I squeak as he shoves me against his closed door and cages me in with his palms flat by my shoulders. Only a sliver of space exists between us, but it feels like miles because of how badly I want to feel him against me. Heat crawls up my neck as the heady scent of amber and cypress fills my lungs.
This is so wrong. What happened the other night was a mistake—one that can’t happen again—but the reason is being drowned out by the alcohol.
“The next time the shit stain tries to hurt you, fight back,” he murmurs. “Or at the very least, scream for me, little sister.”
His words send me back to five years ago, when he told me to scream for him after Mickey strangled me in the high school’s hallway.
“How?”
“You don’t know self-defense?” Ryder frowns.
“Not really.” After talking to Minnie yesterday about how my grandfather taught her to fight, I’ve thought about nothing else. I’d kill to know how to punch and defend myself from creeps like Justin.
Ryder’s frown deepens. He straightens to his full height and gently grabs my hand, then places my palm over his cheek, right below his eye. “You go for the eyes.” He lowers my hand to his neck. “Throat.” My knees threaten to give out as he lowers my hand to his groin, his cock pressed against my palm. “Dick and balls.”
“Ry-Ryder.” Everything spins as he squeezes my hand on him. He’s already hardening, and it jerks beneath my touch as I curl my fingers around his shaft from outside his pants.
He bends over me, his face hovering above mine. I sway as he leans in, until his lips are dangerously close to mine, until I can feel his every breath puffing against my parted mouth.
“Don’t act so innocent, sis,” he murmurs. “It’s not like you haven’t felt me before.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks, and all the fight leaves my body. “We can’t do this.”
Ryder leans his forehead against mine. His pupils dilate as I stroke his cock once, then fumble with his button and zipper.
I don’t blame him for not believing anything coming out of my mouth. Actions speak louder than words, and I’m trying so hard to fight this attraction toward my brother. It’s difficult when he’s looking at me like I’m the sexiest woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Like he wants to burn the world for me.
“Madison.” His chest rumbles against mine from his hushed plea.
I slip my hand into his pants and grab his erection. Ryder groans, his fingers digging into my love handles as he resists touching me anywhere else.
I can’t stop touching him, though, just like I can’t stop silently begging him to kiss me.
I awkwardly shove his pants down his thighs, freeing his cock so I can stroke him at a better angle. My head tilts back, as does Ryder’s, and he groans as I brush my thumb over the pierced tip. An ache builds between my legs as I lazily stroke him with one hand and thread my fingers through his hair with the other. He lets out a shaky breath and shallowly thrusts his hips to fuck my fist.
Ryder tilts his head like he’s about to kiss me. My heart skyrockets, and I close my eyes, waiting to feel his lips on mine.
“I want you.” My words come out in a drunken slur.
“Fuck,” Ryder grates in a whisper.
Disappointment tightens my chest as Ryder pulls away from me. He gently removes my hand from his cock before he tucks himself away.
I open my eyes. “What did I do wrong?”
He steadies me with his hands on my shoulders as I stumble toward him. “You’re drunk.”
“Don’t tell me you’re also mad about me drinking?” I swat his hands away. “I’m an adult.”
Ryder ignores my slaps and picks me up like I weigh nothing. I squeeze my eyes shut as gravity becomes nonexistent. Even behind my closed eyelids, everything spins. My back meets a soft mattress, and I peek at Ryder as he lays me on his bed.
“Get some sleep.” He eases my shoes off my feet, his fingers brushing over my ankles. “I’m not touching you while you’re drunk.”
I push myself onto my elbows and plop back down when the spinning returns with a vengeance. “Ugh. Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to want you?”
He slips the blanket over me, his expression blank while he tucks me in like I’m a child.
Angry tears sting my eyes as he walks toward the door without a word. He picks something up from his dresser, along with his motorcycle helmet. I sit up and breathe through the nausea slamming into me.
