Chapter Eight Evan
The knock comes just after ten.
I freeze halfway through my coffee, the ceramic mug suspended between the table and my lips. Cassidy is still upstairs in my bed, and my cock twitches at the thought, like it doesn't understand we're officially in danger zone now.
Because Dylan Monroe is standing on my porch. And I've been balls-deep in his little sister for days.
The irony isn't lost on me. Five days ago, I was a man in control of his life, his desires and his carefully constructed boundaries. Now I'm standing here with the taste of her still on my tongue, her scent still clinging to my skin, and her brother is about to walk into the middle of it all.
I set the mug down with hands that aren't quite steady and walk to the door. Through the frosted glass, I can see his familiar silhouette. Tall, broad-shouldered, the same build that runs in their family. The same confident stance that Cassidy inherited, though she wears it differently.
I open the door, and there he is, grinning that easy Monroe smile, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and sunglasses pushed up into his messy brown hair.
He looks exactly the same as he did six months ago, when he left for his consulting job in the city.
Same easy confidence and same way of taking up space like he belongs wherever he is.
"Surprise," he says, stepping forward like he's going to embrace me.
I grunt and step back. "You said the afternoon."
"Yeah, and I also said I wanted a head start." He shoulders past me into the cabin, immediately making himself at home. It's what Dylan does. Claims space, makes friends, brings light into dark corners. "Where's the coffee?"
I gesture toward the kitchen, trying to keep my voice level. "Go ahead. I'll check to see if Cass is awake."
He heads inside, already talking about his drive, about the weather, about the job we're supposed to start this week. Normal things. Brother things. Best friend things.
I sprint up the stairs two at a time.
Cassidy's just stepping out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body. Her skin is flushed pink from the hot water.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, and I catch the flash of panic there.
"I heard him. He's here?"
"Yep."
"Shit." She rushes toward the bed, grabbing for the shirt she wore earlier.. "Okay, okay, act casual. Don't be weird."
I watch her fumble with the buttons, her fingers shaking slightly.
"I'm always weird," I point out.
"Okay, well be less weird. And stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
She shoots me a look over her shoulder as she pulls on a pair of shorts. "Like you're remembering what I let you do to me last night."
I smirk, unable to help myself. "Hard not to."
She throws a pillow at me, and I catch it, grin still in place. But underneath the banter, I feel it.
She's slipping back into little-sister mode, and I'm supposed to pretend none of it happened.
Pretending I don't know the sound she makes when she's close. Pretending I haven't memorized every inch of her body and love every sensitive spot that makes her gasp. Pretending I'm not already missing the weight of her against me, even though she's standing right here.
We come downstairs together. Dylan's in the kitchen, already making himself at home with my coffee maker, and when he turns to greet us, I see the exact moment his protective instincts kick in.
Dylan doesn't miss a thing. He watches her like a protective older brother.
"You look good, Cass," he says, pulling her into a hug. "Rested."
Cass reaches for a mug, and I notice the slight tremor in her hands. "Morning, big bro."
"Morning," he says, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies her face. "You okay?"
I tense, waiting for her answer.
"Best rest I've had in months," she says with a bright smile that's just a little too wide.
Dylan's eyes flick to me.
I clear my throat and grab a banana from the counter, needing something to do with my hands. "Cass sis like a hurricane," I say flatly, falling back on our old dynamic. "She's still a mouthy, demanding little thing."
It's a lie. But it's the kind of complaint Dylan would expect from me.
She bumps me with her hip, and the contact sends electricity shooting up my spine. "You love it."
I freeze.
She freezes.
The words hang in the air between us, loaded with double meaning.
Dylan looks between us slowly, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head. "You two seem... cozy."
Cass snorts, but there's a tightness around her eyes. "What, we're not allowed to be civil?"
"Just surprised you're not already trying to murder each other." Dylan's voice is casual, but his eyes are anything but. "Usually takes you about five minutes to start bickering."
"Personal growth," she says sweetly.
Dylan doesn't reply. Just lifts his coffee to his lips, watching me over the rim like a man filing away questions for later.
I realize, with growing dread, that Dylan is nobody's fool.
***
The day passes in a blur of construction talk, job-site planning, and mild chaos. I throw myself into it, grateful for the distraction, for the familiar rhythm of work and planning and normal conversation.
Every time I look at Cassidy, she's laughing with Dylan or scrolling her phone on the porch swing like she hasn't had my tongue between her thighs less than twenty-four hours ago.
By the time dinner rolls around, I'm wired tight and barely holding it together. I fire up the grill jabbing at the coals.
Cassidy brings out a bowl of salad, and when she sets it on the table, her fingers brush mine for just a second, and it's enough. Enough to remind me of how those same fingers felt digging into my back, enough to make my cock twitch against my jeans.
Dylan leans against the deck rail, beer in hand, watching us.
"So what's really going on here?" he asks finally.
I glance over, trying to keep my expression neutral. "What do you mean?"
He eyes me with the kind of look that says he's not buying whatever bullshit I'm about to feed him. "You and Cass. You’re not looking me in the eye, and she's glowing."
"Glowing?" I echo, flipping a burger with more force than necessary.
Cass jumps in, her voice just a little too bright. "That's just the mountain air."
Dylan's gaze shifts between us, and I can see him putting pieces together.
He doesn't look convinced.
But he lets it go.
For now.
That night, after Dylan's gone to bed in the guest room, I'm in the kitchen nursing a whiskey and trying not to think about the woman sleeping down the hall.
I'm failing spectacularly.
I hear quiet footsteps behind me, and I don't need to turn around to know it's her. I'd recognize the sound of her bare feet on hardwood anywhere.
Cass.
She wraps her arms around my waist from behind, pressing a kiss between my shoulder blades, and every muscle in my body goes tight.
"Well," she murmurs against my back, "that wasn't hard, was it."
I turn in her arms, and the sight of her nearly brings me to my knees.
"You're enjoying this," I accuse.
There’s mischief in her eyes that makes my blood run hot. "A little. But I also wanted to kiss you all day."
I stroke a hand down her back, fingers trailing beneath the hem of her shirt to find warm, bare skin. "I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you."
She presses her body against mine, and I feel her heat, her curves, everything that's mine and not mine at the same time.
“Me too.” She tells me as she steps away. “Me too.”