Falling For My Brother's Best Friend

QuinnI perch on the edge of what I assume is Cade's couch—black, expensive-looking, and littered with enough hockey gear to outfit a small team. My copy of the Constitution sits open in my lap, the familiar weight of it grounding me in a space that feels hostile.Article II, Section 1. The executive Power shall be vested in a President of the United States of America...The words blur together as I steal a glance over the top of my book. Cade is sitting on a couch far away from him, now in some shorts. His hair—black with those ridiculous dark blue tips that add some sort of bad boy allure to him—falls messily across his forehead.Everything about him screams trouble. The kind of trouble that gets good guys like my brother arrested or kicked off teams or worse.The girl—whose name I still don't know and definitely don't care about—drapes herself across his back like a human scarf, her arms winding around his waist. She's saying something about his "type," her voice carrying that part

QuinnBy the time I'm halfway to campus, sweat is flowing down my back and my blazer feels like a blanket designed by someone who clearly hated professional women.I stop under the shade of a tree and peel off the jacket, immediately feeling like I can breathe again. The heat is suffocating, and walking three miles in business attire was definitely not part of my orientation day plan."Insufferable, arrogant, completely reprehensible..." I mutter under my breath, folding the blazer over my arm with more force than necessary. Cade West is absolutely the most infuriating human being I've ever had the misfortune of encountering.Right. The numbers. I scroll through my contacts and dial Jeremy's number, pressing the phone to my ear as I continue trudging toward campus."Quinn!" His voice is cheerful, completely at odds with my current state of dishevelment. "How'd the ride with Cade go?""It didn't," I say tersely. "He abandoned me."Jeremy's laugh is loud enough that I have to hold the p

Quinn.I have a secret.I’m horny. Like, extremely. The kind of horny where I’m irrational and reckless and should probably lock myself in a convent before I do something stupid.I know I should be careful—living with five men, one of them being Cade freakin’ West, my brother’s best friend and the bane of my existence—but tonight? Tonight I didn’t care. I was pissed. Covered in beer. My nerves shot to hell.So after a shower, instead of crawling into bed and forgetting the day, I grabbed my vibrator. Just a quickie before the guys got back. No one would know. No harm done.Except now, I’m completely naked, legs spread, vibrator buzzing between my thighs—while my brother’s best friend stands in my doorway, eyes wide.“Oh my God—CADE!” I gasp, scrambling like a lunatic, the sheet slipping through my hands. The vibrator jolts free, tumbles off the bed, and rolls across the floor until it hits Cade’s feet.If I thought I wanted to die before, now I want the ground to open up and swallow m

QuinnThe dean drones on about "academic excellence" and "fostering tomorrow's leaders," but I stopped listening twenty minutes ago. I've already memorized every pamphlet, guidebook, and course catalog they've shoved at us. Constitutional law prerequisites, mock trial requirements, internship opportunities—I know it all by heart.What I can't ignore is the heat boring into the back of my skull.Cade's stare is a physical thing, pressing against me like a brand. I square my shoulder, trying to appear unbothered, but every nerve ending screams that he's watching me. Cataloging every breath, every shift in my seat.When the dean finally releases us to "explore campus and connect with your fellow scholars," I practically bolt from my chair. Once I'm out of the hall, my gaze searches around for my father. He said he has something to talk about, and I can only hope it’s about a new living arrangement for me.I’m about to call him when I catch sight of him.He's standing near the corner of

Cade"You look distressed." Cole Adams murmurs, twirling the glass of wine in his hand as we stare at the painting before us.Two lovers, tangled in red strings. From a distance, it looks soft. Sweet. Something you'd slap on a Valentine's card. I've seen people connect it with that red string theory—lovers bound from one life to another.But they're fucking idiots.I lean forward, studying the canvas like it's trying to tell me a secret. "You know what that really means?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend.Cole shrugs like it's obvious. "Love. Union. They're bound together forever."A bitter laugh cracks out of me. I shake my head, eyes glued to those twisted figures. "Nah. Look closer." I trace the air over their necks, their wrists, their ankles. "Those ribbons aren't tying them together. They're choking the life out of them."People see what they want to see. Pretty lies instead of the ugly truth staring them in the face.Cole tilts his head, studying the painting again. Som