2. Cassie #3
“Don’t think of it like that,” he says, his voice gentle and steady. “Like I said, it’s not sex.”
“Okay,” I say softly.
He opens his bedside drawer and grabs a foil packet out of it. “If you want to give me a little incentive, you could lift your shirt.”
His tone is lightly teasing, not serious. I don’t feel sexy. I feel like a tomato. But I still lift my shirt anyway. He’s doing so much for me right now, and if I don’t end up in jail, it’ll only be because of him.
He smiles, his gaze dropping. “You kept your bra on.”
“I did.”
He places a knee on the bed, then climbs on, coming closer to me. “We’re on a very tight timeline here, so you need to do exactly what I say.” He peels off his black T-shirt, and I suck in a breath at the sight of him. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”
My chest seems to tighten as he moves on top of me, pushing my thighs apart and settling between them. Breathing becomes more of a struggle, but I do my best to ignore the rising panic and plant my hands on his broad shoulders.
His voice drops a little, turning huskier as he leans into me, his lips touching the sensitive crook of my neck. “Let one of your hands slide up the back of my neck and sink your fingers into my hair.”
I exhale, closing my eyes as he kisses my neck. I do what he says, sinking my fingers into his hair and biting down on my lower lip.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he murmurs, kissing his way along my jaw.
A shudder of pleasure ripples through me. I sigh, tilting my neck as he dives back in.
The fog is pierced when I hear him rip open the condom wrapper with his teeth.
“Stay relaxed,” he tells me.
“Okay,” I whisper, trying my best to listen, but I’m realizing what he’s about to do.
“It’ll hurt if you tense up. Kiss my neck.”
My heart skitters, but I obey, turning my head and softly kissing his neck.
The act of doing that seems to calm me down. It also tricks me into feeling affection, and I run my fingers through his hair even more.
“Just like that,” he murmurs approvingly, reaching down to roll the condom over his dick.
A moment later, he’s at my entrance.
And then he’s pushing inside.
I stiffen, my teeth sinking into my lower lip, my grip instinctively tightening on his shoulders. My nails dig into his skin as he shoves deeper.
This feels terrifyingly familiar, so I squeeze my eyes shut. The lights are on and I can’t look at him. Not like this. Not when he’s inside me looking just like his fucking brother.
My body has to adjust to him before he can sink all the way inside me. Once it submits to him, he pumps once, twice, three times. The fullness of him is pleasurable as he moves between the tight walls, but my body is heating, not in a good way, as I fight the memories it’s triggering.
I think he could stop now, but he keeps going. He slams deep, groaning, then a hand slides behind me and he unhooks my bra. I keep my eyes closed, but I feel him push up his shirt and my bra. I feel him gazing at my bare tits.
“Beautiful,” he says, and then his hot mouth is on my left nipple. I gasp, and his thumb rolls over the other one.
It’s not really sex. It’s not really sex.
I repeat the reassurance to myself, but as he drives his cock deep into my pussy, squeezing my breasts, it feels like sex.
“That’s probably good,” he murmurs, voice a little gruff as he lets go and pulls out of me.
My breathing is heavier. My body is confused. I’m relieved that part is over when he moves away from me and climbs off the bed.
“Get dressed,” he tells me before closing the bathroom door.
My body is on fire, but I tell myself I need to fucking relax. I can’t be this flushed when the police get here, and he said he already made the call.
I do my best not to think about what he’s doing in the bathroom, or the fact that he’s technically the first guy I’ve ever let inside my body. None of that is what I need to be thinking about right now, but I don’t know how to think about anything else.
That was a big deal to me, once upon a time.
I take off Tor’s T-shirt and toss it on the floor beside his bed, then I rehook my bra and pull on the hoodie he grabbed out of my back seat.
He brought a pair of basic black leggings, presumably from his sister’s dresser, but as I pull them on, it occurs to me that now that he has been inside me, I do need to go to the bathroom.
He opens the door a moment later, and I swallow, avoiding his gaze as I slip inside.
I pee and wash up, then I pull up the borrowed black leggings. Since the DNA swap has been done, I twist my hair back up and secure it with the claw clip I left on his counter before.
Once I’ve done everything he instructed me to do, I go back to his bedroom and sit on the bed. He’s gone back downstairs, probably to wait for the police. I sit there numbly, my mind a blur, until I hear a vehicle coming up the driveway.
My stomach drops because I know this insane pause in the night is over, and I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
The rest of my life will be decided in the next few hours, and my fate rests almost entirely in the hands of the man whose brother I just killed.