Chapter Six
Christopher
The water cascaded down my body as I stood under the stream, my arm raised to the shower wall, trying to reason with my aching body.
I’d woken up straining and aching that morning, my mind still full of the dirty dream I’d been having before my alarm clock went off.
A dirty dream about her.
Alara.
Brio’s sister-in-law.
A girl way too fucking young for me.
And yet…
And yet.
It had been two days since I’d stood there and stared at her tits when she pulled off that bra and stood there with her nipples pressing against the fabric, making me want to go over there and close my hands over them, close my lips around them.
“Fuck,” I hissed as my cock got even harder.
I tried to tell myself it was just because of how long it had been since I’d been with a woman.
I didn’t even know how long. Six months? No, longer. I definitely hadn’t been with anyone since my sister died. So it was sometime before that.
I remembered who it had been.
A divorced mom at Charlotte’s school pickup who’d been eye-fucking me well before that ring came off her finger.
And the only reason I’d agreed to meet up with her was because that was the week I’d been making funeral plans for my mother, and my stress and grief made me desperate for something that felt good.
It’d been kind of detached on both our sides, and neither felt the need for a repeat.
Still, it would have made more sense for me to fantasize about her, since I had actual memories to pull up.
But, no.
It was the hazel-eyed firecracker that I was desperate to bend over her pawnshop counter and fuck from behind until she was hoarse from moaning and my orgasm was strong enough to make my legs go weak.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled, reaching down and closing my hand around my length, a hiss escaping me at the sensation.
I’d been fighting this exact urge, not wanting to reinforce the idea that I could have thoughts like that about her. A woman who was very much off-limits to me.
But I wasn’t going to be able to think straight if I didn’t get some relief.
So I imagined her in that makeshift kitchen in those ridiculous polka dot panties and a white tee that got more and more see-through as her wet hair dripped on it.
But in the fantasy, instead of keeping my hands to myself, I reached for her, grabbed her, pulled her back against my chest, then reached around to palm her through her shirt, teasing, rolling, and twisting her nipples until her ass was rocking back against my erection and she was begging for me to fuck her.
I came so hard my vision went spotty for a second.
Even after that, I couldn’t seem to get her off my damn mind as I finished my shower, toweled off, and changed into a fresh suit.
It was another family dinner night.
Charlotte was excited.
Liam was… Liam.
And I was racked with guilt for having sexual thoughts about Ezmeray’s little sister when I was about to sit across the table from her and eat her food.
Oh, well.
I had to suck it up.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Charlotte asked her brother when he walked out of his room in a wrinkled Midwest emo band tee from the ‘90s and a pair of ripped jeans.
She took the words right out of my mouth.
I was glad not to have to be the bad guy all the time with the kid.
“Shouldn’t have to get dressed up for family.”
He wasn’t wrong there. Back in their hometown, no one got dressed if I was coming over for dinner. If I showed up on a weekend, there was a good chance that all three of them would be in their pajamas at three in the afternoon.
It never bothered me.
And it wouldn’t bother me if this was the second or third time we were going to dinner. I just wanted them to look like they gave a shit the first time they met all these people.
Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“It’s about good first impressions,” she insisted.
She’d hemmed and hawed over her outfit for over an hour when she came home from school, bringing out outfit after outfit to ask me what I thought.
She settled on a simple navy blue t-shirt dress and a pair of sandals. And a purse that was big enough for her to ram not only a book but her tablet.
Liam looked at me, daring me to give him shit. But I didn’t have time for an argument with him about it.
“If that’s how you want to present yourself, then that’s fine,” I said with a shrug.
He wanted to get a rise out of me.
And he was pissed that I turned it back on him.
With a tight jaw, he turned back into his room.
He came back out not two minutes later with a black button-up shirt on over his t-shirt.
It wasn’t much, but it was a slight improvement.
With that, we headed out.
Liam charged ahead of us, already comfortable with the crowds, with the people, with the unique, hectic atmosphere of the city. He didn’t even flinch when two guys started yelling and shoving at each other just in front of the turnstiles.
Charlotte, still adjusting to public transit and so many strange faces all at once, stayed glued to my side as we waited for the train.
Then I watched as Liam went in ahead of us and glared at one guy until he got up from his seat.
“Char, sit,” he called, waving to the seat, then standing guard right in front of her, his arm raised to grab the bar.
Huh.
Maybe the kid did have some Costa in him after all.
It was a short ride to Brio’s place, where we were greeted by no fewer than seven dogs of all different sizes and temperaments.
I thought everyone had been exaggerating about Brio’s involvement with a local shelter. But it seemed like they were underselling it.
“Kids love dogs,” Brio said, watching Charlotte try to pet all of the dogs equally so no one felt left out. A bleeding heart—that was my Charlotte. I could only pray the city let her keep that.
Even grumpy Liam softened at a droopy-eared, white-faced, tricolor Basset Hound who climbed up on the couch next to him, then flopped back into his chest.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said, shaking my head at Brio. “We’re not ready for a dog.”
“They’re good for mental health, that’s all I’m saying.”
“If that was true, wouldn’t you be a lot more fucking sane?” I shot back.
Brio’s smile was warm as he passed me a whiskey.
The front door slammed, and all the dogs stiffened, then ran toward the front hall just as Alara’s voice rang through the house.
“I know your game, Brio,” she called. “And I’m not taking another dog home, even if Tuna does like it. Which he won’t. Because he’s a moody little ass—oh,” she broke off, spotting Charlotte first, then Liam, and finally me. “An… ass-tronomically happy only child,” she finished.
“Nice try,” I said, shooting a smile in her direction. “They can handle the word ‘asshole,’ if that was what you were going for.”
“He is. An asshole. I would say in a lovable way, but he… hey!” I followed her gaze to watch her little rat of a dog hop up on the couch next to Liam and proceed to scratch his chest for attention.
“You little traitor, you. You’ve never begged for my attention.
And I’m the keeper of the treats. Shit.” She winced as all the dogs went batshit at the ’T’ word.
“Okay. Treats in the kitchen,” Brio called, likely just to gain control over the chaos.
All the dogs fell in line.
Except Tuna.
Who was now Liam’s lapdog.
“Yeah, I see you,” Alara called to the dog who was watching her with a very smug look. If dogs could have smug looks.
“Guys, this is Alara,” I introduced. “Alara, this is Charlotte and Liam.”
“And that is Tuna Roll the Traitor Trash Dog.”
“She your girlfriend?” Liam, looking to start shit, declared, judging by the smirk tugging at his lips.
“She’s probably family,” Charlotte whisper-yelled at him.
“You think I’ve had enough time to find a girlfriend since moving back here?” I asked Liam. “And she’s family-in-law. Alara is Ezmeray’s sister.”
“Not technically a Costa. The universe hates me that way,” Alara declared. “So, are you in the market for a dog? Because he looks like he is self-adopting himself to you.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Brio said, coming back with a line of much calmer dogs. “She loves that dog. He’s got a better wardrobe than she does.”
“Do I hear my baby sister?” Ezmeray asked, coming in from the kitchen.
“Hey, Ez. Need some help in the kitchen?”
“So you can burn it down? No, I’m good, thanks. I didn’t realize you knew Christopher.”
“Me and Chrissy? We’re old friends,” Alara declared, slapping me on the arm.
Ezmeray’s brows pinched at that.
“And by ‘old friends’ she means we met two weeks ago. And she may or may not have threatened me with a gun.”
“Oh, please. I was holding a gun. Not threatening you with it.”
“I remember threats.”
“Then you need a cognitive test, old man. You’d know if I was threatening you. I’m very good at it. It would involve something very punchy and visual. Exsanguination, at least.”
“Or a piano wire garrote?” I asked.
Alara’s lips twitched for a second before curving into a smile. “Exactly.”
Suddenly very aware of both Ezmeray and Charlotte watching us with matching looks I couldn’t quite decipher, I tried to go for casual.
“I took over for Leo in the area where the pawnshop is,” I explained, choosing my words carefully in front of the kids. “Brio didn’t mention it?”
Ezmeray shot her husband a look.
Brio winced. “I was… at the office,” he explained.
The office.
That was what he was calling his torture room these days. I guess when you had kids, you had to be careful.
“I see,” Ezmeray said. “Well, it’s nice that you two met. Gun aside. Why were you holding a gun?” she asked.
“An abundance of caution.”
“Dunno if I like the sound of that,” Brio said. “What was going on?”
“Nothing that I can’t handle.” I didn’t know if her sister and brother-in-law were buying that.
But I suddenly got the feeling she wasn’t being entirely truthful.
I wasn’t going to call her out around her family.
I made a mental note to pay a little closer attention the next time I went to the pawnshop.
“Brio, help me for a minute?” Ezmeray asked.