Page 128 of Five Brothers
I shake my head.
Macon turns his head to the youngest. “Take her,” he commands Trace.
Trace looks at me, and again, I shake my head.
I hear Krisjen’s small voice. “Don’t leave,” she begs Trace.
But they do. Dallas first, and then Trace, albeit hesitantly.
Maybe he figures she’ll stop us from killing each other.
The door slams shut, Krisjen’s body shakes against mine, and I hold Macon’s gaze as I press my nose into her hair.
Everything about her is sweet.
And I know exactly what he needs.
I whisper, “We could share her.”
His eyes narrow. Her breaths grow smaller against my body. “We could go to the boat …” I tell him. “Go out to sea tonight where the world doesn’t exist, and we could make love to her. On the dark water. Where she can come as loudly as she wants to.”
The pinch between his dark brows gets deeper, and I know I’m right.
I slip my hand under her shirt—his shirt that she wears—caressing her stomach.
“It’s been a long time since you felt something warm, hasn’t it?” I ask.
But I don’t need him to answer. I know everything that happens with him. It’s been ages since he’s been to bed with anyone.
“She wants you,” I tell him, feeling Krisjen’s breathing hitch. “She looks at you. Did you know that?”
His gaze falls to her, and I honestly don’t think he knew. Has he been on another planet?
She doesn’t make my food for me.
“She’s so warm,” I tell him. “Do this with me.”
He meets my eyes, steeling his spine. “She’s eighteen, you piece of shit.”
“Then take her to the boat yourself.” I release her. “Take her away tonight. Just you and her. She won’t say no.”
His jaw hardens.
“Touch her,” I beg him.
Please just fucking touch her. Be a fucking man instead of a machine or a piece of furniture.
“Let’s go out,” I go on. “Me, you, her. No more fucking pain. At least tonight.”
Something has to change. I want my brother back. I don’t care if he doesn’t want me to have her. I hope he doesn’t let me touch her. I hope he fucks her, because he can’t get enough. I hope he wants to keep her.
But instead, she turns, faces me, and before I know what’s happening, her hand is whipping across my face.
I blink, turning back, but she does it again, and then I hear her finally speak. “No.”
Sickness rises up my throat.
She starts to walk away, but I pull her back, opening my mouth to apologize, but Macon shoves me away from her. I crash into the window, hearing it splinter and crack but not break.