Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters, #1)(77)

Lily wraps the blanket tight around her naked frame and follows Loren out of the living room.

Julian puffs his chest out like he could push Ryke and pummel him. But Ryke pretty much has a look like “I’m going to rip your head off and chuck it in the snow.” I’d say Ryke would win based on expressions. That is, if I had to bet on this stupid fight at all.

I really just want to be alone with Connor, even if I already committed to sleeping with my sisters. I can creep in their room later, right? Drunk me says hell yes. Sober Rose would say where did your loyalty go, bitch?

Drunk Rose is so powerful right now.

Connor stands, my armrest gone. I almost fall into the cushion, but I catch myself with an unsteady hand.

“We should all go to bed. It’s late,” he says. He turns to me and easily grabs my hand, lifting me to my feet and supporting me with an arm to the waist.

Scott speaks to Brett, words that I can’t catch, and then they head over to Savannah and Ben in the kitchen to review old footage.

“Yeah, whatever,” Julian says. He shoots Ryke one last threatening look before backing up and climbing the stairs to the loft bedrooms.

When we hear the door close, Ryke’s shoulders slacken. He shakes his head repeatedly and runs his hand through his hair.

“What’d Daisy say to you?” Connor asks. I didn’t realize this was an important piece of information. Okay, I am not drinking anymore for the rest of the trip.

Ryke stares at the ground, his features darkening. “She said, don’t let him touch me.”

My face clouds with worry. She really thought he could have taken advantage of her while she was passed out? “I don’t like him,” I say with the shake of my head.

“Join the fucking club.”

Connor sets a hand on the small of my back. “Let’s just be civil with him for the rest of the trip. Daisy has to work with Julian, so obviously she’s treading some muddy waters here.”

“I don’t see anything fucking muddy about it,” Ryke retorts. “She doesn’t like him. So she needs to dump him.”

“Not everything is black and white, Ryke,” Connor says. “You should understand that, considering your situation with Daisy.”

Ryke scowls. “There’s no situation.”

Connor tilts his head. “Act stupid in front of your brother, but that tactic won’t ever work with me.”

“You like her,” I add, saying each word slowly so I don’t slur them together. “It’s okay to like her.” Hell, I like any guy that makes my sister happy and treats her well. Julian does neither.

Ryke glares at both of us. “It’s not fucking okay. I’m not into her like that. I can’t be. She’s seventeen.”

“What about when she’s eighteen?” Connor asks with an arched brow.

Ryke shakes his head adamantly. “You think I’m going to sacrifice my relationship with my brother for a girl? Then you don’t fucking know me, Cobalt.”

“Lo will get over it.”

“Yeah, I don’t see that happening. And maybe you’re fucking right—all of this shit is confusing.” His nose flares as he breathes out. “I’ll try not to hit her boyfriend, okay? Only because they work together.” Ryke doesn’t give us the chance to respond. He disappears upstairs, shutting the door to his room.

I spin back to Connor and place my hands on his hard chest. “Maybe…” I say, trailing off. “I can go sneak into Lily’s room later?”

His eyes roam my body, and he brushes my hair off my shoulder. Instead of answering, he leaves my side and walks confidently to the refrigerator.

At the kitchen table, Scott looks up from the camera equipment and stares between us. But I’m so entranced with Connor, the way he commands the room at six-foot-four, his self-assuredness so unquantifiable and so, so attractive.

I unconsciously sway, waiting for him to return to me in the living room. He procures a carton of strawberries and kicks the refrigerator closed on his way back. He bites into the fruit, staining his lips red for a single second before he licks off the strawberry juice.

As he nears me, he twirls my body towards our bedroom on the main level. And then he presses his chest to my back, guiding me with a firm hand to my hip. Wild thoughts jumble in my head, spinning madly with the help of the vodka shots. What is he going to do to me?

Once in our room, decorated with bear cabin décor, he closes the door behind him and sets me on the edge of the bed, a red and brown quilt underneath me.

“Are we going to have sex?” I ask him, my neck straightening in alarm as I process those words. Am I about to lose my virginity?

“No, Rose. You’re drunk,” he reminds me. “You’re going to remember our first time together for the rest of your life. And alcohol isn’t going to take that away from you or me.”

I glare, my shoulders curving backwards in defense. “So you’re just going to put me to bed then?” I’m clearly horny.

He pops open the carton again and eats another strawberry, not saying anything one way or the other. His domineering posture causes me to slowly sink back, my elbows propping my body on the mattress. His penetrative gaze rakes me from head to toe, traveling across all the places that crave his powerful touch.

Images of him on me, in me, breeze through my brain in a wonderful, toxic mess. And I swallow hard as I realize what I want. “Can you be rough with me?” Without the alcohol, I’m not sure I would have had the balls to ask, despite gaining more courage in bed these past couple of months.