But I don’t know what the hell I realize because a new hand wraps around my arm now and yanks me out of Luca’s bed.
“What the hell are you doing here,” Rafe growls, glaring down at me as I scramble for my feet.
“He made me!” I shout, pointing at Luca. “He – he –“
I hold myself back from saying anything else – because one, Rafe doesn’t need to know, and two, he’ll probably punch Luca or something ridiculous.
So I sigh and, not knowing what else to do, snap my mouth shut.
“Hey, Sinclair,” Luca says, and I turn to see him grinning at my brother with a calm equanimity that makes me wonder if I imagined everything that just passed between us –
I stare at Luca as he leans back against his footboard, lifting his arms to tuck his hands casually behind his head as he smiles at my brother.
