My brothers and I have one rule between us: what’s mine is ours. We’ve shared more than enough women with no jealousy before, but she’s already different, and I don’t want to share.
“She’s positively enchanting. She’s sweetness, decadence, and earthy sexiness,” I say, not taking my eyes off her.
Zuri leans close to my ear and says, “You know you said that shit out loud, right?”
I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud, but I also don’t care. The only thing that matters now is finding out who this lovely woman is—and how fast I can get her naked and in my bed.
The song phases out and another song quickly begins, except this time there are a troupe of dancers joining her on the stage.
There’s slight movement on both sides of me, and I look from Rafi to Zuri. They, too, are on the edge of their seats. Jealousy—and the need to protect what’s mine—wells up in my gut.
“The sweet jewel in the middle is mine,” I say sternly.
Zuri is the first to speak. “Ordinarily, brother, I would have something to say about your declaration. But the sweet, curvy Latina on the left already has my heart.”
“Normally I would take issue with a statement like that, and you both have excellent tastes, but the lovely redhead on the right is moving her sweet ass just for me,” Rufi says.
“Then it’s settled. After the show,” I state.
“Agreed,” they both say.