take the time to build. This would have to be quick.
He squeezed his fingers, pumping, letting out a hiss as his flesh swelled in his grip. Harder and harder he worked himself, bracing his forehead on the arm he pressed against the damp wall of the shower. His balls drew up, tighter than his hold on his cock. Just another minute more—
Dimly, he heard his front door buzzer. Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses or girls selling cookies. Who the hell cared?
He was close. So damn close.
Another buzz, longer than the last. Someone was leaning on the damn thing.
They’ll go away.
Except they didn’t. The buzzes might as well have been someone slamming the hi-hats.
Clang, clang, you’re not gonna get to come so might as well stop prolonging the torture.
Cursing, he turned off the water and yanked open the shower door. He pulled a towel off the rack and swished it around his waist.
“Someone better be fucking dead,” he muttered, slicking a hand down his dripping face and over his sopping hair.
He padded barefoot to the door, not caring that he was leaving a path of wet footprints over the floor. Probably yet another sign that he was out of control.
Shit, he was a hotel trasher, a pussy partaker, and practically an alcoholic if his family and friends could be believed. What were a few damp spots?
Once he reached the panel beside the door, he pressed the button for the lobby. “Yes? Who is it?”
If the person had gone, he was probably going to throw something. It didn’t count as trashing a place if he owned it.
Hell, it probably did.
“Mike, it’s me. Let me up.”
Michael frowned. Only one person called him Mike and didn’t get a double barrel of snark in return. He’d always been Michael since his days as a pretentious kid who hated nicknames. “Mal?”
“Yeah.” The response was gruff, as most things were from his brother. “C’mon, buzz me in. Pretty sure they think I’m trying to break into the place.”
In spite of everything, Michael laughed and released the door.
A minute later, he turned the knob and found Malachi standing on the other side of the threshold. Huge, hulking, tattooed, bald. His opposite in every way.
“Long time no see, little brother.”
Chapter 3
Malachi Shawcross, his older brother. In the flesh.
Giant flesh, but good goddamn.
“Mal,” Michael managed before he was swept up into a massive bear hug. He didn’t have much choice but to return it, or risk losing lung function.
Sweet hell, Malachi was one big motherfucker. Shit, it was great to see him.
Long time no see was an understatement. He hadn’t been this physically close to his brother in a year or two, though they lived in the same frigging state.
Born eleven months apart, they’d gone from being best friends to practically enemies after their parents had divorced. Malachi had sided with their mother, and Michael had been closer to his father. He also hadn’t had such a hard time accepting Lila in their lives. Malachi had blamed Lila for the breakup while Michael had taken it much more in stride. Somehow he’d known even at that young age that Lila wouldn’t have been able to come between two people who were truly in love. His parents had fought all the time, and once they were apart, things got better. Life calmed down, minus the fact that his older brother had started pulling away.
Lila had been a fun kind of stepmom, always taking him to cool places like the zoo and her parents’ orchard back in New York. Through his dad’s marriage to her, Michael had gained another parent, one who wasn’t out mainly for her only interests.
And he’d repaid her for all those awesome years by making her feel bad. Yeah, he was winning all kinds of awards today.
Now his estranged brother was standing in front of him, and he’d be damned if he screwed this up too.
Maybe this would be the one thing to actually go right in a so far completely shitty day.
“Everything okay?” Michael asked as Malachi stepped back. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Me, Ma. We’re both fine.” The smallest glimmer of a smile twisted his mouth and disappeared just as fast. “Well, she’s not fine, but she’s healthy.”
“Aw, Christ, now what?”
When Malachi clenched his jaw, Michael held up a hand and paced over the windows. The balcony extended the length of the apartment, and he opened one of the French doors to get some air. A lot of air.
“Okay, lay it on me.”
Malachi dipped his hands