He was being irrational. He knew he was being irrational. And yet Eric still stood in front of her apartment and pounded at the door, waiting for Tiffany to open it, because he damn sure wasn’t going away until she did.

“Hey!”

He whipped around and saw her coming up the concrete stairs with a canvas grocery sack.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Pleasant surprise, but aren’t you supposed to be at The Fix?”

“I called Cam—never mind. We need to talk.”

She frowned, then nodded and opened the door, and he was right on her heels. Then he kicked the door closed, turned to face her, and forced himself not to pull her close and kiss her until she renounced all things Ben and promised to only be his.

Instead, he said, “You’re still with Ben? You were having a long-distance relationship with my brother and you didn’t think to mention it? And then you actually have the nerve to meet him for a date at The Fix—our place. And now you wonder why I’m here? Dammit, Tiffany, why didn’t you just ask to borrow a steak knife and jab it in my heart? It would have been kinder.”

She stared at him. Just stared, her mouth hanging open a tiny bit. In fact, she stared so long that Eric was beginning to feel as if he were in one of those Sci- Fi movies where the different species wear automatic translation devices. Only hers must be broken, because clearly all she was hearing was garbled words.

“Dammit, Tiffany, say something.”

She didn’t though. Instead, she burst out laughing.

Which really wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. “What the hell?”

“You’re an idiot. Adorable, but an idiot.”

He cocked his head. “Um. Okay, let’s rewind. What?”

“You. Have. It. All. Wrong.” She headed toward her kitchen and he followed. “Coffee?”

He only glared.

She smiled sweetly, apparently enjoying herself.

“Tiffany…”

“Your brother and I have not been dating long-distance. On the contrary, I thought his move was a convenient way for me to not have to formally break up with him. I guess I should have, though, because he clearly thought I was still interested. But I wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, Ben’s a great guy. He’s just not my guy.”

He nodded, not wanting to interrupt and knock her off track. Because right then, he wanted to hear who was her guy.

“When he called me for coffee earlier this evening, I thought that was all it was. Coffee. And I thought that I should probably say something about you and me, although to be honest I was going to play that by ear. I thought maybe you should be the one to tell him. At any rate, I had no date vibes. I had coffee vibes.”

She shrugged, then passed him a packet of Oreos. He opened it and ate one, not really paying attention to what he was doing.

“I told him I didn’t love him, and he asked me if I was seeing someone. I said I was, but I didn’t say it was you.” This time her grin was shy. “And then I told him I loved you. Well, the guy I’m seeing. But between you and me, you’re the guy.”

His head was spinning, but he had definitely focused in on the key word. Love.

“Tiffany—I— I’m an idiot.”

She snagged an Oreo. “Told you so,” she said, then took a bite.

“Love.” He swallowed. He loved her, too, but it was too soon to say it. Too soon to do anything about it. “You can’t know that,” he said. “It’s too soon.”

She stalked closer, so she was right between his legs. “Don’t tell me what I know and don’t know.”

“But we’ve only been going out for a couple of days.”

“I’m supposed to measure love by a calendar?”

“But—”

“I’ve known you for years, Eric. You’ve been in my life—in my heart—for years. I love you. Deal with it.” She grinned. “And you know what else? You love me, too.” She pressed a finger over his lips. “It’s okay if you don’t want to say it yet. But just remember who’s the psych major. I know what I know.”

And he knew she was right, but at the moment, he didn’t even care about telling her—after all, he didn’t need to. All he wanted was to feel her. To touch her. To claim her so fully and completely that any fear that she belonged to any other man—brother or not—was fully, completely and one hundred percent obliterated.

So he hooked his legs around her, pulled her close, and bent to kiss her. A long, deep kiss. A wild kiss. Her torso was pressed hard between his legs, her body brushing his trapped erection. His tongue dived deep, claiming her. Taking her. It was sex, wild and fast and hot, and he wanted to make her come like this. Wanted to take her to the edge with his mouth on hers and his fingers clutching her hair so that there was no question but that she was his.

“Please,” she begged when he broke the kiss, needing air. “Take me to bed.”

He released her from his legs, then slid down her body, until his back was to the counter and he was looking at her. Hell, yes, his voice screamed in his head. He needed her under him, those sweet noises surrounding him. He needed to bury himself inside her.

But what he said was, “Baby, we can’t.”

 

* * * *

 

Can’t?

Tiffany stared at him. “What do you mean, we can’t?”

She watched as Eric dragged a hand through his hair, looking as miserable as she felt. Which was no consolation since she didn’t really care about misery loving company. She just wanted him in her bed.

“Eric,” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

But, of course, she knew the answer even before he said it.

Ben.

“I can’t do this—we can’t do this—until I’ve explained everything to my brother.”

“What are you talking about? What difference does it make? If he were still in Connecticut we’d be in my bed right now, and I’d be enjoying my fifth orgasm of the evening.”

His lips curved up. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“Shut up. Explain to me why you’re not banging me senseless. And do it in small words and short sentences, because most of my blood is still rushing south.” Although she was getting riled up enough now that she’d soon be hyper-coherent.

“Dammit, Tiffany. Don’t pretend like you don’t understand. He’s still in love with you.”

“He’s in love with the idea of me,” she countered, but it didn’t matter; he barreled on.

“You know how close we are. Do you really think I can feel good about myself if he’s a wreck because of this? If he’s not okay with it?”

The words were like a splash of ice water, and she stepped backward until she was opposite him, her back against the kitchen island while his was against the counter. “Wait. Slow down. You’re saying this isn’t just about telling him what’s going on. This is about asking permission? About making sure he’s okay with it?” She clenched her fists, then unclenched them, trying to regain some control. “In case it escaped your notice, this is not a ménage relationship. Ben doesn’t get a vote.”

“He’s my brother. And he loves you. This will hurt him.”

“Him? It’s hurting me.”

“Tiffany.” He took a step toward her, but she twisted away. “So, what if he says he can’t deal? Does that mean you just walk away from me?” She was crying now, and she hated that. The taste of salt. The scent of rejection. The confusion that was all churned up inside of her.

“He won’t—”

“You don’t know that. And what does that say about how you think of me? I’m not his property. He doesn’t have the right to claim me and keep me away from you.”

“That’s not what I’m—”

“Just go.”

“Tiffany, please.”

But she just shook her head. Too mad and confused and hurt to do anything but push him away. “Please,” she said. “Go before I say something I really will regret.”

He went, and damn her to hell, she wasn’t sure if she was glad he’d obeyed, or pissed off that he hadn’t stayed and fought for her.