Accidentally Married to Brother's Best Friend Page 7

  He kissed me, and I melted.

  9

  Preston

  Waking up to feeling Lyric grinding against my leg, hearing her moans, was probably the hottest thing that I’d ever experienced. Holy fuck. I wanted her so badly my mouth was like sandpaper. When I’d seen her noticing my erection, the hungry look in her eyes, I hadn’t been able to resist.

  Now I was kissing her, and it was all that I could’ve asked for.

  I groaned against her mouth, tightening my grip on her hair, feeling those silky strands between my fingers. She tasted like champagne, and kept making these desperate little noises against my mouth. I sucked on her tongue and Lyric gave a full-bodied shudder, grinding against my leg again.

  Fuck, yes. Now that I had her in my arms there was no way I was letting her go. I wanted to touch her for hours, kiss her, make her come over and over again until she couldn’t even speak to beg. I was going to make love to her, ravish her, until—

  Lyric jerked her head back, her eyes wide, and for a second I thought she was going to say something about how we couldn’t do this—but then she threw herself out of bed and dashed into the bathroom.

  A moment later I heard the distinctive sounds of someone throwing up.

  Oh, shit, poor thing. I got up and followed her, kneeling by the toilet to pull her hair back out of her way. Lyric was trembling all over and I stroked her hair again since that had soothed her earlier, making shushing noises as she emptied her stomach.

  “I don’t understand,” she mumbled, resting her head against the rim of the toilet. “I didn’t drink much.”

  “You drank more than you ate,” I pointed out. I kept stroking her hair, and eventually she sat up properly, taking a deep breath and nodding at me.

  I stood up and got her a glass of water. “Here you go. Drink slowly.”

  “Thanks.” Lyric did as she was told, giving me a wane smile. “Sorry about… all of this.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the throwing up, the grinding against my leg before that, or just this entire snowed in mess of a situation. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t mind any of it. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s all good.”

  There were a few spare toothbrushes in the cupboard, thank fuck, so Lyric could brush her teeth after. She looked a little pale, but I didn’t see any other signs of her being sick, so I wasn’t worried about it being the flu. When I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead, there was no fever. You always had to make sure with things like these.

  Lyric still looked a little wobbly on her feet, so I bent down and got my arm under the back of her knees, scooping her up and cradling her to my chest, bridal-style. The humor of that wasn’t lost on me, but I decided it would be best not to say anything. I had a feeling that Lyric wouldn’t find it so funny and I didn’t want to kick her while she was down.

  It seemed to me to be a sign of how exhausted she was that she just curled up against me without protest and let me carry her to bed. I was under no illusions here—Lyric hadn’t been my biggest fan the past couple of days, and I was sure that she wouldn’t have normally wanted to have sex with me if it wasn’t for the strange circumstances and her already being turned on from whatever dream she was having.

  I tucked her into bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the perfect gentlemen.”

  “Oh, wow, you don’t want to sleep with the girl who just threw up, who would’ve thought?” Lyric smiled mischievously up at me, and my heart gave an odd little twist. I was fond of her, dammit.

  I laughed. “At least you got your sense of humor back. And all it took was getting sick.”

  I put the pillow back up between us, just in case, and then laid down on the opposite side. Lyric was asleep in moments, and I didn’t blame her. I doubted anyone could feel sexy, or think about anything other than rest, after throwing up like that.

  But I couldn’t stop myself from remembering what it had felt like, just now, to kiss her. The same as it had felt to kiss her all those years ago. It hadn’t been the best location—a laundry room in a frat house of all fucking places—but I hadn’t cared at the time. I’d been shocked to see Lyric at a party like that, to be honest. Lyric was so hardworking, I hadn’t expected her to want to waste time going to a party.

  She’d been there, though, in this cute green dress that had a skirt just high enough for me to get a tantalizing glimpse of her thigh, her hair curling thick and luscious down her back and around her shoulders. I’d never seen Lyric looking like this before, sophisticated, sexy.

  Growing up, Lyric had been the little sister of my best friend, and when you’re a kid, four years was a huge age difference. She might as well have been twenty years younger or so it felt like to me. Then I’d gone to college while she was in high school and I’d been busy. I hadn’t really thought about her much, hadn’t really had time.

  Seeing her as a freshman at Amherst was like a frying pan to the face. She’d been beautiful, stunning, no longer the awkward, serious kid that I remembered trying to make laugh. Lyric’s mom was far from what you’d call an attentive parent, so she’d grown up a super focused kid, always too responsible, always trying to be the adult for herself.

  When I’d seen her at the party, I’d been unable to help myself. When she flirted, I flirted back. And when we’d kissed… I’d been addicted.

  I was sure that whatever high school boys she’d been with hadn’t shown her a proper good time. Hell, I probably hadn’t shown the first couple women I’d been with a proper good time as a teenager. It was a part of the learning curve. Everyone started out bad at sex.

  But I’d known what I was doing then. I’d been experienced, and I’d been ready to show her a good time, blow her fucking mind.

  Lyric’s whimpers and moans as I’d licked into her sweet pussy still echoed in my ears. She’d been so receptive, she’d clearly never been eaten out before, and it was intoxicating to know that I was the first person to do this to her. I’d known that Tenor would kill me if he found out. Tenor had always been super protective of his sister and who could blame him when he was trying to be not only her brother but her father and mother as well?

  At that moment, though, as ashamed as I’d felt knowing Tenor would be upset—I hadn’t been able to stop myself. She’d felt so good, sounded so good, and I’d been absolutely addicted. It was headier than the alcohol I’d drunk.

  When I’d finished making her orgasm, I’d been ready to move onto the main course. Lyric had been looking up at me with these heavy lidded eyes, a hungry spark in them, her slick lips open and her cheeks flushed.

  “I want to fuck you,” I’d blurted out, wanting no doubt in her mind about what I was asking for, what I desired.

  Lyric had whimpered and nodded, reaching for me, too desperate even for words. It had been such an ego boost to see how eager she was, how much she wanted it. I’d kissed her over and over, tugging at her bottom lip, sucking on her tongue, swallowing her moans.

  She’d pressed so close to me, like she was trying to draw me inside of her, like she’d wanted to be devoured, and fuck, I’d been unable to resist that. I’d kissed down her neck, sucking, marking her up, scraping my teeth over her tender pulse point.

  Thank fuck she’d been wearing a dress. I could just shove it up out of the way as my fingers spread her open, curling inside of her to stroke her. Lyric’s voice had risen in pitch and she’d shaken in my arms—and that was when I’d realized that something was off. She was almost… surprised by the way I was touching her, by the way it all felt. Like this was blindsiding her.

  I’d frozen, two fingers inside of her, my arm around her, my mouth on her neck. I’d pulled back and asked her—had she ever done this before? Was this her first time?

  Lyric had blushed redder than a fire hydrant as she’d told me, yes. This was her first time. She was a virgin.

  I’d been shocked, to say the least. Lyric had always been focused, determined, studious, but she’d also always been pretty and confident.
She’d loved her looks, shown off her body with cute outfits. How had no boy ever made a move?

  She’d said she just hadn’t been interested. She hadn’t given any guy a chance to get that far with her. I’d felt… okay, I had been a senior in college, I’d been rich and good looking, I could’ve had anyone I’d wanted and I knew it. But somehow, hearing Lyric say that she hadn’t been interested in other men… it had made me feel flattered. Special. Lyric had grown up watching me be an idiot with her brother, she knew better than anyone what kind of person I was. And she’d still decided I was worth her time? When all the other men out there weren’t?

  It had been possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

  I’d had to kiss her again after that. I dared any other man to try and resist that earnestness, that confidence. I’d asked her if she was sure, and she’d said yes… and so I’d gone back to fucking her with my fingers.

  She’d been so tight and hot, perfect for me, and I’d nearly made her come again just with my two fingers. I’d pulled out before that could happen—I’d wanted to savor this and I’d wanted to tease her, keep her on edge a little—and Lyric had whined and pouted so adorably I’d had to laugh.

  Sliding inside of her had been possibly the hardest (no pun intended) thing I’d had to do. I’d wanted to go in all the way, to just fuck her hard and rough, to bury myself over and over in that slick heat. But more than that, I’d wanted this to be good for her. Having something inside of you like that had to be a bit nerve-wracking. The last thing I’d wanted to do was hurt her or have her panic, so I’d gone slow, sinking in an inch at a time—drawing back out and then sliding in again, careful, getting her used to all of it.

  By the time my hips had been flush with hers, I’d felt lightheaded. She’d been so tight, so good, I’d wanted to fuck her so badly—but I’d still waited. Waited until Lyric had kissed me and begged me to move, to fuck her properly.

  And fuck, I had. I’d fucked her hot and sweet, listening carefully to her moans until I hit the angle that had her screaming my name. She’d left nail marks on my shoulders and back and fuck, that had been so fucking hot. I’d left a fantastic hickey at her collarbone as I’d come. When I’d felt her clenching around me in a second orgasm, it had felt so fucking good, how could I have held back?

  I’d never come so hard before. It had been like being hit in the chest by a freight train. I’d wanted to fuck her all over again as soon as I could get it up—take her to an empty bedroom or even back to my place, somewhere with an empty bed so she wasn’t sitting on a washing machine—but it hadn’t worked out that way.

  Maybe, if it had, things would’ve been different after. Maybe I could’ve kept her.

  Reliving that experience was making me so hard I couldn’t stand it. I quietly slipped out of bed and back into the bathroom, closing the door carefully behind me. I didn’t turn on the light until the door was shut. There was no way I wanted to wake Lyric up for this. How embarrassing would that be? Hey I’m so turned on remembering the one time we had sex five years ago so I’m jacking off to it.

  Yeah. No way.

  I stroked myself hard and fast, bracing one hand on the sink counter, biting my lip to keep in the noises. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I spilled into the sink, rinsing it all out quickly and then washing my hands. I was a grown ass adult. I was out of college for years now. I could handle having an attraction to someone who most likely didn’t want me. I could hide the fact that I was hung up over someone from five years ago.

  There, I’d gotten it out of my system. It was going to be fine.

  10

  Lyric

  I woke up feeling like someone had lodged an icepick behind my left eye socket. Ugh. I hadn’t been hungover in years—I was far too busy with work to spend the time getting drunk—but I hadn’t eaten nearly enough yesterday, Preston had been right about that. Then I’d had half a bottle of champagne. What the hell had I been thinking?

  Rolling over, I saw the other side of the bed was empty. Ugh. I wondered where Preston had gotten to. I didn’t really want to see him—not after my embarrassing behavior last night. What was I, a dog? Having a sex dream and humping his leg like some horny idiot? He had to be rolling his eyes at me.

  Sitting up took some effort but I managed not to throw up again. My stomach was in that awful place where it was nauseous because it was empty, but the idea of eating made me feel even more nauseous. This day was off to a fantastic start.

  The bedroom door opened and Preston entered with a tray—I could smell the food on it and against my will, my stomach rumbled.

  “I made you some toast,” he said, carefully setting the tray down on my lap. I could see there was orange juice and Ibuprofen on the tray as well, along with a big glass of water. “I know some people like a big greasy meal for their hangover cure but we were kind of limited.”

  “No, thank you, this is really considerate.” Once again, I was floored by his behavior. It was really thoughtful of him.

  “I’m going to draw you a hot bath.” Preston paused. “Try not to get lost in the bathtub, okay? I think if you’re not careful you’ll end up across the ocean in Europe.”

  Laughing made my head pound so I tried not to do it, but I couldn’t quite hide my smile. The Ibuprofen helped once it kicked in, and the toast was perfectly crispy and buttery. The orange juice helped too, and the water.

  And he was drawing me a bath?

  How could someone change so much in five years?

  I’d cried for days when Preston had told me that we couldn’t be together because of my brother. You would think that Tenor would be happy at the idea of his best friend, the person he trusted the most, dating his sister. Who better to take care of her, right? But Preston clearly hadn’t seen it that way. He’d said that Tenor would never be okay with it, and we couldn’t see each other—that it had been a mistake for us to get together in the first place.

  God, the amount of tissues I’d used up. I’d told myself later on that it was pathetic for me to cry so much over a man, but my heart had been well and truly broken. The guy I’d been crushing so hard on for years had finally gotten with me, he’d shown me the best damn night of my life, and then he’d decided I wasn’t even worth giving our relationship a try.

  Of course, I’d resolved to put the whole thing behind me. I didn’t want anyone to know how badly I’d been hurt. It had been best, I’d thought, to keep it all to myself and just act like nothing had happened. If you asked me, Tenor would’ve been even more upset to find out that Preston had fucked me once and changed his mind rather than trying to legitimately date me, but what did I, a stupid college freshman, know?

  Yeah, I’d been plenty bitter.

  My hopes of everything being kept under the rug were dashed when the very next day the rumors had started. I was a slut. I was the one you called for a good time. I was easy, opening my legs for anyone.

  Katrina Clark’d had a field day with all of it. She was Preston’s younger sister, around my age, and fuck had she never liked the fact that Tenor and Preston were friends. She was classist as they came. God forbid Preston rub elbows with someone who had a lower economic status.

  I wasn’t entirely proud of this, later on, but I confronted her. Now, older, looking back, I felt like I should’ve ignored it all. Risen above the mess. But I was young, I was hurt, I was angry, and God knew I wasn’t thinking clearly—who can think clearly in a moment like that?

  I’d told her to knock it off and that I was ashamed of her behavior and that her brother would never appreciate hearing her talk about someone like this. God, I’d been so naïve. I’d thought that even if he picked my brother over me, Preston wouldn’t want people to be gossiping about me. Then Katrina had told me the truth. Oh, how she’d reveled in it. Preston had been the one to start telling people I was a slut. He’d told the entire country club about it, all his fraternity brothers, everyone. She’d mocked me for details about our night together that only Preston could�
�ve known—like how he’d encouraged me to come, told me I was so good for him, calling me darling and praising me.

  “You’re like a dog,” Katrina had said. “So pathetic. Begging to be called a good girl and given a pat on the head.”

  It was the lowest day of my life.

  Any fucking wonder I’d transferred away from Amherst after that?

  I’d stayed the hell away from relationships after that, too. I knew how to scratch an itch without getting my heart involved or putting myself in a place to be gossiped about. Fuck Katrina and fuck Preston.

  Except now, Preston was being so kind and thoughtful. It was like he was a completely different person. Could someone really change so much?

  “Bath’s ready,” Preston said, emerging from the bathroom. “I’m going to see what it’s like outside, try and get a cell signal. I can charge our phones in my car for a bit.”

  He walked over and took the now-empty tray from me, setting it aside. “Do me a favor and try not to give yourself a headache about the wedding until you’ve had your bath, okay?”

  He gave me this fond smile, brushing my hair back out of my face, and it took all of my willpower not to blush. I didn’t want him to see that he still had power over me. I didn’t want to make the same mistake as last time.

  Once Preston was gone, I got into the bath. I had to admit, it was luxurious. There were all these fancy oils and stuff, like lavender for relaxation, and Preston had added them in. It was above and beyond.

  He’d been right about the size of the tub, too, holy shit. You could drown an entire herd of horses in this thing.

  I washed myself up and then relaxed back into the water, trying not to panic too much as Preston had suggested. I wasn’t responsible for an act of God. Nobody could control the weather. And I had counseled everyone, time and again, that having a winter wedding up in the mountains was tricky. You had to be careful. I’d recommended they kept things small and on the down low, keep it all in town at the hotel.