The Other Brother (Binghamton #4)

“You know I’m not about to have sex with you in your car, right?”

“Who said anything about sex? I’m thinking a little heavy petting, a little motorboat action, and then we can enjoy Danny and Arnold.”

I shift on his lap, feeling my leg start to cramp up. “This might not be the best idea.”

“Giving up before we even get started, where’s the free girl I know and love?”

“It’s not that.” I shift again as my calf now starts to go tight. “I’m just trying to find a comfortable position.” I shift, trying to put less pressure on my leg and that’s when every muscle in my leg seizes on me. “Oh God,” I scream, reaching for where the pain is radiating.

“Coming already? And I didn’t even have to do anything. You’re making this too easy on me, baby.”

“No, my leg. Charlie horse.” My toes cramp up, and the arch of my foot is screaming in pain. “Oh fuck, Charlie horse!” I slap his chest with the hand that’s not holding my leg. “Get up, get up, get up.”

“What? Shit.” Aaron starts to move under me but is caught by his seatbelt. “I’m still buckled in. I can’t get out.”

“Ah hell!” My leg is so tight, I can’t move it an inch, so I flail my body to the passenger seat but that doesn’t do anything but stick my ass in Aaron’s face, my thong-clad ass.

“Babe, watch what you’re doing with your . . . knee,” Aaron moans out loud just as I feel my leg connect with something a little too soft. “Oh fuuuuck.” Aaron folds over on top of me as he reaches for his crotch.

“Get off me. Oh God, my freaking leg!”

“My fucking balls.”

Maneuvering one of his hands as he moans, he undoes his seatbelt and tries to free himself from the car. My leg continues to pulse with pain as I wiggle around, trying to stretch my leg out in any way possible. It’s not until I’m feeling a great deal of wind flying over my bare ass that I realize Aaron popped out of the car, leaving my butt out in the open for the drive-in theater goers to get one hell of a preview.

Not bothering to cover up, my stomach pressing against the center console, and my ass feeling the cool night air, I stretch my leg out and finally start to feel a little ease in the throbbing pain.

“Oh Christ.” I bury my head in my hands.

There is a light tap on my calf. Aaron’s strained voice washes over me. “I’m going to sit in the back until you’re ready to move.”

“Okay.” I breathe out heavily.

“Do you want me to cover your butt?”

Exhausted, I answer, “I don’t care.”

Aaron groans as he shifts behind me. He covers me up and takes a seat in the back.

Concerned for his manhood, I ask, “How are your testicles?”

“Trying to pop out of my belly button,” he grunts. “Remind me to never get in a fight with you, because your knees are vicious.”

“I’m sorry.” Head still buried, I start to chuckle. “This is quite the date.”

“Yeah, when I decided to bring you here, I had a completely different idea of how this would turn out, and it didn’t include me holding my own damn balls while sitting in the back of my car by myself.”

“No? That’s shocking.”

The lights in the parking area die down and the movie projects onto the white billboard. “The movie is starting. We didn’t grab the speaker for the car.”

“Add it to the list of mistakes we made tonight.”

He chuckles. “What else is on that list?”

I turn my head toward the glove box, feeling a slight bit of relief in my leg. “Well, my lack of potassium consumption has put a real damper on the evening.”

“I told you to eat those bananas.”

“Yeah, in preparation for the sex marathon you wanted to have,” I scoff, although, a sex marathon with Aaron is not something I would pass up.

“And aren’t you kicking yourself in the ass for not listening to me now?” He chuckles, just loving his little freaking jokes. “What else is on the list?”

“Hmm, well . . . granny panties would have been a better option over a thong.”

“Now I disagree with that statement. I think a thong was a very smart choice because you have a sensational ass. You just fell victim to a poorly timed gust of wind. Don’t blame the thong, blame Mother Nature.”

God, I wish I could see that brilliant smile of his right now, because I know it’s stretched across his face. Bickering with him is so much fun, so I can’t stop yet.

“No, I blame your car and your large body. Technically this is all your fault, trying to get all frisky when you know you’re a giant and we don’t have a lot of space in this little sedan.”

“Now, now, now. It’s not polite to start pointing fingers, Amelia. If you want to point fingers, I will start wiggling mine at you for not properly warning me that your knee could have connected with my balls tonight. If I knew in advance, I would have worn a cup.”

“You’re being absurd.”

“Exactly. Is it making you want to come back here and knock some sense into me? I’m doing my best to try to get you to cuddle up on me.”

“Pissing me off is not going to make me want to cuddle with you.”

Growing a little serious, Aaron says, “Come on, baby. Come back here. I know your leg has to be feeling better by now. There is more room. I just want to cuddle.”

And how can I deny him that request? Why would I deny him that request? Cuddling with Aaron is seriously one of my favorite things. He is so much larger than I am, so I feel so secure and loved within his arms.

Carefully, I make my way to the back of the car and ask, “Do you want me to grab the speaker?”

He shakes his head. “No, I just want to talk with you while we watch Danny and Arnold.”

We spend the rest of our evening making up our own commentary for the movie, talking about anything and everything, resting in each other’s arms . . . with maybe a little bit of heavy petting mixed in.

The movie wraps up and the credits start to play, but we make no move to leave. Aaron strokes my hair and I keep my arm wrapped around his waist, my face plastered into his chest. He’s so warm, so protective.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” he whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me, silly.” I press a kiss to his chin. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Me either.” He shifts and sits me up. Feeling the loss of his comfort, I glance in his direction and that’s when I see how unsure he’s looking. He’s chewing on the inside of his mouth and his eyes are cast down.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, starting to feel a little nervous.

He runs his hand through his hair and sits up straighter, so I do the same. He takes my hand in his and turns toward me. “Amelia, I . . . uh.” He avoids eye contact and my heart falls.

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