FLIRT (Dirty Brothers 1)

I nod. “Yes.” There’s no denying how attracted I was—am—to him.

He reaches out to me, and I’m amazed by the fact that his hands on me already feel familiar. Natural. He kisses me again, softer this time. There’s a fire in my core and this only makes it burn hotter. “I know that I won our bet,” he says, “but I’m not going to force you to do anything. I’m not that man.”

I smile, because I’m glad he said that. But I’m not exactly blameless here. There’s no turning back now. “Thomas, I wouldn’t have bet something that I wasn’t willing to give.”

He gets out of the car and walks around to my side and opens the door. “Then welcome to my home.”

5

As soon as the elevator door closes, Thomas steps up behind me. He grabs my hips and pulls me against him. He’s shockingly strong. I knew he would be, but feeling the power of his strength is different than just seeing a solid body and knowing it’s strong. I can feel how hard he is as he grinds against me. His leans over and nips at my neck with his teeth. I can tell he’s holding back, being gentle with me … for now. I imagine it will be an entirely different situation when he gets me into his penthouse.

I close my eyes and lean against him, marveling at his delicious scent, at his strength, at the feeling of his hard-on digging into my backside. I turn around to face him, grab him by the collar and pull him into a sweltering kiss. He lifts me into his arms with barely any effort. My legs wrap around his waist and I cling to him.

When the elevator door slides open, I’m only slightly aware that there are people waiting to get in. Thomas doesn’t care and neither do I. He carries me out of the elevator and I hear someone giggle behind us.

He somehow manages to put the key into the lock and open the door to his apartment without tripping or stumbling at the same time that I’m clawing to get the buttons of his shirt undone.

He releases me just long enough to take off his jacket. Looking around his penthouse, I see that it’s an open style room with gorgeous windows that look out over Hawthorne, and I can see the lights of Boston in the distance. But that’s all I see. Thomas’s hands are on me again in an instant and I’m against the wall and his lips are on mine and suddenly I’m on fire. All the built up sexual tension from today and the pool game and our history and those abso-fucking-lutely incredible kisses explode through me, and I’m wet and ready and I can’t be worried about anything but this. I want it. Him.

We stumble further into the apartment, and his shirt is off and I get to run my hands over his gorgeous chest, my fingers bumping along the muscles of his toned abs. It’s what I’ve suspected all day; that under all those clothes is a perfect body. The urge to search him with my mouth is rising, but I’m distracted by the way he’s kissing my neck. His fingers are in my hair, and they tighten until he’s in full control of my head. He tilts my face back and I’m looking him in the eye. “I wasn’t joking about you being on your knees.”

Pleasure and anticipation spiral down through my gut. “Do I get to see you on your knees too?” I ask.

“Maybe if you play your cards right,” he says, pulling me against his body. I can feel just how hard he is through his pants, and I like knowing how much he wants this. He guides me through the apartment, keeping me close and continually touching me, teasing me.

His bedroom is gorgeous, open and spacious with what is probably the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. “Show me what you’ve got hiding under there,” he says.

I laugh, suddenly nervous. I didn’t wear my good underwear because I was convinced that this couldn’t happen. That it wouldn’t. “You’ve only got one night,” I say. “You sure you don’t want to take your time?”

His lips trail down my neck. “One night is a long time, and I’ve got plans. But right now I want to see you. Last time I didn’t get to.”

My back is to him, and even though I’m turned on, I’m still nervous, so it makes it easier to peel the tank top over my head. The plain black bra is nothing special, and I blush in embarrassment even though he can’t see it. Pulling me back against him, his hands roam up across my stomach and cup my breasts through the fabric. The sudden heat from his hands reminds me how long it’s been since I’ve been with anyone. Work and the awfulness of dating in New York have helped with that.