Loving Mr. Cane (Cane 3)

“Something like what?”

“Like…how we kissed before…”

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit!

I held my hands up, like I was pausing the entire conversation. “Wait—with Clay? Your brother Clay?”

“He’s only my brother by law, not blood,” she stated, like she’d practiced the statement a million times. “I’ve never felt a brotherly bond with him. Ever, and how could I? Technically, before I even moved in with Aria, we were friends before becoming family. At first I hated him, and then I warmed up to him, and then I hated him again for making me look so fucking stupid.” She rubbed the tip of her nose.

“But how did that happen? The kiss?”

“Ugh. I don’t know. It’s a lot. There have always been little signs here and there, but we never acted on them until we got older. Not only that, but the last thing I want to do is hurt Aria. The first time something happened was when I was seventeen. Clay was home for spring break and came into my room saying he wanted to watch a movie on Netflix, and since I was the one who had the account, he needed the password. Well I refused to give it to him, so he did that stupid thing he always did and tried to play-wrestle with me. It was all fun and games as kids when we used to get into fights, but we were older by then. Hormonal.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he picked me up and dropped me on the bed and then he was on top of me. He was between my legs, and he had my wrists pinned to the bed. Like I said, we wrestled all the time, but the way he looked at me, and how close his mouth was to mine, it was just…different. He climbed off all quickly and then I gave him the password for my account, just to get him to leave.”

“Wow,” I breathed. I don’t even know why I was so surprised. Frankie and Clay argued and fought often, and now that I thought about it, there was always something there that made them not seem so brotherly-sisterly. I mean, I grew up with Frank and always knew him as her brother by adoption, so I only saw Clay as her brother. I never had a sibling, so I suppose I couldn’t place it, but their bond was very unique. There was always more, and he was always very protective of her. Overly protective. “Were there other times?” I asked.

“Yeah. The other times were more intense,” she went on. “There was one night when Clay had a spur-of-the-moment party at the house and had invited the whole football team and some dumb cheerleaders over. I think you had practice that night, so I didn’t bother you. Anyway, I’d been drinking during the party and had to go up to my room to change. Well, Clay came stumbling in my room with Irene.”

“Ew, Irene?”

“Yes, Irene Hall. The girl who sucks every guy’s dick. I don’t even know why she was there. Anyway, he came into my room, knowing damn well I was in there. I was changing clothes because some douche had spilled his drink all over my shirt and pants. I asked Clay what the hell he was doing in my room, and he had the nerve to tell me to get out of my own room so he could do shit with her.”

“Oh my God, he didn’t!”

“Yes, he did! I flipped the fuck out! I told Irene to get lost, and I guess he was pissed that he’d lost his free pass on getting head, so he slammed the door closed and got in my face. He told me I was always cock-blocking him and he was sick of it.” She rolled her eyes. “I told him that he does the same damn thing whenever I have a guy around—even at school. We got into this heated debate and I shoved him away, but he came closer, and before I knew it, his mouth was on mine. He started…kissing me. And the kisses were fucking torture and bliss, K.J. I’d never felt anything like it. It was so fucking wrong but so damn hot. And God,” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air, “I hate that I’m even saying all of this because it’s so freakin’ horrible! I mean, I could taste the alcohol on his breath. I can still remember the taste. Modelo Negro. He always drank that beer. The next thing I know, he was picking me up and pushing me against the wall. He started kissing my neck. He was hard and grinding on me. He kept saying how frustrating I was, and I kept telling him how irritating he was. We were still arguing while kissing and humping like dummies, and it was so fucked up. So, so fucked up. I mean, we grew up together, K.J. He should feel like a brother to me, but I wanted him to fuck me so badly. He almost did, but we got interrupted.” She whipped her head over to look at me, as if she forgot I was sitting there. “Is that bad?” she whispered.