Bro Code Page 6

  He nods. “I would have been the same way in law school if I could have gotten away with it.”

  I like the image of a studious younger Barrett taking notes and volunteering commentary on his professor's lecture.

  “What are you doing up?” he finally asks, as if me being awake this late is somehow more suspicious than him sitting out here in the cold.

  “Your headlights...my bedroom window faces the driveway.”

  He rakes his fingers through his chestnut hair. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I was having trouble sleeping anyway.”

  It’s not entirely true, but it’s enough for the embarrassed look on his face to subside. “I guess everyone’s got a lot on their mind tonight then,” he says.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing's wrong. Just needed some space to think through a few things.”

  “What kind of things?” I can feel my face soften and my heart sink just a little bit.

  “Nothing specific.”

  He’s as frustrating as he is gorgeous but I don’t want to pry, so I tease him instead. “Does your knack for evading questions serve you well as a lawyer?”

  The corners of his mouth hint at the slightest smile and he relaxes into his seat, releasing the white-knuckle grip he still had on the wheel.

  “I’ve just been thinking about future plans and all that,” he admits.

  “So, you’re a planner too.”

  “Maybe not as much as you are. What do you have laid out?”

  I shrug, my shivers subsiding a little bit as our body heat warms the car. “After I whip the plant into shape — the plan is to settle down with the right guy in the next couple of years, enjoy each other for a while, then hopefully start a family by the time I’m thirty.” I’ve repeated this plan so many times that it feels as natural as reciting the alphabet. I wasn't the kind of girl in high school who was pretty or popular, and in college I was busy double-majoring in business and accounting, it felt like there was never time for a relationship. After I graduated, I was focused on working. I decided last year that if I wanted to make it happen for myself, I needed to make finding a man a priority. And I will—as soon as I get the factory in order. I know what I want, and I'm mature enough now to be upfront about it.

  Barrett studies me in the dark. I half expected him to roll his eyes, or tell me how cliché that was, but instead, he looks impressed. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do. A lot of people think I’m crazy for having a checklist like this, but I want what I want,” I say with another shrug. “What about you? What do you want?”

  “To make partner at my law firm this year,” he says firmly, not needing even a second to consider his answer. “I’ve been busting my ass and I’m on track. I work for what I want. I just can’t do it with any distractions.”

  I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and am suddenly thankful that it’s too dark for him to see me turn pink. Am I the kind of distraction he's talking about? Or am I the most rebellious thing he's done? I steer the conversation elsewhere to be safe. “How was your mom?”

  “Fine,” he says, although the strained tone of his voice says the opposite. “They’re so different from me that I sometimes can’t believe we’re related. Talking to them about work is painful. If it’s not about me getting married or having kids, they can’t even pretend like they’re impressed with the goals I’m working toward.”

  Maybe it’s my lack of sleep, or maybe it’s that we’re covered in the kind of darkness that only Indiana winter nights can offer, but in a rare moment of bravery, I slide my hand over to squeeze Barrett’s thigh.

  “Different people value different things, Barrett. It's incredibly impressive what you've accomplished.”

  And now I wonder if maybe daring to be different from his family's expectations is actually the most rebellious thing he's done.

  He twitches at my touch, the muscles in his thigh bunching beneath my gentle grip. I can hear his breath hitch just the slightest bit, but he keeps staring ahead. I should pull my hand away, my fingertips are close to dangerous territory, but I don't move an inch. And a delighted quiver runs through me.

  I raise my eyes from where my hand rests against his leg, to the button of his jeans, to the smooth slope of his gorgeous jawline and full mouth.

  He turns his head and the second our eyes lock, the heat that's been building between us all day floods over my cheeks and down my spine. Laying one tentative hand on the back of my neck, his fingers slid into the back of my hair, and my eyes sink closed. The moment pulses with electricity, and it's stronger than anything I've felt before.

  Ever so slowly, Barrett leans closer as he pulls me in and presses his mouth to mine.

  His lips are soft, yet firm, and he kisses just like he does everything else—confidently and with the skill of a man who knows exactly what he wants.

  He cradles my jaw and tastes my bottom lip with his tongue. My lips part in gentle invitation and then his tongue meets mine in a dizzying rush.

  One perfect, slow kiss becomes three or four quicker, deeper ones, and suddenly, I’m groaning my approval and giving myself over to what I’ve wanted for so long.

  This moment is everything I've dreamed about for years, but never thought would actually happen. His tongue makes long, lazy strokes against mine, and my body tightens in anticipation, heart thundering in my chest.

  Maybe he wasn't my first kiss, like I dreamed about all the years ago, but I wouldn’t mind if he was my last.

  He takes hold of my hips to pull me onto his lap. I settle against him, a little amazed that we fit like this. His car is a lot roomier than it seems.

  His lips wander down my neck as I spread my thighs wider to surround either side of him. He’s hard, his bulge pressing against me as I press my hands against his chest. He's so solid everywhere, and the desire to feel more of him is a sharp pulse of need.

  Feeling brave, I trail my fingers down his chest, stopping only when I get to the waistband of his jeans. His abs tighten under my touch. I'm not sure if it's rebellion, or just temporary insanity, but I slide one hand down to unbutton him, to get another look at what I’ve been craving all weekend, and silently cheer to myself. Operation Anaconda is in full effect. But Barrett grabs my hand and plants soft kisses against my knuckles.

  “What’s your plan there?” he asks, mouth tilted with the hint of a smile.

  I swallow, my throat working with the effort. “I just thought…I'm attracted to you, and I thought maybe you were…”

  “I am.”

  We kiss again, slower this time until Barrett finally pulls away.

  “But we can’t,” he whispers, although his tongue flirting with my ear seems to suggest otherwise.

  “Why not?”

  “I may have good self-control,” he says, cupping my chin and turning my head to meet his hypnotic blue eyes. “But if my cock comes out, I will fuck you. And I can’t do that.”

  He’s so close, I can feel him right there, and still I want more. I shift my hips closer, rocking against him, earning me a choked sound of pleasure. God, that sound . . .

  “We’re both adults now. We can do whatever we want.”

  He shakes his head. “The bro-code rules are written in stone. And the rules are simple. It’s understood that a bro never makes eye contact with another bro while eating a banana. A bro always takes a piss standing up. And speaking of pissing . . . a bro never uses a urinal that’s right next to another bro.”

  I shift in his lap, still horny, and now also confused. “What are you talking about?”

  His eyes latch onto mine and he licks his lower lip. “No sex with your bro’s ex. And definitely no sex with your bro’s sister.”

  I let out a frustrated groan. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t make the rules. I just try and abide by them.”

  His brain
may be telling him that we can’t explore this sexual chemistry, but his body? It wants me. Bad. He’s rock hard between my legs, and I can’t help but notice the way his gaze wanders between my mouth and my breasts, as if he can’t decide which part of me he wants to kiss next.

  I straighten my shoulders, thrusting my breasts out even more. Fuck the patriarchal bro code. “Well, there’s no way I can get back to sleep now. I’m all worked up.” Biting my lip, I summon all my feminine wiles. God, do I even have feminine wiles? I must, because he looks like he’s about to explode. “I need to come, Barrett.”

  Still watching me, he lets out a ragged groan.

  “You can either sit here, or you can help me,” I purr in my most seductive voice. Part of the maturity I spoke about earlier is not being afraid to go after what I want. And right now, I want this sexy man.

  “Fuck.” He lets out a sharp exhale, and I feel like I’ve already won.

  I press a kiss to his neck and rock against him, shifting my hips until I collide against the hard ridge of him with just the right amount of friction. A grunt of frustrated need rumbles in his chest, and it’s the best sound in the entire world.

  Before I have a chance to press against him again, he lifts me up just enough to slide my pajama pants down. One hand presses into the small of my back, and the other yanks my panties to the side and greets my clit with two confident fingers. I can’t stop myself from letting out a moan, which he responds to with an approving grin.

  “How fast can you come, Ava?” he asks, his voice impossibly tight.

  “I—I’m not sure,” I murmur.

  My hips move over him as he draws lazy circles around my swollen flesh with expert fingers. His lips trail my neck with slow, wet kisses that become quicker and rougher as his fingers gradually gain speed.

  God, I’ve wanted this since he arrived, hell, since the first time I laid eyes on him. Did I dream of us in a car in my parents’ driveway? Maybe when we were still in school, but definitely not as adults. But with Barrett’s fingers sweeping through my wetness in time with his lips on my collarbone, we could be anywhere in the world and it would still be perfect.

  His fingers explore me while his thumb keeps up the work right where I need it, and all I can do is let my head fall forward and nestle in against his warm neck with a low hum of pleasure.

  “Feel good?”

  “God, yes.”

  As his thumb strokes me faster and faster, I can feel myself tense, my insides tightening, and I groan his name. “Barrett . . .”

  “That’s it,” he whispers. “You going to come for me?”

  Everything contracts and releases, and the heat that’s been building inside fills me with perfect, utter bliss. He pushes his thick fingers deep inside me to feel me contract and squeeze him. Then my insides tighten impossibly harder, sending a bolt of hot electricity coursing through me. I hang on to him, fixed on his deep blue eyes as he watches me in wonder.

  He groans, his eyes on mine as I come and come for what seems like forever. “Fuck . . . that pussy is so nice and tight.”

  When my climax finally subsides, Barrett removes his fingers from my panties, and I see him bite his lip, fighting with himself.

  I guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he worked for what he wanted. He earned every bit of that, and from the cocky grin on his face, he knows it, but I’ll be damned if I don’t give him something in return.

  I push my hips back down against his and begin rocking back and forth, which pulls a deep rumble from the back of Barrett’s throat. I can feel him getting harder each time I thrust. Even through his jeans, I can feel how huge he is, far bigger than I expected, even given my sneak preview. His firm erection pressed between my legs is practically heaven, but I want more. No, I need more. Maybe I could persuade his pants open after all, and then…

  And then I would be fucking my brother’s best friend. In the driveway.

  The thought hits me like a snowball to the lady bits.

  “Fuck,” he groans again. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this, but we can't and you know that as well as I do.”

  I pull back in a jolt of reality, and nod somberly.

  Now that the endorphins have cleared, I can't believe what we just did—in my parents’ freaking driveway of all places. I pull up my pants, and rush to open the car door.

  “Ava, relax” he orders, laying one comforting hand on my shoulder. “No one has to know. It'll be okay.”

  I sweep his hand away. “Goodnight, Barrett.” I don't add, thanks for the orgasm which was amazing until about thirty seconds ago. Instead, I fling open the door and the cold air fills the car that we warmed up all on our own. I didn’t realize that we had fogged up the windows. God, how cliché. The driveway is too icy to run, but the second I’m in the house, I pound up the stairs as fast as my legs can carry me, running away from what was probably an enormous mistake.

  I slip back into bed, but it isn’t until I hear the sound of him shutting the front door that I finally take a breath. There. It’s done. Closed. The door I never should have opened in the first place. But as much as I try to pretend no damage has been done, Barrett’s voice, deep and sweet, echoes in my head all night. “No one has to know.”

  Of course, no one has to know. No one can ever know.

  Chapter Nine

  Barrett

  When I wake up in the morning, the sun is shining brightly through the blinds, and I know instantly that I've overslept.

  My alarm must have given up, because it's still blinking on my phone as I rub the sleep out of my eyes. For a second, I just sit up and listen, expecting the rest of the house to be up and awake without me, but there's nothing but silence. Which might be a good thing, I could use a moment to clear my head after what happened last night with Ava.

  Wanting her is the equivalent of running with scissors. In a word, she's dangerous. Wanting her this desperately could put an end to the closest friendship I've got, and worse than that, I sense she could leave me brokenhearted. I don't have time for a relationship, even if I wanted one.

  But that didn't stop Ava from filtering through every dream I had last night, the way she gasped and grabbed at my shoulders, burying her face in my neck, how slick and hot she was against my fingers. We could have gone so much farther, but she pulled away and managed to stop, and somehow, I did, too, even though everything in me wanted to follow her back to her bedroom and make sure she was alright.

  A couple of deep breaths get me back under control before I get out of bed. I head to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face, and after washing up, I tug on a pair of pants and a shirt before heading down the stairs.

  A distant sneeze catches me by surprise, and when I duck my head into the kitchen, Ava is there, wrapped up in a fleece robe. She's pressed close to the stove, watching over a steel kettle that's yet to boil, and a box of tea bags sits next to her on the counter.

  God, why does she have to look so good in a pair of pajama pants—the same pajama pants I’d pulled down the night before—a fuzzy robe, and a messy bun? That's not normal, right?

  “Morning,” I say entering the kitchen.

  She jumps a little, and immediately covers her mouth to try and muffle a second sneeze.

  “You okay?” I close the distance between us, and stop just out of arm's reach.

  “Yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing.”

  “Doesn't sound like nothing.”

  She pulls her robe tighter. “It's a little cold. No big deal.”

  It might not be a dig deal to her, but I don't like seeing her under the weather. “Did spending time in a cold car after being in the nice warm house make you sick?”

  “Spending time in the car?” She raises an eyebrow, and I can't quite tell if she's annoyed or amused. “Is that what you call it?”

  “Well, you came out to see me and...” I start.

  She pokes my arm to interrupt, scoffing under her breath, “I came out there to make sure you were okay.
Don’t blame me for catching a cold, you jerk. Typical.”

  “That's not what I meant.” I don't want to insist too loud, not when someone else could be in the house, but Ava catches onto my hesitation in an instant.

  “Nick isn't here.” Just that single statement is enough to make my shoulders relax, but I'm even more relieved when she adds, “he went with my parents to the pharmacy.”

  Right. Nick mentioned that yesterday. It completely slipped my mind.

  “So, we're alone,” I say.

  “Yes, we're alone, but don't get any ideas.” Ava turns back around to the stove as steam billows out of the kettle's spout, making a high-pitched squeal. “Last night things went too far.”

  “I know.” Hell, I'd known that the entire time, but with her body against mine, I hadn't been able to hold back. “Ava, I'm not blaming you for anything. We just lost our heads.”

  “We...” she starts, then goes quiet for a minute. I think she might have been expecting me to argue with her.

  She pours the water into a porcelain mug, but sneezes while trying to drop the tea bag inside. I catch the cup right before it gets knocked off the counter, ignoring the hot water that spills down over my knuckles.

  “Shit.” She closes her eyes, clearly embarrassed. “I'm sorry, Barrett.”

  “Don't be sorry.” After wiping up the spilled water, I smile.

  She's nervous around me, and after last night, hell, maybe she has the right to be. Clearly, we don't know how to control ourselves. But from here on out, it's my job to make sure we do.

  “Remember when you were little, and your pet rabbit went to go live in the country?”

  “Yeah.” The memory of Bunny brings a smile to her lips.

  “Well, this thing between us is a little like that. It's better for everyone if we just let this go.”

  Her brows pinch together. “Barrett, I'm not that naïve. I know Bunny died and my parents made up that story to protect me.”

  “Then let me protect you from this, too. We have to bury these urges. Nick would hate me, and with me living in Chicago, there's no way it can develop into more anyway. It would only end up ruining everything.”