Never Marry Your Brother's Best Friend (Never Say Never, #1)

“Can I come? Please?” Bounce, bounce, bounce.

The words roll off her tongue easily, and I wonder if there’s something about Luna Starr that I never considered. Her sex talk, even if fake, has a decidedly submissive tilt, and I like it . . . a lot.

I realize I need to answer to keep up appearances, but I desperately want to know what Luna looks like when she comes. Even if it’s for show. “Come for me, baby. Come right now on Daddy’s cock.”

She sobs out a very believable keening whine, slapping the mattress with her hand. Her eyes are closed as she acts out, and I watch with focused concentration, noting the color on her cheeks, the hitch in her breath, the bounce of her breasts, and the way her sweatshirt has climbed up her thighs with her movements.

“That’s it, good girl,” I croon. I grip the blanket myself, not to hide from Luna but to stop myself from reaching out to touch her skin.

Her eyes flutter open and she grins. “Your turn,” she mouths.

Oh, yeah. Right. I plant my feet and hands on the bed, pumping my hips so that the headboard hits the wall rhythmically again. “Fuuuck, Luna. You feel so good.”

I grunt a few more times, letting the last one trail off, and then I lie belly down on the bed so my erection can’t be seen.

Luna collapses to the pillow too, arranging her hair beneath her head. We’re panting from the exertion despite not getting any real action. Our eyes meet, and there’s something deep in Luna’s that I can’t identify. Lust? Anger? Disappointment? Embarrassment?

“You okay?” I ask gently.

“I usually take my glasses off. Guys don’t like them, but it’s nice being able to actually see,” she confides as she pushes her glasses higher on her nose. Realizing what she shared, she covers her mouth to conceal the escaping giggles, crossing her legs and rolling a bit.

I can’t help it, I start laughing too.

“Glasses could get . . . messy,” I joke back, and Luna has to bite her sleeve to stop her howls of laughter.

“Still better than in your eyes,” she adds, making a windshield wiper move over both lenses, and that’s how I end up half-dressed, in bed, post-fake-coital, laughing my ass off with my best friend’s little sister, who is also my fake wife.

Life is weird sometimes.

“Seriously, though. If any guy tells you he doesn’t like your glasses, he should not get access to your pussy,” I say firmly. “Your glasses are cute, and most importantly, they’re you.”

She seems shocked at my opinion on the situation, but it’s pretty obvious if you ask me.

“Well, not like I’m in any position to turn guys down, though,” she laments.

I grab the other pillow, propping my chest on it. It pushes my hips into the bed, and I note that at least my dick has gone soft now. “What the fuck does that mean?”

The demand is sharp as I search her face for what she’s talking about. She sinks into her shoulders and sighs. “Look, Carter. I know you’re supposed to be my fake husband and all, but we don’t have to do this.” She waves from me to her. “We’re in different worlds—financially, professionally, personally, physically. It’s okay. I’m happy with myself for the most part, but other than Elena, who might be blind as a bat for all we know, no one would believe we’re a thing.”

Her shrug is one of resignation and her tone of quiet acceptance. But I don’t get it . . .

“We are different,” I start, and I see her cringe, waiting for whatever she thinks I’m going to say. “But different can be good,” I finish. “I don’t really get why you cry when you see a painting or don’t always say out loud what you’re thinking, and I definitely don’t understand how you can get art from your brain out to the real world. It’s magic, it’s witchcraft, it’s something I absolutely can’t do.”

“Sure, yeah,” she says dismissively. “But people don’t want—”

“I wasn’t done. Last but not least, quit saying you’re not pretty or that this is unbelievable.” I use her earlier words so she knows I heard her. “You’re beautiful, and anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.” I don’t add that I was one of those idiots a few short days ago. “Any man would be lucky to call you his.”

She scans my face, searching for the lie, but I’m telling the truth. Finally, she says, “I don’t understand why you need this deal so badly. Your life is charmed. You’re one of those people born with a silver spoon, but you’re making it hard on yourself, going to extremes like this whole fake marriage thing for a deal. This would be a lot even for someone who had nothing.”

“Easy is boring. I need to prove myself,” I confess.

Unconvinced, she asks, “To whom?”

“To my brother, my dad, my family. Hell, probably even to myself a bit. There’s a lot of pressure that comes with that silver spoon. So much that I feel like I’ll choke on it sometimes.”

The confession surprises me more than her, I think. I hadn’t realized I felt so trapped by my family’s competitive nature. Probably because it’s been bred into me for generations. I could use one of my mom’s easily given reassurances right about now, but she saves those for Grace these days, trusting that her adult children have their shit together. If only she knew how much that’s not true.

“Hmm, you’re maybe not as bad as I thought you were.” Luna smiles to soften the not-quite-a-compliment but then yawns.

“Apology accepted. I’ll move over to the couch so you can get some rest.” I shove the pillow back toward the head of the bed, but she stops me.

“It’s fine. This bed is huge. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.” She draws a line down the center of the bed with her hand.

“My back is gonna thank you in the morning.” We both get rearranged so that we’re under the blankets, but not touching, with a few inches of no-man’s land between us. As I reach over to turn off the lights, I chuckle and murmur, “Good night, wife.”

She laughs and answers, “Good night, Carter.”

I flick off the light with the remote on the nightstand, and we go silent, waiting for sleep to come. Luna succumbs pretty quickly, and I should be thinking about Elena, this deal, and how I’m going to get that handshake in the morning before we leave.

But all I can focus on are Luna and her soft breathing.





CHAPTER

TEN





LUNA





I wake up, or maybe I’m not awake because this must be a dream. I’m floating on a cloud of the softest, fluffiest cotton and there are warm, strong arms wrapped around me. There’s also a very hard something pressed between the cheeks of my ass.