Craving The Wrong Brother - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

“Of course I have to think about him,” I say, more to myself than Knox. “It's what any normal person would do.”
I hastily adjust my glasses, the frames askew from our passionate, mind-blowing, and reckless escapade. My fingers tremble as they push the lenses up the bridge of my nose. I’m acutely aware of the mascara streaking down my cheeks, painting me as the very picture of post-coital disarray. I rake my hands through my hair, attempting to tame the wild strands, and smooth down my dress.
In the mirror’s reflection, Knox watches me. His expression is unreadable. His dark eyes track my every movement, and even though I try not to look at him directly, I can feel the heat of his stare.
“Your post-nut clarity is annoying,” he says. “I feel used right now, Kitten.”
“Then you've got it better. I feel stupid.”
I turn around to finally face him, and his eyes zero in on me.
“Because you fucked me and liked it?” he asks.
I avert my eyes, shame curling in my gut. I’ve just had sex with a man whom I haven't even seen naked. In a public restroom, no less. What the hell is wrong with me? I steal a glance at Knox; he’s already adjusted his clothes, every inch the composed devil, not a hint of our tryst visible. Not even a peek.
“We had a wonderful time, Knox,” I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “But this can’t happen again. Finn can’t find out about this.”
He remains silent, his eyes never leaving mine. In some weird way, I think he's trying not to smile. The corners of his mouth twitch.
“Do we have a deal, Knox?” I press, desperation seeping into my tone.
“Go back to your friend, Kitten. He must be missing his little pet.”
I have no retort, no witty comeback. Just a gnawing guilt that threatens to consume me. I turn on my heel, fumbling with the lock before wrenching the door open.
A petite woman stands in the doorway, arms crossed tight beneath a cleavage-baring corset. Her foot taps impatiently on the floor. She’s got piercings everywhere—eyebrow, nose, lip, and a shiny silver stud glinting from the dip of her collarbone. She's glaring at me.
“So you were in there all this time?” she snaps.
“Sorry,” I mumble, attempting to sidestep her wrath.
Her eyes move over my shoulder, widening as she takes in what I assume must be Knox. “Damn. Were you in there screwing that?”
Heat floods my face. Without another word, I bolt, running down the hallway, weaving through the thrumming club, the bass reverberating in my chest like a second heartbeat. I need to get back to Finn, to normalcy, to anything but this spiraling disaster.
I find him alone at our booth, the lap dancer mercifully gone. He cradles his bourbon, and my drink waits beside him. As I approach, he knits his brow, concern etching lines across his face.
“I was wondering if I needed to get security or something,” he says, eyes scanning me. “What happened?”
I force a laugh. “Long line in the restroom. You know how it is; women and their bladders.”
I sit beside him, tapping nervously on my lap and turning to smile at him.
But his eyes have moved past me. They're somewhere else, narrowed. I follow his line of sight to see Knox sauntering back to the VIP section, raising his glass in a mock salute toward Finn.
“What were you doing in the restroom, Sloane?” Finn’s voice is low.
“Peeing. What else would I be doing?”
He turns to me fully now. “Was my brother there?”
“Come on. The restrooms here are labeled.”
“You’re deflecting. Answer the question.”
“What do you mean I’m deflecting?” My heart races, pounding against my ribcage like a caged animal. Finn knows me too well; I’m a terrible liar.
His eyes narrow further. “Did he touch you?”
“Finn…”
“Did you fuck him?”
“What’s your problem?” I snap, panic rising like bile.
He grabs my arm, pulling me closer, his eyes scanning me, searching. Then his gaze lands on my neck, and I know—I know—that he’s seen the mark Knox left there. Shit.
His expression darkens, morphing into something I don't recognize. Something primal. Hard. Cold. Like storm clouds gathering.
And then—without warning—he stands.
The suddenness of it startles me.
His movements are abrupt and charged.
“Finn!” I call, scrambling to my feet, trailing behind him as he storms through the club. I dodge bodies, my breath coming in ragged gasps, but I can’t catch up. He’s a man on a mission.
By the time I reach the VIP section, Finn’s fist is already connecting with Knox’s face.
“Finn!” I scream, pushing through the crowd. “Stop!”
But he doesn’t. He keeps swinging, rage fueling each punch. And Knox? He just takes it, a twisted smile playing on his bloodied lips. The man beside Knox intervenes, shoving Finn away. I seize the opportunity, wrapping my arms around Finn from behind, trying to anchor him, to pull him back from the edge.
“Stop it. Please,” I plead, my voice breaking.
“You’ve crossed the line, Knox,” Finn spits, chest heaving. “I asked you to stay away from her. I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
Knox wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his skin. “You always hit like a girl, little brother.”
Finn lunges again, but before he can get even a full step closer, bouncers appear.
They move with military precision, grabbing Finn mid-stride—one hooks an arm around his chest, the other catches him by the elbow, twisting just enough to pin him without causing too much damage.
Finn thrashes.
“Get off me!” he says, trying to jerk free, but it’s no use. They’re trained for this—built for it. Muscles like stone. Faces like steel.
One of them leans in close. “Sir, you need to leave. Now.”
Finn's eyes are still locked on Knox. “Take your hands off me. I’m leaving anyway.”
But he’s not going anywhere. Not really. He’s still straining, still ready to launch himself again if given an inch.
And Knox? That bastard just lounges in his seat like a prince watching a street fight. One arm resting lazily on the booth, blood trickling from the corner of his smirking mouth.
“Let him go, please,” I say, voice small. “I’ll take him home.”
“Don’t.” He turns to me, eyes ablaze. “Is this what you meant when you said you wanted to explore immorality? Slutting after my brother and screwing him in a public restroom? Well, congratulations, honey. You can’t get any more immoral than that.”
“Are we cool here, sir?” one of the bouncers says. “Do we have to drag you out?”
“We’re cool.”
“Great.”
They loosen their hold, and he shakes himself free, spinning on his heel and stalking toward the exit.
“Finn!” I call, moving to follow, but an arm snakes around my waist, halting me. Knox.
“Let him go,” he murmurs into my ear. “He’s made his point.”
Tears prick at my eyes, blurring my vision. I shove away from Knox, turning to face him, anger and shame warring within me.
“This is what you wanted, wasn't it?” I say, voice trembling.