Page 74 of Don't Say You're Sorry

I hate myself.

I hate you more.

PRESENT

Adam looks so hot wearing my Hawthorne Hawks shirt. It’s two sizes too big for him and hides the shape of his body, but that’s exactly what I like about it. I like the way his hazel eyes keep finding mine across the bar, too.

I was first in line when the doors to The Hideaway opened tonight, and I’ve been here ever since, watching him work and drinking way too many cocktails. I should stop, but stopping means no excuse to get close enough to talk to him.

I crook my fingers, and he comes toward me. I lean on the bar and put my mouth on his ear. “I want a Screaming Orgasm.”

He laughs, pulling back to look at me. “Smooth. I haven’t heard that one yet.”

“It wasn’t a line. I’ve never had one before. I want to try it.”

“Sure.” He gets to work making my cocktail, and I shamelessly ogle his body, the way his arm flexes as he shakes the mixer over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine. “Aren’t you bored?” he asks.

I slowly shake my head. I could never be bored watching him.

He smiles with his lip trapped between his teeth, shyly dropping his gaze as he pours my drink.

God, he’s so cute I could eat him.

And now I’m thinking about eating him.

My fists curl as I imagine bending him over this bar and fucking his ass with my tongue.

“Is the fact that you’re fucking your stepbrother supposed to be a secret?” Carter asks, resting his hip on the bar next to me. “’Cause if it is, you’re doing a shitty job keeping it. Everyone can see you drooling all over him.”

I turn my head toward Carter. “I’m not fucking him.”

“Yet,” he adds for me.

“And I’m not drooling.”

Lifting a hand, he wipes an imaginary drop of drool from my chin and sucks his thumb into his mouth. Adam scrunches his nose but says nothing, refusing to act like a jealous boyfriend. He’s a better person than I am. If Carter touched Adam like this, I’d break his fingers.

As if reading my thoughts, Carter blows Adam a kiss. I shove his head away and turn my attention back to my stepbrother—it’ll be his turn on the podium soon.

My gaze drops to my shirt on his body again, and I wet my lips at the thought of the marks I left on his chest this morning—marks people are going to see. I can’t tell if the butterflies in my stomach are from excitement or dread.

“What?” Adam asks, following my gaze and looking down at his body. “Are you regretting branding my bloody chest with your teeth?”

I shake my head and make a show of popping my knuckles. “Don’t worry, baby. I know my game plan.”

“We’ll see,” he mutters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He ignores me as he mixes a few drinks for the group next to me.

“Seriously, E,” Carter says, leaning in so I can hear him over the music. “If you don’t want anyone to know about you two, you’re in trouble. I’d back off before he gets up on that podium if I were you.”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks about me and Adam.”

“Not even your parents?”

“Does this look like a place our parents would come to?”