Slow Grind (Men of Mornington)

“You win.” Max raises his hands in defeat. “I’m going right now.” He slowly rises from the chair and walks down the hall. I don’t know much about cancer, other than the last time Max was sick, but the way he walks breaks my heart. A man at twenty-seven shouldn’t be limping down the short hallway on his way to bed. If he were wearing a hat and you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was an old man, maybe with arthritis. This plan has to work because I can’t keep watching him suffer this way.

“Are you coming or what?” Drew asks from the door, and as soon as Max crosses the threshold to his bedroom, I head out the door with Drew.

“That went better than I thought it would,” I admit as we make our way into the cold night air. The breeze from the impending winter is stronger than I remember. New York has terrible winters, so it’s not the cold that gets me; it’s the wind and the smell of the salt in the air from the ocean. It’s just one of those things that make Australia home and New York a place I’ve lived, no matter how hard I’ve tried to change that fact.

Drew chuckles. “There was never any doubt. They’re like me. They’ll do whatever it takes for Max. He’s one of a kind. Doesn’t deserve this. Not to mention, he’s our responsibility. We might be arses most of the time, but we protect our own.”

He reaches up and rubs his jaw, and I wonder if it’s to cover the fact that he’s choking up. I smile. I didn’t think it was possible to crush on the guy any more than I already am, but then he goes and says something like that.

“All this—it means the world to me, Drew. You’re right. Max is special, but you’re just as great. I know you think you’re doing what any friend would do, but you go way beyond the call of duty.”

“Yeah, well…” He laughs me off, embarrassed. “Don’t let that get out, okay? I have a reputation.”

“So I’ve heard,” I grin.

“Your accent really is almost gone,” he says while tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, and it’s swoon city.

“It comes out badly when I’m upset. My roommate and best friend, Jacey, makes fun of me most of the time. She used to tell people when I turned Aussie, that’s when it was about to go down.” I really do miss Jacey. I hope she’ll get to come visit after finals. Sure, she’ll be giving up her New York summer for a Melbourne winter, but she’ll get to meet the people who have had the most influence on who I’ve become.

“A little Aussie firecracker,” he jokes, and I can only shake my head.

“Yeah, something like that. Thank you again for being here. Max really does care about you guys, and I think you more than the rest—but don’t tell them I said that. He’s going to need each of us to make sure he gets through this. And I couldn’t do this without you, either.” I wonder if I should have divulged that kind of information—am I making myself too vulnerable? Then again, it’s Drew, and if there’s anyone in this world who knows how much I need Max and vice versa, it’s Andrew.

I lean over and kiss him tenderly on the cheek, allowing my lips to linger a little longer than appropriate for a friend thanking another, and he knows it. He breathes in sharply and turns his head, so his lips are inches from mine. My heart pounds as his fingers entwine with mine and he places them on his chest between us. His sweet, musky scent surrounds me—the same scent I’ve known for too long—and I’m struggling to think straight as his warm lips press roughly against mine. The kiss only lasts seconds, or maybe it’s longer, but everything around me stops. When he finally pulls away, I realise that somewhere in those lost moments, his fingers found their way to my hair, wrapping around the locks at the base of my neck, and my hand up the bottom of his shirt, softly grazing the chiseled muscle of his stomach.

“Night, Aubs. Sleep tight,” he whispers before disappearing behind the closed door.

Exactly what was that? And how do I make it happen again?

Chapter Nine

Drew

Well, what the hell was that? Why did I do it? I crossed a line. A line I’m not sure I’ll be able to uncross. If Max found out, he’d have my balls in a vice. Not that I blame him. If he tried anything on my sister, there would be hell to pay. The biggest problem is, I’m not even sorry. Even with the knowledge of letting Max down by doing exactly what he asked me not to do, there’s not a chance in hell I’d take it back.

I’ve kissed so many women in my day, this quick kiss shouldn’t have been anything special, but it was different on so many levels. I’ve never felt lips that soft, or hands so warm, nor has a kiss ever made me feel … well, anything. For those few seconds, her body was completely under my control, as if she couldn’t stop herself any more than I could.

I replay the moment in my head, over and over, as if I’m memorising every tiny detail: the way her hair felt around my fingers, or the way her hands found their way under the fabric of my shirt. The moment her skin touched mine, I was gone. I wanted to go back and kiss her again. More than that, I wanted to feel myself inside her. That’s how I felt right there in my best mate’s home with him upstairs in his bed, unknowing of what was happening just outside the main entry with his sister. There’s no telling what I would’ve done if we’d been alone, not outside for the world to see. God, what am I doing? Am I actually contemplating starting something with Aubrey? I let out a low laugh. It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? The second her tongue ran the seam of my lips, then battled mine for control, I ran the risk of losing my best mate. The question is, how far am I willing to go? I rub my head. I’m in no condition to make any decisions now. I’ve had too much to drink and too little sleep. I’ll see how I feel in the morning.

*****

Sleeping on it didn’t do much good. All I did was toss and turn all night thinking about how soft and pliable Aubrey is and how sweet she tasted when our lips locked. Only my damn dreams didn’t stop there. They went way too far. I haven’t had a wet dream since high school, but leave it to Aubrey to have me waking up sweating like a marathon runner with a cum stain on the bed.

I shake it off as much as I can before hitting the shower. I’m exhausted and the day hasn’t even begun. My saving grace is it’s Sunday. I’m not required to be anywhere, and I have my morning and most of the afternoon to myself to get my damn life in order before facing the real world. The worst part? Everytime I try to put two and two together, figure out where to go from here and how I’m going to deal with the sexiest mess I’ve ever made, I get an ache just behind my eyelids and the thinking stops, leaving me in the same place I was when I started: wanting to start shit with my best mate’s sexy-ass little sister.

I need to get my head straight before I head over to my mum’s. If something’s up, she’ll pick up on it the second I walk through the door, and passing on dinner isn’t an option. Not when I know she’s got a roast on. Once a week, Mum makes sure to make a family dinner, and no matter what, we all attend. It’s our tradition. Even after Mum and Dad split, we didn’t even miss a week of our Sunday night roast.

I’m about to leave when I get a text from Em telling me Mum is cooking her famous double chocolate cake for dessert to try and cheer me up about Max. I don’t think there’s anything that could distract me from Max being ill, but Mum’s chocolate cake always makes things just a little bit better.

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Just before five, I pull into Mum’s driveway. Em sits at the picnic table down the side. She flicks something away when she sees me but not before I realise what it is. Since when does she smoke?

“Are you kidding me?” I growl, stalking over to her. I reach down and pick up the still-warm butt. She stares at me, wide-eyed, probably scared I’m going to blow my fuse. And she’s right. “My best mate is dying of cancer, and you’re willingly killing yourself? Are you fucking stupid?”

“Give it a rest, Drew,” she sighs, her eyes flashing. “Max never smoked a day in his life, worked out regularly, and ate healthy, yet he’s still got cancer. Twice. The world is backwards and if I want a cigarette, I’m an adult, I’m going to have one.” She pulls another one from her purse and places it between her lips.

“Bullshit,” I snarl. I snatch the cancer stick from between her lips and throw it down on the grass, grinding it into the ground beneath my boot. “The world is fucked. A great guy is dying because a disease has a hold on him. I’ll be damned if I sit back and watch my kid sister pollute her body. And for what? To prove how grown up she is? Get over yourself, Emma.”