There has always been something about my older brother, something incredible that I just could never put my finger on.

Growing up, my brother and I hung out all the time. When I was nine, I had found a small rock turtle in a creek near our home. Excited, I wrapped it up in my shirt and brought it to my brother. When I showed it to him, he grabbed the turtle and threw it down on the rocks near the stream. He slammed his heel into the shell and then kicked it into the water with a laugh.

Outside, while we played, he would kick my ass and send me in tears back to our mom, who would tend my wounds. My dad would yell at him for giving me a bloody nose or a black eye.

Okay, he was an ass back then. A complete fucking jerk but...

Now, thirteen years later, as I watched him preparing to marry this little bitch he picked up in Vegas, I just couldn't come to terms with what he was doing.

"Seriously, you just met this girl. Are you really going to go through with it?"

Despite the fact that he was older, I happened to get the tall gene of the family, so he had to look up at me as he narrowed his eyes. "Don't worry, Jeremy; I'll still be here to kick your ass all over the place." He jabbed me in the arm with a chuckle.

"I'm not worried about that," I said, rubbing the sting from where he hit me. "I'm saying you just met her. You can't know if she's right for you after a fucking week."

"Hells yeah, I can. Have you seen her? Damn, man, she's hot."

"Yeah, I haven't noticed."

"Of course you haven't. You're not looking at chicks."

I grunted at that statement. I had come out to my family when I was 16. It was a fairly simple procedure, one I'd wished I'd done a long time ago. I got a bewildered stare before my mom congratulated me on coming out. Hell, that was easy.

The reason why I wasn't in the dating pool at all was because of the man standing next to me, shaping his tie to match his perfectly white, button-up, ironed shirt. Amazingly chiseled abs, broad shoulders, and a firm ass that would make anyone, male or female, turn a cheek in his direction. That's what was special about my brother.

I dreamed of the day when I could press my lips to his, him completely accepting, our mouths opened wide, tongues tied in harmonious passion... but that was impossible. He wasn't just some guy.

"Anyway." He pulled the tie away from his neck; his voice forced me back to reality. "Bachelor's party tonight. Be there."

I shook my head. "Hell, no. What am I going to do there, Matt?"

"That's right. You're not exactly interested in strippers, are ya?" He stretched his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. "But I told Ma I'm not going to leave you out, so you have to come. Deal?"

"I guess," I sighed, fighting the urge to keep him there. God, don't make me do this.

There was nothing I could offer at this party except for comedic escape for his asshole friends. Matt had tons of jock buddies that wouldn't miss this for the world. Booze, strippers, and men that I couldn't touch. Not really a party I'd want to attend. If it hadn't been for his invite, I probably never would have.

He slapped my back and pulled away. "Good. Now, should I wear this tie or"—he picked up a brown cashmere tie from the shop counter—"this one?"

"Black." I reached out and ran my fingers down the length of the satin tie. My eyes caught his—the softest emerald orbs I'd ever seen—and my heart thumped into my throat. I lowered my head and pulled away. "Yeah. Go with that one."

"You okay? You've been acting weird since this whole Candy marriage thing."

"I told you I think it's a stupid idea." I stomped my foot. "What about loving someone before tying the knot?"

"You need to get laid."

"That's all you think of, huh?"

A smile spread across his lips. "Sure is."

Back home, I set my bag on the side table next to the door. A long breath escaped my lips as I headed for the kitchen. At least I would have a little time to rest before the party tonight.

I plopped down on my plaid loveseat and stuck a cold beer bottle to my forehead. The coolness felt great on my skin, making the headache that had come on during the suit fitting diminish. I closed my eyes and tried to relax my nerves.

What the hell am I going to do?

So, my brother was an ass. I knew tons of kids whose brothers beat the shit out of them, but why was I so damned infatuated with mine?

I was a sophomore in high school when I realized that I was attracted to my brother. Matt was a junior and hardly ever home; he was always out at the football field practicing with the rest of the team. I was in detention, the reason escapes me now, but I wandered into the locker room that day after his meet was over. That was the first time it hit me: my brother was fucking hot.

I had stared at him through the crack between the lockers. He threw his gear into the locker and slipped his shirt from over his head. I caught an eyeful of his muscular chest that made me as hard as a fucking rock.

Fast forward to today. He's twenty-three now, and that was still the only time I'd ever seen my brother naked. That's not to say I didn't try. Every time, however, I fell short. I had asked him to go swimming, only to have him dress in a shower stall. I also spied on him through the small keyhole in his bedroom door, only to have Dad catch me. Oh, that was a sheer disaster.