Sweet Ache by K. Bromberg

Author:K. Bromberg [Bromberg, K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780349408309
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2015-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

HAWKIN

I scrub my hand over my jaw as I contemplate how to answer the question one of the students has asked me, and I realize I can still smell the scent of Quin’s pussy on my fingers. Fuck me.

Talk about a way to lighten the somber memory of today’s anniversary.

And ease the anxiety over the judge sitting in the very top row of the auditorium, watching my every move to make sure that I’m fulfilling my obligation.

I force myself to concentrate on not screwing up, not on how little Miss Q just screwed me senseless in the alcove over to my right, but fuck if it’s not hard to do. Especially with her scent now seared in my psyche.

So I glance over to where she sits, head down, working on whatever she works on while I lecture, and I lose my train of thought. Well of course you did, dipshit. All you can think about is diving back beneath that skirt as soon as class is over. And God how I love her affinity for sexy-ass skirts.

I must be silent for too long because she glances up and meets my eyes before averting them quickly. But I catch the little smile that plays on her lips as she returns to pretending like she doesn’t care. Fuck if it’s not sexy and calls on me to have her again.

Yes, please. The sound of her voice saying that replays in my head as I refocus despite not being able to stop my own secretive smile at knowing what only she knows happened before class. I begin to give an answer, explain just how recreational drug use in Hollywood is the equivalent to putting a fat kid in a candy store and telling him to choose just one item, when a motion at the top of the steps catches my eye.

Why the hell is he here? And of course if I didn’t have Quin’s pussy numbing my mind the reason would be front and center.

Hunter slides into a seat in an aisle a third of the way down the banked rows. He has a baseball cap low over his eyes so one wouldn’t immediately make the connection that he was here, but I know my brother, recognize his clothes and his presence. Besides, I notice him only because everyone else is so busy looking at me.

Including the judge. How much more of a clusterfuck can this be?

As Hunter looks up and meets my gaze, the intense look on his face tells me why he’s here. My brother who uses everything else to help him forget—sex, booze, drugs, pushing my buttons—is here because today of all days, the anniversary of Dad’s suicide, he’s going to abuse the one thing he can without risking jail time. Me. Deep down I know somehow, some way, Hunter is here to try to hurt me for the fate he screwed himself out of but blames me for instead.

Jealousy is a mean, nasty bitch.

He flashes me a smarmy smirk, and I know I’m right.

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