Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Fallon
The doorbell rings downstairs. It’s got to be a mistake—a delivery to the wrong address maybe. God forbid it’s the creeper who left the card. Whoever it is, it’s late, so I’m staying put.
Then my phone chimes.
PJ: Answer the door
Fuck. I race down the stairs and fling the French doors wide. I’m embarrassed to say the sight of him makes my breath catch.
He’s dressed in a crisp charcoal suit, looking like temptation and sin. Probably from another dinner date. There’s a sour feeling in my stomach, something I’m trying to tell myself isn’t jealousy.
I don’t want him. I don’t need him. I definitely don’t—
Then PJ backs me into the foyer wall, pinning me with his mouth against mine. He kicks my feet apart, shoving his hand into my boxer briefs.
“Wow.” I’m not sure what I meant to say, but I don’t think it was that.
Still, when his fingers wrap around me, I’m all out of thoughts. All the blood has left my brain.
“Dumbass. What the fuck made you think I didn’t want to come over here?”
“I don’t…I don’t know.” I don’t know how to define what this is between us. We’re supposed to be friends, but friends don’t give jerk-off instructions over the phone. He’s made it clear he’s dating other guys. I don’t know what to think.
He bows his head, his teeth closing around one nipple. The pain makes me hiss and then sigh as endorphins send tingles rushing over my skin. “God, do that again.”
He does. Harder.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I mumble a little too late.
“Shut the fuck up.” His rough hands abrade my aching dick, mixing pleasure with pain. The perfect amount. I look into his eyes, wide and serious, until I notice—“Are you left-handed?”
His smile is savage. “Ambidextrous.” As if to illustrate, he switches hands. “If you’re noticing which hand I’m using to touch your dick, something’s wrong.”
I hate the way I have to hold in laughter. This is all too warm and personal for me to blow it off as a hookup.
In spite of the intimacy, something about PJ makes me feel as if I’m in the presence of a jungle cat, as dangerous as he is pretty. There must be a glitch in my code that it turns me on. Marina was like that too.
“Look at me.” Carried away by sensation, I don’t realize my eyes have drifted shut until PJ tells me to open them. When I do, he’s working a finger in and out of his mouth. It’s so obscene I almost come from the sight.
Then he slides that same hand between my thighs, prodding my hole with that wet digit. Then I do come, nearly doubling over when my knees buckle. We stand there, breathing with our foreheads pressed together, until I’m steady again.
“You’re such a fucking idiot,” PJ says, but his expression is fond.
Not letting that fondness find a home in my chest is easier said than done.
It’s not until I’m catching my breath and I feel an evening breeze tighten my nipples that I realize… Fuck. We left the front door standing wide open.
I can’t believe I did something so stupid. Anybody could be out there.
“Shit.” Paranoia has me scanning the street behind PJ, but nothing seems out of place. No masked man in a trench coat lurking behind a lamppost while holding a sign that reads “bad guy.” Which is good. I hope.
Unaware of the reason I texted him, PJ seems amused. “Think we gave your neighbors a good show?”
“I hope not. Mrs. Fanning, across the street, she has a heart condition.” I close and lock the door. “I’d, uh, better go put some clothes on.”
“Not on my account, you shouldn’t.”
Oh. Well.
“Hey. You okay? You seem stressed for a guy who nutted so hard he couldn’t stand up straight.”
“Yeah. Fine. Long day.” Should I tell him about the card? It’s the reason I sent him that text, but now that he’s here, the threat feels vague. Silly.
“By the way, you know there’s a huge pile of garden shit in your driveway?”
Dammit. Remembering the delivery makes the already-tense muscles in my neck and shoulders bunch up. “I know. It’s uh… Marina used to order mulch and whatnot to replenish the garden beds every summer. I keep forgetting to cancel.”
My attention strays to the living room, to the picture Marina painted of herself standing like a vengeful vampire queen over the body of a subject who’d betrayed her. Would she be angry if I canceled the delivery? Would she care? Does it matter?
“I noticed that painting last time I was here.” PJ comes up behind me.
He wraps his arms around me, and I don’t try to stop him when a voice in my head tells me I should.
His presence at my back calms and reassures me.
“I’m no design expert, but I thought it was awfully goth looking for a room with a tropical beach theme. ”
I manage a slight smile, looking around as if seeing the room for the first time.
The teal sofa is patterned with palm fronds, while the wicker chair and coffee table appear to have come from a vacation rental.
On the table there’s a heavy glass bowl she bought on a research trip in Murano, when she was in a glass-blowing phase.
The sign that says BEACH LIFE in neon letters is next to the bookcase holding all the novels I’ve written.
“Marina was an artist. She had an eclectic sense of style.”
Which is about all I can say. I agree that the painting doesn’t match the room. For Marina, that was the entire point. The incongruity with the rest of the room makes the painting stand out. Nobody knows this work was Marina’s victory lap. A sneaky sort of trophy after her brother’s death.
After she killed him.
“Oh, shit,” PJ murmurs. “That’s cool. I noticed one of the rooms upstairs has an electronic lock on the door, so I assumed one of you was a hit man or a professional thief.”
A surprising laugh huffs out of me. “No, that’s just Marina’s studio. She didn’t like people peeking at her work before it was finished.”
I’d planned to get to work on cleaning that room out this week. Once again, the guilt pokes at me. I don’t want to erase her, but I’m feeling like it might be time.
PJ slides next to me. Leaving one arm around my waist, he looks at Marina’s painting again with an appreciative eye. “She painted that?”
“Yeah, she—”
“Yoohoo, little brother. I know you’re awake since I saw the light—oh. There you are.”
Oh God, no. I spin to face the front door, hating that PJ’s hand leaves my waist. “What the hell are you doing here?”
My brother freezes, one hand still on the open door. He glances back and forth between PJ and me, looking confused.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Well, given that I’m still in my underwear and PJ’s here, I can see how he would think so. While I’m usually happy to see my brother, this isn’t the time.
“I invited PJ over. Again, what are you doing here?”
I’m asleep. Please, let me be asleep, and this is all a nightmare. When I wake up, I need to remember to get Wes to return the spare key.
“You sent me a text, remember? Came to make sure everything was okay.” His gaze keeps straying to PJ.
Who unfreezes and holds his hand out to my brother. “Hi. PJ. Nice to meet you.”
“Uh…” Wes stares at PJ’s hand.
Which has my cum on it. PJ must notice because he immediately puts it behind his back.
This is definitely a nightmare.
Wait a minute. “Don’t you two know each other? Wes, you set us up.”
“Right.” PJ bobs his head. “Like I told you, it was more like a friend-of-a-friend thing.”
“Right.” Wes agrees at a startling volume. “We don’t exactly, uh…”
Something’s weird here. It’s not like my brother to seem to be at a loss for words. He’s staring at me again with wide eyes, which reminds me I’m still only wearing boxer briefs, for God’s sake.
“Wes, it’s after ten.”
“I had a late shift at the hotel.” He makes no move to leave, not even an apology for barging in so late. Has Wes always been this bad at reading the room?
“Okay. Well, thanks for stopping by, but PJ and I have plans.” Is he not getting the hint, or is he being stubborn?
I even go so far as to put a hand on my brother’s upper back, gently steering him toward the door.
Wes, however, digs his heels in. “Cool. What’s going on with you guys? I’m starving. Ohhh, that ramen place is open late. My treat, huh? I’ll grab some beers.”
With that, he turns toward the kitchen, and I’m left staring at PJ, who’s glaring at my brother’s retreating form. After a beat, he asks, “Do you want me to leave?”
“I invited you here. Wes is the one who dropped by unannounced.”
PJ’s face hardens. “You want me to kick him out? I don’t have a problem pissing people off. Use me.”
Use me. Something sparks in my belly at that, at PJ’s desire to fix this for me. My blood is again rushing down to—
“Dammit, I need to get dressed.”
PJ glances down, grinning. “Yeah, you probably should. If I try to jump your bones in front of your brother, things could get uncomfortable.”
Things are already uncomfortable.
This is the part where I tell PJ I didn’t call him here for sex. We’re so far past the “just friends” line I can’t see it anymore. Except I really do need to get dressed.
“I’ll be right back.”
I take the stairs two at a time and throw on a shirt and lounge pants as fast as possible. When I come down again, I find PJ and Wes huddled in the kitchen, seemingly exchanging harsh whispers.
There’s a creak as my foot hits the bottom stair. PJ pulls away with a whisper-growl of “Fuck you, man.”
I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m grateful to see PJ appears to have washed his hands.
Wes looks up, his face tomato red. “Hey, great timing. I ordered noodles. PJ and I were…debating a movie.”
PJ’s looking this side of murderous. Something’s weird here, but I must still be too orgasm addled, because I can’t tease it out.
“Your brother and I aren’t seeing eye to eye,” PJ explains. “On movies. He has no appreciation for romance.”
Wes narrows his eyes. “Yeah, well, any guy who says he does is probably a fucking liar.”
PJ’s face reddens. He reaches into his pocket, the one I think he keeps a knife in.