Hard Luck (Trophy Boyfriends 4)

“Fuck…oh…yes, Mateo, yes.”

Whoa. I’ve barely made a sound because I haven’t had to. She’s making enough noise for the both of us, and if I don’t keep her quiet, big brother is going to be banging on this door louder than I’m banging her.

True comes before I do with a shrill moan I’m betting I’ll hear again in the hospital labor and delivery room when she’s giving birth. What a monster I am.

I do my best not to crush her when I collapse, spent, rolling to the side and staring up at the ceiling.

It’s quiet. Peaceful.

Until…

“I think I hear something.”

“That’s my lungs struggling to find air,” I joke, chuckling while she shushes me.

“I heard something.”

We listen.

Someone is definitely maybe awake, definitely maybe in the hallway. Or not.

“Shit,” I whisper uncertainly. “You heard that too, right?”

We are so screwed.

Seventeen

True

Mateo presses his index finger to my mouth, giving his head a little shake to quiet me as he inches down my body again.

He pauses.

“I think that was a door.” His lips say the words though no sound comes out. Luckily, I can read his lips.

There’s shuffling outside, feet against the carpet.

A knock on my door.

Crap!

This seriously cannot be happening.

“True?” My brother jiggles the doorknob. Hesitates. “Open up—is everything alright?”

Mateo and I go completely still, freezing on the bed like stone statues.

“True?” Jiggle, jiggle.

“Say something,” Mateo whisper-hisses as he flies off the bed, fumbling around for his pants and making a beeline for the first available hiding spot: the closet.

I wait until he’s safely inside before calling out to Tripp.

“What’s up?”

He knocks again. “Open up. Why is the door locked?”

Ugh, what is he, the noise police? Why isn’t he going away?

WHY ISN’T HE.

GOING.

AWAY.

Big brothers are so freaking annoying.

“Um, j-just a second, jeez!” I locate my bathrobe and pull it on, running my fingers through what is surely sex hair before rushing to unlock the door and yank it open.

“What.” I sound peeved because I am, yanked out of a sex euphoria by my obnoxious older sibling who seems hell-bent on checking on me as if I were a child and not the one having a child.

He stands there glaring, mammoth arms crossed. “Is everything okay? I thought I heard noises.” His neck cranes so he can peer over my shoulder. “It sounded like you were being strangled by an alley cat.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t hear anything.”

“You heard nothing? It was coming from this side of the house.”

“Maybe you heard the sound of your own nosiness.”

Tripp rolls his eyes. “That’s impossible—you can’t hear your own nosiness. Why was your door locked?”

He is going to beleaguer the point until it’s dead in the ground.

I widen my stance. “I’m not allowed to lock my door? What is this, Mom and Dad’s house?”

His nostrils flare. “What if there’s a fire and you can’t get out?”

“Suddenly you’re worried about fires? You’re being ridiculous—having my door closed and locked is safer than having it open.”

I pull my robe together and hold it closed with one hand while wedging my body in the crack of the open door to block his view.

We have a stare-down—a standoff, if you will—the kind we had when we were kids and both refused to back down from a bet or a squabble. Or if we were arguing over the last Oreo in the cookie jar.

Can’t stop, won’t stop, won’t back down.

“Why was your door locked?”

I barely contain my ire.

He has ruined my orgasmic state with his high-handed brothering.

“Fine. I won’t lock my door anymore. Happy?”

My brother’s inquisitive brain isn’t done piecing together the puzzle of the sounds he heard, and he tilts his head inward. “You’re sure you didn’t hear anything weird?”

Why is he like this!

“You know what,” I blurt out, aggravated. “Maybe I didn’t hear anything because I was too busy masturbating.”

His jaw drops to the floor.

Good.

“Now. Will there be anything else? Or can I get back to my nocturnal extracurricular activities?” My tone challenges him to say more stupid shit, but he doesn’t—can’t—his face turning crimson red before he spins on his heel and stomps back down the hallway from whence he came.

His door slams shut.

I shut mine too—locking it behind me.

“You can come out now.”

Mateo falls out, laughing. “I cannot believe you told your brother you were masturbating. What expression did he have on his face?”

I widen my eyes, flare my nostrils, and drop my jaw, exaggerating all three movements before sticking out my tongue. “Like this. The face you’d make walking in on your parents having sex.”

We laugh and laugh and laugh some more.

Quietly, of course, before it’s time to get him dressed and sneak him out the front door.

I kiss him on his way out, pulling him in by the collar of his hoodie, drawing him close.

“Thank you for coming.”

The thrill of the evening still has my heart racing.