Page 78 of Deviant Need

“Same,” I admit, because it’s true. I’ve only ever wanted him. “I really like having sex with you.”

“Me too.”

“I feel terrible, Misha. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re the only person I never want to hurt.”

“Stop,” he says firmly. “Look at the situation we’re in. I get why you freaked out. We’ve lived as brothers our whole lives. Shared a room, shared a family, shared everything. Of course this feels wrong even when it’s not.”

It still hurts that I’m the one who hurt him. The look on his face when I said what I said replays in my head constantly.

How do I tell him what I actually meant without revealing the whole truth? Without admitting that I’ve been in love with him since I was fifteen? I’m not ready to say that out loud yet. If I do, he might panic and shut me out completely. He might run, and I can’t risk losing him when I just got him back.

“It doesn’t mean nothing to me,” I say, glancing over at him. “I only said it because I was terrified you were going to freak out. This means everything to me. I just wanted you to know.”

His blue eyes lock onto mine, and he nods. “Apology accepted.”

I take another bite of my sandwich. He finishes his first, then jumps off the counter and stops in front of me. His hands push my legs apart, and he grips my jaw tight, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. “No more pushing me away, okay?”

“I promise.”

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then helps me down from the counter. He takes my arm and leads me toward the bathroom. We strip down and step into the shower, the hot water washing away the tension from both of us.

I catch him picking up my watermelon shampoo and sniffing it before pouring way too much into his hand and lathering himself with it.

“I’m exhausted. I have to be at the club tomorrow for some of the final touches. Can you come with me? I need moral support because our mother is going to be there, and I swear if I have to hear one more thing about flower arrangements, I might lose it.”

I huff out a laugh. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” He leans down and kisses me softly, his lips warm and gentle against mine.

When I pull back, he chases my lips so I give him one final kiss.

“Does it feel weird?” I ask. “Doing things like this with me?”

He tilts his head, thinking about it, then shakes it. “No. I mean, I never thought about you this way before. Not really. But now…” His hands slide down to grip my waist. “Now I can’t stop wanting you.”

“You’re so hot,” I mumble.

“Am I?” His grin is cocky, pleased, then shifts into something more curious. “Wait. Did you think that before? Like, before we hooked up?”

A strangled sound escapes my throat, and I feel heat flood my face. “What?”

“Before this. Did you ever think I was hot?” His eyes search mine, intense and focused.

“Yes,” I admit. “I’ve known you were hot our entire lives, Mikhail. It’s not exactly a secret.”

His breath catches, and his grip on my waist tightens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.” He bends down and grabs me under my thighs, lifting me up before I can say anything else. My back hits the shower wall, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms going around his neck. He holds me there easily, his grip firm under my legs. “You’ve been thinking I’m hot this whole time?”

“Obviously.”

“And you never said anything.” He rolls his hips into me, and I groan, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

“What did you want me to do? Make it weird?”

“Fair point,” he says with a laugh. “Did you ever look though? Like when I was getting dressed or walking around naked?”