You’re Mine by Penny Brooks

Chapter 2

Easton

What the hell is my best friend's twin wearing?

The bikini is a deep, dark green, which stands out against her smooth, olive skin. The girl has a lot of it. Skin. Acres and acres of it. The triangle top barely covers her tits. They're huge.

Her brown eyes are wide and unblinking. She reminds me of an animal in the forest. The look on their face when they're caught.

Right before you shoot it.

Ehaper

Unable to help myself, I raise a brow, never looking away from her. She's fucking hot.

Like, I'd fuck her hot.

“Get some clothes on!” Ryan yells viciously at his sister, making her startle.

Like a scared little deer, she darts off, running back into the house. My gaze drops to her ass just as she opens the back door. That ass is round. A perfect handful. I could scoop her up and pull her to me, no problem

“What the hell is she thinking, wearing something like that?” Ryan mutters under his breath. He's

very protective of his twin, though I always figured that was because she’s so damn skittish all the time. As if she’s afraid of her own shadow. Maybe it's because deep down he knows his sister is beautiful and he hangs out with a bunch of disgusting perverts who'd love to get her alone.

“Your sister is looking good” says Blake with a leer, the most perverted one of our group. He's currently proving my point.

“Don’t you even think about her,” Ryan says, his voice dark, his expression thunderous. “She's too good for you. For all of you.”

He says this to the entire table, including me.

“Not my type,” I say, leaning back in the chair and spreading my legs wider as I gaze out at the pool. 1 can feel Ryan watching me for a beat too long, but I refuse to look at him. Or say anything.

If he's worried about me trying to get with his sister, he needs to chill. She doesn't interest me. You see one pair of tits you've seen them all. She's nothing

A nobody

The tension leaves Ryan pretty rapidly once his sister disappears

and soon, we're all shit talking and doing round after round of shots. We've moved on from the beer to cheap ass tequila because Ryan's family doesn't have a ton of money, so I toss it back without complaint. I'll end up with a killer hangover tomorrow, but it'll be worth it. Anything to help me forget. At least for a few hours.

The alcohol doesn't help lighten my mood. Lately nothing does. The pressure at home is mounting, and I can't escape it. My father's words are always in my head, lingering long after he leaves for yet another business trip. He

wants me to come work with him. Immediately after I graduate high school.

That is the last thing I want to do.

To forget about dear old dad and his demands, I consume more tequila. I grab the bottle and drink straight from it while my friends cheer me on. Girls approach our table, their gazes finding mine, the sultry expressions telling me everything they're feeling without saying a word. They want me. They'd willingly go anywhere with me. They know how I operate and they're hoping they're next. The chosen one for the night Despite them all being gorgeous, with hot bodies on full display, not one of them interests me. The only thing I plan on holding tonight is a liquor bottle.

“Hey, you drank it all, Blake gripes when he snatches the tequila out of my hands. “Sure hope you've got more where that came from, Ryan.” “I do,” Ryan says, leaping to his feet, wobbling a little to the side. That one girl who's always doing what he wants, Sadie what's her name, comes rushing over, like she’s going to rescue him. Pathetic. “In the house.”

"I'l go get it,” Sadie offers.

“No.” rise to my feet, feeling the need to get away for a little bit. “Il grab it. Where do you keep the alcohol in your house, Ry?"

“Top shelf in the back corner of our pantry. You can't miss it!” Ryan shouts.

T head for the house, my gaze taking it in. They live in an older neighborhood, one that's seen better days. The exterior of their two- story house could use a fresh new coat of paint. The roof looks in bad shape too. It's not bad, it's just old

But the twins don't come from money. We all know this. They attend Washington High on a

district transfer, their parents wanting them to have a better education, I guess. The rest of us come from mega rich families who don’t have to worry about anything

At least, that's what we look like. But even rich people have problems. Big ones.

A girl stops me just as I approach the back door, talking to me nonstop as she shifts closer and closer to me. She smells like beer and heavy, expensive perfume. She's wearing a black string bikini that barely covers her crotch and I'm afraid if she makes one wrong

move, I'll see all the goods.

And where's the fun in that? I like a little mystery with my encounters. Girls who act coy. Like they have no idea what I'm about, though of course, they know everything about me. They flirt and they protest and then, always, they give in. Making me feel like the man.

Frowning, I concentrate on her moving lips, but I don't hear a damn word she says. I'm kind of over that scene. The fluttering damsel in distress type who's helpless unless a big, strong man

-me-comes along. It's all an act, one I'm bored with. Maybe I need a challenge.

Chat

Maybe I need to change things up.

I glance toward the small window that's closest to where we're standing, frowning. The window is cracked open, barely a sliver, and I swear to God, it feels like someone is watching me. I squint into the near darkness, trying to make out a face, but I see nothing.

Must be a figment of my imagination

“Want to take off?” the girl asks, knocking me from my thoughts.

I blink her back into focus, taking her in. Dark blonde hair that hangs to about her shoulders. Pretty, bland face. The requisite blue

eyes, thick eyelashes and pouty lips. Her golden skin has a slick sheen that I'm afraid might be oily to the touch.

Fuckin’ gross.

“Yeah, I don't think so. I'm staying around here tonight” I tell her.

Her expression shifts and changes. No more easygoing, let's get out of here for me. Now she's scowling with thin lips and flared nostrils. “Your loss,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder before she flounces off.

I watch her go, irritation settling in my veins. Irritated more with myself than her. Why couldn't I

just take off with her? What's my problem?

Liquor. That'll solve all my issues.

I head into the house, taking in the kitchen full of people, most of them I recognize. They say hi as I walk past and I mumble a greeting in return, searching the small pantry until I find my prize.

A giant bottle of vodka.

I head for the bathroom, knocking on the closed door in warning before I try the handle. It opens with ease.

Just before the lights go out.