Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men #9)(8)

Thinking about Brandt, though, I glanced at Colton. “I’ve dated your brother. You and I hooking up after that would just be...weird...all the way around.”

“Half a date,” Colton tossed back with a swish of his hand. “Doesn’t count.”

“Whatever,” I argued. I had been the one to ask Brandt out, to start the flirting, to visualize a relationship and daydream about doing dirty, naughty things with him. Turning to his brother after that would be beyond strange, and really awkwardly depraved.

Wouldn’t it?

I already felt guilty enough for even thinking about Colton the way I did, so yes…yes, it would be wrong.

“Did you f*ck him?” Colton asked.

I choked on air before gasping, “After half a date? Yeah, I don’t think so.” What the hell kind of girl did he think I was?

Colton kept going. “Swap spit with him?”

I blinked. “Swap what?”

“Kiss? Did your mouth or tongue go anywhere near his mouth or tongue?”

Sighing heavily, I answered, “Of course not.”

Colton’s shoulders relaxed. Made me wonder if he was actually relieved by my answers. But then his smarmy little care-about-nothing-but-himself grin returned. “Well, then...we’re good. Next forbidden issue?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I wasn’t exactly ready to put this issue to bed yet. “What about the fact you’re so sure I’m in love with him? That doesn’t bother you at all? You wouldn’t worry I was thinking about him while I was with you?”

“Oh, baby doll,” he murmured, his eyes glazing with sudden heat. “All you’d need is one taste of me and you’d forget about big brother completely.”

I drew in a sharp breath, determined to mask how hot his self-assurance made my hormones.

With a disbelieving snort, I pointed. “See, that right there. That cocksure attitude is reason number one why you turn me off. I don’t appreciate it.” Or more accurately, I didn’t appreciate how much I did appreciate it or how scattered and messy it made my emotions.

He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t like confidence in a guy? Odd, because Brandt’s not exactly insecure, yet you like him.”

I ground my teeth. “Well, Brandt doesn’t act like he’s God’s gift to women. Nor does he strut around, preening as if the entire universe owes him something and should idolize him. He doesn’t try to act like anyone but himself, and that’s why he’s so amazing.”

When I realized I’d once again admitted my feelings for Brandt aloud, I snapped my mouth shut and glared at Colton. But the contemplative way he watched me caught me off guard.

Tipping his head to the side, he asked, “Is that how you see me? As some kind of annoying peacock with an overinflated ego and no depth?”

The question seemed so sincere and solemn as if my response actually meant something to him.

My mouth opened, but no words came. I could only blink, worried I’d hurt his feelings.

That was the thing about Colton; I hadn’t thought he could be hurt or that he’d care what anyone thought. I had just assumed he’d be so full of himself he wouldn’t believe or take to heart any insult slung his way. But the fact that he’d listened to every word I’d said and seemed to mull my thoughts over made me suddenly very uneasy. I wasn’t the type to go around intentionally and unnecessarily hurting people’s feelings. They had to deserve it first.

“I...I...” Reaching for one of my earrings and tugging self-consciously, I tried to come up with something nice to dull the insult I’d just spewed, but my mind went totally blank.

I felt like crap.

“And as for the God’s gift to women part,” Colton said before I could fumble out anymore inarticulate sounds. “I wasn’t shooting quite that high. I just wanted to be God’s gift to you.”

“Oh, Jesus.” My shoulders fell. Had he merely been playing me this whole time, trying to make me feel bad for making him feel bad? Now I wanted to strangle him all over again. “You are so freaking annoying.”

He only shrugged, his eyes glittering mischievously as his grin grew slowly. “God must’ve thought annoying was what you needed most.”

“I don’t think God would wish your kind of annoying on anyone.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I bet he knew you’d get just as big a thrill out of disagreeing with me as I do from disagreeing with you, though.”

I sucked in a breath and my skin crackled with awareness. I didn’t want to know he got a thrill out of bantering with me. And I certainly didn’t want him knowing I liked it too, or that everything inside me felt so very alive right now.

Scowling as hard as I could to hide the rush flowing through my veins, I muttered, “I do not like disagreeing with you.”

“She says as her skin flushes and eyes sparkle with vitality as she…disagrees with me yet again,” he murmured theatrically.

I huffed and scowled for real this time. “Well…try to say something decent and maybe I’ll agree with it.”

“Okay, fine. I like your earrings.”

“Oh…shut up.” Realizing I was still playing with them, I dropped my hand.

But seriously, why the hell had he mentioned my earrings of all things? I’d worn them because they were my very own mini security blankets in disguise. I hadn’t meant to bring attention to them. Wishing he’d have commented on any other piece of jewelry I wore—pearl hair clip, butterfly necklace, bangle bracelets, anklet, toe ring, thumb ring, anything—I cleared my throat and finished my glass of champagne, only to become a little panicked because I’d run out.