Told you so.
Fucker wanted to get her jewelry.
I can tell when she catches sight of the engraving on the barrel because she squints, reading it aloud. “Lady’s choice…” When her gaze lifts to mine, a current passes between us—a memory.
“What was it I gave you?”
“A choice, big brother.”
I tear my eyes away, squirming under the weight of it. I’m not a good person, not a good brother, and god knows I’m absolute shit at being something more. But sometimes, when she looks at me like that, all soft and assured, it makes me think I could try.
“Okay,” Tristian says, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Now that everyone is armed…”
“Marcus texted me last night,” Rath says, sprawling out. “He says the snow hill is ready, and he got the machine to pump out extra.” Marcus is an excellent linebacker. He’s also a mechanical engineering student and handy as fuck to have around.
“We’re really going to go sledding?” Story asks, still holding her new gun. She looks excited about it, and Rath and Tristian share a grin.
“Oh, this isn’t just sledding, baby.” Rath reaches out to grab her hips, tugging her closer, “It’s snow rolling.”
She tilts her head. “What’s that?”
Five hours later, we’re all standing in the kitchen getting geared up to go to the hill, and Tristian is giving Rath a rundown of terms and conditions. “Make sure I’m hydrated,” he says, eyes narrowed at the Molly in Rath’s palm. “But not too hydrated. And don’t let me grind my teeth so much. My dentist is already on my nuts for brushing too hard.”
Rath rolls his eyes, but nods along. Same shit, different year. “I know how to handle you when you’re rolling, Tris. Just take it.”
Begrudgingly, Tristian sticks out his tongue, and Rath drops the tablet on the tip of it.
“I don’t know why you bother acting like you’re so above this.” I pull on my jacket before grabbing Story’s off the hook and passing it to her. “We all know you look forward to this dumb shit every year. In an hour, you’ll be creaming your pants over how much you love the texture of air or whatever.”
Story cranes her neck to watch as Tristian takes it into his mouth. “What does it feel like?”
Rath gives her a quick, surprised glance. “You’ve never done ex?” When she shakes her head, he explains, “It makes you feel good. You know, like…euphoric.”
Tristian adds, “You want to touch everything.”
“You want to fuck everything,” I offer.
“You get hot.” Tristian holds up his hoodie—no coat for him—before tugging it over his head. “And thirsty, and like you just want to bite the fuck out of something.”
“Everything just feels amazing.” Rath’s crucial mistake is that he shows her the baggy, which must have at least a dozen still in it.
I wince, already knowing what’s coming.
Her eyes sparkle as she stares at the bag. “I want some.”
I’d long ago brought up the difference between rolling on Molly during our epic Christmas rager versus being stuck at home with no one but each other and her. No girl is prepared for that amount of clinging horniness. Because of that, we’d all agreed it’d just be Tristian today. The two of us could keep him in line.
But Rath is giving me this dark, impish little smirk. “What do you think, big brother? I have enough to keep everyone rolling until after sundown.”
Biting back a curse, I look at our Lady. “You’d better be fucking sure.” The last thing I want is her coming down and getting all pissy about whatever happens out there. Rolling or not, if she starts rubbing up against me, I’m not holding back.
She gives a quick nod, raising her chin. “I’m sure.”
Rath looks at Tristian before reaching into the bag. He approaches me first, placing a tablet on my tongue, but when he gets to Story, he plucks one from the bag and places it on his own, giving his tongue a wiggle.
She raises an eyebrow, straining up on her toes, and in a move that I sincerely fucking hope is setting the mood for things to come, closes her lips around his tongue, cheeks hollowing when she sucks.
I watch a shiver run through Rath as she pulls back, giving him a peek of the tablet between her teeth.
This is either going to end really fucking bad or really fucking good.
“Here we go,” I mutter, watching Rath zip down the hill. “He’s going to wipe out.”