Bro Code Read online

  “What is it?” He studies the map on my phone for a second before meeting my eyes.

  “I love reading about random facts and obscure articles. It relaxes me, I guess. Clears my head. This is about how all the continents on Earth used to be fused together. Did you know that Australia is moving closer to Asia at the rate of two inches per year?”

  He reaches out, gently tucking my hair behind my hair with an amused smile. “That's fascinating.”

  “Don't tease me. You wanted to know the kinds of things I read about.”

  “I want to know everything about you,” he corrects me.

  This is such a bad idea.

  Chapter Eleven

  Barrett

  I'm lying on a lumpy pull-out bed with Ava, and I've never wanted to be anywhere more.

  I spent the day feeling sick, like I was coming down with the cold she had, but right now, I feel clearheaded and enamored as I listen to her speak. When we’re alone, I forget that anything else exists.

  “What else do you like to read about?” I ask, watching the way her lips move.

  She shrugs, a smile pulling up her mouth. “Everything.”

  Her eyes change when she talks about weather patterns, and unsolved mysteries, and the secret identity of DB Cooper. I can honestly say she's unlike any girl I've ever met. Maybe it's the head cold, but here in the darkness I feel like I can absorb every detail about her that most people gloss over. The freckle just beneath her left eye. The slope of her upper lip. The way she looks down at her hands when she's explaining something detailed.

  Her curiosity about the world is refreshing. She has a huge heart, she cares so damn much. It was always that way.

  There are so many things I admire about Ava, the bold way she so plainly states what she wants, the way she goes after her goals, charging them down like a bull to a matador. She's twenty-five years old and jumping in with both feet to run a factory—that says something right there.

  We're similar in that way—both of us hungry to prove ourselves, to work hard and succeed at our chosen professions. But even in this, in this taboo flirtation, she has decided that she will succeed. That she must win. And the prize? A certain appendage below my waistband twitches, more than ready to volunteer as tribute, to be conquered and won.

  And yeah, maybe that was how this all started that first night she saw me naked—a physical spark that ignited our attraction, but somehow, it would be a lie to say that's all this is. I've admired her for two decades. And to see her again now after so many years is messing with my head, well, both heads, if I'm being honest.

  As I listen to her talk about some of Earth's greatest mysteries, I'm drawn back ten years.

  The memory of her standing on the sidelines at one of my and Nick's football games. She was a high school freshman, and I remember the way she stood there, digging the toe of her tennis shoe into the dirt as she watched a group of teenage guys flirting with the cheerleaders in longing.

  The guy she liked that year was a piece of shit, totally not worth her time, but you'd be blind to miss the way she looked at him.

  I pulled off my helmet, and jogged over to where she stood when coach called a timeout.

  “Hey,” I said, tilting her chin toward mine.

  Her braces glinted under the bright lights, and she smiled up at me.

  “Things won't always be this way.”

  She blinked, either not understanding, or not accepting my meaning. “What?”

  “You're too good for him.” I nodded to the idiot boys staring at the cheerleaders’ boobs.

  After looking his way, she swallowed, and her eyes swung back over and met mine.

  “Are you feeling better?” she asks, breaking me from my daydream.

  I take a deep breath to clear my head. “Strangely, yeah. I think that concoction your mom made us drink actually worked.”

  She nods, agreeing, then bites her lower lip. “Can we just lie together for a little while?”

  “Come here,” I roll closer, and open my arms.

  She scoots closer and the warmth of her curves against the firm planes of my body is immediately too much.

  Being near her after all these years, and seeing the woman she's grown into? It'd be impossible not to want her.

  My cock begins to harden and grow, and though I've promised myself a thousand times nothing will happen I find myself wanting to play just the tip. Fuck, it'd probably be all she could handle anyway. When she rode my fingers to orgasm in my car, I felt how deliciously tight she was. The way she squeezed and clenched around me almost made me come untouched.

  And now I'm fully hard. That's super helpful.

  A shift of her hips closer lets me know she felt it, and how could she not? It's like someone wedged a two by four between us.

  She reaches back, pushing her fingers into the hair at the back of my neck, and lightly caresses me as we lie together. It feels so good, and so right, I don't have it in me to tell her to stop.

  I know right then this won't be easy. It's in this exact moment I know I've already fallen for her, and that I probably won't ever get over my big, messy, fucked-up feelings for her.

  She can’t be mine.

  Can’t.

  Because I’ll never be able to give her the time she deserves on top of all the other things that stand in our way. So why am I torturing myself?

  Because the thought of not touching her is a fate worse than death.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ava

  My frame fits perfectly against Barrett's, like two interlocking puzzle pieces that finally snapped together. His breath is hot against my ear and the scruff of his cheek grazes my neck, making every inch of my skin tingle. He sweeps my hair to the side and kisses me behind my ear and down my neck, his hand wrapped snugly against my hip as he slowly starts grinding his pelvis against me. I let out a little whimper, but he softly lets out a soft “Shh.”

  He's right. We may be on a different floor, but we're still under my parents’ roof. My heart is about to beat out of my chest, and my hands are trembling. God, it feels like high school, trying to make out without my parents catching us. Why does that turn me on?

  Barrett turns me over so that we’re facing each other. After an entire day spent trying to avoid him, having him here, so close, it's impossible to resist.

  “Sorry I got you sick,” I murmur.

  “It was worth it,” he whispers back.

  I smile at him and watch as his features transform and he breaks into a chuckle. “What?”

  “I was just remembering that time you were sick with the stomach flu.”

  “Which time?” Thankfully it hasn't happened often, but I don't know what he's referring to.

  “I was fourteen, so you must have been, what? Nine?”

  Sometimes I forget about our age difference. I nod. “Yeah, I remember that. It was awful.”

  “You were so funny back then. You couldn't remember that it was called a stomach bug so you kept telling everyone you had a stomach beetle.”

  I swat his arm. “Shush.”

  The number of embarrassing stories Barrett knows about me could fill an entire evening.

  “I thought it was cute,” he says, touching my cheek.

  His lips touch tentatively against mine for the briefest, sweetest of kisses.

  The soft thud of footsteps on the stairs makes both of us lock up, frozen in position. It suddenly feels like the time for prayer. Dear God, whoever it is, please don’t let them turn on the lights.

  The steps get closer, padding past us and into the kitchen. My hands quiver in their white-knuckle grip on Barrett’s t-shirt. What would we say if we got caught? That the air mattress was uncomfortable? That sleep kissing is totally just as common as sleepwalking?

  Neither of us so much as breathes as we listen to whoever is in the kitchen get a glass from the cabinet and turn the faucet on, then off again. We wait for the clunk of the glass being set in the sink, then the padding of the feet head ing back up the stairs again.

  We take a deep breath in perfect unison. I can hardly hold back my giggles as Barrett gets back to working over my neck with his mouth.

  “Why does this have to feel so good when I know it’s so, so wrong?”

  He chuckles softly, lifting himself onto one elbow so he can look down at me. “You still feel sick?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No. Not really. Just incredibly turned on.”

  I don't know what it is about him that loosens my inhibitions. Maybe it's because I've known him so many years, but he makes me feel comfortable, and safe, like I can really be myself.

  He groans and leans down to kiss me again, more deeply this time, his tongue tangling exquisitely with mine.

  I shift restlessly beside him, wanting more contact, but knowing I'm probably not going to get it.

  But then he surprises me by tossing back the sheets and laying his hand flat against my belly—low, like almost touching my panties. His expression is pained, like he's fighting with himself.

  “Promise you can stay quiet?”

  I nod, barely breathing.

  “Then let me take care of it.”

  He shifts down to a kneeling position on the floor. Oh fuck, he’s not going to…is he? Grabbing my ankles, he pulls me toward him so that my legs are hanging off the end of the bed and his face is right between my legs. Fuck, he totally is.

  It’s Barrett’s turn to pull my sweatpants down, but this time, there’s nothing even slightly accidental about it. With two swift fingers, he pulls my panties to the side and runs a teasing tongue right through me, making my stomach twist in delight.

  After several more teasing licks, he takes the waistband of my panties in his teeth and tugs them to the floor. Fuck, he’s smooth. I kick my panties off into the darkness and Barrett pushes my knees apart, studying me with a dark, lust-filled gaze that makes my belly flip.

  “You are exquisite. You're literally perfect,” he says, eyes studying my flesh as he runs one long finger along my core. “You know that, don't you?”

  I don't have words as his finger caresses me in light, teasing circles, so instead I make a wordless whimper of approval.

  “You like that?” he asks. His voice sounds reverent, and his gaze follows the movement of his finger, sweeping over my slick flesh.

  I nod, eyes on his. He is so handsome it physically pains me to look at him sometimes. His t-shirt pulls at the chiseled muscles of his chest, and there's dark hair on his jaw, but it's his eyes that always get me—the way they seem to see straight inside of me.

  “Come here.” I groan out a frustrated noise, reaching one hand along his chest, down to his abs. “You never let me touch you.”

  “Not necessary. Touching you is everything. Trust me.”

  And then there are no more words because he lowers his mouth again, and begins tasting me in slow, hot kisses that I'm pretty sure will drive me completely insane.

  I make a wordless sound of need-filled pleasure as Barrett kisses my wet, swollen flesh again, picking up the tempo. Everything ratchets up six-thousand degrees, and I can't help but push my hands into his hair.

  “You taste delicious,” he says, voice tight.

  “Don't you dare stop,” I moan as his warm mouth latches onto my pussy like it's his freaking job.

  “Wasn't planning on it.”

  Barrett Fucking Wilson—my older brother's best friend, and my own personal walking wet-dream for the past decade—is sucking on my lady-bits. I let out a sharp groan.

  “Shh.” He lifts his face from the spot between my legs and places a finger over his lips. “Be quiet or they'll hear you.”

  I glance down the hall—we're supposed to be sleeping in the den tonight, not making it our own personal love shack. It should bother me that my parents are under the same roof, it should prevent me from becoming oh-my-God-so-horny, but with Barrett kneeling on the carpet at my feet, head between my thighs as he brings me to heights of pleasure I could never imagine in even my wildest dreams about him, that doesn't even factor into the equation.

  Why does the fact that this is forbidden and we could be discovered at any moment make me even hotter?

  I gaze down at him, tangling my hands in his hair. His strong jaw, with dark stubble moves as he kisses me intimately. He parts me with his fingers, his tongue doing the most magical things.

  He is like a Jedi-ninja of pussy eating. I could watch him do this all day. And somehow, I know I’m going to remember him doing this for the rest of my life.

  Ever since I'd accidentally walked in on him in the shower our first night here, I'd been done for. I'd seen what he was packing in his jeans and mama wanted to play. He'd been out of reach my entire life, but now I was more than old enough to go after what I wanted.

  “More,” I beg, already so close.

  “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers.”

  “God, yes,” I say on a desperate sob. Why is he telling me this? Almost like he’s asking permission. After the past three days of banter, and flirting and arguing, I thought it'd be pretty obvious that I wanted this. Wanted him.

  While continuing to work me over with his mouth, Barrett sinks one thick finger inside me, groaning as he finds me soaked.

  Fuckity, fuck. This is so good.

  “I want you.”

  He shakes his head, that cocky smirk I've always loved crossing his lips. “You can't handle me and we both know it.”

  He's probably right, but I'd never backed down from a challenge, and riding the biggest cock I'd ever seen sounds like a fun way to test my limits.

  “But don't you want me to…?”

  “Can't. Bro code,” he manages in between licks of his tongue against me.

  Screw bro code. His face was already between my thighs. And yes, he was besties with my brother, but surely making me come on his face is also against this supposed law of bros.

  “Hmm. So blue balls for you then?” I pant, blood pumping through my veins faster and faster.

  He moans, tongue tracing lazy circles against me, like he could do this all day. “I have hands. I'll take care of it later.”

  God, he is so infuriating with his boundaries and rules and control. Is it bad that I would literally pay good money to watch him jack off that beast of a cock? I could imagine myself sitting there, slack-jawed with a tub of buttered popcorn in lap. And yes, the popcorn would be buttered, this is my fantasy after all.

  “Can I watch you take care of it?” I ask, knowing what he’ll probably say. And get a moan in response from him.

  That visual caused a reaction because his movements begin to ramp up. The idea of me watching him excites him…

  After a few more seconds, Barrett groans again, almost like he's in agony. “You going to come for me, sweetheart?”

  “Gladly.”

  My back bridges up as Barrett’s tongue teases against me just right, his fingers reaching to the softest spot deep within me to pull what he wants out from me—a whimper, a gasp, and a mind-blowingly perfect orgasm. My spine collapses against the mattress in a jolt as I pant desperately, trying to find my breath again.

  “Good girl.”

  He half kisses, half bites my inner thigh and my whole body contracts. I can feel his mouth curve into a smirk on my skin before he hoists himself back up onto the bed.

  I think he may have zapped the last of whatever energy this cold hasn’t taken out of me. But how can I not return the favor? Maybe I can get him to set aside that all-powerful bro code for just one night.

  Once he’s back on the bed, I pull myself tight against him, but that alone takes all the strength I have left. There’s no way I could do him any justice with how drained I am. My kisses are slow and sleepy with long breaths in between. Fuck.

  I grab at the waistband of his sweatpants, but instead of pawing at that beautiful cock that stands at attention for me, I can only steady myself against his hips for a second before sinking into the bed. Damn, I’m beat.

  Luckily, Barrett doesn’t seem to mind. He chuckles a bit, folding me tightly into his arms. “Go to sleep, Ava,” he whispers, placing a final kiss on my cheek. My heavy eyelids flutter closed. He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Barrett

  I wake up to the warm scent of Ava's hair filling my senses, and her body pressed right against mine.

  I hadn't meant to fall asleep like this, holding her wrapped in my arms. My cock certainly approves, though, pressed right against the soft curve of her ass.

  I think back to last night, talking, and then pleasuring her with my mouth.

  Hot blood courses through my veins, and fuck, suddenly I have never wanted something more.

  How I'm supposed to untangle myself from her when every inch of me is hard and ready?

  The fact is, I don't want to. Just because we can't sleep together doesn't mean I can't have another taste of what I want, and watching Ava's face light up in orgasmic bliss is so damn satisfying. Nudging her thigh with my knee, I part her legs just enough for my hand to slide along her thigh. She makes a small murmur of approval in her sleep, and my heart riots in my chest.

  Pushing my hand past the waistband of her pajama pants, I find her underwear is still damp from the night before, and that fills me with a hot sort of pride, remembering how she was practically grinding against my tongue for more. She is so damn sexy.

  I'd love to have her in my mouth again, but it's early enough that people will start waking up, and there's no darkness to hide us now. My fingers draw slow strokes up and down her panties, adding a bit more pressure until a soft gasp escapes her lips. Sleep-dazed eyes open to meet mine, desire written all over her face when she realizes what I'm doing to her.

  “Barrett,” she moans my name low and ragged, the sound hitting me straight in the groin.

  Fuuuck.

  “We have to keep quiet,” I whisper back, leaning down to seal her lips with a kiss.