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CHAPTER 003: Meeting The Wrong Brother
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2025-03-18 17:05:22I drag Finn by his jacket all the way to my company's parking lot, ignoring his protests.
The moment we're in front of his car, I whirl around to face him. “What is wrong with you?” I ask. “You seriously want to crash your ex’s wedding? Have you completely lost your mind?” Finn runs a hand through his hair. “I need closure, Sloane.” “No, Finn. You need professional help. Therapy.” “I can’t just sit still and watch the woman I love marry someone else.” God. I want to punch him in the face. I want to kiss him until he forgets Delilah Crestfield ever existed. I want to scream until I shake the stars loose from the sky. “So what’s the plan, huh? You gonna storm the aisle? Ruin her big day? Shove the groom off the altar and declare your undying love like some cliché rom-com protagonist? Jesus, Finn, you’re better than this.” “I don’t want to destroy the wedding,” he mutters. “I just… I need her to look me in the eyes and tell me it’s over.” My breath catches. I hate him. I hate how stupidly, pathetically in love with Delilah he still is. How after everything—after the endless heartbreaks—he still thinks she hung the sun, moon, and stars. “Well, I’m not going with you,” I say. “Why not?” “Because I don't want to.” “You’re going, Sloane. End of discussion.” “I am not.” “I need you.” Oh. There it is. The words that crack me open and leave me bleeding all over this parking lot. I hate how my pulse jumps. Hate how he still has this power over me. “If things… don’t exactly go as planned,” he continues, stepping closer, “I need my best friend beside me. I’m not sure I’ll survive on my own if Delilah goes through with this wedding.” Of course he needs me. He always needs me. I’ve been stitching Finn back together for so long, I could probably rebuild him from memory. I know every crack, every fracture. I’ve held the broken pieces of him in my hands and pressed them back into place more times than I can count. But I’m tired. I’m so tired of loving him when he’s never even thought to love me back. I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to meet his eyes. “I’m not your emotional support animal, Finn.” “Please, Sloane. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.” And just like that, I cave. Because I’m weak. Because I’m pathetic. Because I love him. I will always love him. “Fine,” I say. “But when this inevitably blows up in your face, I’m not picking up the pieces this time.” Even as I say it, we both know it's a lie. Finn grins, that boyish, lopsided smile that makes my heart skip. "Deal." “Did you at least get me a first-class ticket?” “You know I don't do economy, Sloane.” “Whatever.” I turn on my heel and march back to the office. We’re really doing this. We’re really flying across the country to crash his ex’s wedding. What could possibly go wrong? ~~~ [[Seven weeks later]] I’ve been waiting at Asheville Regional Airport for over an hour, my suitcase propped against my legs. Finn was supposed to meet me the moment I landed. But of course, Finn Hartley, master of emotional chaos and poor decision-making, is nowhere to be found. I’ve tried calling him. No answer. Tried texting. Left on read. I check my phone for the hundredth time. Still nothing. The battery's at 12%—just enough to call an Uber and find the nearest hotel if I have to. I'm seconds away from throwing my phone against a wall when I hear the low purr of an engine that sounds like it crawled straight out of hell—a deep, thunderous growl that makes several people nearby turn and stare. I raise my head just in time to see a monstrous black Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 glide to a stop in front of me. The window rolls down, and—God help me—the man behind the wheel looks like sin itself. He’s beautiful in a way that feels wrong. Dangerous. Sharp-jawed, dark-haired, and dressed in all black like he's either about to commit arson or murder. His eyes drag over me from head to toe, sizing me up. I resist the urge to smooth down my travel-rumpled clothes or fix my hair. "Sloane Mercer?" he says. I blink. "Who are you?" "I guess you can call me the wrong brother," he replies. "What?" "Forgive my manners," he says, his voice smooth, deep, and annoyingly sexy. "I’m Knox Hartley. Finn's brother. Finn sent me to chauffeur you to our parents' house."
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I feel something break inside me. How does loving Finn make me miserable?“Let me go, Knox,” I say, my voice trembling. “You might not be a good brother, but I’m a good friend. I’m not going to sit around and watch my friend be deceived again. I’m going out there.”Knox doesn’t budge. His grip on my waist remains firm, his body immovable. In a voice so calm it only fuels my rage, he says, “I can’t let you go out there, Kitten. I will physically restrain you if I have to.”“Who the hell do you think you are?” I snap. “You don’t get to control me, Knox. Let. Me. Go.”“I’m not controlling you. I’m preventing you from making a fool of yourself—again.”If my hands were free, I probably would have slapped him by now. “I’m beginning to see why Finn almost never mentioned you in the ten years I’ve known him. You're such an arrogant, infuriating douchebag who cares about nothing else but himself. You'd rather watch your own brother get his heart ripped out than actually do something about it.
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“What are you doing here, Knox?” I ask. “This is the women's room.” "Which I made sure would be out of bounds for a while.” Of course he did. Probably bribed someone important. I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way his shirt clings to his torso, hinting at the tattoos that snake down his arms. "Are you stalking me now?” I say. He chuckles, the sound low and throaty. "You look ravishing in that dress. I wanted to see it up close." "You've seen it. Now leave." Pushing off the door, he strides toward me. Instinctively, I take a step back. Then another. Until the cold, tiled wall presses against my back. "Leave, Knox." He stops mere inches away, his breath warm against my skin. "You know what would make the dress even better, Kitten? Seeing it raised and sitting atop your pretty waist as I take you." "If you touch me, I'm going to scream." He tilts his head. "Do it. I’ve imagined what that would sound like. How loudly do you scream, Sloane? Think the club's noise will dro
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Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 031: Do We Have A Deal Or Not?
These feelings Finn has are obviously not the casual kind. Not the she’s-my-best-friend kind. No. It’s deeper. It’s in the way his voice cracks when he says her name. The way his hands won’t stay still. The way his panic takes on an edge that looks a hell of a lot like heartbreak. And maybe he hasn’t figured it out yet. Maybe he’s too fixated on Delilah to see what’s been right next to him all along. But I see it. I see it, and it’s pissing me the fuck off. I bite down on the inside of my cheek and taste copper. It’s a habit I picked up in combat—quiet pain over loud reaction. Keeps the thoughts steady. Sharp. Contained. But nothing about this scene in front of me feels contained. Finn’s pacing. Mom’s posturing. I step closer before I can talk myself out of it, and they both look up. Mom smooths her expression into a smile. Finn wipes his eyes. “Knox,” Mom says. “I thought you left.” “I didn’t. It’s my friend’s wedding rehearsal.” “Right. I keep forgetting you're the best man.
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 030: She's A Part Of Me
*** ~~KNOX~~ *** I have spent years building a habit of not getting involved in people’s business. Especially Finn’s. Especially anything remotely connected to the circus that is Finn and Delilah. It's not that I don’t care—I just learned the hard way that sticking your nose into other people’s messes has a way of turning you into the villain, even when you were trying to mop up their blood. So I stopped trying. Stopped caring. Let people make their own choices and eat the consequences. It’s cleaner that way. Simpler. But the truth is, Hunter’s going to find out eventually—about Delilah, about me, about all of it. And it’s better if the truth comes from me than from someone with an agenda or an axe to grind. I’m not exactly known for being friendly. I’m not the kind of guy Hunter usually surrounds himself with—he’s the suit, the smile, the shining damn example of a man people want to follow. But somehow, despite all our differences, we’ve managed to build something that goes bey
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 029: Ignorant Bliss
My orgasm rips through me like a storm. I shatter around him, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream. My body trembles. Clenches. Milks him as I ride every last pulse of pleasure out of myself. But he’s not done. He wraps one strong arm around my waist and flips me with almost no effort, laying me back on the chair and spreading my legs. My panties are shoved to the side, the toy still buzzing against me, the mess between my thighs shameless and dripping. Then he’s inside me again. All of him. Deep and brutal. The stretch is dizzying. He pins my legs up, bending me in half, and drives into me like he’s trying to ruin my soul. “Fuck, Sloane,” he grits out. “You feel like heaven. So tight. So goddamn wet.” His hips piston into me, again and again, each thrust dragging a raw moan from my throat. I’m still sensitive from the orgasm, the vibrator still humming against my clit, and it’s all too much. Too good. Too deep. His hand moves to my throat, gripping. I gasp, eyes
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 028: All Of You
My body obeys before my mind can catch up. I part my lips, tongue darting out to taste the tip of his dick. Salty. Warm. Metallic from the piercing. My fingers curl around his shaft, and when I close my lips around him, his hips jolt forward. "Fuck," he hisses, hand gripping my hair tighter. I take him deeper, inch by inch, until I gag slightly—and he groans again, a low sound that makes my thighs clench. I pull back, saliva trailing down my chin, and do it again. This time slower. My hand works what I can't take, twisting slightly. "Just like that, Kitten. Just like that." He pulses in my mouth, and when I look up at him through my lashes, his eyes have gone dark. His fingers are tangled so deeply in my hair that I can feel the sting on my scalp—and then he starts to move. His hips thrust forward, driving himself deeper. My throat stretches, gags, spasms. “Take it,” he says, the words punched out through clenched teeth. “Take what you came for.” I moan around him, the sound
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 027: This Was A Mistake
I force myself to walk in a straight line. Back tall. Shoulders squared. Like I’m not being held hostage by a vibrator currently pulsing in-between my legs. It's only after reaching the foot of the stairs that I realize how stupid I’m being. There's literally an elevator leading to the top floor. I stare at it for a second, then turn, walk to it, and press the button. The doors slide open, and I can't say how grateful I am that no one’s inside. Once I’m in the elevator, I suck in air through my nose and hold it while the numbers climb. Each ding vibrates against my spine. I adjust the collar of my coat and try not to squirm, but the heat crawling between my thighs makes that a losing battle. The doors open. I don’t wait—I dart out, make a sharp right, and head toward the rooftop access. I come face-to-face with a bouncer standing by the heavy glass door, arms crossed, face set as stone. Now I feel self-conscious. Could he hear it? He squints at me. “This area is private, ma
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 026: Come Get Me
My mind is numb. Everything around me is still spinning from what just happened. From the kiss. From the nerve. From the audacity. I don’t know how long Finn’s lips stayed on mine, or if they were even moving against mine, but the moment he let go of my coat, I knew it was over. Whatever moment he thought we were having—it had expired. He’s smiling. "You have very soft lips," he says. "What's that flavor? Strawberry?" My heart races with fury. I’m about to rain hellfire on him when someone clears their throat into the mic. The emcee. Standing with a grin that’s far too amused. All eyes are on us. Victoria Hartley, smiling like she’s just seen her fantasy come to life. Knox—expression unreadable. Hunter’s eyes are wide. And Delilah… frowning. “Looks like we’ve got a wedding rehearsal and a love story unfolding at the same time,” the emcee says, beaming. Laughter ripples through the crowd. Finn chuckles too. “I think that’s a sign of great things to come tomorrow,” the e
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 025: Just Breathe, Sloane
*** ~~SLOANE~~ *** I’m trying so hard not to steal glances at Knox from across the room. At first, everything was a blur—Myopia doing what she does best. I eventually caved and put my glasses back on. Squinting wasn’t doing me any favors, and I need a clear view of my target. Knox is the only person not dressed like he’s about to attend a Gatsby-themed funeral. No tux. No tie. Just his signature black shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, paired with black pants that somehow make him the sexiest man in the room. He’s lounging in his chair, and his fingers are idly stroking his neatly trimmed beard. The movement makes me remember how the strands felt on a very sensitive place, one that’s currently tingling in anticipation of him turning on the device between my legs. "She doesn’t look happy," Finn says beside me. I blink, forcing my eyes away from Knox. "What?" "Delilah. She doesn’t look happy. Which can only mean she doesn’t want to get married, and
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 024: You've Been Warned
I don’t smile. I can’t even bring myself to. Nothing would have pleased me more than to have Delilah this cornered. But when I think about the implications of Hunter’s statement, my lunch suddenly doesn’t sit right in my stomach. I never told him. How’s it possible that I never did? I walk across the hotel lobby without a word. Hunter says something behind me, but I keep going. I don’t want to see him or Delilah right now, though I can feel her gaze burning through my shoulder blades. She’s probably wondering when I plan to attack. This is not about you, Delilah. Chill. Once we’re outside, I cross to where my car is parked at the curb, open the driver’s door, slip into the seat, and turn just enough to toss a sharp look over my shoulder. “Let’s go, lovebirds,” I say, voice flat. They shuffle in, the two of them sliding into the backseat. As Hunter fusses with his coat, Delilah’s eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror. There’s a pleading expression there. I look away. Engine
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 023: I Believe In Rules
*** ~~KNOX~~ *** It’s approximately twenty minutes before Hunter and Delilah’s rehearsal dinner. I’m in their hotel suite watching Delilah complain about her outfit to Hunter. “I look like a balloon in this dress,” she says, blinking so many times that you’d think actual tears would be falling by now. “Honey, you look as glamorous as ever. Absolutely breathtaking.” “You’re only saying that to make me happy. You know it’s not the truth.” This is me wondering why I ever agreed to drive them to the venue. Hunter and I had both shipped our cars here from New York last week—air-freighted. But Hunter, in all his matrimonial perfectionism, insists his car has to remain untouched until tomorrow. "Ceremonial reasons," he said. Whatever that means. So I’m the designated chauffeur. Which means I have to sit here, on this goddamn couch, watching Delilah glide out from behind the sliding bedroom door, then listen to her complain about her dress like I wouldn’t rather be driving my skull in
