My Brother’s Possessive Friend Read Online Lena Little

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)

There’s so many things on my plate and the last thing I need is my best friend, Harry, calling in for a favor—to help his little sister with her newly bought, rundown cottage, right here in Scotland and within walking distance of my own home.I figure I’ll just go and tell her I can’t do anything for her since I have projects on top of projects.The refusal dies in my throat when I see her for the first time in years.Dahlia.No longer a kid, but a grown woman. A woman who, right now, is knocking me off my feet. She’s clearly off-limits.She’s Harry’s sister. And I’m almost twice her age. Doesn’t stop me from wanting her, though.But whatever this is goes way beyond a primal need to make her mine.She’s not leaving my side, ever!And I’m not letting anyone come between us…not even her own brother.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



“Be safe, little sis,” Harry whispers as he hugs me tight, squeezing the damn life out of me.

I groan, trying to shove him away but at twice my age and twice my weight, the dude’s immovable.

“I’ll be fine,” I say for the hundredth time as my brother finally releases me and steps back. Mom and Dad already said goodbye before they went to work, but Harry insisted on driving me to the airport. He was seventeen when I was born—a happy surprise as Mom calls me—as a result of our Dad marrying Mom. Harry had taken to the role of super protective overbearing big brother immediately, so the fact he’s been freaking out ever since I decided to move comes as no surprise.

“It’s not too late to back out, you know,” he reminds me, looking at me pleadingly.

“Yes, it is,” I argue. “The money’s already been transferred, and the deed is in my name. I’m not backing out, Harry.”

“Fine,” he says snappily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have to go or I’ll miss my flight.” I let him squish me in another hug before I turn away and go to find my gate.

I won’t give my brother the satisfaction of knowing, but I am absolutely terrified. I’m not the kind of girl who takes risks, who dares step a foot outside her carefully constructed comfort zone. I’m definitely not the kind of girl who spends her entire bank account on an abandoned cottage in a country she’s never been to, halfway across the world from everyone she knows.

Except…I guess I am that girl now.

With my bags checked in, I grab a few snacks for the long plane journey and find my gate. Harry’s nagging means I’m one of the last to join the boarding line, but that’s just fine by me because the less time I have to stand around thinking about this, the better.

I find my seat, hoping and praying that nobody will sit next to me. I pick a window seat in the hopes I can sleep at least some of the eight-hour flight, and though somebody takes the aisle seat, there’s no one in the middle by the time the plane’s pulling away and the air hostesses are starting their safety demonstrations.

I try to pay attention, but my mind is reeling. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this.

Nerves bubble up inside me as we start to take off, and I pull out my phone and tap on my photo gallery. The photos from the listing stare back at me, soothing my nerves a little. I swipe, and the nerves return, this time buoyed by the pounding of my heart and a rush of adrenaline that has nothing to do with the plane’s sudden ascent.

Is it weird that I’ve saved his posts to my phone? Probably. But moving across the world because of those posts? That’s even weirder. I groan internally at myself, but the man in the photo holds my eyes.

Dylan Dixon.

With his chin-length wavy brown hair, pale blue eyes, short, slightly scruffy beard, and flannel, he looks like he belongs in the woods with an ax. But damn that wildness makes me feel hot all over. Not to mention the fact he’s so muscular I can see the outline of his pecs and biceps through his clothes.

I haven’t seen him in ten years, but that childhood crush I’d once had is now back in full force. It’s not like I have a chance with him, though. For a million reasons, not the least of which is the fact he’s my brother’s best friend. And nearly twenty years older than me.

You’re so screwed, my heart tells me with every frantic beat.

I try to ignore it, turning my attention to the rest of the photo. The rolling hills in the background, lush green grass, and a sprinkling of purple flowers. I’m only a little ashamed of the fact I stalked Dylan’s profile to figure out where he was now.

Scotland. Rural Scotland. In the heart of all that greenery, all that untamed wildness.

And I want to be there, too.

Before I knew it, I was knee-deep in research, ten tabs open with listings of houses for sale in a country I’d never been to but that had captured my heart from just that photo alone. Sure, at first I wanted to go for Dylan, which I know is ridiculous and a little stalker-ish, but it’s not like anyone would ever know. But the more I looked, the more I fell in love with the place.

And then I found my house. A run-down, abandoned cottage that hadn’t been lived in in nearly fifteen years. It was nestled in a generous amount of land, full of overgrown weeds and thistles, and because it was in desperate need of love, the price was low. Low enough that it would have been silly not to jump at the chance. Low enough that within two days of seeing the listing, I was figuring out how to transfer all my savings for the deposit.