39. Fischer

39

FISCHER

R ole playing "big brother" probably isn't the healthiest way of managing my near frantic anxiety about all the impossible questions Matthew asked me today, but I wanted to give him something he couldn't have with anyone else, and pray to God it's something he wants to hang onto, not walk away from like he has with all his other lovers.

So, as much as I hate the fact that we were raised by one family in one home, and that he's legally my brother, it's one thing I have that no one else in the world does. And he isn't subtle how much my acknowledgment of that turns him on. But I have no regrets about keeping my distance when the twins were kids. Especially now.

I don't like that I might have hurt him with my absence, though. Knowing what I know about him now, which is starting to seem like less and less by the hour, I'd saw off my good leg to keep from hurting him again. The contradictions of him have me totally enraptured. His dominance contrasting so vividly with how innocent and fragile he is—like he's made of glass and bronze wire, too. Sharp and vivid. Hard, and breakable.

No one does to me what he can do. No one else has ever made me feel like my breath depends on his breath, like my fate is entangled in his. Like I am hopelessly lost within another person I have no control of. Walking into a war zone is less of a risk than lying down in my brother's bed. The idea of ultimately not being able to give him what he wants is fucking devastating.

What the fuck makes me think I'm so special to him?

Because I do .

I crash hard that night in my apartment, only to be rudely awakened by pounding on my door.

I check the clock. It's after midnight, but nowhere close to dawn. Which can only mean one thing.

It's probably better this way. Earlier, I considered going down and having the "this isn't happening" talk face-to-face, but the last time I attempted that, I wound up having sex with her. Not that I'm afraid of that happening again, but I want to avoid any mixed signals.

I pull on a pair of pants, grab my cane, and walk down the long hallway to answer the door for a barely dressed Ravenna.

I rub my face and yawn. "Raven, you can't just show up here in the middle of the night."

She drinks me in with her gaze. "But I'm in the mood for a night cap." She puts her hands on me, backing me up, and going after my neck.

I plant my hands on her shoulders and hold her off. "We need to talk."

" Ugh . Why? I'm soooo wet, Fischer." She tries to take one of my hands and prove this, but I yank it back.

"Stop it. Please. I'm seeing someone else," I blurt before she manages to overwhelm me.

It works. She freezes and takes a step away. "Who?"

"It's not important. But it wouldn't be fair to you or them to—you know— this ."

"I won't tell if you won't," she says, giving me bedroom eyes again.

"It's someone from my past," I tell her. "It's serious."

"Oh. Is it Nicole?"

"No—God. No."

"How long has this been going on?"

I'm not answering that. "The point is, you and I were keeping things casual, and now I have to call it quits officially."

She puts her hands on her hips and frowns up at me. "I don't think we should."

I don't bite, but she goes on anyway.

"We're good together. I think we can both admit that. We have great sex."

We had good sex. I now know the meaning of great sex.

"And now that I've started to get to know you, I just kinda—want more . I really like you, Fischer." She puts her hands on my hips and steps close again. "And I am so fucking attracted to you. Like if you give me a chance, I'll be your best girl. Promise."

"You've been amazing," I say. "And I'm sorry, but I just can't."

She gives me a scrutinizing frown that slowly morphs into a defeated pout. Sighing, she says, "Well, if you change your mind, and I think you should…text me. I can be very discreet."

"Right."

"One more kiss?"

I shake my head.

Her expression sours, but she gives up the fight. "All right. Well, good night, I guess."

"Good night, Raven."

She slowly backs out of the door like the longer she takes, the more likely I'll be to give up and ask her to spread her legs for me, but I wait, patiently, and close the door as soon as she's across the threshold.

I pull my shirt up to my nose and sniff. "Ugh." I rip it off and head back to my room to rinse the smell of her off me.

I'm extremely happy to see Matthew when he arrives at my apartment after his overnight shift. He looks wrecked when I open the door for him—like he hasn't slept in days. The dark circles under his eyes are like bruises. Eyes themselves bloodshot.

"You okay, baby?" Since we talked yesterday, I have so many things I want to ask him. So much I want to talk to him about. And I wonder if there's something I might want to say to him that would reassure him about us, or if it would sound like overcompensating.

I pull him by the shirt into my apartment and slam the door behind him. He stumbles forward, and we land with my back against the opposite wall, his mouth on mine once again. "I couldn't find my key," he whispers then kisses me deeper. His hands roam up my sides, and his body presses into mine, cock hard and grinding.

"You wanna lie down?" I ask. "You look exhausted."

"I want this," he says, kissing my neck and shoving his hands up my shirt. "All of this. All the time. Give it to me."

"It's yours."

"Mmm…fuck I needed to hear that." His mouth finds mine, and his kiss is so thorough, so arousing, I get light-headed. One of his hands slides over my hip to my ass cheek. "Are you ready for me?"

Yes. I want it. I fucking need it. "Like I said—I'm all yours."

He presses his forehead to mine and exhales a broken breath that sounds almost like a sob. "Why is it like this?"

I close my eyes as my heart leaps around in my chest, untethered and wild. He probably wants me to say something that keeps it all simple—like we've got great chemistry. But nothing about us is simple. "Fuck, baby… you're gonna have to be the one to answer that."

"I love it when you call me that."

"I—" Didn't realize I had.

"Do you want to be with me?" he asks.

I nod, having to force myself to swallow.

He takes a deep breath that feels like it draws me even closer to him. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I respond, following the script.

"But this feels different," he finally admits.

"Than what?" I whisper, heart frozen in my chest.

"Anything."

I want to ask him if it always has. If he knew from the first time we kissed that we have the ability to connect in a way I've never experienced with anyone else. Whether it's just our chemistry or more. Admittedly, we haven't come up for air long enough to find out, and I'm growing exponentially more attached to him with every touch and kiss and look he sends my way.

I feel him getting more possessive, too. The way his hands spread themselves on me, the grip of ownership, the questions that force me to stipulate I'm his.

"How is it different?" I press.

"You don't feel it?"

I feel all of it. His want. His craving. His confusion. I even have a slight sense of his heart fighting the pull I have on it because it makes my own chest ache. Ours is not a subtle connection. It never has been. "Tell me what you feel," I say.

"I want to be with you all the time. I want to live inside you. I want you surrounding me. And I want you to want me so much you can't see straight."

"I can't see straight, Matty."

He sighs. "And?"

"And you're always welcome with me."

"How can you say always?" he asks.

"Because it's always been always."

"Do you love me?" he asks.

"I said I do…come to bed."

"Answer the question."

"Do you want me to love you?"

His words come out in a rushed whisper. "I do."

"I want you to love me, too."

His lips touch mine softly. "You think we'll ever be able to have a useful conversation with each other?"

I grin. "It's hard when your erection is digging into my hip."

"What would you rather I do with it?" he asks.

"Fuck me well enough to make me accidentally tell you how I really feel."

"Get naked," he says. "Now." He shoves off the wall and gives us both room to strip off our clothes.

I hate the thought of limping down the hall naked, but I have a feeling he'll help me forget about that soon. However, as I start toward the bedroom, he snatches me by the waist, lifts me from the floor and slants his mouth over mine in a deep kiss.

I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me to the bed. While our size difference is insignificant, and I'm the big brother here, the way he treats me like the vulnerable, traumatized mess of a human I truly am at my core, does things to me I don't think I'll ever recover from. No one I've ever met in my life would believe I'd want to be carried to a bed, but Matthew does. I also would have refused if he'd offered, and I think he knows that, too.