Sterling (Carolina Reapers 6)

And, if I was being honest with myself, it wasn’t just his searing kisses or his electric touch that had made me come harder than I ever had in my life.

It was the way he listened, the way he took the time to genuinely understand me and the fear that gripped me without any hint of judgment. The way he made me laugh right after he rattled off a comment that made me want to slap him. I enjoyed it—the push-pull, the give and take between us. It was fun…and it had been such a long time since a man and I had fun like that.

“Few more,” the photographer called out, and I blinked out of my unabashed barely-contained drool fest. “Could you two face me now, almost shoulder to shoulder?”

The brothers moved eerily similar, their muscled bodies obviously strong but also fluid as they turned toward the camera. Jansen’s eyes flickered with a mere hint of the pain I often caught him burying beneath the barely contained hate for Maxim, but it was gone in a blink.

My chest tightened, and I once again wished he would tell me the truth about why they hated each other. I could likely grill Maxim on the circumstances—he had grown more and more open toward me in the weeks since being signed with the Reapers. But I wanted to hear it from Jansen. Wanted to hear his side of things, which no doubt would be different than Maxim’s version. Because isn’t that how family hatred always festered? Not being able to agree or compromise or understand the other? What had happened between them to make the space between them a canyon despite being shoulder to shoulder now?

And, damn me, but I wanted to help. I wanted to ease the strain that radiated from him when he thought no one was looking.

“Either one of you want to do a smile shot?” the photographer asked, and I choked back a laugh.

Jansen’s eyes shifted, locking on mine, and he gave just the barest hint of a smirk. The one that had driven me crazy since the elevator—all confidence and sex and undiluted fun. My cheeks flushed, and I tried like hell to ignore the ache now radiating between my thighs.

From. Just. A. Smirk.

I shook my head when he arched a brow, just slightly, as if he could sense where my thoughts had taken me. Not wanting him to see right through me, I broke our gaze, glancing at Maxim.

His eyes were on me too, but no playful smirk shaped his lips. No, Maxim’s mouth promised destruction—pure, soul-wrecking destruction for anyone who dared to get too close to him. Yet his eyes, so much lighter blue than Jansen’s, churned with something I couldn’t read as he looked at me. I tilted my head in question, wondering what that silent look meant.

And then he winked.

Maxim actually winked.

It was so…unexpected that my lips parted open, an uncontainable laugh flying past them.

Maxim’s eyes smiled, his lips barely giving anything away.

And Jansen?

He glanced between the two of us, a look of utter bitterness churning in his eyes before he locked it down. The muscle in his jaw ticked, and I recoiled internally from the shift from his playful smirk to this…iciness.

I furrowed my brow, trying to catch his gaze, but he refused to look at me.

“That’s all we need, guys, thanks,” the photographer said as he packed up his gear. I made sure to thank him and his crew, doing my best not to track Jansen’s every move.

Which was in the opposite direction.

And I would’ve chased after him, but I had a line of fans waiting on the other side of a red-velvet rope to do a meet and greet with him, Maxim, Cannon, and Axel.

Cannon and Axel were chatting near the group of fans, waiting patiently for me to come to them with instructions and supplies. Maxim hurried over to me, nodding to the group.

“We’re supposed to be over there, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “You okay?”

I drew my gaze away from Jansen, who leaned against the white stone of the hotel, his eyes distant.

“Yes,” I said, a surge of anger sizzling in my blood. Why the cold shoulder? Because I had glanced at his brother who happened to be doing his best to make me laugh? In a friend way? Why did that earn me a disgusted gaze? Jansen hadn’t asked for me in any real capacity—sure, he was helping me through my fears, but I was helping him with his career. If he wanted to put some claim on me, which I shouldn’t even be thinking about, then he should’ve said so after he’d made me come with just his fingers. Not wait until I smiled at another man and go all primal caveman on me.

“Sterling?” I called to him, not giving him the satisfaction of waiting for him. I headed over to the group of fans with Maxim following at my side.