A night with my best friend's arrogant brother

"You think you can handle more than one man?"

"I can handle as many men as I want,” I shot back. “None of them is ever going to be you.”

His gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it darkened.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

“That I’ll never have to handle you?” I scoffed. “I’m very sure.”

He took a step closer.

“Even if I do this?”

His hand came up, gripping my jaw just enough to hold me still—and then his mouth was on mine.

I should have pushed him away.

I didn’t.

As my back hit the counter and I leaned into him instead, one thought rang louder than anything else—

How the hell did I end up kissing my best friend’s arrogant brother?

******

Two days earlier

The highway stretched endlessly ahead of us, a ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the late afternoon sun. I'd been looking forward to this trip for months—a week away from the city, away from work stress, and away from my boyfriend's constant paranoia. Just me, my best friend Sarah, and the peaceful cabin we'd rented. At least, that had been the plan.

"I still can't believe he's coming," I muttered, shooting a glance in the rearview mirror at the sleeping form in the back seat.

Sarah laughed from the passenger seat, adjusting the air conditioning vent. "Marcus is not that bad."

"Not that bad?" I let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Sarah, he's insufferable. Every time I've met him, he's been nothing but arrogant and dismissive. And now he's spending an entire week with us. A week, Sarah."

"He needed a break too," she said, though I could hear the slight defensiveness in her voice. She always did that—tried to see the good in everyone, even when they didn't deserve it. "Besides, you know he was going through some stuff with his ex."

"And that's our problem because...?" I kept my eyes on the road, but I could feel her looking at me.

"Because he's family, and you're my best friend, and I thought it would be nice for us all to—"

"To what? Pretend he's not the most arrogant, insufferable man on the planet?" I shook my head. "Sarah, I love you, but this was supposed to be our trip. Girls only. We were supposed to relax, enjoy ourselves, not babysit your grown brother."

From the back seat, Marcus shifted in his sleep, his arm draped across the window. Even in sleep, he managed to look smug. He was handsome, I'd give him that—the kind of handsome that knew it was handsome. Dark hair, sharp jawline, the sort of effortless good looks that came with an equally effortless superiority complex. Every interaction we'd had was laced with subtle jabs and condescension. He talked down to me like I was a child who needed to be educated on the proper way to think about everything.

"He's not going to ruin it," Sarah said, but she didn't sound entirely convinced.

"Oh, he absolutely