I jog back into the house and close the door behind me. I lean against the door, letting out a big sigh as I close my eyes.

What the heck just happened? Why am I so flushed? Why does it feel like I’ve just run a marathon?

Why is my underwear completely drenched?

Who am I kidding? I already know the answer to those questions… and the answer lies in those deep, steely grey eyes and that incredibly broad chest. The way the water droplets ran down Jesse’s skin was doing crazy things to my insides. I can still feel his touch on my skin, and my heart is hammering against my ribcage.

Shit.

I’m attracted to my fiancé’s brother.

Oh my gosh, I’m a terrible person.

A terrible, terrible person. The worst kind of person.

I open my eyes again to see Bruce and Shannon sitting near the fireplace as Elijah builds a fire. I kick my boots off and take a deep breath. I press my hands to my cheeks—yep, burning hot.

How could I not be blushing? Jesse was like a six-foot-four wall of solid, glistening muscle. He was wearing nothing but a towel, for crying out loud! His shoulders were like two boulders, and his chest was so inviting. I just wanted to trace my fingers over every inch of rippling brawn.

And when he ran his fingers through that thick mop of brown hair—my lord. I just about melted.

My feet carry me over towards the family even though my mind is still at the pool house. Shannon looks up at me and her eyebrows shoot up.

“How is the hand, honey?”

“It’s good,” I say, uncurling my fingers and showing my bandage. “Jesse helped me.”

Is it just me, or did Elijah stiffen? He keeps his eyes on the fire, and I ignore the feeling of dread creeping up my spine. I shake my head. I’m just paranoid…

… Because I’m so turned on that I can hardly think straight. By my fiancé’s older brother.

Did I mention I’m the worst kind of person?

Everyone turns their heads when the back door opens and Jesse steps through. The air rushes out of my lungs as his eyes meet mine. He glances at Elijah by the fireplace and shakes his head.

“Typical,” he laughs. “I do all the work and Elijah gets all the glory.”

Elijah stands up and grins. “You were always better at the grunt work than I was.”

They walk towards each other and wrap their thick, muscular arms around each other. It’s like two giants crashing into each other in the living room.

Now I understand why the ceiling is so high. It looks almost proportional with these guys filling up the space. Two NFL star quarterbacks need a lot of space—if not for their huge, muscular bodies, then for their egos.

My eyes drift to Jesse. I want to look away—I know it’s wrong to stare at him like this, but I can’t help it. He’s wearing a tight white tee-shirt and dark jeans. When he walks towards the living room, I can see the shape of his pecs through the fabric of his shirt. His nipples are hard, which for some reason is really, really turning me on.

Or, continuing to turn me on, I guess.

Jesse’s eyes flick to me. A smile twitches at his lips and my cheeks burn again.

This is so wrong.

I shouldn’t be enjoying this.

I should be a dutiful wife—fiancée. I should be all over Elijah, not lusting after his brother.

But when Jesse spreads his arms with a grin and gives Elijah a quick hug, all I can look at are the way his biceps bulge. He turns to me and my heart starts racing.

“Nice to see you again.” His arms spread out again and he wraps me in an awkward, not-very-brotherly hug.

God, he smells good.

The image of him wearing nothing but a towel with his skin glistening with water pops into my head. Jesse pulls away and drags his hands down my arms. He takes my hand in his.

“How’s the palm.”

“It’s good,” I choke. My voice is gone. I clear my throat. “Thanks for your help.”

“Don’t mention it.” He winks at me and drops my hand. I take a few steps over to Elijah and put my arm around his waist. Is it just me, or is he more tense than usual? I squeeze my arm around his waist and then he pulls away, grabbing his drink from the mantle.

My chest stings.

Can he tell?

He’s been distant lately. And in the car, he was completely ignoring my requests to slow down. Have I done something to upset him? My head is going a million miles an hour.

Mr. Moose jumps off the chair where he was dozing, and comes bounding towards me. He circles my legs and then sniffs at Jesse suspiciously. Jesse drops down on one knee and starts scratching his ear and talking nonsense to him.

My heart swells.

Elijah never touches Moose.

Jesse sits down on the floor and Moose climbs on top of him. Soon the two of them are rolling around. Jesse’s laughing, his perfect, pearly white teeth sending a thrill down my spine. He picks Moose up and holds him against his chest, then glances at me.

“Your dog?”

I nod. “His name is Mr. Moose.”

Jesse laughs. I take a step towards him as Moose nuzzles into Jesse’s neck.

“He likes you.”

Jesse’s eyes meet mine for a second, and the energy between us is heavy and intoxicating. I don’t need any mulled wine when he’s close. I’ve never been drunk before, but I imagine this is what it feels like.

I jump when Maria’s voice rings out behind us. “Dinner is ready,” she announces. Her eyes meet mine and I smile at her. She seems surprised, her eyes flicking between Jesse and me. Then, she nods and smiles back. A knot forms in my stomach. I follow the family towards the dining room, doing my best to keep my distance from Jesse.

We walk down a wide hallway and my eyes widen. Anyone who calls this place a ‘cabin’ is definitely living a different reality than I am. We step through tall double doors into a huge room, dominated by a long, hardwood table. There are candlesticks lined up along the center, with a thick white tablecloth and fancy place settings. There are about twice as many utensils as a reasonable person could possibly need, and I’m pretty sure the chandelier cost more than my college degree.

I should be used to all this by now—Elijah and I have been together almost two years. He makes more money than I could imagine, but I didn’t know he came from money, too.

I take my seat next to Elijah and glance at Mrs. Matthews.

“This is a lot more than I was expecting for our first meal. I thought we’d be having sausages roasted on the fire, or something,” I grin.

She laughs, and then waves her hand towards a bottle of wine. Jesse hands it to her, and then he looks at me. His gaze lingers on my eyes.

My cheeks are on fire. Warmth blooms in my stomach, and I quickly look away.

This is so, so wrong.

“So, Jesse,” Elijah says gruffly. I know that tone of voice, and I don’t like it. “How are you feeling about the rest of the season?”

Jesse shrugs. “Team’s doing pretty well.”

He’s being modest. I know that Jesse’s team, the New England Patriots, is vying for a spot in the Super Bowl. The way things are shaping up as the playoffs come nearer, it looks like Jesse and Elijah might play each other.

“Could be a Matthews family Super Bowl,” Elijah says. I can hear the challenge in his voice. If both teams do well in the playoffs, the biggest game of the year will have the two brothers going head-to-head.

“I’m aware.”

“You think you can outplay our defense? It’s ranked the best in the league right now.”

Jesse’s grip on his wine glass tightens, and Elijah is sitting stiffly beside me. Underneath the polite voices, there’s tension that betrays years of competition.

“Let’s not talk about work at dinner,” Jesse says. “Plus, I’m sure your beautiful fiancée is sick of hearing about football.”

“What, because women aren’t into sports?” I say before I can stop myself.

Jesse’s eyes gleam, and Elijah chuckles.

“She doesn’t mind,” my fiancé says.

“Let the woman speak for herself.” Jesse watches me as he sips his wine.

I hold his gaze, playing with the base of my water glass. I tilt my head to the side and grin. “I wouldn’t be marrying Elijah if I wasn’t into football. Been watching the Giants play since I was three years old.”

“Ah,” Jesse grins. “So you’d never cheer for the Patriots, then, would you?”

“Urgh,” I say, side-eyeing him. Jesse’s mouth stretches wider.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“There is one redeeming thing about you playing for the Patriots,” I say, taking a sip of water.

Elijah turns towards me with an eyebrow raised. Jesse leans forward, and I can see Mr. and Mrs. Matthews hanging on my words. I put my glass down, raising my eyes back towards Jesse.

“At least you don’t play for the Jets.”

Bruce bursts out laughing, smacking his meaty palm on the table and pointing at me. He lifts his wine glass up towards me and winks.

“Well said, Farrah.” Bruce laughs. “Elijah, you’ve done well.”

“You sure have,” Shannon replies, smiling at me.

I steal a glance at Jesse, whose eyes are flashing with mischief. He’s grinning in a way that makes my chest fill with warmth. My palm burns, and it’s not from the splinter. I can still feel his touch on my skin. I look away, leaning into Elijah and clearing my throat.

Elijah puts his arm around the back of my chair and squeezes my shoulder. He nods to his father.

“I sure have,” he says. “She’s a keeper. Now if only Jesse could find a woman half as good, he’d be twice as lucky.”

Jesse shakes his head. “We’re not talking about my love life. Not now. Not at dinner.”

“Why not?” I can’t stop myself. I want him to look at me with those dark grey eyes again.

When he turns them towards me, my heart does a flip.

“I don’t think you could handle that kind of drama,” Jesse grins.

“You might be surprised,” I answer. Why am I still talking? Is it obvious that we’re flirting right now?

Fuck. I mean, obviously it’s obvious. I need to shut my mouth! What is wrong with me?

Thankfully, Maria arrives with a couple plates full of steaming roast beef and mashed potatoes, and the six of us move on to other subjects.

I keep my eyes on my own plate for most of the dinner, except for one moment, right before dessert. It feels like someone is staring at me, and I look up to see Jesse eyeing me. He holds my gaze for a few moments until my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. His eyes flick down to my lips and a sizzle of electricity zips through my body.

Finally, I tear my gaze away and put my hand on Elijah’s thigh. He puts his hand over mine, and I ignore the heat curling in my stomach.

This is so wrong.