Casanova(52)

“Dirty?”

I pulled her from the bench and against my body. “Dirty,” I whispered into her ear. Then I smacked her ass and released her.

“Brett!” she shrieked, looking down at her now paint-covered clothes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

I jogged backward, laughing. “Ten-thirty, kitten.”

“Kitten your ass!” she shouted again. “You’re dead!”





“Why does she get to know?”

“Go away, Camille.”

“It’s not fair. I want to know.”

“You sound like a six-year-old who doesn’t know what they’re getting for Christmas.”

“Brett!” My sister actually whined my name. “Come on. I’ve been bugging you for a year and a half. She’s been doing it for like a week and you’re telling her.”

“Showing her,” I corrected her. “I’m taking her to where I go.”

Camille scoffed. “You’re so in love with her still.”

“I’m not in love with her.”

“Then, wow.” She tilted her head to the side. “You must really want to scratch her name into your bedpost, huh?”

I did, but that wasn’t the point.

“Give it a rest,” I said, shoving my wallet into my pocket. “She’s going to write about it anyway and then nothing will be sacred anymore.”

“I don’t know. Yours might be. To keep it secret, you must be rebirthing virgins or something.”

“Camille?”

“Yeah?”

I looked her dead in the eye. “Why the fuck are you in my room?”

She glanced around. “You’re right. I should get out. I might catch something.”

I grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the nightstand and launched it in her direction. “Fuck off, brat.”

“Suck a donkey, asshole!”

I shook my head. If I could trade my sister in for something, it’d be a statue of her. I still get twin status but I don’t have to listen to her whining. Even better, I’d get a painting of her and cover it in black cloth.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Lani.



Lani: You’re ten minutes late.

Me: Cam pissed me off. I’m leaving now.

Lani: Too late. I’m sitting in your driveway.

Me: Sounds like you missed me.

Lani: Apparently the rock I threw at you did, yeah.



Jesus. I loved it when she gave me attitude. I shouldn’t have, but I did. Mostly because it was that stupid, sarcastic humor that was so dry I couldn’t help but chuckle at her. She had an answer for everything and more questions than I could handle.

I steeled myself with a couple squirts of my favorite cologne and headed out of my room. I glanced again at my phone as I reached the top of the stairs and saw another message from her.



Lani: Did you get trapped under that rock, Casanova? I’m going gray waiting for you.

Me: You’d be hot if you had gray hair.

Lani: I’m hot right now because I’m sitting in a car in direct sunlight in NINETY-TWO FUCKING DEGREES.

Me: Coming.

Lani: To the car, right?

Me: Quit the sass or it’ll be down your throat.

Lani: Try it and I’ll bite you.

Me: Kinky.

Lani: Not when I choke you on your own dick.



I laughed and opened the front door. Our conversation had lasted my entire walk through the house, and when I stepped onto the steps, I saw she was right. She was sitting in her car, except she wasn’t hot at all. She had the air con blasting if the way her bangs fluttered was any indication.

She was hot, sure. But not temperature hot. Straight up, boner inducing, cum in your pants hot.

Lani shoved her door open and got out. Her long, tanned legs seemed to go on forever as they reached out into the sunlight, and my gaze was drawn right toward them. My attention ghosted over her flat, strappy sandals and up her toned calves until her skin disappeared beneath a light pink skirt.

“My face is up here.”

“I know,” I said to her legs. “I’ll get there in a minute.”

She huffed and slammed her car door shut.

I didn’t hurry up checking her out. How the fuck could I? That light pink skirt was tight as shit and hugged her hips a little too well, and although her shirt was loose, the V-neck dipped just low enough that I had a good glimpse of cleavage.

Fuck, she was hot.

“My face is still up here.”

I finally looked up at her face. Her dark hair was tied away from it in a ponytail, except for her bangs. The only make-up she was wearing was mascara and whatever it was on her lips that was shiny and made me want to kiss her until it all came off.

She wasn’t hot. Looking at her now, that was almost an insult.

She was downright gorgeous.

“Earth to Brett.” She clapped her hands in front of her. “I promise not to yell at you if you speak to me.”

My mouth curved to the side. “I like it when you yell at me.”

She pursed her lips as if she was trying to hide a smile. “Are you focused again now?”

“I was focused before.”

“Okay, but can you focus on what we’re doing instead of on me?”