Bro Code(18)

I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and am suddenly thankful that it’s too dark for him to see me turn pink. Am I the kind of distraction he's talking about? Or am I the most rebellious thing he's done? I steer the conversation elsewhere to be safe. “How was your mom?”

“Fine,” he says, although the strained tone of his voice says the opposite. “They’re so different from me that I sometimes can’t believe we’re related. Talking to them about work is painful. If it’s not about me getting married or having kids, they can’t even pretend like they’re impressed with the goals I’m working toward.”

Maybe it’s my lack of sleep, or maybe it’s that we’re covered in the kind of darkness that only Indiana winter nights can offer, but in a rare moment of bravery, I slide my hand over to squeeze Barrett’s thigh.

“Different people value different things, Barrett. It's incredibly impressive what you've accomplished.”

And now I wonder if maybe daring to be different from his family's expectations is actually the most rebellious thing he's done.

He twitches at my touch, the muscles in his thigh bunching beneath my gentle grip. I can hear his breath hitch just the slightest bit, but he keeps staring ahead. I should pull my hand away, my fingertips are close to dangerous territory, but I don't move an inch. And a delighted quiver runs through me.

I raise my eyes from where my hand rests against his leg, to the button of his jeans, to the smooth slope of his gorgeous jawline and full mouth.

He turns his head and the second our eyes lock, the heat that's been building between us all day floods over my cheeks and down my spine. Laying one tentative hand on the back of my neck, his fingers slid into the back of my hair, and my eyes sink closed. The moment pulses with electricity, and it's stronger than anything I've felt before.

Ever so slowly, Barrett leans closer as he pulls me in and presses his mouth to mine.

His lips are soft, yet firm, and he kisses just like he does everything else—confidently and with the skill of a man who knows exactly what he wants.

He cradles my jaw and tastes my bottom lip with his tongue. My lips part in gentle invitation and then his tongue meets mine in a dizzying rush.

One perfect, slow kiss becomes three or four quicker, deeper ones, and suddenly, I’m groaning my approval and giving myself over to what I’ve wanted for so long.

This moment is everything I've dreamed about for years, but never thought would actually happen. His tongue makes long, lazy strokes against mine, and my body tightens in anticipation, heart thundering in my chest.

Maybe he wasn't my first kiss, like I dreamed about all the years ago, but I wouldn’t mind if he was my last.

He takes hold of my hips to pull me onto his lap. I settle against him, a little amazed that we fit like this. His car is a lot roomier than it seems.

His lips wander down my neck as I spread my thighs wider to surround either side of him. He’s hard, his bulge pressing against me as I press my hands against his chest. He's so solid everywhere, and the desire to feel more of him is a sharp pulse of need.

Feeling brave, I trail my fingers down his chest, stopping only when I get to the waistband of his jeans. His abs tighten under my touch. I'm not sure if it's rebellion, or just temporary insanity, but I slide one hand down to unbutton him, to get another look at what I’ve been craving all weekend, and silently cheer to myself. Operation Anaconda is in full effect. But Barrett grabs my hand and plants soft kisses against my knuckles.

“What’s your plan there?” he asks, mouth tilted with the hint of a smile.

I swallow, my throat working with the effort. “I just thought…I'm attracted to you, and I thought maybe you were…”

“I am.”

We kiss again, slower this time until Barrett finally pulls away.

“But we can’t,” he whispers, although his tongue flirting with my ear seems to suggest otherwise.

“Why not?”

“I may have good self-control,” he says, cupping my chin and turning my head to meet his hypnotic blue eyes. “But if my cock comes out, I will fuck you. And I can’t do that.”

He’s so close, I can feel him right there, and still I want more. I shift my hips closer, rocking against him, earning me a choked sound of pleasure. God, that sound . . .

“We’re both adults now. We can do whatever we want.”

He shakes his head. “The bro-code rules are written in stone. And the rules are simple. It’s understood that a bro never makes eye contact with another bro while eating a banana. A bro always takes a piss standing up. And speaking of pissing . . . a bro never uses a urinal that’s right next to another bro.”

I shift in his lap, still horny, and now also confused. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes latch onto mine and he licks his lower lip. “No sex with your bro’s ex. And definitely no sex with your bro’s sister.”

I let out a frustrated groan. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t make the rules. I just try and abide by them.”

His brain may be telling him that we can’t explore this sexual chemistry, but his body? It wants me. Bad. He’s rock hard between my legs, and I can’t help but notice the way his gaze wanders between my mouth and my breasts, as if he can’t decide which part of me he wants to kiss next.