My Brother’s Bestfriend Is Off Limits

Kimmie pov “You’re staring at that letter like it’s going to grow teeth and bite you.” Teagan’s voice cut through the apartment from the kitchen, where she was already pouring something that smelled expensive. I didn’t look up, the official crest on the cream paper still felt like a prank my brain was playing on me. “I’m trying to comprehend this,” I said. “Like a normal human.” Teagan appeared in the doorway, two glasses in hand, messy bun already halfway to chaos. She was my best friend, and the human equivalent of a glitter bomb with excellent taste in tequila. “You got signed, Kimmie. It's all you've ever wanted.” She shoved a glass at me. “We’re definitely celebrating tonight.” I took the drink because arguing with Teagan mid-mission was like trying to outrun a train. “I have media training in three days and strength testing and about a million people waiting for me to trip so they can say women don’t belong—” “Which is exactly why you need one night of zero responsibility before the work starts.” She was already scrolling her phone. “My cousin’s i***t friend is hosting a small private bachelor party, we can go in as hired dancers with masks so nobody knows the newest signing in women’s football is…..” “No, absolutely not.” I interrupted immediately. “I’m done with that life, Teagan.” Teagan set her phone down and fixed me with the look she reserved for when she was about to win an argument by sheer force of nostalgia. “It’ll be fun, just like old times. We’ll put on the masks, hit the floor, dance like we used to when neither of us had anything to lose. Come on, Kimmie.” I stared at her, then at the letter still sitting on the counter. Years of grinding through rejection and doubt were supposed to end here, not get risked on one more night that could blow up in my face. “Fine,” I said eventually. “Just an hour, and that's all.” ****** Bass rattled the windows of the villa and lights strobed across a crowd of men in expensive shirts and women who looked like they got paid to exist near them. Six professional dancers worked the main room with the kind of confidence that made my shoulders tense on instinct. I leaned toward Teagan the second we got through the door. “This is a full-ass bachelor party and there are already girls on the floor. What the hell did you actually sign us up for?” Teagan kept her smile in place for the guy checking names and only answered once we were past him. “We are the next set. Come on, the changing room is this way before you talk yourself out of it.” I followed her because the alternative was standing in the middle of a room full of drunk men looking like I was about to call the police. The side room they pointed us to smelled like body spray and hairspray. Two other girls were already finishing their makeup. Teagan tossed me the pair of long black gloves she’d packed and started stripping down to the tiny outfit underneath her dress like this was normal. “I hate you,” I said, yanking my jeans off. “You love me,” she said, handing me a drink. Then she patted her tiny clutch, frowned, and started digging through it with increasing panic. “Teagan.” “One second—” “Teagan.” She looked up, face already guilty. “So… funny story…our masks are nowhere to be found.” My stomach dropped. “You forgot the masks.” “I didn’t forget. I just…I think I left them on the kitchen counter.” I stared at her. “You dragged me to a bachelor party to dance for a room full of rich strangers… and then forgot the one thing that was supposed to keep my face off the internet forever.” “In my defense, I was very excited.” “In my defense, I’m going to kill you.” She grabbed my wrist before I could turn around and bolt. “One hour, that’s it. Nobody here knows who you are. You’re not famous yet. You’re just a hot girl in a hot dress. One hour, we leave, and tomorrow you start your shiny new career like this never happened. Pinky swear.” I should have left. I really should have. Instead I took the drink, because arguing with Teagan when she was this determined was pointless. The alcohol was strong and expensive and did absolutely nothing to quiet the voice in my head chanting this is how careers die. We climbed the stage and then I saw him. Blond, tall and built like he spent serious time in a gym but somehow still managed to look lazy about it. He was leaning against the bar like he owned the building, glass in hand, a particular brand of arrogant ease that made me want to throw something at him. His shirt was open at the collar just enough to be intentional. His smile was the kind that got people into trouble and he was looking straight at me. I held his gaze because backing down first felt like losing, and I was done losing for the night. His mouth curved slowly, like he’d just found something interesting to play with. “Looks like someone has eyes for you.” Taegan said, swinging towards me on her pole. “I noticed.” I murmured. “He’s hot.” “I also noticed. Doesn’t mean I’m interested.” “Liar.” I ignored her and kept dancing, determined to be the least impressed person in the room. The dance session ended minutes afterwards then he pushed off the bar and started walking toward us. Teagan made a small excited noise and immediately abandoned me, because loyalty is temporary when there’s a hot guy involved. He stopped a few feet away, close enough that I could smell whatever cologne he was wearing, and tilted his head. “You’re not one of the professionals,” he said. Voice low, a little rough and amused. “You're observant,” I shot back. “You must be the smart one of the group.” His smile widened. “And you’re mouthy. I like that.” “Careful, I charge extra for the attitude. Especially when I’m not wearing a mask like every other girl here.” He glanced around, then back at me, clearly amused. “No masks, that's brave.” “Stupid,” I corrected. “There’s a fine line.” “What’s your name?” He asked, his lips stretching into a cute smile that made my stomach flutter. “Does it matter?” “Tonight? Maybe not. But I’m curious.” I considered lying. Then I decided I didn’t care enough. “Kimmie. And you’re…?” “Liam.” He said it like it was supposed to mean something. Maybe it did in whatever world he lived in. In mine it was just a name attached to a face that was unfairly good-looking. We talked, or rather, we traded sharp little comments that kept escalating. He was cocky in the way that should have been annoying but somehow wasn’t. “What do you do?” He asked, leaning closer. I swallowed. “professional football, starting next week actually ” Something flickered in his eyes and then it was gone, replaced by that same lazy smirk. “Then you really shouldn’t be here without a mask.” “Probably not, yet here I am living my best poor decision.” “Lucky me.” The music shifted. Liam’s hand brushed my lower back, lightly and when I didn’t move away he guided me toward a quieter hallway off the main space. “You always this difficult?” he asked, voice lower now. “Only when someone looks at me like they already know how the night ends.” “Do I?” His eyebrows raised. “You’re trying very hard to.” He stepped closer and I tilted my chin up. His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Tell me to stop,” he said quietly. I should have. The fact that my face was completely unprotected and this entire night was a walking liability. I didn’t say a word. He kissed me like he’d been waiting for permission he already knew he had. Slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. My back hit the wall. His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head so he could take more. I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer because apparently my body had decided it was done listening to my brain. His other hand traced down my side, over the curve of my hip, then lower. Fingers slipped under the hem of the dress, skimming up the inside of my thigh. I broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, “Someone could—” “No one’s coming this way.” His mouth found my neck. “And you’re already wet.” I hated that he was right. Hated how easily his fingers found me, how they slid through the dampness between my legs like he’d known exactly where to go. One finger pushed inside, then another, curling just right. I bit down on a sound that wanted to be a moan. “f**k,” I whispered against his shoulder. “That’s it.” His thumb found my c**t and circled, while his fingers worked deeper. “You’re tight and so f*****g responsive.” “Don’t… flatter yourself.” I murmured. He laughed softly against my skin and kept going, faster now, the wet sound of it embarrassingly loud in the quiet hallway. My hips moved without permission. I was close—embarrassingly close—when he suddenly pulled his hand away. “Not yet,” he said, voice rough. “I want your mouth first.” I dropped to my knees and his eyes darkened as I worked his belt open, then the zipper. He was already hard and his was flushed and slick. I wrapped my fingers around him, gave one slow stroke, and looked up. “Still thinking you’re in charge?” I asked. His hand threaded into my hair. “Prove me wrong.” I took him into my mouth. Slow at first then deeper. He groaned and the sound went straight through me. I hollowed my cheeks, used my tongue, took as much as I could. His hips jerked once before he caught himself, fingers tightening in my hair. “Jesus, Kimmie—” I pulled off just long enough to say, “Still mouthy,” and then went back down, faster this time, working him with hand and mouth until his breathing turned ragged.