Todos os capítulos de Craving The Wrong Brother: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

Never in the history of a person saying “don’t freak out” right before dropping freak-out-worthy news has it ever actually stopped anyone from freaking out. Especially not when the bomb being dropped is your boyfriend announcing out of nowhere that he has a wife.I’m freaking out.I am so, so, freaking out.Every nerve in my body is buzzing like it’s been plugged into an electric fence. My chest feels tight, my thoughts are all over the place, and my brain is trying to reboot like someone just yanked the power cord out and jammed it back in again. Because what the hell did he mean by, “She's my wife”?Knox is leading me out of the building, hand clamped around mine like he’s afraid I’ll run otherwise.Back in that private booth, I’d screamed at him for answers—naked and shaking—and Knox gave me this false calm. Said he’d explain everything on the way to the station. That we needed to go. That now wasn’t the time.I didn’t buy it, but I let him think I did.I got dressed and let him ho

It’s been a week since I found out Knox has a wife, and I’ve been ignoring everyone in my life like it’s a full-time job.My phone has turned into a graveyard of unread messages and missed calls—Knox, Finn, Serena, and my mom. But I can’t bring myself to open anything. Every time I see Knox’s name pop up, my chest tightens and I feel like I might shatter.I don’t know why I’m this mad. I don’t. It makes no rational sense. He told me the marriage wasn’t real. That it was a favor. That he did it to keep a promise. And I believe him. But none of that justifies the ache I feel when I remember him kissing me goodnight at the precinct. Then him calling a cab and going home with her.To “discuss her claim about being framed for shoplifting.”Sure.For all I know, Soraya dropped that bracelet into her own damn purse just to get his attention. Maybe that makes me sound paranoid. Delusional, even. But logic has never been my strong suit when I'm jealous. Because I am, indeed, jealous of that wo

Knox is out the door before I can convince him otherwise.I run after him, nearly slipping as I rush down the hallway. He’s already halfway down by the time I make it to the top of the steps.“Knox!” I yell. “Stop!”But he’s not listening. His body is tight with fury, all his restraint long gone.By the time I push through the lobby door, he’s outside, and so is Joe, the night-duty security guard. Joe's hands are braced on his hips, looking like he’s trying to decide whether to intervene or call it in. Knox is already on Finn.His fist connects with Finn’s face, and Finn stumbles back, slamming into the body of Knox’s car with a loud grunt. His casted arm hangs uselessly at his side, and before he can even catch his balance, Knox grabs him by the collar and throws another punch. Then another.The blows are brutal. Unrelenting. Finn’s head snaps back, his body jerking with each hit like a ragdoll.I scream, “Stop! Stop it, Knox, please!”My feet are moving before I register it, crossin

Sloane rolls her eyes but with a smile on her face, and then she disappears into the living room.I stay there, thinking about the things she said, about her mom being pregnant. When I try to picture the woman I saw at the barbecue with a protruded stomach, I end up seeing Sloane's face instead. Weird. They don't even look that much alike. Those are some of the things your brain does when you're exhausted. I hear Sloane in the living room, moving around. She hums as she works, not a melody I recognize, just an off-key tune that makes me smile.A few minutes later, she enters the bedroom and heads straight to the bathroom. The faucet runs. Cabinet doors creak open, then shut. The sound of her toothbrush buzzing fills the quiet. Water splashes. The lights go off. Then she's back in the room, smelling like peppermint and whatever lotion she uses that always makes me think of vanilla and something green.She grabs a book off her dresser, one with a torn, faded cover. She keeps it tucked

She moans in surprise, and the sound is loud and sexy, a stimulating song to my ears. And then she pushes her back further out, rubbing against my erection, grinding into it like she wants to punish me as well. I palm the red spot, fingers tracing the heat I left behind. She twitches at the contact—part pain, part invitation—and it nearly unravels me. My other hand reaches up and sinks into her hair, fisting just enough to make her gasp as I pull her upright. Her spine curves against my chest, and I wrap my arm around her neck, forearm pressing just beneath her throat, locking her in. We stare at ourselves in the mirror. Her eyes are wild. Chest heaving. Back still arched in anticipation. “Look at yourself,” I whisper against her ear. “Look how wrecked you already are. And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.” I kiss her cheek, soft and brief. Then bring my palm down again. She moans, pushing back, rubbing against me in the same rhythm as my strikes. “Again,” she begs, vo