Asher pulled into the garage and killed the engine. “Give me a few minutes to scope things out. I’ll come get you once the coast is clear.”

“Fine.”

“Duck down and hide, just in case.”

It was unnecessary. Unless Dad was going out, no one ever went into the garage, but I didn’t argue. There were only so many times I could push Asher’s buttons before he snapped. I couldn’t risk him backing out of this job.

While he disappeared inside, I slouched as low as I could in the front seat, sinking into the footwell. “Nervous virgin, my ass,” I muttered. “Tray Regan was way more nervous than me.” I thought about that first time way back in high school and grinned. If anything, I was the brave one, willing to bend over and be fucked even when Tray admitted he didn’t know what he was doing. In fact, I clearly remembered begging for more and more and—

I was a slut for dick. Asher wasn’t the only slut in the family. Dammit. I would never tell him how much of a greedy and demanding bottom I could be. It would be Tray Regan’s and my little secret.

The car door jerked open, and I squealed, throwing my arms up and hiding behind them.

Asher laughed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shit. I thought you were Dad. Way to give me a heart attack.”

“And you were gonna hide behind your hands and hope he didn’t recognize you? Brilliant. And you’re the smart one.”

I glared at my brother. “Is the coast clear?”

“Yeah. Dad’s working in his study, Mom’s on the phone in the library, and Matilda’s doing laundry. If we take the back stairs, we’ll be set. I bailed out of dinner and told everyone I was studying all night and couldn’t be interrupted. We should be safe.”

I slipped out of the car, grabbing the balled-up paper from the backseat in case we needed it, and followed Asher into the house on light feet. We snuck to the back stairs and skittered up like we were sixteen again and had just stayed out past curfew and didn’t want to be caught sneaking back into the house.

Once we hit Asher’s room and the door was locked, I collapsed on his bed with a drawn-out sigh. “We did it.”

Asher hooked his phone up to the speaker system and scrolled his playlist, putting on music. Some good old nineties grunge to set the mood. I approved. He set the volume a little high, which would make talking difficult, but it was necessary.

Then he turned to me, hands on his hips, a small worry line present between his brows. He had this now what? look on his face.

Practice. Jay had told us to practice.