Crushing On My Brother’s Best Friend Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
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“I was,” I say. “I’d never let anything happen to her. I’ll always protect her.”

He looks at me for a long time, his eyes red, his lips trembling.

It’s like he’s silently asking me, Are you saying that as a friend or something else?

“They’re lucky they didn’t take it any further,” I snarl. “I would’ve killed them. Every single one. When I saw her on that mattress… I think she should stay with us for a while. There is another spare room.”

“I was thinking the same,” Adam says, still giving me that look, as if he wants to ask a question, but he’s scared of the answer. “Are you going to get into any trouble?”

“No,” I tell him. “The cop laughed about it when he mentioned breaking the gate, the door, and the assault on those bastards. I might have if one of those pricks had forced me to take it further. But a few broken bones? They got away lucky.”

“Thank you,” Adam says, his voice cracking. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her, too.”

“Me neither.”

We sit together, thinking of the terror Harper must have endured, not knowing what would happen next. There’s still rage in me, boiling, as I relive the moment again and again.

The door bursts open. Tiffany runs in, her heels clicking on the floor.

“Is she okay? Is she safe? Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” She collapses in a heap on the floor, shuddering.

Adam stands, walks over to her, and lays his hand on her shoulder.

I’m in no place to offer comfort to anyone except to my woman, my Harper, whom I’ll always protect.

For the rest of my life, I’ll keep her safe.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Harper

I lie in bed, reliving the moments that led up to the drugging, turning, and looking across the dance floor, searching for Tiffany. Then the grogginess, the fear.

It’s probably for the best that the memories of the dirty outhouse-type building are lost to me. I only know what happened because Adam explained it yesterday, the afternoon they cleared me to leave the hospital.

The three of us drove to my apartment together—me, Adam, and Bryson—where Tiffany was waiting. Adam had called ahead and asked her to pack some of my things.

My heart shattered when she rushed to me, crying heavily, begging me to forgive her. “I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve realized way sooner you were gone. I thought you were in the bathroom, but that’s no excuse.”

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly. “It’s not your fault. It’s the jerks who did this. The police have them in custody.”

Adam couldn’t help but smile when he told the story, recounted by Bryson, about how Bryson had surged across the city in search of me. My heart raced when I heard about Bryson beating the crap out of those men and lining them up outside the outhouse while waiting for the police to arrive.

“He saved you,” Adam said. “I’m so glad he was there.”

I wonder if Adam would remain glad if he knew the thoughts this had triggered in me, wave upon wave of singing inside of me, telling me Bryson did what he did because he wants me, needs me, and feels possessive over me.

It’s not because he’s a decent man who did the decent thing. It’s so much more than that.

It’s been two days since the event. I’m slowly beginning to feel somewhat normal, though the aftershocks of it will always pulse through me in some form. The thought of what could’ve happened if Bryson had been ten minutes late twist my dreams into nightmares.

A knock at the door brings me back to the present. I sit up, looking across the guest room, the morning sunlight slanting through the icy window and resting on the smooth oak of the door.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Adam says. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

I tell myself not to be disappointed that it isn’t Bryson. We haven’t been alone since that night, though he’s just across the hall. It’s as though he’s purposefully avoiding me.

I understand why. The heat might spin out of control, his touch magnetizing to me, and maybe he thinks I don’t want that after what happened. But nothing—not even this—could make me stop wanting him.

Adam opens the door and comes to the bed, sitting on the end. He’s wearing cargo pants and a plaid shirt I recognize as his work clothes. “I’m going to be out for most of the day. One of my crews ran into a problem, something more than I can ask of Bryson to deal with. I’ve asked him to stay here, and he’s agreed.”

Adam stares at me, his eyes swimming as though there’s so much else he wants to say.

I almost yell, What happened with him and Eva?

“You don’t have to babysit me,” I say. “I’m feeling better. Really.”



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