Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,33

relationship with Lucky seemed like it was only on the surface.

Lucky slowly lets his arm drop away from me, so I release him too. He rubs his swollen eyes. “I just don’t get it,” he mumbles. “Why was she in so much pain? Why didn’t she reach out?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. There’s no way for us to know. Just life, probably. Sometimes shit happens, and you fall apart over it. Not everybody can be strong a hundred percent of the time.” May’s voice is like my conscience now. Goddamn.

Lucky bangs his fist on the table, making the cutlery jump. “But I should’ve been there for her! I’m her brother, for chrissake!”

“Exactly.” I use the most soothing tone I have in me. “You’re her brother. You’re not her parent, you’re not her guardian angel, and you’re not God. The stuff she went through, the way she tortured herself over the world’s problems, was not something you could’ve solved for her. You couldn’t have changed who your sister was, and that was the only solution to her problems. She was who she was, that’s it. Just like you are who you are and I’m me. We all have our own demons, but hers overwhelmed her. We’re fortunate; we manage to keep them at bay . . . most of the time.”

He shakes his head, staring off into the distance. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe I couldn’t have helped her fight those demons.”

“I know you don’t. You need therapy.”

A smile haunts his lips for a second before it disappears. “That’s funny.”

I give him a half smile. “What’s funny?”

“You telling me I need therapy.”

I shrug, not disagreeing over the irony. “Yeah, well, I’ve got experience in being seriously fucked up. What can I say?”

Lucky reaches down and caresses the side of my face, finally looking into my eyes. “Come on, don’t say that. You’re perfect exactly the way you are. I wish you would stop being so mean to yourself.”

I put my hand over his for a few seconds before pushing it away. It feels strange to have him being so gentle and touchy-feely with me. Not that I hate it or anything, but it’s weird when he’s never been like that with me before.

“Don’t try to butter me up,” I say, trying for a more lighthearted mood. “There’s only one piece of tiramisu in my fridge and it’s mine.”

His smile is like a huge laser beam of sunshine hitting me right in the eyeball. He leans down until he’s just an inch away from me, our noses almost touching. “Trust me . . . if I want that tiramisu, you’re going to give it to me.”

I cock a brow up. “I’ll wrestle you for it.”

“Done.” And then his lips are on mine and we’re on the kitchen floor, rolling around and tearing each other’s clothes off.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chair and table legs that get in our way are shoved aside. Shirts are pulled out of waistbands in seconds so our hands are free to explore.

Our passion is different this time, not born of a simple schoolgirl crush and a few too many beers and teas, but one of two adults who find themselves drowning in myriad emotions that shouldn’t coexist: Sadness. Rage. Hope. Longing. Loss. Lust. It’s all there.

It surges through me like an electric current, and I can’t understand why it’s not killing me but instead driving me forward. This is Lucky, the boy I’ve grown up with and treated as a brother for more years than I care to remember. I should be shoving him away and shouting at him, reminding him what a horrible mistake this is, how it’ll ruin everything for the team and destroy our friendship; but I don’t do any of those things. I welcome the darkness that’s sure to come from this mistake. It’s way more familiar to me than the light he’s pretending we can share together. I’ll deal with the nightmares tomorrow.

“You are so beautiful,” he growls in my ear before biting my neck. The weight of his entire body presses mine into the floor.

I reach up and grab his hair with both hands to get him away from my sensitive skin. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tilt his head and go right for his neck so I can bite him back.

I’m surprised into stillness when he stops everything, placing his hands on both sides of my face and staring down at me from two inches away. “Toni,