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“I wasn’t. I don’t. Ever. I was drunk and had swallowed half the pool. Clearly it affected my taste, because you aren’t it.” I scanned him up and down, attempting to look disdainful. Honestly, it was a challenge. This guy was everyone’s type… until he opened his mouth.

“Tell that to your face,” Brody continued, unbothered by my words.

He started to brush his teeth. I couldn’t seem to move myself away from him. I wanted the damn hair tie, but I didn’t want to go into the bathroom while he was there. So, I just stood there and watched him like a creep, rooted to the spot.

“You look like you’re gagging for it.”

Gagging for it?The phrasing nearly had me recoiling, but I reminded myself that this was just him attempting to annoy me. I couldn’t let him see it had worked.

He brushed his teeth, spit, then cleaned his toothbrush meticulously, setting it down and nudging it a few inches so it was perfectly lined up with the sink. Interesting.

“You’re still staring,” he said after a moment.

“I’m waiting for you to leave, so if you could just hurry up, that would be great,” I ground out.

“Hurry up to leave my bathroom, inmyhouse… I don’t think so.”

Brody turned around and leaned a hip on the counter. The towel molded around his ass cheeks and crotch, a thick-looking bulge, and I averted my eyes. Why couldn’t I keep my eyes away from this guy’s dick? Morbid curiosity?

“You do know that none of this is yours to command, right? The brat attitude is adorable, but at the end of the day, let’s be real about the situation here.”

I flipped my hair over my shoulder, channeling all my leftover, head cheerleader snark. “Technically, since our parents are married, it’s at least partly my mom’s, and therefore mine.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he shook his head and gave an incredulous chuckle.

“As long as she doesn’t fuck up, of course. Read the prenup. My father loves to have a morality clause in there. As soon as she puts a foot wrong, I’ll make sure she’s out of here. Her reputation needs to be pristine, as does yours, so be warned.”

“What are you babbling about? Why do you think I care about anything you’re saying?” I demanded.

My skin suddenly felt clammy as he sauntered toward me.

“Oh, I think you will care,” he said. “Considering you need to answer to me.”

He was close, so close I could smell the clean scent of his bodywash. I looked up, and up some more. Mr. Bellend was tall, of course.

“Answer to you?” I smiled at him. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m big brother now, Selena. I’ll always be watching you. I don’t allow people to embarrass my family, and that’s not about to change just because my father brought a gold digger and her rude, heathen daughter into the house.”

He took a step toward me, and I backed up, staying out of his reach.

“You’ll behave, or I’ll have to make you.”

“Make me?” I echoed. I should be scared; the temptation was there to let that very feeling flood me. To imagine that he’d hurt me, here, in my own room, in our house, down the hall from our parents. It was the part of my brain that always imagined the worst happening. The part that could never trust anyone ever again.

Then there was that part of me that overrode my logical brain and urged me to push him. I wanted to see what he’d do at his worst. I wanted to know if he was a monster. Better to know now than be surprised later.

“Yes, make you. I won’t have my new sister ruining the Sinclair reputation. There will be no parties, or drinking, or jumping off fucking roofs and causing a spectacle.”

“Causing a spectacle?” I mimicked his haughty tone and laughed. “What century is this? The 1800s?”

“It might as well be for you. Just imagine you’re living then, and you need to ask the men in the family for permission on who tosee, what to do, where to go… and you need an escort if you want to be out after dark. Got it?”

The dresser bumped into my back, and I stopped. He kept going, however, and I found myself throwing a hand up, pressing it into his bare chest to halt his advance. His skin was just as hot as I vaguely remembered it being last night.

“Don’t come any closer,” I breathed. “I wouldn’t want you to get turned on again and have nowhere to stick it.”

His lips twitched, like he might have been fighting a grin, but his words didn’t betray it. “Don’t worry, Selena. I have no interest in touching you. You’re not my type,” he said in a tone better suited to a bored aristocrat.