Chapter 19 #2
“We haven’t seen you at Vertex in ages!” she pouted, her grip on Xander’s bicep tightening possessively. “Are you working tonight? Please say yes!”
Xander’s easy smile never faltered, though I caught the flash of resignation in his eyes. “Ladies, what a surprise. I’m actually off tonight, but I’ll be back behind the bar tomorrow.”
“You have to tell us about the party,” another girl chimed in, this one with auburn hair and a phone already poised for selfies. “Is it still happening? Amber said the theme might be changed and we already bought our costumes!”
“It’s still Midnight Masquerade,” Xander assured them, somehow managing to look both engaged and desperately seeking escape. His eyes flickered to me apologetically. “Listen, I’m actually in the middle of—”
“You have to come see the new place,” Blond Crop Top insisted, already tugging him toward the store exit. “It’s just down the hall. Five minutes, I promise!”
Xander hesitated, clearly torn between politeness and abandoning me. “Lan, I—”
“Go,” Colt said, his voice carrying a dismissive edge as he plucked the pile of clothes from my arms. “We’ll handle this.”
Before Xander could protest further, the girls were already pulling him away, chattering about drink specials and themed nights. He threw one last apologetic look over his shoulder before disappearing into the mall crowd.
“Well,” I said, watching the fashion vultures drag Xander away, “that was…”
“Predictable,” Colt finished, already steering me toward the changing rooms, his hand on my back firmer than Xander’s had been. The touch sent that electric warmth racing through me again, stronger than before. “Xander has that effect on women. And men. And possibly some houseplants.”
I snorted despite myself. “Jealous?”
“Of getting mauled by drunk college students every time I leave the house? Hardly.” The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “Now, let’s see if any of these actually fit you before Jaxson gets back and decides you need an entire winter collection too.”
As we approached the changing rooms, I noticed how Colt’s breathing deepened slightly, like he was actively trying to control himself. His fingers pressed more firmly against my back, almost possessive in their pressure.
The changing area was mercifully empty, and I claimed a stall at the end of the row. I was just about to close the door when Colt stepped in behind me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, frozen in shock as he calmly hung garments on the hooks lining the walls like he was unpacking at a hotel.
“Making sure you actually try these on properly,” he replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to invade your brother’s changing room. “Knowing you, you’d just say everything fits and pick the cheapest options.”
“I’m perfectly capable of trying on clothes by myself,” I protested, feeling heat creep up my neck at the thought of changing in front of Colt. “I’m not five. I’ve been dressing myself for years.”
“No, you’re an airhead who would rather wear rags than admit you need new clothes,” he countered, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders, emphasizing just how much broader he was than me.
Like, comically broader. Like I was a human standing next to a tiger. “I’m staying.”
That comparison startled me. Where had that thought come from? A tiger? But looking at him now—the controlled power in his stance, the predatory intensity in his eyes—it somehow felt… right.
“Colt—”
“Lan.” The way he said my name, firm but with an undercurrent of something I couldn’t quite identify, made further argument die in my throat. His eyes seemed to glow briefly, dark but with flecks of amber, like a cat’s eyes catching the light. “Just try on the damn clothes.”
Colt’s eyes locked with mine, dark and intense like he was trying to see through me.
I tried to hold his gaze—I really did—but those eyes were doing something weird to my insides, making heat pool in my stomach and my face flame like I had a fever.
It wasn’t fear that made me look away (definitely not, because I wasn’t scared of Colt, no matter how much he tried to intimidate me with his drill sergeant routine).
It was… something else. Something that made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way he was looking at me like I was something he wanted to devour.
“Fine,” I muttered, turning to face the mirror so I wouldn’t have to deal with whatever the hell was happening with my pulse. “But this is weird and invasive and definitely not normal brother behavior. Just so we’re clear.”
“Normal went out the window a long time ago,” he murmured, so quietly I almost didn’t catch it.
I reached for the buttons on Jaxson’s borrowed shirt, but Colt’s hands suddenly closed over mine, stopping me. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through me, that strange warmth flaring between us like a live wire.
“Let me,” he said—no, commanded—his voice rough in a way I’d never heard before.
Before I could protest, Colt’s fingers were already attacking the buttons on Jaxson’s dress shirt like they’d personally offended him.
Every brush of his knuckles against my chest sent little electric shocks zinging through my body, making my skin feel like it was wired directly to parts of me that had no business being interested in my stepbrother’s touch.
I had to bite my lip so hard I probably left teeth marks just to keep from making some mortifying sound that would haunt me for the rest of my natural life.
“I can undress myself,” I protested, my voice coming out embarrassingly breathy and not at all like the confident declaration I was going for. “Been doing it successfully for years without supervision, thanks.”
“Clearly not well,” Colt replied, his fingers moving to the next button with the precision of someone defusing a bomb.
“Since you can’t even figure out your own size.
” His eyes flicked up to mine with that infuriating know-it-all expression that made me want to simultaneously strangle him and hide under the nearest rock.
The air between us seemed to thicken, like someone had cranked the humidity to ‘tropical rainforest’ in this changing room.
That honey-sweet scent I’d been noticing lately surged around us, intensifying with each button Colt unfastened.
By now, I was pretty certain it was somehow emanating from me, though I couldn’t explain why or how.
It seemed to get stronger whenever I was emotional or when my stepbrothers were near—especially when they touched me.
And right now, with Colt’s knuckles deliberately brushing against my skin as he undid each button, the fragrance of honey, cherry blossoms, and lilies was practically overwhelming the small space.
I half expected a store employee to knock on the door and ask if we were burning unauthorized scented candles in the changing room.
“Maybe I like my clothes big,” I shot back, trying to sound annoyed rather than…
whatever the hell I was actually feeling with his hands this close to my skin.
My heart was doing some kind of interpretive dance routine in my chest, and I was pretty sure my face was approximately the temperature of the sun’s surface.
“Not everyone needs their clothes painted on, Mr. I-Can-See-Your-Organs-Through-That-Shirt.”
“No, you don’t.” Another button surrendered to his assault, revealing more of my chest and the worn gray t-shirt underneath. His eyes lingered on the faded “HARD…ER” text, a smirk spreading across his face that made me want to disappear into the changing room floor.
“It’s just a shirt with worn lettering,” I muttered, though we both knew this argument had been thoroughly defeated when Wei had practically announced its suggestive nature to the entire apartment. “Nothing worth the amount of commentary it’s generating.”
“I disagree.” Colt’s voice took on that dangerous edge I rarely heard from him. “Some things deserve… extensive attention.”
I opened my mouth to deliver what would surely have been a devastating comeback, but the words died in my throat when his thumb “accidentally” brushed across my nipple through the thin t-shirt as he undid the next button.
A jolt of sensation shot straight through me, making me gasp before my brain could send the emergency “shut up” signal to my vocal cords.
“Cold?” Colt asked, his voice dripping with false innocence that didn’t match the predatory gleam in his eyes. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
“You’re a jerk,” I managed to choke out, trying to glare at him despite feeling like my face might spontaneously combust and save me from this torment.
“So I’ve been told.” The final button of Jaxson’s dress shirt surrendered, and Colt pushed it off my shoulders with unnecessary force, his hands lingering on my arms like he was mapping the territory. “Repeatedly. By you.”
The dress shirt fell to the bench, leaving me standing there in just the suggestive t-shirt and my shorts, feeling about as exposed as a nudist at a church picnic.
Colt’s eyes raked over me like physical touch, lingering on the text across my chest in a way that made my skin prickle with awareness.
His pupils were so dilated they almost swallowed the dark brown of his irises, and I could see the pulse pounding in his throat.
“This needs to go too,” he declared, fingers already gripping the hem of my t-shirt before I could even process what was happening.
Before I could protest or flail or possibly just melt into a puddle of embarrassment, he was pulling it up, his knuckles dragging deliberately across my ribs like he was playing some kind of twisted instrument. “Arms up.”