My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret novel · Chapter 9 of 32

Chapter 9: Under Her

We didn't run.

I thought we would, but we didn't.

He locked the front door of the alley behind us and the neon moon went on buzzing over the empty lanes.

We walked up the narrow stairs one step at a time, dripping on every one.

He went first and kept looking back.

I didn't.

At the top he turned on the lamp out of habit.

Then he reached for it again to turn it off.

"Leave it," I said.

He stopped with his hand on the switch.

The light fell across the bed and up the brick wall.

Over the bed the girl slept on her blue sheet with her eyes closed.

"I spent six weeks with my eyes shut while a man looked at me," I said. "I want them open this time."

"Okay."

"And I want to see you."

He took his hand off the lamp.

"Okay," he said again, rougher.

I pulled the pencil out of my wet hair and dropped it on the floor.

My hair came down heavy and cold on my shoulders.

He watched it fall.

His wet flannel was heavy, and the buttons fought me.

My hands were shaking and my fingers wouldn't work right.

I laughed once, sharp, and pulled.

A button hit the floor and rolled under the bed.

"There goes my good shirt," he said.

"It was wet."

"It was my only shirt."

"I'll buy you a new one."

He caught my wrists then, gentle, and finished the buttons himself.

The flannel hit the floor with a wet slap.

His chest was broad and damp, and I put my cold hands flat on it.

His whole body flinched.

"Jesus Christ."

"Warm them up."

He pulled me against him and my wet shirt soaked his skin.

His mouth came down on mine, and his hands found the hem of my shirt and started working it up.

I pulled back.

"Let me."

He went still.

I unbuttoned my shirt myself, one button at a time, watching his face.

His eyes stayed on mine the whole time.

When the shirt fell open he didn't look down.

He looked at me, and it was the first time anyone had looked at my face while I undressed.

"Off," I said.

He pulled the wet shirt off my shoulders and dropped it.

Then he just stood there with his hands at his sides, waiting.

"You're allowed to touch me."

"I know what I'm allowed."

"Then do it."

He reached behind me and unhooked my bra with one hand, slow.

It slid down my arms and I let it fall.

He still didn't look away from my face.

"Neve."

"What."

"I'm going to look at you now."

"I told you to."

"You told me."

His eyes finally dropped.

He looked at me like I was the painting and the wall and the whole room, and I didn't want to close my eyes at all.

He stepped out of his boots and kicked them aside.

I peeled my wet jeans down my legs and they stuck and I swore, and he laughed.

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