I sure as hell didn’t get my job handed to me on a gold platter. If anything, he made me work twice as hard to get where I was. Now after six and a half years under his watchful eye, I led the marketing team at Bangs and Beats. I had a high paying job which provided me with a very comfortable life; I had invested my money wisely when I first started working, and now I was the owner of the building that Josh and I lived in, all at the age of twenty-six.

“So tell me big brother, how long has it been since you’ve been between some sweet thighs?”

The amusement in Josh’s tone wasn’t lost in his question. I rolled my eyes at his taunt and nodded when he held up a Corona he’d just pulled out of my refrigerator and I took a seat at the breakfast bar.

He moved around the sparkling white space with chrome appliances and midnight black accessories like the arrogant prick he was because he knew exactly how long it had been.

After grabbing a fresh lime from the fruit bowl, he sliced it up and shoved a piece down the neck of the Corona. When I finally met his gaze, he looked at me expectedly as I snatched the beer from his hands.

“It’s been too fucking long.” I growled in response before taking a long swig of beer.

Why the fuck did we need to talk about this? Straightaway, my head and my dick started reacting to the thought of the last woman I’d been with. The feisty and leggy Samantha, a British model who had been hired to be the cover model for last month’s issue of the magazine. My best friend Ashlyn, the magazine’s assistant stylist, had forced me into attending the cover reveal party and after one too many free celebratory beers, I was balls deep in Britain in the supply closet of one of the ritziest cocktail bars in New York City, fucking like my life depended on it.

“Let’s go out for a drink. You, me, the new sports bar, strippers, and pussy?”

I shot him a look of pure outrage. “Strippers and pussy should never be mentioned in the same sentence.”

He moved around the kitchen island and pulled out a stool, taking a seat opposite me as a knowing look swept over his smug face. “Are you saying you’ve never fucked a stripper?” His question dripped with amusement, and I knew he had me by the balls.

“Fuck off! She was a dancer. Big fucking difference.”

A muffled groan poured out from deep within my chest and I knew I wasn’t going to win this battle. Of course he would suggest going out. It was Friday night and for the past three weeks I had made every excuse under the sun not to go out for a drink. He had accepted it, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he wore me down. The thing with Josh and me was that we had a relationship that couldn’t be matched. Yes, he was my younger brother, but he was also my best friend. We have been through thick and thin together, seen the best and worst of what life could offer, and we have come through the other side—with a few hiccups along the way. There had been plenty of times when he annoyed the shit out of me to the point of wanting to punch his face in, but I would take a bullet for him without question, or a couple of broken bones from bar fights when he tried to pick up the wrong woman. He was my blood. It was as simple as that.

“So are you and your little guy going to come out tonight or what?” Josh cocked a brow in my direction.

I was tired. I was beyond exhausted, and letting off some steam seemed like an enticing prospect when I thought about it. Honestly, a strip club would just equal trouble, but it could also mean an easy lay. It was catch twenty-two.

“Just come out.  A couple of drinks and a few titties. What’s the worst that can happen?” he continued to harass.

“You are a persistent little prick. Pick me up at nine.”

••••

The stabbing aggression of my headache that had been annoying me for a couple of days sprung back to life the moment Josh and I stepped into Delights. Low lights, soft pulsating music, and an atmosphere thick with sex and greed hit me with full force. Everything about this place exuded excess, temptation, and the whispered promise of sex. Within seconds, two scantily clad women made a beeline for us, and now my date for the night seemed to be a tight little blonde named Lyndsey who was hanging off my every word and looking at me with expectation.

Now don’t get me wrong, I was a man and I fucking loved women. But I certainly didn’t have any plans on securing anything long term, much to the disgust of my mom. In her eyes, I should have a house in the ‘burbs with at least two kids running around by now. I certainly shouldn’t have a thirteenth floor bachelor pad and work fifteen hour days. Of course I had sexual needs, and I fed those needs when required, but my needs didn’t include a relationship. And it certainly didn’t include a happily-fucking-ever after. That kind of happiness was foreign to me and the reasons why have continued to squeeze and taunt me, eating away at my total being in an attempt to destroy me.

It was something that I had to live with. It was something I kept so tightly strapped to my chest that only a few knew. As long as she was still hurting and as long as I still hated everything I was, I would never give myself the chance of happiness or contentment. I didn’t deserve it; it was as simple as that.

“You do realize that I’m a sure bet.” Lindsey grabbed my attention and licked her lips before rubbing herself aggressively against me. Any urge to take this woman to a motel room faded the moment she said those words. I liked the thrill of the chase, the game, the anticipation. This woman in front of me would have allowed me to fuck her in the middle of the room if I’d asked her. I groaned inwardly and shook that thought out of my head.

I was content with doing what I wanted, when I wanted, with whomever I wanted and that included women. I wasn’t a male slut, I didn’t jump from bed to bed, from pussy to pussy, from woman to woman, but I knew where to go when I wanted it, and I knew what to do or say to guarantee I wasn’t left unsatisfied.  I left the slut tag for my brother who was now standing beside me.

“So who is the unlucky girl who is as you put it wetting your dick tonight?” I asked and then tilted back my head to allow the beer to cascade down my throat, blatantly ignoring the advances of Lindsey, much to her annoyance.

“Ky and Joshua Crawford, about damn time you showed your handsome little faces.”

Josh didn’t get a chance to answer as the sound of my best friend’s sultry voice filled the space behind me. Ashlyn Hart’s amused eyes found mine the moment I spun around to face her.

“Who’s this?” Ashlyn nodded at Lindsey, who still stood close beside me and had attached herself to my arm.

“Lindsey,” I said. “And she was just leaving.”

“I can’t believe you got him to leave the office.” Ashlyn fired a wink in Josh’s direction, something I chose to ignore, and turned back to me. “It’s good to see you out and about even if you do have something hanging off you.”

“Are we getting out of here or what?” Lindsey shot me one last pleading look, clearly ignoring my earlier statement and Ashlyn’s insult and thrust her tits harder into my side.

I shook my head dismissively. I ran my hands through my thick dark hair and groaned as tightness flooded my pants. It was almost like my dick was telling me what an idiot I was to say no to an easy lay. With a huff, Lindsey spun away from me and stormed through the crowd and out of my sight. I felt like a prick because I was thankful for the peace her leaving offered.

“What the fuck was that?” Ashlyn shot in amusement, her eyes bounced back to mine. “I know it’s been a while between fucks but shit that was desperation if I’d ever seen it. I am proud of you for keeping your dick in your pants.”

“Can we at least have one drink in our systems before we start discussing the lack of action my dick has had lately.” I laughed as I turned to the bar to give the bartender our order.