Wrong(48)

I lean back, relaxing into Luke's chest with the water streaming over us. He washes my hair and then pulls my right arm up and bends it, placing my hand on the back of his neck. I massage his neck with my fingers as he lathers my breast with more suds. I sigh in contentment. I could stay in this shower all day if I didn't want waffles so badly.

Wait a minute. "Are you giving me a breast exam right now?" I ask.

Luke removes my right hand from his neck and replaces it with my left. "Yes."

I drop my arm. "Luke, that is so weird."

He picks my hand up and puts it back on his neck. "Are you checking yourself every month?" He kisses my earlobe.

"No," I admit. I'm twenty-one, I want to add sulkily. My boobs are perfect.

"I don't want anything to happen to your perfect tits," he says as he continues. "They're mine."

Well, that was a pretty caveman thing to say. Yet I want to bend over and tell him to fuck me however he wants, so I guess it was effective. I turn around instead, interrupting his exam, and wrap my arms around his neck so I can pull him close enough to kiss. Then I push him away and step out of the shower.

"Hey," he protests.

"Waffles!" I call out as I dry off.



* * *



"We need to go shopping this weekend," Luke announces as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later.

"How domestic," I reply. "And here I thought Mrs. Gieger did all your shopping. You don't like to put lube on her grocery lists?"

He smacks my behind and then cages me in by placing both hands on the counter around me. "I have plenty of lube, you impertinent slut, just say the word." He kisses my neck then pushes off the counter. "You need a dress."

"For?" I ask.

"For the hospital gala. I told you about it."

"I'm certain you didn't." He didn't. Gina did.

"I'll need you to attend with me, Sophie. It's next weekend, so we need to find you a dress today."

"I'm meeting Boyd for lunch."

Luke's jaw ticks and he rubs his temple. "Why?"

"Why?" I question as I move a waffle from the maker to a plate. "He's my brother. Do I need a reason to have lunch with him?"

"Yes."

"Excuse me?" I stop with a measuring cup mid-pour over the waffle iron. Luke has moved to the Keurig and is watching the coffee drip into a mug.

"Was I unclear?"

I stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded, then finish pouring batter into the waffle maker before returning my attention to Luke. He's leaning against the counter, arms crossed, sipping from his mug.

"You're the boss of when I see my brother?"

"You're my responsibility."

I'm not sure if I should laugh or slap him. "Okay," I reply, drawing out the word. It's not okay, but Luke should be well versed at his age in the subtleties of the female response. There are about twenty definitions to the word okay when speaking to a woman.

"The last time you saw Boyd he got you drunk." Luke takes the plate I offer him and sits at the breakfast table in front of the window, but his eyes are on me. I remove the last waffle from the maker and drop it on my plate before sitting across from him.

"Boyd didn't get me drunk, I got myself drunk." I shake the can of whipped cream as I speak.

"He shouldn't have let you."

"Let me?" This conversation is getting more ridiculous by the second. "He doesn't own me, so why is he responsible for me?"

"Don't be cute, Sophie. He should have taken better care of you."

"Give him a break, Luke."

The fingers of Luke's left hand tap on the table. "I should get to know him then. What time is lunch?"

"I just walked right into that, didn't I?"

Luke smiles, smug in the knowledge that he got what he wanted. "You don't want to have lunch with both of us?"

I shrug. "Seems awkward."

He leans back in his chair and smirks. "I'm awkward?"

"You're never awkward and you know it." He's dressed for the day in a gray sweater and dark jeans. His hair is still damp from the shower and I want to sit on his lap and breathe in his aftershave while running my fingers through his hair, but we have things to do.

"Just be…" I trail off.

Luke raises a brow at me in question.

I sigh. "Nice."

"Whatever you want, Sophie." He's so agreeable. When he gets what he wants.



* * *



We walk to Joan Shepp, an upscale store just up the street from Luke's, to look for a dress for this gala. Well, Luke discusses options with a saleswoman—I just stand there fidgeting.

"She'll try all of these," Luke says, indicating the selection the saleswoman has pulled.