As I pull open the shower door, puffs of thick steam billow out and Emily turns her back to me. Shivering, I slip inside and close the door behind me. Inside, heat engulfs me, eradicating my goosebumps one by one, until I’m as warm as asphalt under the morning sun.
“You’re ignoring me?” I ask as I reach for the pink exfoliating sponge she requested I have Ted pick up from the store two days ago. Apparently, she could still feel the grime from the tunnels on her skin and needed to clean it from her pores.
Emily slips out from underneath the jet of water and runs her soapy hands along her stomach.
No response.
I reach for the berry body wash, pour it on to the rough sponge, and soap it up in my hands as she pulls her long, dark hair to the side, exposing the soft curve of her shoulder.
I hold the sponge in my hand, refusing to press it against her skin. “Emily?”
She glances over her shoulder, her dark eyes thinning into that sexy glare I liked so much when I met her.
“Yes. I’m ignoring you.”
Unexpectedly, she whips around on her heel, making me paint soap over her bare breasts. Her eyes are wide and the tip of her pointy, slender nose is as red as her rosy cheeks.
“Is it me?”
I pull the sponge from her chest and clench it in my hand. From the pressure, bubbles spill over and drop onto my foot.
I almost laugh. “What?”
She avoids my eyes, her worried expression now directed at the tiles. “Is it me?”
“I thought you were ignoring me?”
Emily exhales, annoyed. “Jai...”
I drop the sponge and reach out to her with my soapy hands. I glide my palms up her slim forearms and grip her small biceps in my hand.
“Is what you?”
She slips away from me, pulling her biceps from my grasp. If someone became homeless every time this girl confused the shit out of me, just about every house in the world would be empty.
“What are you talking about?”
She gestures to me. “You! You’re a ten, pushing eleven and I’m what? A four at best?”
I frown, confused. If she answered my question directly we’d be on the same page right now and since when did people rate the appearance of others on a scale of one to ten? It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, considering everyone has different tastes. I might be a ten to Emily, but a three to someone else. The same goes for her. She might be a four to one guy, but she’s a million to me. Easy.
“A four? What—”
She purses her lips and chews the inside of her lip. “Is it something I’m doing? Is it me?”
“No. No. It’s not you.”
Fuck, she’s cute—even when her hair is slicked back against her head like that. A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth and I can’t stop it. I like the balloon of happiness that inflates in my chest at the thought of her giving a shit.
“Kitten—baby—relax.” I step closer to her as she swipes at a drop of water that runs down the slope of her nose.
“Am I too aggressive? Too plain?” She glances down at her body. “Maybe I’m too skinny?”
She looks at me, her eyes wide. “Or maybe I’m too fat—assuming you’ve dated tiny models in the past. Or may—why are you smiling at me?”
“Because you’re being crazy.”
“Crazy?”
I nod. “Yes. Crazy.”
As if she has anything to worry about. She is everything I want in a woman. She is intelligent, strong, humorous, beautiful, and loyal. The shape and density of her body doesn’t matter to me. I smooth my hands over the subtle curve of her hips and onto her round ass, pulling her hard against me. She gasps as my naked body slides effortlessly against hers and I dance my fingers up her spine, unrelenting, until she shivers against me.
“Jai…” She sighs, relaxing into my fingers as I slip them into her hair and tug her head back.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.” I say, lowering my mouth to her jaw. “You drive me wild. I could come just looking at you.”
Pulling back, she cocks a brow. “There has to be something wrong with me if I can’t keep you interested during sex.”
I release my fingers from her hair. “It’s not you. I’m just...”
How do I tell her? How do I tell her that I’m a fucking idiot? That this was all for nothing and we’ll probably all die trying to save Joel’s woman? We’ve had too many close calls with Skull. We’ve pushed our luck too many times. He’s been in this game longer than we have. It’s only a matter of time before he outsmarts us and after snatching Joel out from underneath him, I can’t imagine him forgetting about us.
“When does it end?” I ask, planting a gentle kiss on her damp cheek.
Emily frowns. “Sex?”
“No. Not sex. Joel. Skull. When does it end?”
“It doesn’t end...” She says, brushing wet strands of hair from her cheek. “Until Skull is dead we’ll never be free.”
Emily speaks the truth and, if I’m being honest, the truth has never sounded so terrifying. I inhale, filling my lungs with heavy steam. I’m not scared of much…but being the reason someone else suffers is something I can’t handle. Exhaling, I slip my arms around her waist.
“What do you think I should do?”
Emily chews the inside of her lip, apparently contemplating my question. I want her to forbid me from helping Joel and to beg me not to go back for Monique. I want her to ask me to run away with her, like she did before we saved Joel. I refused then, but now…now I just might go for it.
“Well…” She clears her throat. “Would you go back for me?”
“Without a doubt.”
She bites a smile that tries to spread across her lips. “He loves her and, from what I can tell, he’d die for her. Whether or not that influences your decision, I don’t know.”
I tilt my head. “So, you’re saying I should to it for love?”
She shrugs her slender shoulders. “I’m saying your brother won’t feel complete unless he has her. Imagine how he feels right now? Knowing the love of his life is being held captive by another man—a man like Skull, no less. It makes me sick.”
I pull her in, pressing her cheek against my chest, resting my chin on the top of her head. I reflect back on Joel’s behavior the past few days. He doesn’t sleep, he spaces out, and has extreme bouts of anger. Twice I’ve walked in on him, his eyes red-rimmed and wet. He loves her. He loves her harder than I’ve seen him love anything and with or without me, he’s going back for the girl.
Two
****
Brothers
Emily
I finish running the towel over my hair and drop it to the floor. A spattering of droplets coat the bathroom mirror and I lean in close to check the skull tattoo on my collarbone. It has healed completely, its black ink marking my skin for the rest of my life. I scratch at it.
Yep. It’s real.
I don’t know why I keep expecting it to rub off. I suck air into my cheeks and blow it out. I fucking hate it. I hate that it’s a skull and what it represents.
Fear and possession.
It’s the symbol of a psychopath who suffered through a horrific, unspeakable tragedy and decided to do unto others as he had done unto him. It’s sick. To make others feel the pain he felt in the moment his wife and his unborn baby were ripped from his life is...is…not something I want to think about before breakfast. Anything Skull related usually has the power to turn my stomach and, since the smell of bacon hangs so deliciously in the air, I don’t want that to happen this morning.
Sighing, I pluck the purple hair brush from the basin and run it through my long hair. It catches on tangles and knots, but, with a little girl power, I manage to brush them free. I don’t usually put a lot of effort into my morning rituals, but since Jai’s brother ‘moved’ in I feel the need to try a little harder. It’s kind of stupid, but I want to be up to par with the standards he undoubtedly has for his baby brother.