Connor's face went through several expressions at once. Shock. Confusion. Recognition.

Then pure, murderous rage.

"Get the fuck out of my sister's bed." His voice was lethal. Controlled. Somehow worse than yelling. "Right. Now."

Jake sat up slowly, hands raised. "Connor, let me explain—"

"Get. Out."

Jake grabbed his jeans, pulling them on while Connor watched with death in his eyes. I scrambled out of bed too, very aware I was wearing nothing but Jake's shirt, and put myself between them.

"Connor, just listen—"

"How long?" His eyes were locked on Jake. "How long have you been fucking my little sister?"

"Don't talk about her like that," Jake said sharply....