19. Sibling Shockwave
Chapter nineteen
Sibling Shockwave
Chloe
Brody presses me back, breath coming in shallow bursts. “Chloe, wait. Let’s go someplace more private.”
I flash a knowing smile and step away, but only far enough to drop down.
His breath catches as I sink to my knees in front of him, and I see the lust filling the crotch of his jeans.
My fingers make quick work of his belt and buttons, slipping into his boxers.
“Oh, God…” His voice shakes almost as much as his legs.
Wrapping my fingers around his half-hard cock, I pull it free. My tongue grazes my lips, the sight of him enough to send my own arousal spiking.
I glance up, catching the haze in his eyes as one hand steadies at the base of his cock. The other teases him to full attention, slow and deliberate.
“Not so easy when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” The words slip out sharp, tinged with a wicked smile.
I’ve never been this daring when it comes to sex, but Brody brings out the wild, raw and electric that makes me bold.
His shoulders hit the wall, hands bracing behind him as he tries to keep himself upright.
There’s something intoxicating about seeing him this vulnerable, knowing I’m the one making him unravel.
It clicks why control matters so much to him.
The power is dizzying, and it’s already getting to my head.
My panties are wet with arousal.
“I’ve been quiet this whole time,” he grits out, his cock twitching in my hand. “You’re the one who’s going to get us… ah …”
My mouth shuts him up.
One flick of my tongue across the tip silences whatever smartass remark he was about to make. I lick again, tracing the sensitive ridge, teasing him while my fingers keep their steady rhythm.
He bites his bottom lip and lets out a sharp breath, his reaction sending a jolt straight to my clit.
I wrap my lips around him and take him into my mouth, feeling his thighs quiver beneath my touch.
My tongue glides up the length of him, slow and warm, savoring every inch. I want him desperate. Begging for more.
Heat swells in the pit of my stomach, echoing between my legs as the rhythm between us tightens.
The tendons in his neck pop, his jaw clenched tight. He groans, low and guttural, head rocking side to side.
I stroke him with one hand in tandem with my mouth and the other hand cups his balls.
His breath comes fast and ragged.
I suck his cock in deep and let out a low hum that reverberates through his shaft.
“Easy,” he grits out, looking down at me. Our eyes lock, his cock deep in my mouth. “Fuck.”
His fingers slip into my hair, undoing my tie so it falls over my shoulders. I moan around him, the vibration making him flinch as his hips jerk forward.
One hand cradles the back of my head, guiding the pace he wants, faster, deeper, relentless.
When I gag, it’s a soft, muffled sound that sends Brody quaking.
His shaft is slick with spit and precum, thick and pulsing, and I can feel how close he is.
“Sss…” He hisses, then gives in to another long moan. I suck harder, the clenching in my pussy becoming unbearable. “Stop. Sto…”
He doesn’t mean it.
I take him deep.
His body seizes, hands tightening in my hair, and the next second he’s gone, climax shuddering through him, cock jerking as he spills into my mouth.
I do the only thing I can.
Swallow.
Hot, salty release coats my tongue and slides down my throat while he breathes through the waves, raw and shaking.
When I pull back, it’s slow, intentional. His cock slips from my lips with a loud pop. I meet his eyes and wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.
He licks his lips, his lids heavy. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he rasps, chest still heaving.
“There’s so much you don’t know.”
The ache between my thighs is borderline unbearable. I need him. Now.
I lean in for a kiss, mouths inches apart, heat rising again, until a shrill ringtone slices through the tension like a chainsaw.
Are you fucking serious right now?
He fumbles for his phone, muttering an apology like I’m supposed to be charmed.
I cross my arms, foot tapping hard enough to rattle the floor. He’s really answering it?
His tone shifts as he speaks. Businesslike. Distant.
I sigh loudly, the sound purposefully drawn out, hoping he gets the hint, but as I listen, his voice is already edging into that business tone. The work tone.
Typical.
When he finally ends the call, he gives me a helpless shrug.
“Don’t hate me for this.” His voice rough with regret.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
I’m soaked, horny, and annoyed as fuck.
He buttons his jeans in a rush, belt jangling as he steps past me. “I wish I could stay. Really. But there’s a crisis I need to handle.”
His hand brushes my waist, eyes locking on mine. For a second, it feels like he might change his mind. That flicker of regret deepens, tension rippling off him as though he’s two seconds from saying fuck it and staying.
“Believe me,” he murmurs, “if I could blow this off and stay wrapped up with you all night, I would.”
“ Then do it .” I grab his hand, not caring how desperate I sound. “Screw work. Come home with me.”
His fingers squeeze mine, for a second. Then his jaw tightens.
"I’m sorry." His thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and lingering.
Then he’s gone.
Now I’m not just wet and angry. I’m humiliated.
He chose his job. Again. Why does that still sting?
What did I expect to happen? From the moment I met him, he made it clear his work comes first. I shouldn’t be surprised that a crisis would always take priority over me.
I wash up, trying to erase the evidence of how badly I misjudged everything. Going back to the festival isn’t an option now. Harper would’ve noticed I’m gone, and she’ll be all over me with a million questions.
I hardly recognize myself. Skin flushed. Frazzled. Regret smeared across my face. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, but I’ve also never felt so foolish.
“We missed you at the festival last night,” Amelia breezes over to the table, bright-eyed and positively obnoxious with that wide smile.
I fight back the urge to groan and attempt to stretch my lips into something resembling a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. Yep, definitely a grimace.
“I had a headache from hell,” I say, trying to sound casual. ' Headache ' might be an understatement considering my brain’s been on a two-day bender called ‘Why the hell didn’t Brody pick me?’ “Needed to leave early and lie down, you know?”
She nods in understanding, thankfully oblivious to my real trainwreck of a mental state and pulls a few blank poster cards toward her. “Are you sure you want to be here for this? I can take point on the posters if you’re not feeling up to it.”
Part of me wants to scream, Yes! Take the wheel!
I’ll be in the corner plotting the demise of my emotional stability.
’ But I shake my head. The truth is, planning for this next campaign is the only thing keeping me from going full-on insane about Brody and whatever the hell is—or isn’t—going on with us.
Work is my salvation. The only thing I can control.
What if I’ve been wrong all along? What if my gut instinct was right, and Brody’s just another workaholic who moonlights as a part-time heartbreaker?
“Chloe,” she breaks into my thoughts, snapping me out of my self-pity party. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but a few of us have been noticing you’ve been a little… distracted lately.”
Distracted? My heart sinks. I mean, she’s not wrong, my brain’s been running a marathon through Brody-land, but now she’s confronting me about it. Fantastic.
“It’s nothing.” I wave her off and focus really hard on the poster I’ve been working on for the past hour. An actual toddler could have done a better job. “There’s a lot that’s been going on with—with this project and…”
It’s all bullshit, and my brain is too scrambled to come up with a believable lie. I’ve got nothing left .
She surveys me with a pitying look that doesn’t make me feel any better. Thanks, girl. Really helping me feel like a champion.
Only a couple of years younger than me, Amelia and I have always been close.
Not Harper and Laney close, but close enough to call her a good friend.
My dad, being Mayor Dawson’s advisor, helped that along, of course, but I always found it easy to get along with her.
That’s because we share the same values when it comes to the environment and Bluepeak’s conservation, more specifically.
Saving trees and conserving our community is the ultimate friendship glue.
“Can I tell you something honestly?” she asks, her Sharpie hovering over the blank card in front of her.
I nod more enthusiastically than necessary.
Amelia snaps the cap back on the Sharpie, leans in, like she’s about to drop some life-altering truth, and my stomach immediately does that ‘Oh shit, brace yourself’ clench. I might have opened a can of worms I am definitely not prepared to close.
“We’ve had three campaigns since Stirling Tech came to town,” she begins, her voice low, like we’re plotting a heist instead of trying to save Bluepeak’s soul. “Each time, the numbers have dwindled. Fewer people are showing up to the marches.”
I’m about to cut in, but she raises her hand to stop me.
Oh, we’re doing this now.
“You weren’t at the last march,” she says bluntly. Ouch. “You know this town, Chloe. They see everything. People have noticed that you’re… distracted. The fight to stop Stirling Tech, to save the lodge, Crystal Heart, the mountains—everything.”
“Protecting Bluepeak means everything to me.” I swallow around the giant lump in my throat, trying to force down the guilt sandwich she served me. “I’m still just as committed to this campaign as I was before.”
Amelia gives me that look—the one that says, yeah, I’m about to call you out on your bullshit.
“Look, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.” She says, clearly trying not to sound harsh, but totally about to sound harsh. “I think it might be a good idea for you to step away for a bit.”
“What? No. I’m the one heading up…”
“I know,” Amelia quickly interjects. “But you’re obviously dealing with something that’s affecting your work. Maybe it’s the Stirling Tech project, maybe it’s something else, but my advice? Take some time to figure it out.”
“You’re kicking me off my own campaign?” My voice totally doesn’t crack, but my brain is in meltdown mode.
And what’s worse? She’s not wrong. I’ve been letting everyone down without realizing it. Perfect. Just perfect.
“I’m asking you to do what’s best for the campaign and for the town,” she says firmly, leaving no room for argument.
Damn. I wish I had that kind of nerve.
I sink back into my chair, thinking about how differently things might go if I had even half of her assertiveness. Like, maybe Brody wouldn’t be tap dancing on my last nerve if I could just be this direct .
“Okay.” I finally give in and waste no more time on the matter.
“You’re leaving… now?”
I bolt up from my chair, full-on adrenaline mode engaged. “No time like the present!” I shout over my shoulder, basically sprinting out of the conference room.
Not wanting to lose the fire Amelia’s lit up in me, I grab my bike and head straight for Stirling Tech. Brody’s probably in a meeting, but I’ll hang around all day if I have to. I need answers, and I need them yesterday.
By the time I stumble into the cool, air-conditioned reception, I’m a hot, sticky mess. Seriously, I look like I’ve been through a car wash. My hair’s plastered on my face, my clothes are soggy, and I’m pretty sure I smell like desperation.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” The receptionist flashes a friendly smile.
I’m already halfway to the elevators, though, and throw an “I know the way, thanks,” over my shoulder as I jab the up arrow repeatedly. Hurry the hell up.
The universe loves to watch me suffer because the elevator takes forever to arrive. By the time it dings, I’m already on edge, energy crackling through my limbs. Why am I so nervous? I’ve faced Brody before. This is nothing new. But now I’m in deep.
A chilling pang registers in my gut as a voice in the back of my head speaks up. It’s because now I have feelings for him. Feelings I didn’t have when I was getting up in his face about leaving Bluepeak.
The moment the elevator doors slide open on his floor, I storm out, adrenaline surging through me.
“ We need to talk .” I say, barging into his office. My fingers curl around the doorknob so hard, my knuckles go white. “Whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Brody is perched on the edge of his desk, glass of whiskey in hand, looking like he’s walked off the cover of GQ. He gapes at me like I’ve grown a second head, eyebrows up in surprise.
“ Did you hear me ?” I ask, my irritation peaking. This man could drive a saint to drink.
He blinks a couple times, clearly trying to process the situation. “Uh, Chloe… nice of you to drop by.”
Nice of me to drop by? What the actual fuck?
“I don’t have time for games,” I snap, striding further into the room, slamming the door shut.
It’s then that I notice… we’re not alone.
Sitting across from Brody in one of the armchairs is a man I haven’t seen before. Tall, broad-shouldered, with honey-glossed eyes that would probably make a lot of women swoon. Not me, though. I’m pissed.
Brody clears his throat and gestures toward the man, who slowly stands up.
“Chloe, meet my brother , Chase.”