Page 79 of Deviant Need

Oh my god. He’s fishing, and I cannot tell him the truth, or he’s going to know I’ve been perving on him for years.

“Maybe,” I mumble and immediately bury my face against his neck, my arms wrapping tighter around him.

“Maybe.” His voice drops lower, and I can hear the grin in it. “So that’s a yes.”

“Please stop asking questions.”

“No way.” He presses a kiss to the side of my head, and his grip on my thighs tightens. “You were checking me out this whole time.”

“Misha, please.”

“That’s kind of fucked up, Danya,” he says, but he doesn’t sound upset. He sounds entertained by the whole thing. “We are brothers, and you were sneaking looks at me.”

This has to be the most mortifying conversation of my life. “I know. Can we please stop talking about this?”

“Not yet.” He pulls back enough to look at me, and I force myself to meet his eyes. His grin is wicked, and his eyes are dark with amusement. “How often?”

“What?”

“How often were you looking?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Come on.” He rolls his hips into me again, and I bite back a moan, my resolve crumbling. “Tell me.”

“All the time,” I admit, miserable. “Happy now?”

“I like that.” He leans in, watching my reaction. “One day you’re going to admit if you ever got yourself off thinking about me. I’m getting that confession out of you.”

Oh fuck. My face burns so hot I might combust, and I want to sink through the floor and disappear. He cannot find out about that. I will die first. I’ve done it more times than I can count, and that secret is staying buried forever. This is as close to the truth as he’s getting for now.

He kisses me hard, his tongue sliding into my mouth and flicking against mine. I kiss him back desperately, trying to pour everything I can’t say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and I’m reminded again. His pupils are blown wide, dark pools swallowing up the blue. He’s wasted. Who knows what he’s been taking for the past few days.

My stomach twists, but I don’t say anything. What’s the point? He already knows I know. I’ll spend everyday making sure he knows someone puts him first, that he has someone who will stand by him no matter what. He already knows he has that in me though. Knowing doesn’t stop him from destroying himself.

I can’t fix this for him. Can’t be enough to fill whatever void keeps pulling him back to the drugs. He has to want to stop. All I can do is stay, hold on when he spirals, and make sure he knows I’m not going anywhere.

My gaze shifts to Mikhail again for the five hundredth time in five minutes, and I can’t help myself. He’s just standing there doing nothing, and I’m staring at him like an idiot. I need to stop before someone catches me looking at him like this because I couldn’t make it more obvious if I tried. Might as well announce to everyone that we’re fucking, because he’s got me reacting like some Victorian guy who just caught a glimpse of an ankle.

Every time he shifts, his muscles move under that sweater, and I can see the ridges of his abs through the fabric even from here. Eight-pack. The man has an actual eight-pack and doesn’t even think it’s impressive, just walks around like everyone looks like that.

The booth is blocking my view of his lower half, and I’m annoyed about it because I want to check out his ass. I want to see the way his jeans stretch across his thighs when he leans like that, the way his body moves when he’s focused on something.

But I’m stuck here pretending to work while my brain keeps short-circuiting every time he so much as breathes. People keep weaving around the space, busy with whatever they’re organizing, and Mother’s off doing her thing somewhere. My cock twitches when Mikhail glances my way, one eyebrow raised, before his attention drops back to the screen.

Dismissed. I shift in my seat, jaw clenched tight.

Fuck it. Snatching up the lunch I made for him, I push myself up and walk over to make sure he actually eats something.

Our mother intercepts me halfway, her hand landing on my shoulder. Her blue eyes lock onto mine. “Did you confirm the flower delivery is scheduled for the right time?”

I nod.

“Good. I need those papers, Daniil. I’ll come back to you in a few minutes.”

Jesus, she’s going to pop a blood vessel soon if she doesn’t stop fussing about these stupid flowers.

She releases my shoulder and walks off, grumbling something under her breath. I move into Mikhail’s booth. He barely looks at me. Doesn’t even pause his typing. I sigh and nudge him with my elbow and put down the food in front of him.