Amber
I sat on the sofa in my room, trying to read a book but my mind kept wandering to the events of the morning. Pumpkin had let Zach touch him. Why did he suddenly start trusting men, especially a man of Zach's size? He was built like a linebacker. Dad would be proud of me for that comparison. It had taken Pumpkin several months to let Dad touch him. Maybe my cat had noticed that my dad didn’t know how to act around him.
The sound of the bell startled me and I jumped up. Pumpkin hissed, leaped off the sofa and hid under my bed. I tiptoed toward my door and stiffened when I heard several male voices in the apartment. With shaking hands I locked my door and leaned against it to eavesdrop.
There were three male voices that I'd never heard before and then there were Zach and Brian. Unease swirled in my stomach. I tried to keep my breathing even as I listened to their conversation.
“There's a new club,” a man with a deep voice said. “Are you in?”
“Sure, Bill,” came Zach's immediate reply.
“Come on, Brian.” Another male voice urged. I heard the shuffling of feet, closer to my room, and checked my lock again.
“I'm not in the mood,” Brian said in a tight voice. I bet he was worried about leaving me alone.
“You sound like an old housewife,” said the man.
“Stop it, Jason,” Zach growled and I cringed. He’d never sounded so…threatening, not when I was around. It was silent for a moment. Then they began talking again but too low for my ears to hear. I guessed they were discussing me.
I rested my forehead against the door, listening how the male voices died down as they left the apartment. Pumpkin pressed against my leg, purring loudly. He blinked up at me with his amber eye and mewed. “It’s okay.”
Guitar music floated over to me. It was the saddest melody I'd ever heard. Sad but beautiful. Brian, he was playing the guitar. It had been years since I’d heard him play. Cautiously I unlocked the door and opened it, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
Pumpkin dashed past my leg and through the door, heading straight for the living room. I followed him on my tiptoes and peered around the corner. Pumpkin strode toward the sofa where Brian was sitting and playing his guitar. I clamped a hand over my mouth when my cat jumped onto the sofa inches from Brian. He let out a startled gasp and jerked back, almost dropping his guitar. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. After a moment he straightened and continued his play, never taking his eyes off Pumpkin. Brian wasn’t a cat person.
I closed my eyes for an instant as I listened to the sad melody. One song ended and another began, even more haunting than the one before that. Slowly, I opened my eyes and crept closer to the sofa, worried about interrupting my brother. Brian turned his head and apprehension flashed on his face. His fingers stilled on the strings and the music died down.
“Please, don't stop,” I whispered, moving a bit closer and plopping down on the loveseat on Brian’s right. “I missed your playing.” Why was it so difficult to interact with Brian? I could still remember the days when we bantered like siblings should.
Surprise flickered in his eyes and then a smile brightened his expression. He bent over his guitar and began to play a happier melody. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the backrest of the loveseat. When I was little, Brian often played for me and it had always calmed me when I was upset. But after the incident nothing could calm me, and Brian hadn't played in front of me ever since. I’d thought he'd given up on it completely. I was glad he hadn't.
CHAPTER FIVE
Zachary
The music was blaring at full volume as we entered the crowded club, the bass a living breathing thing in my body. Jason and Bill set off instantly on their hunt for a meaningless fling with one of the barely clad girls who swayed their hips in rhythm to the hip-hop beats. Jason and Bill were wearing the same floral shirt, as some sort of running gag that was supposed to impress the chicks. I doubted that the Beach Boys look made girls want to drop their panties.
I stalked over to the bar, Kevin at my heals, and ordered a vodka-martini, my favorite drink. Kevin got his usual non-alcoholic beer and gave me a pained smile when a drunk girl leaned against the bar next to him, batting her eyelashes at him. He, always the gentleman, didn’t have the guts to send her off; instead he ignored her advances. And that was proving more and more difficult by the minute. She ran a hand through his long blond hair. A year ago he would have readily took her up on her obvious offer but ever since he met Reagan everything had changed. The guys and I often taunted him about being whipped but I had to admit that his relationship with Reagan was admirable. Yet sometimes they reminded me of love-sick puppies.
Kevin's forced smile turned into a frown when the girl began to feel him up, running her hand up and down his chest. I heaved a monumental sigh and took it upon myself to save his life. I bent toward the girl and her eyes snapped up to me, continuing the unnerving batting of her lashes. It made me dizzy to watch the rapid movement. I gave her my shark-grin. “Get lost, kitty, we're not interested.”
She looked offended and opened her mouth for a come back. I spared her the effort and growled. “Get lost.” She left with a huff, giving me one last deathly glare.
“That wasn’t very nice, Zach,” Kevin said, trying to hide his grin behind the bottle of beer in his hand.
I shrugged and leaned back against the bar. “You should be grateful. I saved you. I'm sure Reagan wouldn't like this skank having her hands all over you.”
“Reagan trusts me,” he said with fervor, his eyes lighting up at the mentioning of his girlfriend.
I rolled my eyes. Sometimes their lovey-dovey displays made me sick. My eyes caught sight of long, blond hair and a body I knew only too well. Just the distraction I needed.
Kevin nudged my side. “Brittany's advancing on you. I'm gone. Maybe I'll find Jason or Bill somewhere on the dance floor.” With that he disappeared in the crowd, as if the devil was after him, and for him Brittany was the equivalent of the devil. The two hated each other with fervor. Kevin found her arrogant, self-centered, narcissistic, vain and rude. Brittany was all of those things. But she was also fucking hot and a good lay.
I glanced in her direction and she smirked at me. I stifled a groan and kept my face indifferent. The girl was confident enough, I didn't need to add to that by appraising her undeniably irresistible body.
She sauntered over to me, a sultry smile playing on her red-painted lips. Men often took Brittany for stupid; she was anything but, and that made her even more dangerous. She went to business school and was the daughter of one of my father’s best customers and friends. Her eyes traveled over my body as I leaned against the bar, vodka-martini in hand. I didn't smile at her, not in the mood for pleasantries. Brittany and I'd been fuck buddies for almost a year and though recently she seemed to want more I couldn't imagine wanting more than hot sex from her. She, just like I, had other partners and one-night-stands, and I wanted our relationship to remain on a no-strings-attached basis.
“Hi Zach,” she said in a husky voice, perching on a bar stool beside me and crossing her long legs. “Do you like my new dress?”
Of course, Brittany was as obnoxious and self-centered as usual. I let my eyes wander over her dress, if you could even call it that. I’d classify it as underwear. It left hardly anything to the imagination. Not that there was anything I hadn’t seen yet.
The flimsy red piece of fabric ended high on her
thighs, barely covering her butt, and the plunging neckline would have made a hooker jealous. Brittany loved to present her best features openly, cause that's all she was - looks. If it weren't for her hot body I'd have never put up with her for so long.
“The dress is nice,” I commented dryly before raising my drink to my lips and taking another gulp.
Brittany's face darkened. “Nice?” She was about to throw one of her temper tantrums.
I sighed quietly. “God damn sexy, fucking hot...”
She smiled, satisfied, and grabbed my arm, sliding her high-heeled foot between my legs and rubbing it along my inner thigh. “How about a dance?” She hopped off the stool and pulled me toward the dance floor. I resisted her tugging and she pouted. “You won't regret it.” Then she licked her lips in a way that almost made me moan. I knew this was a game for her. She had acting skills deserving of an Oscar. You would never believe she was the same woman who attended luncheons at my father’s company in custom-made business suits.
I didn't resist any longer, knowing that this would only make her more insistent. I moved my body in rhythm to the hammering beat and ran my hands over Brittany's hips while she grinded herself against me, her butt causing delicious friction against my groin.
She knew what she was doing of course. She'd done it with God-knows how many guys and with me more times than I cared to count. Despite my previous annoyance, I grew hard and let out a low growl. Brittany reached behind herself and cupped my cock through my pants, squeezing lightly while we kept rocking to the music. Her touch was a promise of what was to come. I nuzzled my face against her neck and sucked her skin into my mouth. She let out a low moan and ground herself even more insistently against me.
“Fuck,” I growled into her ear.
“Just what I've been thinking,” She grinned wickedly at me and led me across the dance floor toward the back door of the club. For once it wasn’t raining, not that I'd have cared if it had. The small back alley was deserted. Just what we needed.