“Sure.” The guy pulled her toward the open patio, and she walked with him down the patio steps to the sea wall and the sidewalk that ran along it.

They moved slowly; the guy was staggering just slightly, and Bailey wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t too. When he pushed her up against the wall, she gasped. He was pinning her to the wall with his groin. He trailed his hand out to her own, taking her drink from her and setting it behind her on the top of the wall just behind her shoulder level.

“You don’t need that now, do you?” He was speaking seductively as he ground his pelvis against her.

“What she doesn’t need is you touching her, asshole. Get your fucking hands off her.” Darren’s voice was seething with hatred, and when she turned to look up the sidewalk from the direction they’d come, he was standing there alone, glaring at the guy who still pinned her to the wall with his erection.

“Fuck you. Who the fuck are you?” The guy spoke with all the surety his drunkenness afforded him.

“I’m her brother. Get lost.” Darren was still seething, and he’d not even bothered looking at her yet.

“You are not!” She burst out laughing, but it was more condemning than humorous.

“Bailey, shut up! You’ve already shown just how stupid you can be on your own.” His eyes flashed to hers as he spoke, and it stopped the laugh in her throat in an instant. He was furious. When his attention moved back to the guy who had finally pulled his body away from her to face Darren, it was only to threaten him. “You’re going to leave her alone, or I’m going to make you. Your choice. But keep this in mind. My only concern is her—not getting laid, not getting loaded, not looking like the stud you obviously think you are. There’s no possible way for you to come out of this ahead without looking like a douche bag . . . unless of course you walk away and go find some other drunk chick to fuck around with. Either way, I’m not leaving until you’re gone.”

Bailey knew her mouth was hanging open. It was two parts embarrassment, one part complete and utter arousal. She’d wanted to show him up. She’d wanted to make him jealous, and whatever he was, it wasn’t pretty. It was anger, it was irritation, and it was a glaring reminder that she couldn’t and shouldn’t have even tried to play this game. She’d done it for her dignity’s sake, but it had been a complete and utter fail.

The guy started shuffling his feet a bit, eyeing Darren as he contemplated, but it was obvious he’d lost his edge. “Oh yeah? Well, you’re a pussy-fucking bitch-boy with a hard-on for his sister.” The guy was trying hard to maintain his cool, not realizing in the least he was falling prey to Darren’s own brand of calm, cool control; he was also proving Darren’s point perfectly, though he was likely too arrogant and stupid to realize it, and his inability to stand his ground without looking like a knob was almost embarrassing.

“You can call me whatever you like so long as you move on.”

“Bitch.” He spit the words at Darren, and Darren’s only reaction was to roll his eyes as though he couldn’t believe he was being forced to stoop so low.

The guy started off down the sidewalk, walking out and around Darren in a wide arc. Darren’s arms were crossed on his chest, and he was studying Bailey as the guy moved away from them, taking Darren’s advice, though the occasional pathetic curse he let loose said it was a struggle to keep his dignity as he scampered away.

“You’re competitive, Bay, but I’d say this is taking it just a bit too far. How ’bout you fuck my girlfriend while I watch, and we’ll call it even.” His glare was calm, too calm. He was boiling under the surface of his sarcastic remark.

“Oh, I’d say I’ve already won this one. No need for the vapid slut girlfriend.” Bailey didn’t normally find it so easy to hold her own with him, but a good dose of alcohol and a bit of humiliation, and she was ready to go her round with Darren. She walked by him, knowing he’d stop her, and he did. He pushed her up against the wall, holding her elbows as he glared down at her. He said nothing. His chest was rising and falling as he struggled against some inner turmoil she wasn’t privy to, and she took her opportunity to get one last shot. “Did you know I was watching?”

His brow flinched, and his eyes shifted from hers for a moment. “Don’t do this.” His voice was warning.

“Did you?”

“Dammit, Bay! You don’t—”

“Did you know I—” She was practically yelling.

“Yes!” His breath left him in a huff. “Fucking hell, Bailey!” He wasn’t practically yelling; he was just plain yelling. “I fucking knew!”

“Why?” She’d lost her own edge, and it came out a whisper as he stood panting and staring down at her.

When he spoke again, it was just as quiet, and his hands gripping her elbows squeezed gently, almost reassuringly—as though he knew what he was saying was wrong, and he needed her to understand that it was still just him. “I wanted you to see me.” He let go of her elbows, and he backed away from her, crossing his arms. It wasn’t aggressive; it wasn’t even angry. It was as if he didn’t trust what his hands might do if he didn’t clamp them to his body with his arms. She could see and understand his every physical reaction to her like they were words coming from his mouth. “Fuck! I just wanted . . . I don’t know what I wanted.”

His eyes dropped to her feet, and she stared at his chest as it rose and fell. Her body was coursing and vibrating with electric need that pulsed through her in warm waves. She knew she wanted him. She wasn’t immune or naive to want and desire, and he was better than any other man at inciting it in her. She usually ignored it with him. She had to because that just wasn’t who they were. But now? She felt the need to console him, to reassure him, and as much as that, she felt the same need emanating from him. He wanted her. She usually questioned if he ever possibly could, though she suspected there were certainly times he must. Right now, she knew with no doubt in her mind that he did—just as much as she did for that matter.

When she reached out to his arms, he flinched and then he sighed. She was studying his face, wondering where the nerve came from. He was still looking down, but she was closing the space between them slowly, and his focus was shifting gradually up her body as she neared him. His eyes stalled over her lips, and he licked his as he studied her mouth. She didn’t mean to suck in a quick and shocked gasp at the sight of his tongue passing over his lips, but she couldn’t stop the reaction, and the moment he heard the quick inhalation of her breath, he lunged at her mouth.

His tongue pushed past her lips as he backed her body up to the wall. His hand gripped her neck, holding her mouth to his as his other hand squeezed gently at her waist. His fingers tightened and caressed her through her dress, and she moaned into his mouth when his fingers worked their way down to her hip, stroking over her hip bone. His moan was lower and set her blood on fire as he licked her tongue, tormenting her entire body with nothing more than their kiss.

Bailey gripped his upper arms as he pushed his body against her, pinning her to the wall with his erect and hard arousal that strained against the front of his pants. For the second time this night, she was held firmly against this wall, allowing a man to show her just how much he wanted to fuck her. She welcomed this man far more than the other, and could she unwrite what she’d almost been willing to do with the other just to make herself feel better about herself, she’d do so in an instant. This was what she wanted. This was what she always wanted. She trusted his touch, his force, his power, his intent, his everything. This was what she always wanted. Always.

She melted when she felt his fingers brush up past the hem of her dress. His fingers trailed lightly up her thigh—so lightly they tickled and innervated her desire until her knees were shaking, and she was whimpering between the smacking of their lips. His mouth was still ravenously assaulting her lips, but his fingers were gentle—gentle and trembling slightly against her skin as they moved. His lips paused as did his fingers when he hit the top of her thigh just as his fingers brushed the lace of her underwear. He stroked along the edge of the fabric that met her bikini line, and he breathed his minty breath into her mouth. He was deciding, and could she make the decision for him, she’d force his hand farther, but she froze in her spot, waiting, begging in her mind for more.

She could hear the sound of him swallowing as he struggled, and when he let go of a deep, pained sigh, she did too. He pulled his fingers from her skin, and his forehead dropped to hers, refusing to let his lips touch hers again.

“Oh, fuck, Bailey.” He was whispering again, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. She could feel his brow flinching against her forehead, and she couldn’t seem to loosen her grip on his arms. “I can’t do this.”

The rejection was painful; knowing he wanted it didn’t soften the blow in the least, and when he turned to walk from her without another word, she couldn’t seem to loosen her grip on his arm. He stilled when he felt her fingers pulling against him, and he turned back slowly, refusing to look at her. She couldn’t tell what was going on in his head, but she was still coursing with need. The need was as much to be reassured as it was to be fucked, and the combination of those desires was nearly overwhelming.

“Dammit, Bailey.” He was speaking through gritted teeth as he finally looked at her. She didn’t waste even one second before she lunged at his mouth, standing on her tiptoes to close the distance. He met her halfway as he seemed to lose control again, and she ended back up against the wall as his hands held her still and his tongue thrust and tasted her mouth. There was nothing gentle or slow about the trail of his fingers back up under her dress, and the moment he hit the lace, he pushed his hand roughly past the material and cupped her sex. His finger slid between her lips, and she could feel the soaking wetness coating his finger as he moaned.