Page 22 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers

I slide the sweatpants on, which are much looser—but thanks to the drawstring, I can tie them enough they won’t completely fall off my hips. Last, but not least, I pull on the white shirt and fold my dirty clothes, sticking my underwear in my dress pocket.

No one, and I meanno oneneeds to see those.

When I get out of the bathroom, I head through the kitchen. The house is quiet and dark in most rooms, which makes me think Freddie has definitely retired to bed.

I’m not sure where Tommy is, if he’s even here. He’s the youngest at twenty-three, and though I know he’s not the most social person, he does have friends he hangs out with all the time. Zack and Chloe, a couple who are usually around at all theevents, if only because he seems to favor them over his brothers, which I guess I kind of get.

True to his word, I find Rush in the living room. Shirtless, in a pair of sweatpants.

My heart stops as I look at him.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen him shirtless. Plenty of people have seen his washboard abs and his myriad of tattoos. There’s a sparrow on his hip, double hockey sticks over a puck above his left pectoral, and my favorite—the tribal lettering just below his navel that spells out his moniker.Rush.

“Oh, there you are,” he says, swallowing harshly. He looks around as if he suddenly remembers where we are.

Or maybe just that I’m here. Crashing at his house like a damn stray kitten. All because I got sick and Freddie didn’t want to leave me alone.

Now I’m wondering if this was a good idea at all.

Going out.

Drinking.

Dancing with Rush.

Touching myself to thoughts of him and Freddie in their damn shower.

I’m never drinking again, that’s for sure.

“So…Freddie said you have a guest room?—”

Rush clears his throat and I notice his hand in his lap. Or rather, how headjustshimself.

Is he…

Did I?—

Heat floods my cheeks as my gaze drifts to his hand, and then I turn around. “Um, you know what, I can uh…figure it out?—”

“Nora, it’s fine,” he says, and I hear him get up. I refuse to turn around. Refuse to look at him. “Seriously, it’s no big deal.” He comes to stand next to me.

I feel his hand on the small of my back, and the touch alone makes me turn to look at him. In the light of the house, his features are more noticeable, like Freddie. Rush’s olive-green eyes sparkle and his blond hair practically glistens underneath the incandescent lighting.

I swear, I could get lost in those eyes if I let myself.

Which I should certainlynotdo.

I should not fall into Russell Sterling’s captivating gaze. Here, in his living room.

His gaze roves over me for a moment before it lands on my face. “Come,” he says, his voice dark and raspier than it should be. He clears his throat. “I’ll show you the guest room.”

He doesn’t lead like Freddie does. Heguides.We walk side by side, his palm resting just above my ass, still warm and soft and more welcome than it should be. The air between us is thick with tension and I think certainly sleep is a very good idea. When I wake up this will all be a bad dream. A night of weakness that will never happen again.

The hallway isn’t dark, but it’s obvious the house is at rest. All the doors are shut, save for two. Rush leads me to the first.

I peer in the doorway as he turns the lights on and then gently guides me inside.

“You can toss your clothes wherever. Don’t worry about making a mess, Freddie’s anal about cleaning, so he’ll probably be in here as soon as you leave to tidy everything up.”