The Right Kind of Wrong: A Brother's Best Friend Romance by Fabiola Francisco (open ebook .TXT) 📗

@AllyinSpain: What are you? Some psychologist now? Reading into hidden actions

@CamSteeleIT: So you admit I’m saying the truth

@AllyinSpain: Ugh! I hate you

@CamSteeleIT: You don’t but you’re thinking about my cock and hate that but def not me since I’m the owner of said cock

@AllyinSpain: Cocky

@CamSteeleIT: You see… You can’t stop thinking about it

@AllyinSpain: Goodbye

@CamSteeleIT: Aw come on be a sport and have some fun

@AllyinSpain: If I were really thinkin about you I wouldn’t have been with a guy last night

I throw that out there, a half fib. I was dancing with a guy, even if it ended right before I almost puked on him, but Camden doesn’t need to know that. All he has to know is that I’m not thinking about him.

I smile to myself when he doesn’t respond and continue eating my pizza, happier than a pig in mud.

chapter 9

Camden

@AllyinSpain: If I were really thinkin about you I wouldn’t have been with a guy last night

I re-read Allyson’s last message, grinding my teeth. What fucking guy was she with? She’s not the kind of girl to sleep around.

Except she slept with you.

Pacing around my room, I run a hand through my hair. I meant it when I told her a week ago that I’d want more than one night with her. Sure, the situation isn’t ideal, and she’s not exactly the woman I should be pursuing, but damn it, I want her. I’d never paid much attention to her in this way since she’s Easton’s sister, but after having a taste of her, I know I’m going to need more to quench my craving.

Unsure if she’s telling me the truth or not, I send back a reply with a smile, mentally giving myself a standing ovation for my smart-ass comment.

@CamSteeleIT: If you were with a guy you wouldn’t have sent me a message about sex

@AllyinSpain: Camden… I don’t know what you’re doing or what you think you’ll win out of this but there’s no point. I live in Spain and even if I didn’t I wouldn’t sleep with you again. One night…that’s all it was

@CamSteeleIT: One damn good night

Who knew Allyson Locke would wrap me around her little finger and hold on tight? I sure as hell didn’t think so. Yet here I am, convincing her of giving me another chance, albeit by ruffling her feathers a bit when she’s across a fucking ocean.

She’s right, it’s pointless in a sense, but I can’t get her out of my mind. I don’t want anyone else to warm my bed but her. I haven’t even tried to sleep with another woman since I slept with her, and my hand is tired of pumping my own dick to the faded memory of Allyson beneath me with her hair sprawled out in a mess. She looked like sweet perfection on that bed, and I made damn sure to commit that to memory before I thrust into her hard and fast, giving us both what we were seeking.

When she doesn’t reply again, I stand and go for a run, hoping that will calm my damn mind and insanity. I’m not sure how all this would play out if she still lived in Richmond, but I’d bet all of my money that we’d end up in bed again at least one more time.

Shaking all thoughts of Allyson from my head, I focus on the pavement beneath me as I run down the street and make a right, sweat trickling down my neck.

With each pounding of my heel on the ground, I tell myself to forget her. Until I almost believe that I could…

- - - - -

“Hey,” I smile as Charlene, Easton and Allyson’s mom, answers the door. After my run, I showered and grabbed some pastries from a shop she loves and decided to go visit her. Easton’s parents became second parents to me when I met them in college, and I spent many evenings at their house, having dinner and doing laundry when we lived at the dorms.

When Easton’s dad passed away a few years ago, I would visit Charlene whenever I could. After Easton moved, I went kind of lax on visiting her until Easton had to come from Everton to check up on her because she wasn’t acting like herself. We discovered she was overwhelmed with grief and struggling to keep up with bills and responsibilities that Mr. Locke used to take care of.

I promised Easton I’d come to visit her whenever I could, even though he assured me it wasn’t necessary. It’s the least I can do for all the dinners they invited me to and for making me feel like family for over ten years.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Charlene smiles, opening the door to her apartment so I can walk in.

“I thought I’d drop by to see how you were doing and bring you some of your favorite pastries.” I lift the pink box in my hand, drawing attention to it.

“You didn’t have to.” Her smile grows, and she pats my arm. Charlene is a professor at the University of Virginia, and a tough one at that. I once had her as a teacher, and she made sure to show zero preference because I was her son’s best friend.

I follow her into the small living room, placing the box on the coffee table and taking a seat on the sofa.

“I’ll make coffee.” She walks into the kitchen, and I look around. Standing, I walk to a family photo I’ve seen hundreds of times, but this time I look at it with fresh eyes. Ally smiles wide and carefree, with one hand in the air. I chuckle as I find another picture from when she was younger, dressed in some nineties get-up.

“I always love to reminisce,” Charlene startles me.

I turn around, putting my hands in my shorts pockets. “It’s fun to