“SLEEP WELL?” Ma pounces the moment I slope into the kitchen, a grin on her face as she sips her coffee. A wry, knowing grin as though she suspects her question has a salacious answer.
Jesus Christ.
“Sim, mamãe. We slept very well.” Literally all Amelia and I did last night was talk and sleep; I wasn’t going to fuck her with my mother and sister sleeping soundly down the hall, able to hear every moan and whimper.
I’m waiting until they leave for the day. Like a gentleman.
“Onde está Amelia?”
“Showering.” Mid-rummage through the refrigerator, I glance over my shoulder and catch my mom pouting at my girlfriend’s absence. Honestly, same; it takes a special kind of willpower to leave a beautiful, naked woman alone in your room.
Or a special kind of inanity.
“Everything is okay?” Standing, Ma rounds the counter to set her mug in the sink, brushing a hand over my shoulder.
With Amelia? Perfect.
With Cass? Not so much.
There’s an undeniable strain between us. Every move I make, he scrutinizes. Every time I so much as brush against Amelia, he notes. He always has this warning, cautious look in his eyes like he’s daring me to fuck up, waiting for me to do something wrong.
When I explain as much to Ma, she clicks her tongue and waves off my comments dismissively. “He is a good brother.” I scoff and she fixes me with a knowing stare. “Put yourself in his shoes, Nico. Imagine you were watching a man drape himself over Sofia constantly.”
My face twists—the thought alone of someone getting handsy with her in the future makes me simultaneously nauseous and angry.
She’s right, and I don’t like it.
A frustrated huff escapes me as I slam the fridge shut and slump against it. This whole situation is shit. Everyone has their reasons for feeling the way they do. Everyone’s reasons are valid, in one way or another. There’s no bad guy in the situation—just shit timing and a string of unfortunate circumstances.
“Tudo ficará bem, Nico,” Ma croons, patting my cheek comfortingly. “You are a good man. Cass knows this. Give it time.”
Time.
Give it time.
For fuck’s sake, the man has been sulking for a month.
Ma doesn’t hang around long after dropping that nugget of wisdom. She has to take Sofia to soccer practice, and while my little sister is distraught that me and Amelia aren’t coming to watch, she’s easily soothed by the promise of ice-cream and a movie later. I get a kiss on each cheek and then they’re gone, taking their noise and chaos with them.
The house settles with their absence, the only sound coming from the shower running upstairs and the quiet music coming from the radio. I hum along to a random song as I start on breakfast, quickly filling a mug with fresh coffee when I hear light footsteps creeping downstairs. “You want pancakes, meu amor?”
Amelia lingers in the doorway, shifting on her feet. Mussed hair, flushed cheeks, one of my hoodies hanging down to her knees. “Where is everyone?” Something inexplicably sultry lingers in her tone, her gaze jumping around the room checking if we’re alone.
“They’re out,” I answer slowly, turning off the stove and finishing the heaping pancake stack.
Her expression turns downright devious. My brows shoot up as she smiles slowly, long lashes fluttering. “I found something.”
“Oh?” I rack my brain for what she could have found that has her prowling towards me, looking like the fucking devil in disguise. Toying with the hem of her—my—hoodie, she draws my attention to the fabric skimming her thighs. In one swift movement, she lifts it up and over her head, tossing it aside.
The spatula in my hand drops to the floor with a clatter, my jaw not far behind.
Fuck me.
I swallow hard, my fingers curling around the countertop in an attempt to stop myself from dropping to my knees like a fool.
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
Amelia smoothes a hand down her front, caressing her almost naked skin teasingly. “Do I want to know why you brought this to your mother’s house?”
Fuck knows. Foolish hope, maybe. God, am I glad I did though.
“Valentine’s Day present,” is all I manage to stammer out.
Honestly, it’s more my present than hers. Her simpering coyly in front of me, covered in strips of lace and green satin, creamy skin and pert rosy nipples visible through the thin material… Fuck.
She huffs a breathy laugh, toying with the sheer fabric hugging her hips. “Yeah, I get why you didn’t want Cass to see this.”
Brazen as anything, she saunters towards me. She jerks in surprise when I halt her movements. “Stay right fucking there,” I growl as I sprint past her and upstairs.
As much as I love her current attire, it’s not complete.
A handful of seconds rummaging through my bag and I’m thundering back downstairs. Amelia shoots me a ‘what the fuck?’ look as I stalk her way, twirling a finger in a spinning motion. “Turn around.”
She obeys immediately. Sweeping her hair away from her neck, I produce the dainty necklace hidden in my hand—her real present. She gasps softly as I clip it around her neck, her fingers reaching up to examine it eagerly, and I try not to let my eyes dip to her lace-covered chest when she spins back around.
A simple gold chain with two charms slides between her fingers. Her thumb brushes a sparkling emerald. “It was my mom’s,” I tell her softly. Eyes the same color as the pendant shoot to me, wide with surprise, and I silence the protests I know are coming with a kiss.
Ma insisted—literally forced the thing into my hands—the moment she realized something serious was going on between Amelia and I. Dad gave it to her mere months after they met, and it’s one of the many things my mother can’t bear to look at it without tearing up and clutching her chest but equally, she can’t bring herself to throw it away like it’s meaningless.
Amelia snorts as she fingers the charm I added, a simple gold letter. “An ‘N’? Very possessive of you.”
Purposefully, my gaze rakes down her body. “Can you fucking blame me?” I spent months—mostly—silently and—sometimes—discreetly fending off horny motherfuckers. Sue me for being a little territorial.
“Where’s your ‘A?’” Amelia pouts in jest. “Seems unfair.”
“I’ll tattoo your fucking name on my forehead if you want me to.”
Scrunching her nose in playful distaste, she shakes her head. “Please, don’t do that.”
Capturing her stifled laughter with my lips, the light sound morphs into a soft moan as her tongue tangles with mine. Her greedy hands work quickly, stripping me of my t-shirt, while mine hook under thighs and lift her onto the counter. Lithe legs wrap around my waist, urging me to her, and I groan as her hard nipples graze my chest.
Amelia frantically tugs at my sweats, pulling them and my boxers over my ass and down my thighs. I curse loudly as she grinds her hips against me, the scrap of lacey material between us doing nothing to hide how much she wants me already.
“As much as I love this,” I finger the strap of her bra, smoothing it down her shoulder and nipping at her bare skin as my other hand dips between her thighs, eliciting a moan out of her. She throws her head back, chest heaving as she pants, when I shove aside her panties and slip a teasing finger inside her, thumb massaging her clit, “I’m gonna love ripping it off so much fucking more.”
I’m about to. I’m fisting the material, ready to tear it away and thrust home.
And then, the worst possible thing happens.
A high-pitched scream rings out. We whirl toward the origin, toward the kitchen doorway, where we find a horrified Cass with a hand clamped over his eyes.
Fuck my life.
Amelia falls off the counter.
She drops to the floor with a shriek, cowering behind the island, eyes squeezed shut like if she can’t see Cass, then Cass can’t see her—and her state of undress.
I instantly move to cover my raging boner, ducking slightly to hide too, and desperately averting my gaze from the girl on her knees dangerously fucking close to my throbbing cock. “What the fuck?”
“The door was unlocked!” Cass screeches. Peeking through his fingers cautiously, he spots the discarded hoodie on the floor. With his thumb and forefinger, he picks it up and tosses it our way.
I snatch it from the air and hand it to Amelia. She looks like she’s about to burst into flames, either from the embarrassment of being caught or from the anger of being denied an orgasm—both are feasible. In a flash, she covers herself, mutters something under her breath about the roof looking appealing right now, before literally fleeing the kitchen.
Her and Cass don’t even look at each other as she scoots past. They do, however, share a revolted shiver.
If I thought there was awkward tension between me and Cass before, that was fucking nothing compared to right now.
He stares intently at the kitchen counter, blinking rapidly. “I am never going to be able to unsee that.”
“What’re you doing here?” Despite my best efforts, I can’t hide the irritation from my voice.
I was so fucking close to being buried inside her.
Now, there’s a beautiful, horny girl in fucking lingerie hiding in my room, in my bed, while I’m stuck talking to her brother.
Cass coughs. “Can you please put your pants on? I’m not having this conversation with your dick out.”
Oh, fuck.
“Right,” I grumble awkwardly, quickly fixing myself. Dick covered, I round the island, gazing forlornly at the stack of still-warm pancakes.
Sex and pancakes. So close.
I speedily banish any thoughts of sex and the various things I could’ve done with syrup and whipped cream from my mind before my semi becomes a full hard-on again. “Cass, look-”
“I need to apologize,” he interrupts. I frown—not what I expected. “I was a dick to you.”
Yeah, you were, I silently agree.
Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, Cass forces himself to look me in the eye. “Using your past, uh, habits against you was a dick move. I was being an ass and a hypocrite, and I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” is my short reply. “I appreciate it.”
Cass nods stiffly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry too,” I say slowly. “Not for falling in love with her but for how it all played out.”
Another nod, and Cass offers me a small, uncomfortable smile.
A beat of awkward silence passes, the two of us looking everywhere but at each other, before I clear my throat. “So we’re good?”
“I’m not saying I’m okay with that,” he gestures toward the counter with a gag, “but I believe you when you say you love her. And I trust you with her. Consider this my blessing, or whatever.”
Honestly, I could fucking cry. Not for myself, for Amelia—I know Cass’ blessing, or whatever, means the fucking world to her.
“So,” Cass coughs. “Yeah. That’s it. I’m gonna go.” He turns for the door, another shiver wracking his lanky body. “And I’m gonna try very fucking hard not to think about what’s gonna happen when I leave.”
Despite the situation, I laugh, dropping my head and coughing loudly to cover it when Cass glares. At least it’s a somewhat impish glare, a hint of a smile lingering beneath.
Progress.
