Graham
R egret. So much of it digs beneath my skin as my car pulls to the curb of the club with the neon purple sign as rain pellets the roof of the car. As if the name alone wasn’t enough to relay the message, it gives visuals of… Well, I suppose it’s supposed to look like drops of water, but given the name and the imagery, that is not where my mind went.
Then again, maybe it’s just been too long since I got laid. I know it has, but I can’t help it if no one has done it for me in a while. Just imagining her face stopped working a while ago. No, now my dick wants the real thing.
After my driver/bodyguard/right-hand man comes around with an umbrella, I open the car door and step out just as my brother appears with the hood of his jacket over his head. I will never know how he can stand riding that bike in a downpour, much less do it without killing himself.
When we walk through the entrance, my disdain deepens. Disgust curls my mouth as I take in the purple and green that’s… everywhere. From the lights strobing the place to the purple and green booths and tables. The Joker must’ve been their decorator.
And it appears clothing for women is optional. Actually, it seems skin is mandatory. Not that I’m opposed to seeing the female body, but none of these women are the one I want to see.
I never should’ve agreed to let Jagger pick the place, but I thought my emo brother would choose somewhere darker, quieter—less acid trip, and more benzos. A comic book strip club masquerading as a dance club was the last thing I expected.
He jerks his head for me to follow him. We shove our way through the crowd, dodging groping hands and fending off forward women until we pause at the bar. He turns to the bartender, orders a whiskey, neat, then nods at me to place my order. I gesture for the same.
The bartender slides us our drinks, and my brother pays. He thinks he’s slick, but I see the four one-hundred-dollar bills mixed in with the two twenties. I also see the hand slide, masked as a handshake. I’m about to call his ass out, but he looks over my shoulder and nods. “Liam.”
My eyes close as stagnant air inflates my lungs while I pray for patience. A deep rumble works its way up my chest. Somehow, I choke it down just as I turn around and spot Liam and his best friend, Henry Weston, walking our way.
When he spots me, his smile morphs into a frown, probably mimicking my own. He extends his hand to Jagger while Henry reaches for mine. “I assume she called you,” Liam says to my brother, pretending I’m not standing there. I don’t care. I’d prefer he wasn’t standing here, either. At least any concerns I had about Liam being resentful toward my brother are put to rest. It’s reassuring since Jagger works under Liam at Sin Records.
Jagger shrugs. “Lily did.”
“Figures,” he mutters, dragging his hand over his face. “She messaged the dipshit, too.”
This time, Jagger belly laughs, and I’m curious about what the joke is. “But you’ve been banished.”
Henry chuckles, too, shaking his head. “We were both banished.”
“It’s fine.” Liam waves. “If it gets her out of that apartment for a while to do something other than school and dance, I’ll suffer a few hours.”
And the pieces click together. “Casey’s here?” God, help me I don’t mean to growl it, but who in the hell thought to bring her here? This place is only a step above being a fucking brothel. The thought of anyone touching her makes me vibrate with rage. I only just suppress the shudder of fury.
All eyes snap to me. “Yeah. It’s girls’ night. Except it seems tonight is an exception for everyone but us.”
Liam’s eyes bore into mine. He wants to say something. Probably to tell me to stay away from her again. If he wants to tell me why, then maybe I would consider it.
Nah. Not even then.
I return his glare, barely containing the years of illogical, pent-up resentment that he allowed Krista to be part of Casey’s life. The one thing I would change if I could, even knowing it meant I might never meet her… I would go back in time long before Krista met my dad and used his money and connections to destroy them both and tell Liam to take his daughter and get her as far away from the bitch as possible.
Henry nudges Liam’s shoulder, his eyes darting between us. “We need to get to Dane’s shop.”
Liam breaks eye contact first and nods. “Watch out for our girls.” He says it to Jagger. Not me.
He walks past me without a word. Henry, on the other hand, stops beside me. He leans over and whispers, and my attention snaps to him with narrowed eyes. He smirks, pats my shoulder, and follows his friend. Asshole.
“Want to tell me what the hell that was about?” Jagger asks after they’ve vanished into the crowd.
“What?” I toss back the drink I’ve been holding, setting the glass on the bar, and waving for another.
“The weird tension between you and Liam. Whatever the hell Henry said to you. Pick one.”
“Liam doesn’t want me around Casey.”
Jagger looks genuinely surprised. “Seriously? Isn’t he the one who told you to watch out for her?”
“Yep.”
“What the hell? Why the change of heart? Does he know you…” He lets his words trail.
“No. No way he knows that. I haven’t had a conversation with him in years until I got back, and I played the big brother concern card well.”
“Of course you did. You were always a great big brother to her .”
I look at him over my fresh glass of whiskey, noting his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” His long, curly hair brushes his shoulders as he shakes his head. “Come on. Our table is ready.”
I quirk a brow. “How’d you get a table?”
“Called ahead,” he says as we maneuver through the throng of people. “Gave them your name.”
We reach the purple, crushed velvet booth. I will need a Vicodin when we leave this place from the migraine it’s causing. “Of course you did. And you obviously brought me here for a reason, right? You knew Casey was here? I thought you weren’t okay with my interest in her.”
He grins, jerking his head over his shoulder at the booth across from us, and I spot her. Her face splits in two as she ducks her head, shaking it at something her friends say. Long blond waves hang well past her shoulders, creating a veil but not hiding the way her cheeks turn pink.
“I’m guessing this interest isn’t sudden. I won’t say it isn’t weird, but honestly, I’m not shocked. It was written in the cards or stars or however it goes the day you attached yourself to her. Or maybe she attached herself to you. I don’t know, but I saw it coming a long time ago. You two have this weird connection I never really understood. It’s why I knew something was off when you stopped coming around and asked me to watch out for her.”
“Jesus, Jagger, you make me sound like a fucking creep.”
He tosses his head back and laughs. “Aren’t you?” He laughs again when I groan. “I know it was different when she was a kid. Your feelings evolved as she did.”
“Since when are you so insightful?”
“I’ve always been insightful, asshole. You just never noticed. Anyway, I thought I’d give you a little help since you seem dead set on crossing into forbidden territory.”
I look at Jagger and grin. “Forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest.”
A look of pure horror crosses his face. “God, never use that innuendo again. Some shit you cannot unhear.”
I chuckle as I sit back and watch her. She’s cautious and reserved at first but slowly relaxes, no doubt her pretty pink drink helping her along. Her smile becomes brighter. The way she moves more animated. And those eyes… They hold secrets, so many secrets, but sparkle with life despite them.
“I’m going to hit the head since you’re not listening to me.”
I turn my attention toward my brother’s annoyed green gaze. A hint of guilt tugs at my bell. “I’m sorry, Jag. What did you say?”
He tucks his tongue in his cheek and makes an irritated sound before shaking his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Tell me, Jag. I was just distracted before.”
He waves me off, rising from his seat. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. Get back to your obsessing.”
He walks away before I can remark. I shake my head, bringing my drink to my lips, thinking about it. Have I neglected a relationship with my brother in favor of Casey all these years? I sigh, rolling my head around my shoulder, and acknowledge the truth. Yes, I have .
I haven’t meant to, but I realize that even when they were kids, I catered to what Casey wanted. If she wanted to go to Coney Island, we went there over the skate park for Jagger. We went to Disney on Ice over the Yankees game. I wanted her to feel special, less lonely and sad. Especially those first few years when she couldn’t see her dad. She was a sad little girl, and I wanted to make her feel better.
Now I realize I fucked up. Because Jagger wasn’t exactly in a good place himself. Our mom died when he was eleven, and he was still struggling when Dad married Krista. I think he still is. But for me, it was easier to handle Casey’s pain than Jaggers because ours was the same, and I didn’t know how to handle my own, much less his.
Despite my rumination, my mind and eyes drift back to Casey. It’s compulsory, and it always has been. She drinks down her cocktail and reaches for another. Quickly wrapping those pretty lips around the red straw. My mind tumbles into the gutter, thinking about what else those lips would look so pretty wrapped around.
Fuck.
Her head shakes back and forth. An exasperated but amused smile tugs at her mouth. It’s obvious she’s arguing with her friends. I enjoy seeing her like this. She’s not entirely relaxed yet. This isn’t the type of place Casey would ever be completely comfortable, but she’s happy.
Lily’s eyes cut toward me, her head jerking my way with a sly grin. It seems Casey’s brunette friends have noticed me watching. Not surprising since I haven’t been subtle.
My assumption is proven when Casey’s eyes meet mine, noticing me for the first time since I sat down. A slow flush of pink spreads across her cheeks, deepening when I lift my glass toward her and wink. Even from twenty feet away, I see the subtle changes in her breathing and watch those endless sapphires fill with confusion and hope.
My tongue drags across my bottom lip before I pull it between my teeth as I watch her lashes flutter with timidity. That sweetness is as much a turn-on as anything else about her.
She watches me as closely as I do her. The innocence in her gaze turns to lust as she stares. They dart across my face, lingering on my mouth, and the flush in her cheeks spread. I wonder if my sunflower is imagining all the wicked things I will do to her with my mouth like I’m thinking about how pretty she’ll look choking on my cock.
Jesus, , are you trying to go to hell by jet?
Our eyes lock again. Can she see how much I fucking want her? Can she tell that I do not see her as a little girl… my sister… as anything but drop-dead gorgeous sex on legs?
She squirms in her seat, and I smirk, our eyes never wavering.
Until hers finally do.
And when those eyes dart behind me for the briefest of moments, I can see that flicker of hope and spark of desire die, replaced with resignation, as her attention returns to her friends.
What the hell just happened?
But before I even consider it, the answer rings in my ears as a raspy voice I’m all too familiar with. “ Davis, I heard you were in town.”
And all I can think is… shit.