Allergic to Everyone But Her

Chase, there's a female pervert in your house. A deep, cold voice rumbled from right above my head.

What the hell?

Buddy, get the facts straight. This is my bed, Chase is my own brother, and you are the naked guy breaking into my house in the middle of the night. You are the real creep here.

But then again is it necessary for a home invader's jawline and abs to look this ridiculously hot?

Chapter 1

My brother, Chase, is a washed-up singer. He started out on one of those reality talent shows. He had the pipes, the killer stage presence, and a fresh-faced look that kept him at the top of the charts for a few solid years.

Then his record label showed their true colors and bled him dry.

Young and hot-headed, Chase snapped and terminated his contract. Refusing a single dime from our family, he busted his ass for five or six years just to pay off the massive breach-of-contract penalty. Just like that, his peak years went down the drain. Before we knew it, he hit thirty-five.

Right when our whole family thought hed finally face reality, pack it up, and come home to take over the family business, he started acting up again. The guy who usually wouldn't touch a drop of alcohol suddenly started reeking of booze and cheap smoke every time he visited. Sometimes, he wouldn't even come home at all!

My mom cornered me in secret. "Cleo, your brother is definitely hanging around the wrong crowd. You're the only one in this house he actually listens to. Do your mother a favor and go snoop around a little."

When the head of the house gives an order, you don't say no. So, under the cover of a pitch-black night, I ambushed Chase's place.

No booze. No wild parties. No hot girls in sight. I was greeted by nothing but dead darkness and the rhythmic ticking of a wall clock.

Not a single soul around.

I exhaled a long breath, my shoulders dropping. Since I was already here, I navigated through the dark from memory and pushed open the door to my old bedroom. I climbed onto the mattress, threw off the covers, and shimmied under them, ready to crash.

Wait Where was my pillow?

I patted around the sheets, searching blindly. Smack. My palm landed hard on something firm but yielding, letting out a sharp slap. I gave it a gentle squeeze.

Before I could even process what exactly I was feeling up

The next second, a powerful leg thrust out.

I flew through the air and slammed hard onto the floor.

It felt like every bone in my body shattered.

A massive, shadowy figure sat up in the pitch-black room. The sheer size of him was terrifying. It felt straight out of a horror movie.

I swallowed a scream, my brain short-circuiting with a million worst-case scenarios. I scrambled to my feet, stumbling toward the light switch, but a large hand clamped down hard on my wrist. Every hair on my body stood on end. I froze, my limbs turning to stone.

His voice was deep and raspy, dripping with a dangerous kind of laziness. "Don't turn on the light. I don't have anything on."

It was a guy! A ridiculously intimidating, completely naked guy! I gulped hard.

His voice still had that sleep-heavy gravel to it. "How did you get in here?"

"This is my house," I mumbled.

He let out a low chuckle. "And what's your relationship with Chase?"

"He's my brother."

The guy stifled a yawn. "Prove it."

The guy sounded bored out of his mind. Hearing that lazy drawl, the trembling in my legs stopped, and a hot spark of annoyance flared in my chest.

"He's my own flesh and blood. What's there to prove? Ask me something if you don't believe me."

"Chase's birthday?" he asked.

"September 8th?"

In the dark, he let out an unreadable scoff. For some reason, the sound was incredibly seductive. He pulled out his phone. The faint glow of the screen traced the sharp angles of his jawline.

He looked ridiculously hot.

My gaze snagged on him.

The call connected. "Chase, there's a female pervert in your house," the deep voice rumbled.

What the hell? Buddy, get the facts straight. This is my house, Chase is my own brother, and you are the creep breaking in!

Chapter 2

The door to my room flew open. A harsh beam of light hit my face.

In the dim glow, Chase crept in. He was wearing his pajamas, hunched over, his hair a total rat's nest. He gripped some random wooden stick he must have found, his eyes darting around the bedroom like a giant rat scavenging for food. It was a beautiful display of pure stupidity.

"Where is the female pervert?" Chase demanded.

"Hi," I chirped.

My brother whipped his head around. His fierce glare instantly melted into utter confusion as we locked eyes. The silence in the room was deafening.

It had been months since I last saw him. My first instinct was to launch myself at him for a huge hug, but the intruder's grip on my wrist was like a steel vise. He wasn't letting go.

Stuck in place, I forced the sweetest, brightest tone I could muster. "Chase!"

Chase lowered the stick. A grin broke across his face. "Cleo?"

"Bro!" I laid the sugar on thick.

He played right along, his voice dripping with dramatic sibling affection. "Cleo!"

The vibe was set. The intruder had to be witnessing the unbreakable bond of family right now. But the guy didn't even flinch. His voice remained deadpan and heavy with sleep.

"Chase, she said your birthday is September 8th."

The room went dead silent.

I let out a dry, awkward laugh. "Isn't isn't it, bro?"

Chase's face instantly darkened. "Who is this female creep? I don't know her. Throw her out."

Wow. So much for that unbreakable bond. Chase grabbed me by the collar and hauled me out of the room.

In the shifting shadows, I finally got a clear look at his face. Sharp, rugged features, and those slightly lowered eyes carried a heavy, aggressive intensitylike a lethal temptation. Oh, and he really was naked.

Just as my eyes started to wander down past his collarbone, he caught me dead to rights. I quickly snapped my gaze away, but our eyes met.

Great. Now I really was the female pervert.

While the guy got dressed in the bedroom, I stood in the living room, tugging on my brother's sleeve. I put on my best puppy-dog voice. "My dearest brother, I swear I'll never mess up your birthday ever again."

Chase's face softened a fraction. "How many times do I have to tell you? My birthday is August 9th! August 9th!"

"August 9th! Cleo, am I even your real brother? Where is your brain? Did it get eaten by"

"Eaten by my superstar big brother," I chimed in, batting my eyelashes.

Chase couldn't hold it in. He let out a snort of laughter and ruffled my hair. My brother was the easiest guy on earth to manipulate. Call him a superstar, and he'd lose his bearings.

Crisis averted.

Now it was my turn to straighten my spine. I instantly dropped the act and went full interrogator. "Alright, Chase. Spill it. What the hell has been going on with you lately?"

Chase's eyes darted away. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Selective hearing. Classic. I got up on my tiptoes, pinched his ear, and cranked up the volume. "Drinking, smoking, not coming home at night?"

"And dragging random men back to your place! Well?"

Chase frantically shushed me. His confidence vanished, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Keep it down! What random man?"

"That's Clark's younger brother. He just got back from overseas with Clark."

Clark? The Clark? The same guy the entire internet shipped with my brother during their talent show days over a decade ago?

I slapped a hand over my mouth. "Are you two rekindling your old flame?"

Chase raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'rekindling'? The fire of our friendship never went out."

I opened my mouth to shoot back, but the bedroom door opened. Rowan stepped out.

Chapter 3

Chase and I both clamped our mouths shut and looked at Rowan.

A simple white tee and black jeans traced the sharp lines of his frame. He was tallbroad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waisteasily pushing past six-foot-two. No wonder he looked like a massive wall of shadows in the dark.

His skin was striking against the dark, and his pupils were an endless, glossy black. When those slightly hooded eyes locked onto you, they gave off this aloof, lazy energy. Like he was constantly running on two hours of sleep.

A straight, sharp nose. Thin lips with just a hint of a natural smirk resting at the corners. This home invader was entirely too gorgeous.

I always knew Clark was good-looking. The guy literally trended for his face back during his talent show days. But I never expected Clarks younger brother to be this absurdly hot. If Clark was the clean-cut, all-American golden boy, his brother was straight-up lethal.

Lethal, and apparently built like a tank. My tailbone was still screaming from the impact.

I stared at Rowan. Rowan looked at Chase and me. Chase looked between the two of us. The air in the room stalled out.

Chase broke the standoff first, testing the waters. "Nothing happened between you two, right?"

Rowan shot him a polite smile. "No."

No? Sure, the guy was a walking thirst trap, but booting me across the room was not something I was just going to let slide!

I leaned in close to him and lowered my voice. "You kicked me, and you scared the hell out of me in the dark. Did you forget that part?"

Rowan tilted his head toward me slightly, putting his flawless profile front and center. I physically forgot to blink.

Youth was definitely an asset. That sharp brow bone, clear skin, and the faint cut of muscle peeking out just beneath his collar. I just didn't get why there were a few faint red marks painted across that handsome face.

"Think about what happened right before I made a move," he murmured. His voice dropped to a low, cool frequency. But hearing it right now, it carried this effortlessly provocative edge. And with him standing this close, the vibration practically buzzed against my ear.

A jolt of electricity shot down my spine. The words clicked, instantly jogging my memory.

My hands were shaking so hard earlier that my brain shorted out. But now that I actually thought about it right before he kicked me, I definitely slapped something. That uneven, firm-but-yielding texture felt exactly like a human face.

Wait. Did I smack him across the face?

I whipped my head to stare at Rowan in total disbelief. He was already looking right at me. I shot him a horrified, questioning look, and he gave a slow, deliberate nod. His eyes were a mix of total exasperation and a heavy, thick layer of exhaustion.

I choked on my own spit. Heat rushed straight to my cheeks. The guy was dead asleep in the middle of the night and got jolted awake by a slap to the face. Okay, maybe getting Sparta-kicked wasn't completely unforgivable.

I dropped my gaze, staring hard at my shoes, but I could still feel the weight of his stare burning into me.

"Rowan," Chase interjected, "you just got back stateside. You're still jet-lagged. Go back to sleep."

Rowan shifted his eyes to me, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I think I'll just take the couch, Chase."

Guilt gnawed at me. I reached out and gave him a light shove. "You can take the bed tonight. You're welcome."

I swear on my life, I fully intended to just push his back. But between the lack of sleep and the sheer adrenaline dump of the night, my hand completely missed its target. Like a heat-seeking missile, my palm landed directly below his waistline. A solid smack echoed in the room.

I looked like a total creep copping a feel. Chase's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. I didn't need to hear him to know his mouth was perfectly forming the words, Female pervert.

Chapter 4

I froze dead in my tracks, my entire body going rigid as I stared down at my hand. It had landed exactly where it had no business being twice tonight. I might as well chop off this treasonous, perverted hand.

Rowan slowly turned around. His eyes were heavy, barely able to stay open. When he spoke, the thick haze of sleep made his voice sound dangerously soft. "Hey, don't hit me. I'll do whatever you want."

He had the wrong idea.

But honestly? I didn't care. What mattered was that my stupid heart had just skipped a massive beat. A devastatingly hot guy practically begging for mercy because he was too tired to function? Who the hell could say no to that!

The second Rowan's bedroom door clicked shut, Chase grabbed my arm and dragged me into his vocal practice room. I couldn't even wipe the idiotic grin off my face fast enough.

Chase poked me hard in the forehead. "Cleo, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Copping a feel the first time you meet the guy? I seriously thought you were going to walk out of here with broken bones."

"Broken bones?"

What did grabbing his ass have to do with breaking bones? It wasn't like the guy was made of solid steel. Honestly, the texture had been pretty damn nice.

Chase motioned for me to come closer. I leaned in, totally getting the hint.

Chase dropped his voice to a hushed whisper. "Rowan has a condition."

Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. My stomach instantly dropped.

Son of a bitch! How could a guy that gorgeous be diseased? Did he catch something incurable while living overseas?

It made sense. With a face like that, he probably had women throwing themselves at him left and right. What a tragic waste. So young, and his love life was already a trainwreck.

Because lets be realwho in their right mind would settle for a purely platonic relationship with a guy built like a Greek god? Look but don't touch? It was a damn crime against humanity. I practically wanted to weep.

I was busy mourning the tragic loss of his sex life when I looked up. Chase was staring at me like I had three heads.

"What is wrong with your face? What exactly do you think is wrong with him?"

My internal funeral screeched to a halt. Wait. So there was still a chance?

Chase looked at me and let out a long, heavy sigh. "Rowan's condition is he can't kiss anyone. He gets a fever. And he doesn't handle physical intimacy well either. It triggers a severe stress response."

What the hell? That was a real thing?

"So what happens if someone actually touches him?" I asked.

Chase rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Clark said back in middle school, some guy purposely messed with Rowan. The kid ended up with broken bones."

I swallowed hard and subtly rolled my shoulders. Everything was still intact. Thank god. Maybe Rowan being practically comatose from jet lag had slowed down his reflexes tonight.

Because if he had gone full-force on me earlier, I'd probably be drinking out of a straw for the rest of my life.

Chase aggressively ruffled my hair like he was petting a golden retriever. "Cleo, when are you going to grow out of this serial-crush phase? You're turning twenty-seven this year. Rounding up, you're basically thirty"

I instantly batted his hand away. "Rounding up, you're practically forty. Daily check-in: Are you relevant again? Did your song go viral? Can you even make rent this month?"

Chase clutched his chest, putting on a ridiculously dramatic show of heartbreak. "Cleo, I am your own flesh and blood. How could you?"

I fully intended to dig deeper into Rowan's condition. Like, did the length of the kiss directly correlate with how high his fever spiked? Was there a loophole we could exploit?

But Chases phone started blowing up. He took at least five back-to-back calls, completely ignoring my existence. From the sound of it, the guy on the other end was a producer for some music reality show. So that explained all of Chase's bizarre, secretive behavior latelyhe was hustling for a comeback gig.

And Clark flying all the way back stateside? That was probably just to help my brother finally get his second shot at fame.

Chapter 5

"I got a gig, I got a gig! Cleo, whatever you want to ask, save it for tomorrow." Chase shoved his arms into his jacket and bolted for the door.

I rubbed my temples. "Bro, you're still in your boxers."

Bright, cherry-red boxers, to be exact. I honestly didn't know how deep his obsession with getting famous again ran, but he was convinced red brought good luck. Now everything he ownedfrom his phone case down to his underwearwas a desperate, screaming crimson. He practically begged for gigs on Twitter every day, advertising himself as "cheap and durable."

Chase spun around, puffing out his chest. "I knew that. I was just checking the weather. The stars are aligning."

"This time, I'm definitely hitting the A-list." He paused, a genuine smile breaking through. "Actually, it doesn't matter if I don't go viral. The most important thing is I finally get to sing on a stage again."

As he spoke, he started belting out Clark's biggest hit single. He looked like a little kid who just won a spelling bee, waving his arms around with a massive, goofy grin.

I just stared at him. Sometimes I wonder if my brother was born with a defective brain cell. Like his maturity level maxed out at five years old, and his IQ got permanently slashed in half.

That night, I had the most infuriating nightmare.

In my dream, I caved to the temptation and forcefully kissed Rowan. And then both of us ended up in the ICU. His fever spiked into the red zone, and I was suffering from massive internal bleeding. The hospital even stuck us in a couples' suite.

I bolted awake, gasping for air.

I grabbed my phone and saw a text Chase had sent late last night.

[Cleo, you know Clark and I value family above everything else. So, when it came down to choosing between staying home to take care of you and Rowan, or flying out to film this reality show Clark and I chose the show without a second thought. We caught a red-eye flight tonight. We'll be back in three months. Don't bully Rowan while we're gone.]

I stared at the screen for a few seconds. A slow smirk crept across my lips.

Being naturally rebellious was the one trait Chase and I shared the most. Tell me not to do something and it just makes me want to do it even more. A challenge just makes the game more fun.

I dug through my makeup bag and carefully applied a flawless "no-makeup" makeup look. By the time I finished, it was exactly eight o'clock.

Time to wake up Rowan.

Seeing this usually stone-cold, god-tier gorgeous guy looking soft and sleep-tousled was guaranteed to be ridiculously sexy.

Feeling like a million bucks, I pushed my bedroom door open. Rowan was already standing right outside. Fully dressed, his hand raised mid-air, right about to knock.

I froze in my tracks.

Damn it. Why the hell was he up so early?

A faint hint of amusement flickered in Rowan's cool, dark eyes. "You're awake."

His voice was cold, yet it carried this effortlessly lazy drawl. My heart totally skipped a beat. He was a walking lethal weapon. He didn't even have to try.

Just him existing was enough to make my brain short-circuit.

Rowan's gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a barely-there smirk. "Breakfast is ready, Cleo."

I followed him into the kitchen. The entire table was covered in a massive spread of food. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, fresh fruit.

Rowan handed me a fork with a small smile. "Chase told me you were a picky eater, so I made a little bit of everything. See if there's anything you like."

My eyelid twitched. A very bad feeling started bubbling up in my gut. "Did Chase happen to mention anything else besides me being picky?"

Rowan kept his tone completely neutral. "Chase said you have a nasty temper, you like to hit people, and that I should watch my back."

The sweet smile on my face shattered. I forced the words out through gritted teeth. "Anything else?"

Rowan didn't miss a beat. "He also mentioned that you have a ton of crazy ex-boyfriends who randomly show up to collect emotional debts, and that I shouldn't just open the door for anyone."

Chapter 6

Great, Chase. This is the PR campaign you're running for me behind my back?

Don't blame me when I completely destroy your reputation online. I still have a stash of blackmail photos from his talent show days, rocking that disastrous emo haircut and a fake tan so thick he looked like burnt toast.

I forced a light laugh, waving a hand dismissively. "My brother is full of crap. Don't believe a word he says."

Rowan gave a slow nod. "I don't. I only believe you."

So good. So obedient. I just wanted to pack him up and keep him. Too bad I'd probably end up in an intensive care unit before I even got my arms around him.

After breakfast, fully intent on showing off my domestic skills, I fought Rowan for dish duty. He couldn't pry the plates out of my hands, so he just stood back and watched me carry the stack into the kitchen.

Of course, thanks to my total lack of knowledge about my own brother's kitchen layout, I tripped the second I crossed the threshold. I didn't fall, but the dishes went crashing to the floor. Smash. Shards of porcelain scattered everywhere like a bomb had gone off.

I glared down at the completely unnecessary little step under my feet. I had no idea what kind of interior design crack Chase was smoking when he thought that was a good idea.

"Are you okay?" Rowan rushed to the doorway, stepping forward to come inside.

Staring at the minefield of sharp porcelain, my first instinct was to block him so he wouldn't get cut. But, naturally, my brain blanked on the existence of that stupid step again. My foot caught the edge, and my center of gravity totally vanished.

You don't have time to think during a crisis. Acting purely on survival instinct, I threw my arms out and grabbed onto Rowan.

Rowan's solid arms instantly wrapped around my waist, yanking me hard against his chest. Our bodies collided with a heavy thud. When I frantically jerked my head up, my gaze crashed straight into his deep, scorching eyes.

They were the most stunning eyes I had ever seen. Pitch-black pupils, like bottomless voids, pulling in every ounce of light in the room. It was impossible not to get pulled under.

But a second later, the hands gripping my waist started to tremble, instantly betraying his physical reaction to the touch. Reluctantly, I scrambled back two steps, breaking out of his hold. Broken bones were no joke.

Rowan remained frozen in that same pose, his face suddenly dark and unreadable. But just as quickly, that captivating smirk slid right back into place. "Let me handle this, Cleo."

Without another word, he stepped over the mess and started cleaning up the disaster zone.

Staring at the sleek lines of his back and that narrow waist, I replayed the feeling of his solid heat pressing against me. I swallowed hard, a wave of massive regret hitting me. If I had known, I would have dragged out that hug for another few seconds and only let go right before he snapped my neck.

The thought triggered a ridiculous image in my head. Rowan standing under dramatic, moody lighting, reaching his hand out to me, his voice dripping with romance: Want to be my girlfriend? The kind that ends in multiple fractures?

A snort escaped my lips.

Rowan glanced over his shoulder.

I instantly wiped the smile off my face, pretending to look helpless and eager to assist. Rowan stayed crouched on the floor, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. He turned his head away, clearly fighting back a laugh.

Was he making fun of me?

Over the next few weeks, I worked my ass off to show Rowan my best side, desperately trying to salvage my ruined image with my sheer personal charm.

I casually texted Clark, trying to sound completely nonchalant as I asked about Rowan's dealbreakers and his exact type. For dealbreakers, Clark only mentioned that Rowan was a massive germaphobe, especially when it came to sharing utensils.

As for his type? Clark hit me with three incredibly vague keywords: Hardworking, gentle, and kind.

So, armed with those three traits, I drafted up a foolproof battle plan.

Chapter 7

I swore up and down to Rowan, "You just got back stateside. Get some rest. I've got everything handled."

As it turned out, after playing the hardworking angel for exactly three days, my body gave out. The morning alarm was basically background noise.

Every single day, Rowan was the one up at the crack of dawn. Hed go for a run, make breakfast, shower, and then knock on my door. Whenever I dragged my feet and took forever to get ready, he just waited quietly outside. No rushing, no annoyance.

One time, he knocked on my door, I mumbled a response, and completely passed out again. I slept for another solid twenty minutes before finally waking up. I figured he had moved on to doing something else. So, zero makeup, hair looking like a bird's nest, and rocking massive dark circles, I threw open the door to head to the bathroom.

And crashed face-first straight into Rowan's chest.

My nose smacked into solid muscle. A sharp sting shot up to my eyes, nearly bringing me to tears. The impact literally scared the need to pee right out of me.

Anyway, I don't know when it started, but no matter if I woke up early or late, the very first thing I saw when I opened my door was Rowans god-tier face. He'd lean casually against the doorframe, dark hair falling softly over his forehead, his lips holding a natural flush. Standing there in the morning light, he gave off this effortlessly fresh, untouchable vibe. It was enough to make my mouth water.

It completely messed with my head, leaving me with a streak of hot, feverish dreams for nights on end.

I tried to comfort myself. It was fine. The hardworking persona was dead in the water, but I still had the other two: gentle and kind. As long as I kept my cool and didn't blow a fuse, I could totally nail the sweet and angelic routine.

But of course, right in the middle of my craziest writing deadline, the upstairs neighbors started doing renovations. Drilling in the morning, hammering at noon, banging at night! It felt like a power drill was constantly buzzing straight through my skull.

Since I couldn't string a sentence together for my draft, I resorted to fighting Chase's haters online. Honestly, it was proof Chase was actually making a comebackhe finally had real trolls. At the end of a massive flame war, I dropped my final tweet: The only dark spot on Chase is his spray tan! Period!

Then I slammed my tablet down, rolled up my sleeves, and while Rowan was busy prepping lunch in the kitchen, I stomped upstairs on a warpath. I pounded on the door. It swung open, revealing a guy built like a brick wall. I unleashed the entire furious monologue I had been rehearsing in my head.

The meathead sneered, crossing his thick arms. "It's my property. I'll renovate however the hell I want