Chapter Eighteen
That’ll be one beach vacation, a penthouse suite, and eternal brotherhood.
Ruby
I wake up on my stomach, squished into the ground by half of Will’s enormous weight on my back.
“Will,” I croak. “Get off me.”
His face nuzzles into the space between my shoulder and my jaw, and he presses more of himself over me, causing my stomach to flutter. I ignore it.
“That is the opposite of what I said,” I hiss.
He hums against my throat, igniting a fire in my pulse that spreads quickly through my body, all the way down to my feet, which are tangled up with his. I ignore that too.
“Will,” I groan. “You’re heavy.”
“Mmm,” he mumbles. “Say my name again.”
“You guys have two perfectly good rooms. You could’ve had your sleepover in either of them,” Roman’s voice grumbles from the couch. “Instead, I’ve had to tiptoe around the common areas all morning.”
Panic shoots through me, and I struggle to shove Will away while he does all that he can to fuse us together.
“All morning? What time is it?” I am not being late to work again.
“It’s six.”
My panic settles, and I stop trying to brute force Will off of me, opting for more subtle tactics.
“Did you even sleep?” I ask Roman. “What time did you get home?”
The hand beneath Will snakes up in a slow ascent toward Will’s chest.
“Around three. There was an issue with our specialty supplier, and our chocolates didn’t come in. A total disaster. I have to go back in soon. I just came home to shower and check on you.”
“Ah,” I answer. Just a few more inches… “You need sleep, too, you know. You’re not a robot. Man cannot thrive on coffee alone.”
“Watch me,” is his manly – read: stupid – reply.
My fingers reach their destination, pinch, and twist.
Will doesn’t even flinch.
“Ruby, love, not in front of your brother,” he grumbles into my neck.
I squawk, letting go of his nipple as if it were a hot coal.
“Get off!” I yell. My face is on fire.
His chuckle is rough with morning grit.
“Roman!” I whine.
“What?” is his helpful reply.
Boys. Useless.
“Get your friend off of me!”
“Why? He looks comfortable.”
“I am,” Will confirms, snuggling deeper. “Very comfortable.”
“Well I’m not!” I protest, trying to find a good angle to elbow him.
“You would be if you’d relax,” Roman puts in. “You were all cuddled up to him and smiley five minutes ago.”
I scowl. “I was not.”
“You were. I took a picture.”
“Send that to me,” Will requests into my neck. “I’ll make it my lock screen.”
“Already did,” Roman replies. “I emailed it, too, so you can make it your screensaver on your computer easier.”
Will’s sigh caresses my neck, raising goosebumps.
“This is why I love you, Roma Roma. You get me.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I remind my traitorous brother.
“I am on your side, Rubes. You just can’t see it.”
Will snorts, causing a full-body shiver as his breath hits my skin.
“Oh, very funny,” I gripe. “Blind girl can’t see. Har har har. Your humor matches your intelligence level.”
“Isn’t that your ‘blind spot’ tee?” Roman asks.
My mouth snaps shut.
Will laughs, shaking us both. “Got you there, Rubble.”
I sniff. “I have to get ready for work now.”
Will sighs, then starts to shift blessedly off of me. I ignore the cold that seeps in through every inch of lost connection.
“There’s twenty-five minutes before your alarm even goes off,” Roman the Betrayer says.
Will’s weight returns fully, and his warmth along with it.
“I’m not buying you a Christmas gift this year,” I tell Roman. “Or one for your birthday.”
“Uh-huh,” he replies. “I’m real worried about it.”
“He’s sipping his coffee, scrolling on his phone,” Will whispers, tilting his head until his lips hit my ear as he speaks. “I hope he’s sending me more pictures of us. I’ll frame one for my office.”
“You can’t put framed pictures of me in your office,” I say, eyes rolling.
He scoffs. “I have at least nine in there already.”
Uh… what?
“You have nine framed photos of me in your office?” I ask.
“Mmhm,” he hums. “At least. I like to work surrounded by you. Your cute little frown keeps me motivated.”
“You’re going to have to find something else to spur you into doing your literal job , because those are coming out of your office today. It’s completely unprofessional to have framed photos of your coworker all over your workspace.”
“The hundreds of thousands of dollars you make a year should keep you motivated,” Roman mutters.
“And yet,” Will laments. “Your sister is what I truly need, unprofessional as it is.”
“I want a suite,” Roman replies. Possibly he is having a stroke.
“You’ll get your suite,” Will tells him. Possibly they are both having a stroke, if that nonsense made sense to him.
“What suite?” I ask.
“At your destination wedding. I’m not sharing a room with some random groomsman. I want a suite.”
At my…
My brows furrow. “I’m not having a destination wedding.”
“That’s why I’ve promised him one, Rubble,” Will says. “We’ll never have to follow through.”
“What’s the point in having a trillion dollars if you don’t spend it on a big fancy island wedding?” Roman asks, exasperated.
“Ruby doesn’t like the beach, Rome. You know this. I’ve reminded you about a thousand times.”
“Mom and Dad-”
“You can’t keep bringing your parents into this,” Will interrupts. “It’s not their wedding.”
“It’s not anyone’s wedding!” I yell. “No one is getting married! Least of all us!” I mean. Gross.
Roman snorts. “Not yet, but it pays to be prepared. I’m claiming my suite early.”
Boys. Are. Idiots. And brothers especially.
I can’t tell if my heart is hammering because of Will’s breath on my neck or because I want to throttle Rome. Solution? Leaving.
“Let me up,” I order Will. “I’m going to get ready early so we can stop and get stickers before work.” Or so I can escape the presence of infuriating men. Whatever.
“I forgot about sticker day,” he groans, removing his bulk from my person. “Go, get ready. There’s a stationary aisle at that bookstore next to Sweet & Salty that we can raid.”
“Oh, well, since you’ve given me permission,” I gripe, crawling my way out of the mess of blankets and pillows on the bed we were sleeping in. I snatch a pillow as I stand to throw in Roman’s direction.
“My coffee!” he complains.
“That’s what you get for marrying me off to the highest bidder,” I sniff, sweeping out of the room.
“You got coffee all over my shirt, you little brat!” he yells after me.
I climb the steps, lips quirking at Roman’s curses.
“You deserved it!” I yell back, laughing as he curses more.
Sucks to suck, big brother. Sucks to sucking suck.