Psycho Ex Boyfriend (Standalone New Adult Romance) (The Alpha Brotherhood Book 2) (16 page)

He lifts one of my thighs up to his hip, sliding his fingers inside of me. “And the ride in?” he groans, teasing that throbbing bundle of nerves that he introduced me to years ago.

“Fine,” I reply in a moan, tilting my hips forward to welcome him.

“Good.” The word reminds me of the change in his last name, but I don’t get a chance to ask him about it before Adam drives inside of my suddenly, lifting me up until just the tiptoes of one foot are still on the floor. “I’ve longed for you more in the last week than I have in the last year.” He kisses me deeply, growling as he indulges in my flesh.

Our moans and gasps echo off the walls. Adam’s jaw is tight, his fingers digging me into my ass. Each thrust rocks my body so hard that my head hits against the shower wall. He simply puts a hand behind it to soften the blow and slams his hips into mine even harder. I’ve never done it with one leg up like this, but I do think I remember seeing it in the Kama Sutra. The skin between my legs is pulled taught and stretched, making everything tighter.

My hearing goes fuzzy as my arousal climbs high and explodes around him. He follows me quickly, resting his forehead against mine when it’s over. But he’s still rock hard, lingering inside me like a skewer, keeping my body bent to his will.

I’m expecting him to dissolve into a vulnerable mess like he usually does. Instead, a twisted smile crosses his face that tell me this isn’t over yet.

“Did you midterms go well?” he asks, thrusting into me again.

I’m so sensitive from my release that his presence is bordering on uncomfortable. I rattle off a list of the grades I received in all of my classes as I squirm between his unrelenting body and the wall.

I cry out his name as he turns me around, half in shock, half in protest. His fingers locks onto my clit as his forearm across my shoulder blades presses my breasts firmly against the wall. I feel his breath on the back of my neck and the rigidity of his length resting between my cheeks.

He growls into my ear, biting the lobe harshly, making me yelp. A devious chuckle rumbles through his chest as the tip of him presses against an opening to my body that I have no interest in exploring.

“I don’t do that,” I breathe as he slides a finger into my anus.

“You don’t do that
yet
,” he tells me, pushing it in further. “This ass, Sabrina. God damn.”

“Adam…” my voice shakes as much as my body.

With a huff, he releases me from the wall, only to bend me forward, guiding my hands down a concrete bench and pinning them down with his. It’s just one of the many places to rest upon in this shower that was clearly designed for sex that I don’t want to picture him having.

He inserts himself from behind, thankfully in the right place. Then he fucks me harder and deeper than I’ve ever been fucked, his hands holding my writhing hips firmly in place as every thrust slams into the end of me. If he doesn’t watch it, I’m going to be too sore and bruised to have sex for days.

But Adam finishes quickly after just a few brutal thrusts and I’m surprised that to find that my body is capable of coming along with him. That was a rough reunion. And holy shit! We didn’t use a condom. I totally forgot. I’m on the pill, but… if he gives me a bug from some booty call, I’ll fucking kill him.

He’s a total sweetheart now that his lust is satisfied though. He soaps my back, caressing my breasts and kissing my neck. His fingers tease every part of my body twice over, eventually making me climax yet again as he gently cups the back of my head into his chest.

Afterwards, he wraps me in a soft robe and carries me to his bed. I think I’m in for round two, or maybe three or four depending on how you look at it. Instead we talk about everything going on in our lives for hours, our fingers linked, our lips kissing gently, our legs entwined. When we finally are ready for more, and my aching body is so very, very ready, we’re interrupted by a doorbell. Adam ignores it, but when he doesn’t answer, two hollering voices start calling his name right outside his bedroom window.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he curses. “Paranoid motherfuckers!”

“Who is it?” I gasp, clutching a sheet to my chest as I hear them entering his home, yelling his name frantically.

“My brothers.”

Sabrina

Age 20

“Which ones?” There are so many.

“It’s just Trent and Shane,” he replies, kissing the top of my head briskly. “I’ll be right down,” he shouts.

“You have ten seconds.”

“Thirty,” he counters.

“All my clothes are down there,” I whisper nervously, listening as two pairs of shoes start clopping up the marble staircase.

“Come up here and I’ll fucking shoot you, assholes! Swear to God,” he growls. The footsteps stop immediately. Holy shit, did they think he was serious? “Here,” he says, getting dressed hastily as he piles a stack department store boxes on the bed before heading out the door.

The first contains a silk bra and matching panties. The next has a white linen dress with an out of this world price tag attached, but I don’t have much of a choice at this point. The Prada heels cost twice as much. How the hell does Adam know the exact size I wear in my favorite brands? It’s hard to find clothes that accommodate my butt and hips without leaving too much fabric bunching up at the waist.

Thankfully, I’m an expert at zipping up alone. I stand in front of his full length mirror, admiring the fit and the contrast of the color against my skin. What a professional dress. Three quarter length sleeves, a skirt that hits right below the knee, and a modest neckline that covers my collarbone, but with a short, stylish slit at the base of my throat that keeps it from choking me without really exposing any skin.

This sort of seems like a meet-your-family-or-coworkers dress. I don the tasteful heels and crack his bedroom door open to listen to the argument echoing up from below, eventually sneaking into the hall.

Oh, dear. Sounds like an impending financial catastrophe, though both Adam and Trent agree that Shane is being a tad melodramatic. But both of his brothers are furious that Adam stormed out of an important meeting. I can’t help but grin because I’m sure I’m the reason why.

Their voices become quite similar when they’re all yelling at the same time and I can’t stop myself from creeping toward the argument. I peek my head around a corner so that I can figure out who is screaming what. Unfortunately, every surface in Adam’s home is decoration free and either white, off-white, or silver, keeping with classic southern California style, so it’s hard to feel adequately hidden.

Shane is still shorter than the other two, but there is nothing little about him now. Harry Potter grew up to be pretty hot. Trent was always cute to begin with, but time has treated him quite well. I bet these three butt heads a lot. Even when they come to a tentative agreement about how to proceed, they still argue about the details in a way that makes it seem like one of them is seconds away from pummeling another.

Trent turns away, wringing his hands in frustration as his brothers seem to come to a consensus that overrules his preferred course of action. I notice his head tilt upward in my direction, but I don’t hide in time and he spots me.

“Adam, you fucking prick,” he says. My heart slams into my ribs as I squeeze my eyes shut, hiding with my back pressed against the wall.

“What now?” Adam snaps back.

“I saw her.”

“Saw who?” Shane asks.

“A girl. Upstairs.”

“What the hell?” the youngest brother protests. “You came home to get laid?”

“I told you both that I had a prior engagement.”

“We all have a standing order to get our dicks sucked, asshole,” Trent laughs. “Which one of them do you have?”

“Watch your mouth,” Adam says in a clipped tone. “She is a colleague, a
professional
associate. Need I remind you that my office is on the second floor?”

“Sure thing,” one of them says skeptically.

“We all conduct business with bare feet and an unevenly buttoned shirt,” the other remarks, commenting on Adam’s disordered clothing.

If they’re going to talk about me, I may as well show my professionally attired self. With a deep breath, I smooth my skirt and step into view, thankfully too far away for them to notice my shaking hand on the railing.

“Oh,” Trent says, standing straighter and buttoning his jacket. “Our apologies.” He nods his head as if taking a miniature bow.

Adam pinches the bridge of his nose before opening his eyes. His face is made of stone, just like it used to be when we were sneaking around back in high school. When his brothers turn their backs to him, Adam gives me a split second reassuring smile that sets me at ease.

“Should we continue this another time, Mr. Goodson?” I came so close to saying Donovan. Luckily, that driver inadvertently filled me in.

“I don’t think it can wait,” Adam replies with a wink his brothers can’t see. I stop myself from grinning as heat flushes across my face.

Trent does his best to keep his fury concealed as he turns around. Adam and his brother exchange heated whispers, but Shane keeps staring up at me. The confusion in his face morphs into recognition as his eyes widen and his mouth falls open. He glances back at Adam, then his gaze returns to me before falling to the floor. Shane taps his fingers together as if he’s doing mental math, then rolls his lips together to conceal his smile. Adam always said he was smart.

“We can handle it for the evening,” Shane interjects. Trent groans, running his hand through his hair and stifling a curse. “There’s only so much we can do tonight anyway.”

“You had better fucking be there in the morning,” Trent hisses, leaning in to grip Adam’s arm before Shane drags him away.

“Christ,” Adam breathes, leaning against his door after watching them pull away.

“I’m sorry if I—”

“No, that was perfect. The bastards wouldn’t have left otherwise.”

“Do you guys always barge into each other’s houses? I thought you had a gate.”

“It doesn’t keep them out. Technically, this house is theirs too. It was the smallest, most modest residence held by the Goodson conglomerate.”

“The Goodson conglomerate,” I muse, taking a few steps down the stairs as Adam begins to climb them. “You’re lucky I figured out your new last name seeing that you forgot to mention it.”

“How did you find out?”

“You have your secrets.” I lick my lips. “I have mine.” I played that well.

Adam grins, eyeing me up and down. He looks a mess. It’s obvious that he’d just fallen out of bed and his brothers weren’t surprised. I wonder how many ‘colleagues’ he brings home.

He peels this dress off me with his teeth and leaves it on the stairs. We’re back in bed in a heartbeat and keep each other up late into the night, but somehow he still manages to get to the office in the morning as he promised.

I don’t see him for a full 36 hours. At first, Adam texts his apologies every hour that he’s gone. I use the futuristic phone he’s lent me to send him back high quality pictures of me modeling expensive clothes. Adam demanded that I indulge in a consolation shopping trip on Rodeo Drive in lieu of his absence. I don’t actually agree to purchase a single thing, but I’d never pass up an opportunity to window shop in world class boutiques. I’m not exactly surprised when I arrive back at his house to see dozens of shopping bags filled with my favorite discoveries and then some skimpier, racier options that I’m sure he personally requested. I knew that personal stylist was a traitor.

“Sorry,” Adam says when he finally returns, falling into bed next to me.

His cheeks are sunken and there are circles under his eyes so dark they look like bruises. “Did you sleep at all, baby?”

The corner of his mouth lifts into a weary smile. “I passed out at my desk for about an hour this afternoon.”

“Damn.” I crawl out from under his arm, put my book on the nightstand, and get up so I can take off his shoes because he’s too exhausted to do it himself.

“No rest for the wicked,” he yawns, craning his neck down to watch me dote on him. “Plus it turns into a competition to see who can go the longest without getting so tired that you start making costly mistakes.”

“Everything with you and your brothers turns into a competition.”

Adam rolls on his side and attempts to undo his belt, but starts to drift off until I finish for him. This part of him is still awake. “A competition that I win.”

“I bet you all say that,” I laugh as he crawls toward me.

“Yeah, but they’re a bunch of dirty liars.”

Boys never change. I welcome Adam’s kiss, breathy and sloppy as it is. There is no way in hell that he has the energy for this to go anywhere, but he seems oblivious to this fact, pulling at my shirt and pawing at my ass.

“You need sleep,” I whisper into his ear, watching him shudder at my touch as I scrape my nails over his stubbly jaw.

“But—”

“I came here to see all of you. Not just your dick.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. “What if my dick wants to see you?”

“Oh, I bet he does. That doesn’t mean the rest of you has to do anything.”

With a throaty chuckle, he rolls on his side, his sleepy eyes widening as the heat of my mouth engulfs him. Adam strokes my hair and winds his fingers into mine as I sink deeper. There’s no hair pulling or any other aggressive gestures that I’m learning to appreciate. Just an exhausted lover that needs attention. Our eyes stay together as I pleasure him and I get to watch his face contort in much needed ecstasy after only a minute or so.

“I’m still in love with you, Bree,” he whispers, his eyes closed.

Mine fly open, my heart pounding. Maybe this isn’t just sex. It feels like we’re together, it has since the moment he showed up at my school and swept me off my feet. I whisper it back to him, but he’s drifted away and can’t hear me. He might have already been asleep when he said it. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Tucking us under the covers, I cuddle up beside him. In spite of all the time we’ve spent together, we’ve never been allowed the luxury of just sleeping beside one another for more than a couple of hours. Or waking up in the morning light, just to fuck and fall asleep once again.

Adam seems unaware of his confession the next day and I’m sure as hell not going to bring it up. I’m hopeful, not stupid. A guy that looks like this, with his money and his charm, his libido, his work-hard play-hard attitude. He’s not exactly boyfriend material even if we did actually live in the same state. He’s a player. Adam doesn’t have to say it, and I appreciate that he hasn’t, but I can see it in every move he makes. A panty dropping, heart breaking player. A nice spring break rebound to make me forget about the demise of a relationship that suddenly feels like it never happened.

But that’s it. This reunion can’t turn into anything else. If I’d been aware that I was somehow still head over heels in love with him, I probably wouldn’t have let myself come.

The rest of the trip is perfect. Great sex, fantastic food, beautiful sights, more great sex, him buying me presents that I pretend I don’t want, and of course, more mind blowing sex. It starts out rough and dirty, then gradually transforms into something deeper and more meaningful as the days go by. He’s back to melting into a puddle in my arms when it’s over and close, so fucking close to saying what I know he wants to say. But he won’t and neither will I. We don’t want to have the awful conversation about where we stand with each other.

Until the last day.