One Night of Trouble

Those warm and fuzzy thoughts carried him into slumber, and he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he’d fallen asleep with a smile on his face. God knew he woke up with one.

The moment he opened his eyes the next morning and found Brett curled up beside him in bed, his lips curved in satisfaction.

They’d eventually found their way into her bedroom, and were now tangled together between the sheets. She was naked, one leg hooked over his hip, one arm flung across his chest. The beams of sunlight slipping into the room through the gap in the curtains cast a halo of light around her face, and he smiled when he saw that her cheek bore the impression of the blanket.

She really was beautiful. Not in the classic sense, but in an interesting way. Her mouth was a tad too wide, her chin a little too angular, and those dark eyes were too big for her face, yet the combination of details created a striking package that fascinated him.

He would’ve liked to give her a wake-up she’d never forget, but unfortunately, his bladder wasn’t cooperating. Stifling a curse, he slid out of bed and quietly searched the bedroom for something to wear. His clothes had been abandoned in the living room, but he felt weird walking around naked in Brett’s apartment, so he swiped the pink towel that had haphazardly been tossed on the dresser and quickly wrapped it around his waist.

It only took a minute to pop into the hall bathroom and do his business, but just as he was about to head back to the bedroom, a loud creak echoed through the apartment.

AJ froze.

Was that the front door?

Shit. It was.

Heavy footsteps suddenly thumped from the hall, accompanied by a deep male voice. “Brett? You up?”

Fucking hell. Did Brett have a boyfriend?

The thought flew into AJ’s head like a fastball, bringing a jolt of panic. He hadn’t thought to ask her last night, but…she had to be single, right? She wouldn’t have slept with him if she wasn’t.

Right?

He was two seconds from diving into the bedroom when the footsteps got closer. “Yo, why are there clothes on the living room floor? I thought you learned how to pick up after yourself—”

A tall, dark-haired man rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks.

“Oh. Hi.” Confused dark eyes collided with AJ’s sheepish face before narrowing in suspicion. “Who the hell are—Walsh?”

Recognition dawned on the other man’s face at the precise moment that AJ experienced a déjà vu of his own. “Conlon?” he said in surprise.

“Holy shit, it is you.” Rob Conlon broke out in a broad smile. “AJ Walsh. Dude, it’s been years.”

Many years, in fact. AJ hadn’t seen Rob since high school, and Conlon was the last person he’d expected to run into this morning—while wearing a pink towel.

AJ studied his former classmate, noting that the guy hadn’t changed much over the years. Rob was as tall as he’d been back then, with the same cropped haircut and scruffy facial hair. Definitely more muscular, though, and the full-sleeve tattoos were also new.

“How’ve you been, man?” Rob charged forward to pull AJ in for a macho side hug, which he uneasily returned.

“I’m good. You?”

“Doing great.” As Rob took a step back, the joy he’d been emitting reverted back to distrust. His gaze lowered to the towel slung around AJ’s hips, as if he’d just noticed the pink monstrosity.

“What are you doing here?” Rob asked warily. “Where’s my sister?”

Sister?

Oh crap. Brett was Rob’s sister?

But a hasty examination of the other man’s face was all it took to spot the resemblance. They had the same eyes, AJ realized, though while Rob’s features were sharply masculine, Brett’s were soft and delicate. Not to mention that Rob Conlon was a frickin’ mountain compared to Brett’s pixie frame.

“Seriously, where the hell is she?”

AJ was about to answer, but Brett’s calm voice cut him off.

“I’m right here.” Like a graceful feline, she sauntered out of the bedroom wearing an oversize T-shirt that hung to her knees.

AJ saw through her composed facade. She’d clearly thrown her shirt on in a hurry—the damn thing was inside out—and her hair was noticeably tousled from sleep…and other much less innocent activities. AJ remembered tangling his fingers through that inky-black hair many, many times last night. Pulling on it, too. Hard.

Before he could stop it, a parade of vivid memories marched into his head, the most prominent involving Brett’s lips wrapped around his cock.

He had to will his lower body not to respond, because the last thing he needed was to spring a boner in front of Brett’s brother. Christ. That would go over like a punch to the face.

A literal one, most likely. With AJ’s face being the one in question.