Rogan wraps one strong arm around my waist and lifts, carrying me the few feet to my makeup chair, where he deposits me, dropping one leg over the arm, leaving me wide open to the assault of his mouth. It’s his turn to drop to his knees, push my panties aside and bring me racing toward the precipice, sucking and thrusting me all the way over it.
Pleasure crashes through me like a violent electrical storm, innervating my every muscle fiber. My back arches, my feet flex, and my fingernails dig into the armrests as Rogan penetrates me with his tongue, licking my release as it pours out for him.
Slowly, his aggressive penetration turns to soft, leisurely strokes as though he senses exactly where I am and what I need. I lie limply in the chair before him as my body drifts down from the hazy heaven of my climax. After two long, languorous minutes, Rogan begins to rain butterfly kisses across my stomach, which is partly bared by the drastically skewed position of my skirt.
“That’s what I’ve been waiting for all day,” he says, glancing up at me as he rights my panties and tugs my skirt down to cover me. “Can I give you a ride home?”
“Yes,” I breathe, giving in to the urge to smile.
Rogan, about to rise, stops and leans forward to run his forefinger over the curve of my bottom lip. “And this . . . this smile is what I’ll wait for all day tomorrow.”
Neither of us says another word as I cut off the lights and Rogan leads me from the building.
TWENTY-SIX
Rogan
“You’re sleeping with the wrong brother. You know that, right?”
Sitting at the bar, munching on a carrot as I finish making dinner, Katie’s mouth drops open and her cheeks turn bright red at my brother’s comment. I kick the back of his chair.
“You’re an ass, man.”
“What?” he asks, like there’s nothing wrong with his comment. “Oh, I forgot. It’s Wednesday. Therefore I cannot speak the truth.”
I shake my head. “Sore loser,” I mutter.
“I didn’t lose. Hell, you didn’t even give me a chance to get in the game. Some of us are stuck here all day instead of on a television set kissing hot actresses and lying to beautiful makeup artists.”
I see the little frown that appears between Katie’s eyes as she listens. “I don’t lie, you dickwad.”
“Everybody lies.”
“Somebody didn’t get his nap out today,” I needle, knowing that will piss him off so bad he’ll just leave. And he does. Kurt whirls his chair around to face me, his expression filled with bitter resentment.
“Sometimes I hate you,” he spits, and then he wheels himself around the bar and down the hall to his room where he slams the door shut.
“Is he okay?” Katie asks cautiously.
I shrug. “He’s just got issues. That’s all.”
“Is he always like that? I mean, the first time I met him . . .”
“He was on his best behavior. Smitten, I guess you could say. But yeah, that’s more his normal state of douchiness.”
I’m matter-of-fact about it because I’m used to it. Kurt feels like he has a million reasons to hate and resent me. I only understand one of them.
“Why does he resent you so much?” Katie’s eyes are puzzled. Then she starts to stammer, like she regrets her question. “I—I mean, he seems to, anyway. Not that it’s any of my business.” Her voice trails off as she drops her gaze down to her hands where they’re fiddling with her napkin.
I laugh, reaching across the bar to still her fingers. “Hey, it’s fine. You can ask me anything.”
“Okay, then why does he seem to resent you so much? Is it just because of his handicap?”
I resume assembling the salads that will accompany the filets I’ll be grilling. I lay slices of cucumber on each one as I answer her. “He thinks that the reason I never went to the cops or social services, the reason that I kept my mouth shut, was because I was weak. He thinks I didn’t love him enough to get him out of there. I never told him that everything I did I did to spare him.”
I hear Katie’s gasp. “But why? Why would you let him believe that? When you sacrificed so much for him. Why?”
I glance up to meet her horrified eyes. “Because it would’ve eaten him up with guilt—knowing that I stayed around because of him. Knowing that I kept taking a beating so that he wouldn’t have to. And I didn’t want him to have to carry that around for the rest of his life.”
“Oh God, Rogan,” she whispers. Her face is pale, like she can literally feel the pain of it all.
“It’s fine,” I tell her with a smile. I’d rather blow it off than this end up in pity. It’s probably dangerously close already. “We both survived.”