Filed To Story: Craving The Wrong Brother Book PDF Free by Elysian Sparrow
“What, might I ask, are you doing up there?”
“Smoking.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s a terrible habit. It literally says on the pack that it can kill you.”
“You can’t help being a good person, can you, Sloane? Even when you claim to hate the Hartleys, you still care about our lungs.”
“Saying the truth isn’t the same as caring.”
“You think I’d give a fuck if someone I hate was killing themselves? Why don’t you bring your caring ass over here and take this Cuban cigar out of my mouth?”
God. My body flushes. I grip the phone tighter. He always does this-wraps filth in velvet and makes it sound like poetry. The last time I was alone with Knox, I ended up getting bent over a countertop. As much as I want that, I have to stay focused on leaving.
My voice is unsteady. “Isn’t the rooftop open? It’s drizzling.”
“There’s a patio. You thought I was standing in the rain?”
“I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself, Knox.”
“Now how would I drive if my hands were to myself?”
“You could be nice and just come down.”
He laughs again. “If you want something, Kitten, you come and get it.”
“Knox…”
“I understand that you’re having difficulty making a decision-as is your nature, I’ve noticed-so I’ll help you out. Just give me a few seconds.”
I hold my breath in hope. “You’re coming down?”
“A couple more seconds, Kitten. Be patient.”
I don’t understand what he means until-
Oh.
Ohhhh.
The motherfucker turned it on.
I forgot I was even wearing the vibrator. I’ve been too consumed by rage and humiliation and shame to remember what my entire plan for tonight was in the first place.
And now-
My body jolts like I’ve been shocked. My breath hitches. I stagger, hand gripping the side of the building for balance.
My knees buckle slightly. My thighs clench. Heat floods my cheeks.
“Knox,” I hiss into the phone. “Turn it off.”
But instead, the intensity rises. My toes curl in my heels.
His voice is as smooth as ever. “See, I knew you had it on. You’re wilder than you show. Come to the rooftop, Sloane. Come get what you want.”
Come Get Me
The line goes dead.
I stare at the screen, slack-jawed, vibrating in more ways than one.
I groan.
Still bent slightly, I gather myself. My thighs ache with want. How weird would it look if I dug into my panties right now to pull out the vibrator? The person making a call at the other edge of the portico is already eyeing me suspiciously. And the restroom is back where I came from, in that hall.
I’m going to kill Knox.
I walk.
Heart pounding. Jaw tight. Face burning.
I head back inside the building, eyes fixed on the stairs I hope lead to the rooftop.
This Was A Mistake
I force myself to walk in a straight line.
Back tall. Shoulders squared. Like I’m not being held hostage by a vibrator currently pulsing in-between my legs.
It’s only after reaching the foot of the stairs that I realize how stupid I’m being. There’s literally an elevator leading to the top floor.
I stare at it for a second, then turn, walk to it, and press the button.
The doors slide open, and I can’t say how grateful I am that no one’s inside.
Once I’m in the elevator, I suck in air through my nose and hold it while the numbers climb. Each ding vibrates against my spine. I adjust the collar of my coat and try not to squirm, but the heat crawling between my thighs makes that a losing. battle.
The doors open.
I don’t wait-I dart out, make a sharp right, and head toward the rooftop access. I come face-to-face with a bouncer standing by the heavy glass door, arms crossed, face set as stone.
Now I feel self-conscious. Could he hear it?
He squints at me. “This area is private, ma’am.”
“I, uh… I’m meeting someone. A friend.”
He raises a brow. “Name?”
“Knox Hartley.”
“Your name, I mean.”
“Sloane.”
He eyes me a second longer, then sighs, pulling the door open and handing me a hotel-branded umbrella. “Take this. It’s wet out.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing it like it might be the last thread of dignity I have left.
I step into the drizzle and snap the umbrella open, the light spray dotting my shoes. The wind picks up slightly, but it’s not unpleasant. Just enough to wake up the parts of me that have been lulled into submission by tension and adrenaline.
And then I see him.
Knox.
He’s in the far corner of the rooftop beneath a modern awning, the kind with sleek beams and hanging lights that blur softly in the mist. As I suspected, he’s conveniently sitting in a shadowy corner-or maybe he’d turned off the lights there himself; you can never tell with that man. He’s draped over a lounge chair, one arm slung casually over the backrest, the other holding a thick cigar. Smoke coils around him, veiling his face in a ghostly swirl that only makes him look more dangerous.
I walk straight to him.
“Knox,” I call. “Turn it off.”
He doesn’t move at first, just lifts his chin.
Once I’m under the shade, I collapse the umbrella and set it down with more force than necessary. My breath is uneven. My heart is a hammer in my chest.
Knox ashes his cigar with slow, practiced ease. Then he looks at me.
Expression unreadable. Calm.
“You look quite flustered,” he says.
I tap a foot. “Turn it off, Knox.”
His lips twitch. He picks up his phone without breaking eye contact and taps it.
Merciful silence.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.