33. Linc

33

LINC

W e’ve been home from the lake for two days, and I’ve been doing my usual thing, avoiding P because I can’t fucking face her.

They broke up that night. And she never told me.

I meant what I said, I don’t want to hurt her anymore, but something Asher said has stuck with me, festering under the surface.

I’m playing house with my brother’s girlfriend.

Even if they broke up the night he died, that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t have made up the next day. It was Penelope and Colt. They would have worked it out.

And yes, I know Asher is a moody, little teenage asshole, but he’s not wrong.

What the hell are we doing here?

She said that she fell in love with both of us. I can’t find the balls to ask her what that means. Because to me, being vulnerable isn’t an option and never has been.

Did she mean when we were kids? When we fucked on prom night? Now?

I can’t ask any of it. And it’s making me seethe with anger, frustrated beyond belief, and I’m afraid what will happen if I confront her.

Because I can’t not punish her when I feel like this. And I want to stick to the plan.

Splashing around in the lake together felt good. Too good . It felt . . . Hell, it felt like we were free for the first time in over a year.

And to me, that’s dangerous.

I start down the hall toward the bathroom, needing a shower so I can get out of the house before P wakes up. But of course, as luck would have it, I hear the shower turn on right as I reach the bathroom, and I’m now staring at a wet, naked Penelope in the glass shower.

Fuck me. Why does she have to be so fucking perfect?

It’s really not fair.

I watch her head fall back as she lets the water spray over her face, sliding down her tan body. Her hands moving to soap up her hair, the bubbles forming under her fingertips, her full tits pulled up and just there for my eyes.

My cock wakes up and wants so badly to join her, but I have to remember I’m in a mood, one that will want to hurt her.

She turns, seeing me, but doesn’t register any shock as she pushes the door of the shower open, inviting me in.

Don’t do it, Linc.

I lift my shirt and push my sweats and briefs down almost on autopilot because we both knew I was going to join her. I climb into the shower, pulling the door closed, and she moves back to the water, letting it fall over her as she faces away from me.

And I waste no time asking the question I want to ask because I rarely hold back when it comes to her. “Why didn’t you tell me about the night he died before?”

She doesn’t turn to face me, and I’m not touching her, but I know my question has made her tense. “I was ashamed. I still am.”

“Why? Because you two weren’t that perfect?”

She turns to face me now, the water dripping from her hair down over her face. She looks breathtaking, but I try my hardest to focus. “Because I killed him.”

“You did not kill him.”

“I did, Linc. I broke his heart, and he ran far away from me.”

She’s been carrying that for a year all on her own. “You should have told me. I could have told you how fucking stupid that is.”

She shakes her head and turns away from me, lathering face wash in her hand and washing her face, rinsing it off quickly. “You just don’t get it.”

I take her arm and spin her to face me as she wipes the last bit of cleanser from her face with her hand. “I do get it. I’ve spent the last year feeling like shit too. Because I wasn’t there when my little brother died and because I fucked his girl while he was still alive.”

“I can’t take the guilt.”

I expected a fight. That’s what she’s been giving me for years, but she looks so fucking broken as the sobs start and I pull her body tightly to mine, letting her cry against my chest.

“I thought we agreed to try to move on?”

“And we both knew that wasn’t going to last when we said it. We can’t help but punish each other, Linc. It’s all we have. It’s what we’ve done since the beginning.”

I grip her hair with my fingers, tugging her head back slightly to look up at me. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you what you need.”

Penelope has always had a fire in her, one that clashes with my own and burns so fucking hot we seem to set our world ablaze when we get too close.

Maybe we both need someone calmer, although that sounds incredibly fucking boring to me.

“I told you, Linc I don’t need you to be someone else.” Her lips move over mine as she uses her teeth to pull on my bottom lip. “I don’t need sweet.”

“That’s good because I don’t think I have one bit of sugar in me.”

Her mouth moves over my neck and my shoulder, leaving a quick nip there and then turning me around to look at the back of my shoulder.

The tattoo.

Colt’s birthday and the day he died.

I got it the day after the funeral. I feel her hand brush over my skin and the ink that lives there, and then I hiss when I feel her nails scrape over it and down my back as she moves back in front of me, her eyes meeting mine. “I don’t want nice.”

“Because he’s gone. Now you just want to be hurt forever?”

She presses her body against me, her firm tits against my chest as her teeth nip my earlobe. “I liked to be fucked . And I have no shame about that.”

The grin that spreads over my face couldn’t be stopped if I tried as I spin her body away from me, grabbing her hips and pressing her forward so her hands flatten against the tile of the shower. I push inside her, my cock hard and aching for her.

Okay, so we’re fucked-up.

I mean, hell, we’ve been doing this dance for so fucking long. The first attempt at killing the pain with more pain was the day of the funeral.

When I fucked her in his old room.

And all we’ve done since that day is added to the long list of torture and debauchery .