this house and says he’s your best friend, I’ll kill him.” Victoria throws her head back and laughs. “You’re such a Neanderthal, Julian. People don’t think with their genitals all the time. Sloane and Finn are emotionally supportive friends. It’s natural. Besides, I’m a little too old to be having new friends, so don’t trouble yourself about killing anyone for my sake.” I want to disappear. They're talking about me and Finn, dissecting our entire relationship dynamic, as though we're not right here. Finn glances at me, smiling like this is totally normal. The plus side is that Julian has lost his brooding expression. He's now grinning at his wife. Watching them together—how Julian softens, how Victoria looks at him as though they haven't been together for decades already—it stirs something foreign in me. So
My heart skips several beats at once. And not in the cutesy, butterflies-in-the-stomach way. No, this is the kind of beat-skipping that punches you square in the chest and makes your lungs forget how to breathe. Every memory from last night comes flooding back like a filthy little slideshow behind my eyelids. My thighs clench on instinct. My mouth is dry. My pulse is chaos. “You know Sloane?” Victoria asks, reminding me that there are, in fact, other people in the room. Knox doesn’t look away. “I do.” “From New York?” He moves away from his mother and drops into the nearest couch with that lazy grace he always carries. At least his eyes are no longer on me, and I can finally exhale. “Actually,” he replies, “we met for the first time yesterday.” I swear I hear Finn inhaling deeply and holding that breath. Although I can't get a good look at his face from this angle, the stillness of his posture confirms it. Victoria turns to look at me. I try my best to seem innocent, hoping sh
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I hate that my heart is pounding so loudly I’m afraid everyone in the house can hear it. “It’s so…” “Beautiful?” he finishes, with that cocky little tilt of his head. Yes. But that wasn’t the word I was going for. Exquisite. Breathtaking. Impossibly intimate in front of his entire family. That’s what it is. But I nod. He steps behind me, and the world tilts a little. Maybe from the anticipation. Or maybe because I’ve stopped breathing again. He doesn’t touch me right away. He leans in, close enough for me to feel the heat rolling off his chest. His scent curls around me like smoke. He brushes my hair to the side with slow, intentional fingers, his knuckles grazing the back of my neck. My skin erupts in goosebumps. “Relax,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. As if that’s even an option. I feel him reach around me, the chain of the necklace grazing my collarbone. His knuckles brush my jaw on the way up, unintentional maybe, but i
I’m finding it difficult to believe he’d actually invade my privacy in such a manner. A part of me just wants to wait to see if he’d go through with it so I can bring down the sky on his head. But I know better. In his current state, all bets are off. I run, overtake him, and plant myself in front of the drawer just as he reaches it. “Did you not hear me say stop, Finn?” He glares at me. "Move aside, Sloane." "Are you being serious right now?" "Since you can’t think with anything other than your lady bits when it comes to my brother," he says, stepping closer, "I’m going to do the thinking for you. Whatever’s in that drawer is getting burned." My fists clench at my sides. The anger rises, quick and hot, like fire licking the inside of my ribs. "You will do no such thing." "Like hell I won’t. Move out of my way." I step into him. We’re toe-to-toe now. I’m looking up because he’s taller, but I refuse to shrink. "I said, you won’t touch or see whatever’s in that drawer." He s
I feel like I didn’t hear that correctly. Finn looks triumphant. Convinced. Like he’s cracked some sort of ancient brotherhood spy code to break Delilah’s icy, manipulative heart. “You want to kiss me at the rehearsal dinner?” I ask. “Yes, I do. You have kissed a man before, haven’t you?” I recoil. "Oh, right, you screwed my brother. How could I have forgotten? Unless, of course, you both were too busy doing other things and didn’t have the opportunity to kiss. Then I’d have to show you how, so it looks authentic at the event." I just stare at him, my anger simmering beneath the surface. I can't remember the last time I was this annoyed at someone. All the times I’ve mentioned the men I’ve made out with, gone on a date with, or actually started a short-term relationship with—though you couldn't exactly call it a relationship—he doesn’t remember? I’ve memorized everything about him. The date he kissed Delilah for the first time. The exact day they first had sex. Her favorite colo
“Another Delilah?” I ask. “You know,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “The infamous Knox, Finn, and Delilah situation.” “The what now?” I ask, brows lifting. Victoria’s eyes are fixed on me. I watch her also, not wanting to miss any telltale sign on her face. She’s surprised. She tries to hide it, of course, quickly repairing her expression. But I catch it. She expected me to know what she's on about. And now I’m stuck trying to decide if I should let her off the hook or press for the story she clearly doesn’t want to tell. The thing is—I think I already know. Or at least I have a sinking, nauseating feeling clawing at my thoughts. But my mind refuses to wrap itself around what she might actually be implying. Knox. Finn. Delilah. There was a history between them, one messy enough to warrant a personal, cautionary visit from Finn’s mother. I’d like to know what the hell happened. Did Knox date her too? My chest tightens at the idea. I don’t want to believe that. Not just
I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Victoria’s words are still echoing in my ears, heavy and unsettling. ‘You keep Finn for yourself.’ If you’d asked me two weeks ago, hell, even two days ago, if this was what I wanted, I’d jump at the idea. Finn’s own mother is hand-delivering the fantasy I’ve kept buried for years, telling me that Finn feels the same way I feel about him. But I’m not feeling thrilled. Not even close. I’m mad. It’s the kind of anger that burns beneath the skin, smoldering through every layer. I don’t even know why. Maybe because the offer feels transactional. Maybe because I’m tired of being everyone’s tool—Finn’s and now Victoria’s. Victoria is still watching me. Expectant. Calm. "I believe I’ve rendered you speechless," she says. "If this means you’re considering my offer, then by all means, be speechless." "You want me to make sure the wedding happens?" "The wedding’s already happening. I just need you to distract Finn from doing anything stupid." Th
I stare into her eyes. “A taste of what?” “Me.” “What part exactly?” She cocks an eyebrow. “Is there a part you don’t like?” “Not exactly.” She draws again from the cigar, eyes watering as she braves the burn. Then she leans forward, blowing smoke into my face. “Is that a yes or a no?” she says. “Do you want a taste of me or not?” I grab her waist and pull her flush against me. “Shoot me if I ever say no, Bunny.” “I would if I knew where you kept your gun.” “Pardon me. I assumed you saw it in the car when you stole my keys.” She chuckles low. “I don’t believe that’s the only one you have.” “Ha.” She leans sideways and crushes the butt of the cigar on the ashtray, letting it fall. She then takes my hand and presses it between her legs, guiding it beneath the hem of the shirt. Then she lifts her hips slightly and lets me in, pushing three of my fingers inside her. And she moans—soft at first. Her head tilts back, exposing the long line of her neck, glasses sliding further
*** ~~KNOX~~ *** I fell right into that trap, let myself be at rest, let myself become too happy. And now the dreams are back. It’s the price of comfort. The consequence of peace. I’d gone over a year without them. Twelve solid months of silence in my sleep, of not waking up drenched in sweat or shivering with the taste of blood in my mouth or phantom screams still ringing in my ears. I thought I’d finally outgrown it. That maybe I’d found the answer. Hate. It had worked. Hatred for Finn. For our father. For the bastards overseas. For the pimps and predators who loitered in my club pretending to be businessmen. Hatred kept the noise quiet. Kept the chaos buried. As long as I kept burning, I didn’t feel the cold. But then came this woman. This girl who wore her damn glasses to bed like a librarian who got lost and wandered into my life, asking to be destroyed. She didn’t even know how enchanting she looked—curled up in my bed, clothed in one of my T-shirts, hair mussed and lips
Knox walks over without a word, climbs into the bed, and pulls me into him. One arm drapes over my waist, the other reaches out and turns off the bedside lamp.Darkness fills the room.I can feel the thump of his heart beneath my cheek.I slide my hand down, fingers trailing the hem of his shirt and then slipping beneath it. His skin is hot, tight over muscle. I keep going, dipping under the waistband of his pants. The elastic snaps as my wrist slips past it.I find what I’m looking for with no effort.Hard already. Just from being close.The part of him that’s ruined me more times than I can count. The part that makes me forget my name when it’s inside me.It twitches in response to my touch, like it’s greeting me. Like it remembers me too.My fingers graze the piercing, and even in the dark, I can feel his breath hitch. Just a small break in the rhythm, a crack in the calm.God, I love that.“Did it hurt when you got pierced?”“Somewhat.”“Why’d you get it?”“Because I like pain. An
“You can’t possibly be serious,” I say. “You want to leave me on this bed all alone?”I expect him to laugh in that dark way of his, saying gotcha. But I see it in his eyes.He actually means it.There’s no teasing glint, no trace of smugness or mischief. Just this unreadable flatness—like he’s trying to keep something buried under control.I grip his hand. “You’re not going anywhere.”“Sloane, listen—”“No, you listen. I’ve obeyed you all evening while you bossed me around like some war general. Now it’s my turn.” I yank his hand, firmer this time. “Get on the fucking bed, Knox.”That gets me a smile from him. “Feisty,” he says. “That was stimulating. Do it again.”“I’m not playing.” I keep my hand locked around his, not budging. “Don’t turn this into a joke.”His smile lingers, but something changes behind it—something quieter, more fragile. Not weak, no. Knox doesn’t do weak. But… afraid?Is that what this is? Fear?I step toward him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my
Just like that, the desire drains from Knox's face. “Hard?” he says. “He’s clearly not doing well with me leaving. And it's understandable. I’ve been the only constant in his life for years. He hardly goes home. He doesn’t have you. He doesn’t have friends. Just me. And Delilah, of course. Who knows what he’ll do next? He could get himself incarcerated or worse. He needs help, Knox. Not threats. Not more trauma.” His jaw flexes. “What are you saying exactly?” “I’m saying let me get him the help he needs. There's no rule that states I can't date one brother and help the other.” “Sloane—” “Come on. I won't be able to live with myself if he does something he can't come back from. He's crazy. I should have known he'd not take this well. He doesn’t cope well with abandonment. I just need to make sure he gets therapy.” “You mean get institutionalized?” “Please?” Knox sighs and looks away, muttering something I don’t catch. But when he turns back, I know it already. He’s not going
*** ~~SLOANE~~ *** I walk into the room slowly, my feet soft on the linoleum. My eyes are fixed on Knox’s hand as it releases Finn’s casted arm. Neither of them answers my question. Not with words. But the silence is loud enough to fill the space between them. Finn’s perched on the very edge of the bed now, his body angled like he was trying to get away. His uninjured hand clutches the edge of the mattress. Knox is standing above him, jaw set, eyes unreadable, his hand just now slipping back into his pocket like nothing happened. But I know what I saw. Knox had been bent forward when I walked in, squeezing Finn's injured arm. At some point, one of them will have to spill what history lies between them. Because this—whatever it is—doesn't seem like it has anything to do with Finn taking Delilah from Knox, which had been my initial guess. You can feel it—that one of them hurt the other a long time ago, and they’ve both been carrying it ever since. But whatever it was, it wasn’
“Bunny,” I breathe, crossing the distance in a few long strides and pulling her straight to my chest. She melts into me. Just folds into my body like she belongs there. No hesitation. I kiss her forehead, bending slightly because she’s always smaller without her heels. “It’s not your fault,” I murmur. “Shit happens.” “I left him,” she whispers. “I knew how psychotic he can get when he feels abandoned. Yet I left.” “You had to. People meet, and they part ways.” She pulls back, eyes red-rimmed but clear. “I’m going to make sure he gets help.” I brush her bangs out of her face, fingers lingering on her temple. “Of course. He’ll get all the help he needs. I’ll see to that.” She nods. Her eyes search mine like she’s looking for something final in them. Some reassurance. “Should we call your parents?” she asks. “He broke an arm, right?” “Yes. And he’s concussed.” “Can he talk?” “Yeah.” “Can he move?” “Yes.” “He’ll survive. Just wait down the hall for me, alright? I gotta ch
I exhale. “Just our usual problems. You know how it is.” She's still skeptical but nods. “Alright. So who do I need to call? Your mom? Your dad?” I shake my head. “No. Don’t. My family’s far away. There’s no need to make them panic and hop on a plane. You’re my only friend here.” I meet her eyes. “You’re enough.” She hesitates. Her gaze drops to the floor, then back to me. “I’ll call Knox.” “No!” Too fast. “I have to let someone know,” she says. “Just relax, Finn. Lay back.” I watch her pull out her phone and walk toward the hallway. My stomach sinks. This isn’t going as planned. She’s supposed to sit here. Feed me jello. Fluff my pillow. Cry a little maybe. Re-forge the bond I’ve been trying to drag back together since the wedding fell apart. But instead, she’s dialing him. And just before she walks out of earshot, I hear her say: “Hey, babe. So, um, your brother got in an accident and—” I close my eyes. Shit. Knox is going to come. He’ll hear Sloane’s voice. Hear tha
*** ~~FINN~~ *** Delilah hasn’t stopped glaring at me. She’s sitting to my left in the only visitor chair in the room, arms crossed so tightly across her chest I’m half-convinced she’s trying to fold herself in half. Her legs are angled away from me, but her eyes—they haven’t moved. Not once. Not since the doctor gave her visitation clearance. “Could you stop with the looks, please?” I grumble, adjusting myself on the hospital bed. My arm is immobilized in a heavy-duty sling, wrapped and elevated with what feels like ten pounds of gauze and Velcro. “I’m already in pain as it stands. I don’t need you breathing down my neck.” Delilah only glares harder. “I could go to jail for what I did,” she says. “No, you won’t. I asked you to do it. It was my decision.” She looks away for the first time, fingers threading through her hair as she rubs her temple. Her voice comes quieter. Tighter. “Still doesn’t change the fact that I stupidly agreed to break your arm with a hammer and