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He’s my best friend’s older brother, off-limits and incredibly tempting. I shouldn’t peak into Brendon’s sketchbook, I peel it open, only, there, on the third page—That’s me. Undressed. Ready. Waiting in his bed. Brendon wants me. The smoking hot, ten thousand miles out of my league bad boy wants me— a good girl with thick glasses and no game. <br /> ————————<br /> Kaylee plants her palms on the table. Her cheeks spread to her ears. They&#039;re pink. Then red. She&#039;s laughing so hard her udder are shaking.<br /> That tight blue dress, the same blue as her glasses.<br /> She looks amazing, like the sweet, innocent angel she is and like the intercourse goddess I&#039;m desperate to unleash.<br /> But I still hate that scrap of fabric with every fiber of my being.<br /> I hate every ounce of air between us.<br /> Every flint of wood in this table.<br /> Every guy here looking at her the way I am.<br /> If I don&#039;t get ahold of myself, I&#039;m going to break a few arms. And maybe my hand. And I can&#039;t exactly finish Alex&#039;s back piece at nine a.m. tomorrow with broken fingers.<br /> Em wraps her arms around Kaylee.<br /> Kaylee laughs, pushing her long blond hair behind her ears and gathering it at one shoulder.<br /> Her eyes flit around the room.<br /> They catch mine.<br /> They scream I&#039;m about to wish for you to take me to your room.<br /> Or maybe that&#039;s in my head.<br /> Today is the day.<br /> She&#039;s no longer a temptation that can get me locked up. Just a temptation that can rip away everything that matters to me.<br /> Em leans in to whisper in her ear. I know my sister. I know exactly what she&#039;s saying. Wish for someone to sleep tonight.<br /> Not happening.<br /> Not as long as I&#039;m here.<br /> I hate to be a blocker, really, I do, but there&#039;s no way Kaylee is taking home anyone on my watch.<br /> I have no idea how she&#039;s managed to stay single this long.<br /> She&#039;s beautiful. Smart. Funny. Kind. And innocent...The way her cheeks are blushing.<br /> The way she&#039;s leaning over the table, letting her eyelids fall together, parting her lips...<br /> I could teach her so many things.<br /> I could teach her everything.<br /> But I can&#039;t.<br /> She&#039;s my sister&#039;s best friend.<br /> And as much as Em is a brat, she&#039;s all the family I&#039;ve got.<br /> These two are the most important people in my life.<br /> My manhood is going to have to cool it.<br /> It&#039;s not getting anywhere near Kaylee.<br /> I plant on the Kelly green deck chair, the one under the old lamp with the too yellow bulb.<br /> Even though we&#039;re in one of the most crowded cities in Southern California, the beach is empty. Still. All the voices and laughter are coming from the house. The roar of the ocean isn&#039;t enough to muffle the party.<br /> I should head inside and kick out Emma&#039;s friends. Insist on driving Kaylee back to her place. Lecture both of them about drinking too much.<br /> But I&#039;m not in the mood to play Dad today. I&#039;m tired of playing Dad, period. Emma and I never got along, not exactly, but we used to have a rapport. We were a team. A you&#039;re annoying, but not quite as annoying as Mom or Dad team, but we were still a team.<br /> Now, the majority of my relationship is lecturing her and yelling some equivalent of go to your room.<br /> And her yelling back you&#039;re not my dad.<br /> I force myself to look out at the ocean.<br /> It&#039;s beautiful. Dark water. Soft sand. Stars bright enough to shine against the black sky but dulled by light pollution all the same.<br /> None of it distracts me.<br /> None of the eight million things going on in my life distract me.<br /> I need a way to get Kaylee out of my head. I&#039;ve tried everything—work, play, other women.<br /> Nothing helps.<br /> I pull out my sketchbook and flick my pen a few times. A few more. My warm up sketch is a messy abstract shape. It means something, I&#039;m sure, but I don&#039;t have a clue what that is.<br /> I turn the page. Outline the octopus going on Will&#039;s bicep tomorrow afternoon. Attempt to fill in the shading.<br /> The details don&#039;t come. The only image in my mind is Kaylee. The brightness in her green eyes, the smile spreading over her pink lips, that coy hip tilt. Like she knows how badly I want my hands on those hips.<br /> Like she&#039;s going to roll that dress up her thighs, plant her palms on the table, and shoot me a please.<br /> I don&#039;t need a tattoo mockup.<br /> I need her undressed in my bed.<br /> &quot;Hey.&quot; The side door slides open and Kaylee steps outside. Her steps aren&#039;t soft the way they normally are.<br /> They&#039;re messy. Quick.<br /> Her eyes are brighter than normal.<br /> Bolder.<br /> She plants on the lounge chair, next to me. Her thigh presses against mine. Her fingers skim the edges of my sketchbook.<br /> She leans over my shoulder, pressing her chest against my arm, looking up at me with those doe eyes. &quot;Can I see?&quot;<br /> Not the sketchbook. The thing I have in here, of her, will terrify her. Kaylee is sweet. Innocent. I haven&#039;t asked, but I&#039;d bet—I have bet Dean—she&#039;s a virgin.<br /> My manhood rouses at the thought of being the first inside her. my lips, my tongue, my fingers—every part of me wants to be her first.<br /> She scoots toward me. It&#039;s a tiny movement. Soft. More like the Kaylee I know. The sober one.<br /> &quot;Well, it&#039;s my birthday.&quot; Her fingers curl around my wrist. &quot;And I want a birthday peck.&quot;<br /> How about a birthday intercourse? How about a birthday coming on my face until my lips are numb?<br /> &quot;I only give birthday spankings.&quot; My voice is steady even though my heart is pounding against my chest.the thought of bending Kaylee over that table and—<br /> &quot;Okay.&quot; She presses her lips together. &quot;Let&#039;s go. Right here, right now.&quot;<br /> &quot;You can handle eighteen?&quot;<br /> She nods.<br /> She can&#039;t, but it&#039;s tempting anyway...<br /> &quot;Let&#039;s go, Brendon.&quot; She takes my hand and places it on her hip. Her eyes meet mine. They bore into mine. They demand every thought in my head. Or at least all the ones about stripping her undresed. &quot;Or did I call your bluff?&quot;<br /> &quot;Bend over and plant your hands on the glass if you want to find out.&quot; She is calling my bluff. And now I&#039;m calling hers.<br /> Only this is one time—<br /> My sister saves me from my filthy thoughts. She bounces out the door, throws her arms around Kaylee, and pulls her from her seat. &quot;Stop hiding from all the guys at the party.&quot;<br /> &quot;Your brother is a guy.&quot;<br /> Emma scoffs. Her nose scrunches. It lights up her dark eyes—the same deep brown as mine. She runs her fingers through her violet hair and just barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes.<br /> Kaylee&#039;s fingers brush the back of my hand as she turns toward Emma. &quot;Sorry, Em, but it&#039;s undeniable. Just look at him.&quot;<br /> Emma sticks out her tongue and mouths gross. &quot;Mr. Look What a Brooding Bad Boy I Am will be here tomorrow.&quot; She grabs Kaylee&#039;s hand and pulls her toward the door. &quot;These other guys won&#039;t.&quot; Emma looks to me. &quot;You don&#039;t have to stay and supervise.&quot;<br /> &quot;Nice try,&quot; I say.<br /> Emma laughs. She blows me a peck then turns back to her best friend. &quot;Don&#039;t wait up.&quot;<br /> Kaylee&#039;s eyes meet mine. &quot;Did you mean it?&quot;<br /> One part of me did. The rest of me knows better. I play coy. Shrug.<br /> &quot;I&#039;ll collect eventually.&quot;<br /> &quot;Birthdays only.&quot;<br /> &quot;Even so.&quot;<br /> I watch her round hips sway as she walks away.<br /> Oh, that dress...<br /> How am I going to get this girl out of my head?<br /> ***<br /> My stomach drops.<br /> Em is pissed.<br /> She&#039;s right to be pissed.<br /> And the only thing I can do is insist I&#039;m the adult here.<br /> That&#039;s being a parent. I knew what I was signing up for when I lobbied to be her legal guardian.<br /> But that doesn&#039;t mean I like it.<br /> Kaylee living here is what makes sense. She&#039;s a bright girl with a great future ahead of her. She should be in school. Even if it kills her not being with her family.<br /> &quot;Brendon!&quot; Emma bangs on the door. &quot;I&#039;ll give you twenty seconds to explain before I... I don&#039;t know. Do something to hurt you back.&quot;<br /> &quot;The door is open.&quot;<br /> &quot;I know. But—&quot;<br /> We have a strict ask permission before you enter policy. It saves both of us from a lot of awkwardness.<br /> I close my sketchbook. &quot;Come in.&quot;<br /> She does. She&#039;s fuming. Her face is red. Her eyes are blotchy. Her hands are fists. &quot;Well?&quot;<br /> &quot;Her parents are moving back to Jersey.&quot;<br /> Emma raises a brow. And?<br /> &quot;They think she should stay here. Start school right away.&quot;<br /> &quot;And you agree with them?&quot;<br /> &quot;Think about it, Em.&quot; It&#039;s not like I want Kaylee here. I don&#039;t trust myself enough to have her in the next room.<br /> It used to be Kaylee was just Emma&#039;s friend. She was a girl who was always good for a late-night conversation about books and movies.<br /> But one day, something snapped. She wasn&#039;t Emma&#039;s friend. She wasn&#039;t a girl at all.<br /> She was a woman.<br /> She was still adorable.<br /> But in a intoxicating way.<br /> I&#039;ve been thinking about her for months.<br /> It&#039;s torture every time she spends the night. Every time I see her on the couch in those tiny shorts she sleeps in, hugging her knees to her chest as she loses herself in a book.<br /> It&#039;s torture not touching her.<br /> And it&#039;s only going to get harder.<br /> I&#039;m a sick man, lusting after the girl I&#039;m supposed to protect.<br /> The girl younger than my kid sister.<br /> But that knowledge hasn&#039;t done anything to slow my heart rate when Kay&#039;s around.<br /> &quot;Okay. Maybe Kay is better off starting UCLA rather than moving back to New Jersey right away. But you conspired with her parents.&quot; Emma folds her arms. &quot;Did you even ask her what she thought?&quot;<br /> I know what Kaylee thinks. If I close my eyes, I can see her miserable and lonely, hiding behind her Kindle the way she always does, pretending like nothing could ever upset her the way she always does.<br /> &quot;I&#039;m your legal guardian.&quot; Even if that doesn&#039;t matter now that Emma is eighteen. &quot;This is a parent decision.&quot;<br /> Emma scowls. &quot;That&#039;s a no.&quot;<br /> &quot;It&#039;s the best option, Em.&quot;<br /> &quot;Maybe. But you should have asked her. And me.&quot;<br /> &quot;You don&#039;t want her here?&quot;<br /> &quot;That&#039;s not the point.&quot; She turns and spins on her heel. &quot;You should have asked me. Period.&quot; She stops at the doorframe. &quot;When is this happening?&quot;<br /> &quot;As soon as possible. Her parents are moving out end of the month.&quot;<br /> &quot;You should turn this back into a spare room.&quot; Emma nods to my office. &quot;Right away.&quot;<br /> &quot;I will.&quot;<br /> &quot;And get her an actual copy of the key.&quot; Emma&#039;s voice softens. &quot;And everything she needs. If you&#039;re going to ruin her life, you could at least make her comfortable.&quot;<br /> &quot;You think I was gonna leave her on the floor?&quot;<br /> &quot;I didn&#039;t think you&#039;d conspire with her parents. How should I know what you&#039;d do?&quot;<br /> &quot;Come by the shop tomorrow. I&#039;ll have her key.&quot;<br /> &quot;I&#039;ll tell her.&quot;<br /> &quot;I will.&quot;<br /> I pull out my cell and I text Kaylee.<br /> Brendon: You okay?<br /> Kaylee: About what you&#039;d expect.<br /> Brendon: I&#039;m getting a key made for you. I&#039;ll leave it at the front desk. You can pick it up whenever.<br /> Kaylee: Thanks. I&#039;ll stop by before work.<br /> Brendon: You want to talk about it?<br /> Kaylee: What&#039;s there to say? My parents are moving across the country and they aren&#039;t asking my opinion about it. I hated it when I was ten, and I hate it now. At least then they invited me to join.<br /> Brendon: Would you move with them if they&#039;d asked?<br /> Kaylee: I don&#039;t see how it matters.<br /> Brendon: Your grandma okay?<br /> Kaylee: No. But I&#039;m not in the loop with the details. I have no idea if she has a few weeks left or a few years.<br /> Brendon: I&#039;m sorry she&#039;s sick.<br /> Kaylee: Thanks. This isn&#039;t on you. You made a generous offer. I do get that. And I appreciate it. Really, Brendon. I do.<br /> Brendon: It&#039;s nothing.<br /> Kaylee: It&#039;s a lot. I just...<br /> Brendon: Wanted to be consulted?<br /> Kaylee: Want things to be different. But that too. I&#039;m tired. I&#039;m going to go to bed. I&#039;ll see you tomorrow.<br /> Brendon: Sweet dreams, Kay.<br /> Kaylee: You too.<br /> The bell rings as Kaylee steps inside the shop.<br /> She&#039;s in her work outfit—dark jeans, a black button up shirt, black non-skid shoes.<br /> She hugs her pink purse to her shoulder as her eyes flit around the room.<br /> I want to wrap my arms around her and refuse to let go.<br /> That can&#039;t happen.<br /> Neither can a handshake or some equally painful brush off.<br /> Kay and I hug. Period. I need to find a way to be okay with that.<br /> I step out from behind the counter.<br /> She leans in to the gesture.<br /> It&#039;s quick but tight.<br /> And, I feel her everywhere.<br /> I have to force myself to pull back. She&#039;s a kid. You&#039;re supposed to protect her. &quot;You sleeping over tonight?&quot;<br /> &quot;Maybe. Em&#039;s trying to convince me to go out. But I think I&#039;d rather crash at home.&quot; Her eyes go to the clock. &quot;I gotta go. I&#039;ll see you soon.&quot;<br /> I nod goodbye.<br /> Watch her hip sway as she walks away.<br /> This time next week, Kaylee is going to live in the room down the hall.<br /> I&#039;m going to have to resist her twenty-four seven.

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