One Night with the Brother In Law An Erotic Tale

"Arthur?"

The name scraped against Katherine's dry throat. It was a whisper, fragile and hopeful, born from the haze of a hangover that felt like a hammer inside her skull.

The sunlight slicing through the gaps in the heavy curtains was too bright. It burned. But not as much as the sudden, freezing stillness of the man standing by the window.

He was buttoning his cuff. His back was to her. Broad shoulders, the taper of a waist she had clung to only hours ago. The skin of his back was tanned, smooth, and familiar. Or so she thought.

At the sound of the name, his hands stopped. He didn't turn around immediately. The silence in the room stretched, heavy and suffocating, swallowing the sound of the distant Hamptons surf.

Katherine pulled the silk sheet up to her chin. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Something was wrong. The air in the room wasn't warm with the afterglow of the night. It was cold. Sterile.

He turned.

The breath left Katherine's lungs in a sharp, painful gasp.

It wasn't Arthur.

The jaw was harder. The eyes were darker, devoid of the gentle warmth she had fallen in love with over the summer. There was no kindness in the set of his mouth, only a cruel, twisting line of disdain.

Agustus Riddle.

Arthur's younger brother.

The room spun. The memories of the previous night-the yacht party, the endless champagne, the fireworks, the warm body she had stumbled into in the dark-crashed into the reality of the morning. She had whispered confessions of love. She had cried in his arms. She had given him everything she had been saving for Arthur.

"Gus?" Her voice trembled, breaking on the single syllable. "I thought... I thought last night..."

Gus stared at her. His eyes were like chips of ice. He didn't look like a man who had just spent the night with a woman. He looked like a man looking at a stain on his expensive carpet.

"You thought what?" His voice was low, rough with sleep but sharp with mockery. He walked toward the bed, his steps deliberate and predatory.

Katherine shrank back against the headboard. "I... I felt..."

"You felt?" Gus cut her off. He stopped at the edge of the bed, his shadow falling over her, blocking out the sun. "You mean you felt the alcohol? Or did you feel the opportunity to get one step closer to the real prize?"

The accusation hit her like a physical blow. Her stomach churned, bile rising in her throat. "No. That's not... I was drunk. I thought you were him."

Gus laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound that made her flinch. He leaned down, placing a hand on the mattress on either side of her hips, trapping her.

"Don't flatter yourself, Woodward," he spat. "You were drunk enough to be loose, but sober enough to scream my brother's name."

Tears pricked her eyes, hot and humiliating. "Please. Stop."

"Stop?" His face was inches from hers now. She could smell the lingering scent of whiskey and the expensive soap he used. "You didn't want me to stop last night when you were crying about how much you loved him."