Strung(10)

After the hard-on I witnessed earlier in those tight briefs, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to keep my eyes from going there whenever he’s in front of me.

“I figured this was yours. Alexander used to hide the cookie dough from me when we were kids and refused to buy me any when he was out on a store run. Complained I was going to get sick from eating it raw.”

“Nah.” He bends down and eats the piece right out of my hand. “You’ll be fine. It’s not like you’re eating the whole damn package. You’re not, right?”

He lifts a brow and I toss him what’s left of the package. “I might’ve gotten close a few times before, but my brother always snatched it from me and tossed it in the trash before I could consume the last quarter of it. Like that small amount is going to make a difference.

“I think maybe I should keep this safe then.” He rolls up the end of the package and sets it down on the island in front of him. “What are you doing up? Too many words in your head?”

“Maybe . . . how about you?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep much. Been thinking a lot about getting my bar up and running.” He huffs and runs a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve still got to order tables and supplies and figure out staff and payroll and a lot of other things that exhaust me just thinking about them.”

“I heard it’s based around live music; like how you occasionally perform at my brother’s bar, except it will be nightly. I’ve always wished we had a place like that back in Arlington. I’ve seen them in movies and TV shows growing up and those have always intrigued me. I love that idea and it’s awesome that’s what you wanted. I can see myself spending a lot of time there whenever I’m here to visit.”

“You might not want to go home after the summer ends if you spend too much time at my bar.”

“Maybe not, but I have to. I promised my parents I’d wait a few more years before moving away. They were really torn up about Alexander leaving at such a young age and I don’t want to put my parents through that again. It may not be what I want, but it’s what they want.”

“And what about a boyfriend or even an ex who wants you back? He want you to stay too?” His eyes lock on mine, waiting for an answer.

I shake my head and laugh. “I haven’t had a boyfriend in three years, and there’s no one back home who even slightly has me interested, so, no.”

“That’s good to know.” He takes a step toward me, his eyes lowering to my lips. I suck in a breath at his closeness, which results in him taking a step back and running his hands over his face.

We stand here in silence for a few moments before he releases a long breath and looks me over, as if he’s about to say something important but decides against it.

“It’s late. I’ve got to be at the bar early to make sure everything is running smoothly for when your brother gets back tomorrow.” He grabs the cookie dough and reaches into the fridge for a water. “You should go lay down so your characters can talk, yeah?”

I nod, watching as he disappears from the kitchen.

I don’t know what the hell that was about, but I won’t deny that I almost wish he would’ve kissed me.

But I have a feeling Micah isn’t the kissing type. Not from what I’ve heard from my brother . . .





XAN SENT ME A TEXT this morning to let me know that he’ll be home around two and wants to take me out to lunch.

As excited as I am about seeing him, I can’t help but to worry about how he’d react if he knew what went down with me and Micah last night.

As far as I know, Micah is his closest friend here and one of the only people that he truly trusts. That’s a huge deal for Xan, and as badly as I want to jump on Micah and take him on a test ride, especially after how hard he made me come with my vibrator, I know that it could possibly ruin their friendship and trust.

He’s so damn hot and tempting, but I need to stay strong. I didn’t come here to mess things up for my brother. The thought alone makes me feel sick to my stomach.

When I close the fridge, I look up to see Micah going through the cupboards. “Hey,” I say while spreading out the ingredients to make a chicken quesadilla. “Xan will be home in about four hours.”

“Yeah.” He closes the cupboard and looks down at the stuff I just laid out, before bending down and pulling out a couple of pans. “He texted me a bit ago to check on you and the bar . . .”

I watch as he pulls out the butter and then opens the bag of frozen chicken strips, tossing some in one of the pans, along with some butter and seasonings.

“Yeah . . . and what did you tell him?”

“I told him that you were both in good hands and that I’ve been keeping a close eye on you. Then he sent me some knife emojis. Not sure how he got that shit, because they’re not on my phone. Not those specific ones at least.”

I can’t help but to laugh at the face that Micah makes while glancing back down at his phone when it vibrates.

He holds it ups. “He sent another knife emoji for good measure.”

“I’m sure he’s kidding,” I say with a slight laugh. “Maybe. Most likely.”

“He’s not. Trust me. I know him when it comes to you. He’s been talking about you for the last five years and how protective he gets when it comes to you. You’re still his little sister; doesn’t matter that you’re not so little anymore. He’d kill anyone who hurts you.”

“You headed to the bar soon?”

It’s best to change the subject. I’m sure it’s getting uncomfortable for him, because I’ve seen Xan go off on more than one jerk in the past who’s broke my heart and I’ve never seen him look more lethal. I don’t want to see that happen to Micah . . . especially with how close they are.

He presses against me, pinning me against the counter as he reaches into the drawer next to me and pulls out a fork. His lips brush against my ear, sending chills up and down my body. “I’m heading there in a few.”

I release a breath as he walks away and starts forking the chicken. “Yeah, well I might stop by after I get back from lunch to get some writing in before it gets too crowded.”

He begins flipping the chicken with one hand and preparing the tortilla shell with the other. “Who are you going out to lunch with?”

“Xan.” I toss him the cheese and then search through the cupboards for plates. “We’re going as soon as he gets back.”

Releasing a slow breath, he turns to face me. “About what happened last night . . .”

“Don’t worry. Xan doesn’t need to know you even set foot into my room. I’m not trying to come between you guys, and he definitely doesn’t need to know what happens in the privacy of my bedroom.”

He quickly looks me over, his eyes landing on my lips, before he turns away and flips the chicken again. “Good. The last thing I need is Alexander on my ass. That’s the only reason I chose not to use my tongue last night instead. I don’t want one of those knives through my chest.”

I swallow hard as my body heats up with need from his words. There’s so many things I want to say to that, but choose not to. Nothing good can come from it.

When he’s done cooking the chicken, he makes one quesadilla and throws it on a plate for me. “I need to get out of here. I’m running late. Tell Alexander I’ll catch him later.”

I look down at the plate and smile. “Why didn’t you say something? You didn’t have to cook my food.”

“I know.” With that, he disappears around the corner, most likely headed back downstairs to get ready.

My mind stays stuck on Micah the whole time I’m eating. For some reason I want another glimpse of him before he leaves for Vortex. I shouldn’t, but I do. Despite my brother warning us to stay away from each other, we both seem to be fighting it.

By the time I’m finished eating and throwing the dishes into the dishwasher, I realize that Micah must’ve left out of the backdoor.

It’s probably best if we don’t get any more alone time before Xan gets home anyway. I guess Micah feels the same way.

Either that or he’s actually scared of the knives that Xan probably has hidden to cut his throat out with if he betrays him.



I told Xan that I would just meet him at Villy’s because there was no way I was going to jump onto the back of his bike and look like a dork behind my brother.

He used to ride me around everywhere as kids. In the beginning it was on his bicycle and then later on his first motorcycle. I felt cool back then, hanging with my big brother and all. Now . . . not so much.

When I walk in, I spot Xan in a booth at the back of the diner with two Pepsi’s already ordered for us.

I smile and slide into the booth across from him. “What makes you so sure that I still drink Pepsi when I go out to eat, Xan?”

He gives me that look, as if I’ve lost my damn mind. “Because you’re my baby sister. And no one knows you better than I do. Not even our parents.”

“Thanks for that.” I give him an appreciative smile and grab my drink. “And for always being nice to me. Not a lot of younger siblings had it as good as I did growing up. You’ve always looked out for me.”