My best friend called me in the middle of the night for an emergency ab-touching session. Except the one who opened the door wasn't some random guy she'd brought home. It was her little brother. "Abs. Fresh from college. All yours," Sloane announced, shoving me forward. "My brother is your brother. Come on, Nate, say hi." I squeezed my eyes shut, letting Sloane steer my hand across the warm, sculpted landscape of his stomach. But her brother wasn't playing along. He leaned against the doorframe, his voice a low, teasing drawl that sent a shiver down my spine. "Why won't you look at me, Audrey?" "You weren't this shy two years ago." Holy shit. Two years ago, when I rocked his world, I had absolutely no idea he was my best friend's brother. 1 “Why won’t you look at me, Audrey?” His voice was a low murmur, laced with something that dangerously resembled amusement. “You weren’t this shy two years ago.” “What’s he talking about?” Sloane asked, her voice oblivious and booming. But I was already dying. A slow, agonizing death right there in the hallway of my best friend’s apartment. How was I supposed to explain to Sloane that two years ago, I’d mistaken her baby brother for my blind date, dragged him to a hotel, and proceeded to have the single most unforgettable night of my life? Nate, her brother, twisted the knife. “It’s just… you look a little familiar, is all.” Sloane’s head whipped around to face me. “Familiar? You two know each other?” The look of raw panic on my face melted instantly into one of wide-eyed innocence. I shook my head so fast my neck protested. “Nope. Never seen him. Total stranger.” “See? I knew it!” Sloane laughed, completely satisfied. “He just got back in the States two years ago, right when you were home dealing with that string of disastrous dates your mom set up. No way you could’ve crossed paths.” She punctuated her statement by grabbing my hand and slapping it, hard, against her brother’s sculpted abdomen. “Ngh…” Nate’s jaw tightened, and a low grunt escaped his lips. Damn. It was the exact same sound he’d made two years ago, just as sexy, but now it was layered with a deeper, grainier texture that was somehow even more potent. “What was that for?” he grumbled, rubbing the spot. “What was what for?” Sloane shot back, mimicking his grunt with a disgusted look. “Stop being weird.” She yanked me behind her like a protective mother hen. “And what is with this outfit? The hair, the shirt… who are you trying to seduce at this hour?” “Why, your friend, of course,” Nate said, his eyes locking onto mine, a predatory glint in them. The playful tone was gone, replaced by something sharp. “This… ‘unfamiliar, never-seen-before, total stranger’ friend of yours.” “You’re insane. Ignore him, Audrey, let’s go.” Sloane dragged me toward her bedroom. It was only fifteen feet, but my legs felt like they were made of lead, each step a clumsy, uncoordinated lurch. Just before the door clicked shut, I saw Nate leaning against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. His voice followed us down the hall, a hot whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. “Goodnight, Audrey. Sweet dreams.” 2 There was nothing sweet about my dreams that night. First, Sloane kept me up until the early hours, dissecting our college yearbook and gleefully tearing apart every single person we’d ever disliked. Then, there was Nate. I never would have imagined he had this level of persistence. At four in the morning, when my bladder finally screamed for mercy, I found him waiting for me. He was crouched by the bathroom door like a panther in the shadows. “I knew you’d have to get up, Audrey.” He rose to his full height, blocking my path. “Two years ago, in that hotel room, when I had you flipped over—” An alarm blared in my head. I lunged forward, clapping a hand over his mouth as if my life depended on it, which, in a way, it did. That night was a blur I tried desperately to forget. Only a couple of hours were actually spent in the bed. The rest of the time was a whirlwind tour of the suite’s other amenities: the shower, the desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows… Best not to dwell on it. I glanced back toward the bedroom. Sloane was a lump under the covers, dead to the world. When I turned back, Nate had closed the distance between us. His hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He was warm, solid, and smelled faintly of soap and something uniquely him. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck. “It really hurt my feelings, you know. Pretending you didn’t know me.” His voice was a soft, wounded murmur. “But seeing you again… God, I can’t stop smiling.” The stubble on his chin scratched gently against my skin, and his words were like a kitten’s claws, playfully but insistently scraping at my resolve. Stop it. Stop trying to charm me. “Were you waiting for me?” he whispered. I shoved at his chest, peeling his hands from my waist. “I was not. I have to pee. Unless you want to join me?” I added, my voice dripping with sarcasm. A slow grin spread across his face, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. “Can I? I could help.” I fought to keep my voice low, a harsh whisper. “Nate!” The next thing I knew, he had my wrist in his grip. With one smooth motion, he pulled me into the dark bathroom. 3 He lifted me onto the marble countertop as if I weighed nothing. The cool stone was a shock against my skin. Click. He’d locked the door. In the suffocating silence of the small room, his eyes seemed to glow, dark and feral. He braced his hands on either side of me, trapping me in the cage of his arms. “Nate, stop messing around. I’m your sister’s best friend. If she finds out, she’ll literally kill us both.” “I’m not messing around,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ve just… really missed you.” It was too dark to read the expression in his eyes, but I saw his silhouette dip lower. A memory flashed, hot and vivid: that night, him kneeling before me, his eyes wet and wide as he looked up, like a loyal puppy devoted to its master. My entire body went soft. No. Not now. I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Nate.” It was like he’d lost his mind. He mumbled, his voice thick, “Audrey, when you say my name like that, it just makes me…” His shadow moved closer. I held my breath. Just as our lips were about to touch, he veered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the underside of my jaw. He pulled back just enough to look up at me from under his lashes, his expression a devastating mix of reverence and hurt. “You slept with me and then you vanished,” he whispered. “I never forgot that.” Everyone knows a woman in her late twenties is in her prime. And right now, with him looking at me like that, every cell in my body was on fire. But a fragile thread of morality, of loyalty to Sloane, held me back. Finally, I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “Okay, so what do you want from me? It was a one-night stand. You expect me to take responsibility for it now?” He leaned in again, his breath ghosting across my lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” “Well, I am!” I gripped his shoulders, trying to channel my inner big sister. “Nate, listen to me. Whatever happened in the past, stays in the past. After tonight—hell, after this very second—we’re done. I’m your sister’s friend, and you’re my friend’s little brother. That kiss just now? It never happened. I won’t hold it against you. Tomorrow, we go back to normal.” The warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by a chilling darkness. Before I could slide off the counter, he seized my wrist, twisting my arm gently behind my back. His eyes were hard, his face set with a look of grim determination. “Then I guess,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, “we’re just not leaving this bathroom, Audrey.” 4 He wasn’t kidding. I didn’t get out of that bathroom all night. My nerves were shot, every muscle coiled tight with the fear of being discovered. But for Nate, the risk was clearly part of the thrill. One moment, he’d be sweeping the hair from my neck, whispering, “Don’t hold back, Audrey. Tell me what you want.” The next, he’d be kissing my earlobe, a devilish murmur against my skin. “Careful. Sloane might hear you.” I was a wreck, my entire body buzzing with a mixture of terror and exhilaration. By the time Sloane woke up the next morning, I was still fast asleep. “Seriously, Audrey? Since when are you the one who sleeps in?” I couldn’t even pry my eyelids open. “Please,” I groaned. “Just five more minutes…” Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. “Audrey, why is your mouth all swollen?” My eyes flew open. Sloane was leaning over me, her face a mask of clinical curiosity as she pointed at my lips. “It looks like you bit it or something in your sleep.” I shot up in bed like I’d been electrocuted, ready to spin some wild excuse. But the movement was too abrupt. The oversized t-shirt I’d slept in shifted, and one of the straps slid down my shoulder. Sloane’s gaze traveled from my face, down my neck, and her eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God! Is that a hickey on your neck?” she shrieked. “Tell me everything! Who is he?” “No, wait, it’s not what you think—” “I did it.”
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