Devil (King Brothers #2)

by K. D. Elizabeth

  I stare at him, assuring myself he looks a little blurry because it’s full of cigar smoke in here—not because I’m stupid drunk.

  “What are you going on about now?”

  Nathan laughs. “And I can see you’re entirely sober right now. What I’m talking about is that I finally figured out why Andrea has been such a thorn in your side today.”

  I flip him the bird, not caring that I come across like an immature child. “And how about you illuminate me, Oh All-Knowing One.”

  Nathan smile turns a little feral as he nods behind me and says, “The most stunning blonde just walked in, and I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a fucking erotic dress before. And I’ve seen a fuck-ton of them.”

  My head whips over my shoulder, dread pounding through my drunk skull. Sure enough, it’s Andrea, all right.

  On the arm of my fucking brother.

  Chapter Nine

  My heart actually skips a beat. I never knew that could happen, let alone that it would hurt. It’s like suddenly running face-first into a wall. Staring at her aches more than anything Howard has ever done to me.

  She took the time after work to redo her hair, apparently, because it’s much curlier than it was when I spoke with her in the office. And when did she grow such fucking long eyelashes? They’re incredibly dark and fully frame her eyes. Absolutely gorgeous. Of course, noticing them is easier when they’re not behind the thick glasses she usually wears.

  My eyes travel inch by excruciating inch down her body. Her curves seem fuller and more erotic in the poorly lit bar. The bright red dress is seemingly the only splash of color in this godforsaken room. My eyes can’t land anywhere else.

  I’m not the only one. The other men in the bar crane their heads to stare at the sudden appearance of a fuck-hot woman. They whisper among themselves. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who they’re discussing.

  Andrea, however, fails to notice any of this, because she’s too busy staring up at my brother, Noah, who’s grinning down at her.

  No way in ten lifetimes is this an actual date. Out of the blue Andrea says she has a date, and she strolls in with Noah? This can’t be happening. I categorically refuse to believe that this is anything but a bullshit get-together.

  It’s terrifying, the rage I feel staring at them, the hot fury that courses through me at the sight of my brother touching her. Holding her, really. Before now, I never understood sibling rivalries, but now I get it. Oh, do I fucking understand. I’ve never been jealous of one of my brothers until this very moment.

  “Hoo boy, your face right now is positively murderous.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I growl at Nathan without tearing my eyes from Andrea.

  “Oh, sweet fuck, I think the great Axel King might actually like a woman.”

  “It’s not that, and you know it. The only thing I care about is whether or not she does her goddamn job. Her prancing around like that isn’t going to help her focus at work.”

  “She’s not prancing around at all, you jealous bastard. This is fucking great. Can you hold a sec? I need to take a photo. This moment requires well-documented evidence. Wait until I tell—”

  “If you breathe a single word of your ridiculously incorrect notions to literally any living creature, I’ll skin you alive.”

  “You’re for sure interested in her. This might just be the greatest day of my life. I should give you another drink; you’re already shit-faced and probably won’t remember your threat tomorrow, anyway.”

  “So thrilled to see you reveling in my current state. You really do care about your siblings,” I grumble. I’m aware that I’m being ridiculous, but for some reason, I just can’t give much of a fuck. My gaze returns unbidden to the couple on the other side of the room, now seated at one of the high-top tables in the far corner.

  Andrea sits with her back to me. Only the long curls of her blonde hair and those red fucking shoes are visible from this angle. Christ, I can see the steep arch of the underside of her foot.

  An image of those heels digging into my ass while I thrust inside her pops into my mind. I growl at my cock in defiance as it stirs to life under the bar counter. My cock needs to get it together because if there’s one woman it’ll never be screwing, it’s Andrea.

  Her laugh suddenly echoes across the bar. My entire body tenses in primal anticipation. Apparently, the rest of my body also needs to get the message that Andrea is off limits.

  I glance over again to see Noah—the bastard—whispering something in her ear. Andrea’s hand lightly grasps his arm as she replies. It’s careless; casual. Andrea never touches me that way. Is it because she doesn’t want to, or because she believes it wouldn’t be welcomed? Suddenly, I have to know.

  No, I don’t. Andrea doesn’t touch me because I’m her boss and it would be super fucking inappropriate. Andrea doesn’t touch me because I don’t want people touching me at all, dammit.

  I remind myself of that multiple times, but a stupid part of me still whispers, “Yeah, but what if she did touch you?”

  I last another minute before I can’t take it anymore. I slam my yet-again empty glass down on the bar and surge to my feet.

  “Axel,” Nathan barks, voice pitched low in warning.

  I spare him a short glance. “What?”

  “Don’t you dare go over there and ruin my twin brother’s date.”

  I glower at him. What does he think I’m going to do, tear them apart? Actually, that sounds like a perfect idea. “He’s my brother, too, dickface. What’s wrong with a little brotherly conversation?”

  “What’s wrong is that you’ve never envied Noah before in your entire miserable life, and now that you do, you’re going to do something terrible due to your shitty personality.”

  “Hey, fuck you, Nathan. Just because you beat him out of the womb by six minutes doesn’t mean I look out for him any less than you do.”

  “You are way too drunk right now—”

  “I’m not drunk. I’m just a little tipsy.” Sweet fuck, did I just call myself tipsy? Any more of that and I might as well order a Cosmo and start binging Sex and the City.

  I step back from the bar, pleased that I’m steadier on my feet than I expected. Nathan glares at me.

  “I swear, Axel—”

  “It’s fine. Let it go.”

  Before he can respond, I turn and begin pushing my way through the crowd so that I can get to them. It’s not very difficult; everybody knows me and has already learned by now that it’s far easier to just let me get where I’m trying to go.

  Noah, of course, watches me walk up, but Andrea, her back still to me, is unaware I’m even in the bar, let alone right behind her. And that pisses me off too. She’s been here for over half an hour. When the hell is she going to realize I’m here?

  “Hey, Axel. Funny seeing you here. How’s the harvest going?”

  My brother is a decent sort. I can freely admit this about him on most days, but right now, as Andrea’s head whips around in shock, I’m having a hard time remembering that fact.

  “What are you doing?”

  Noah’s eyes narrow slightly. I’ve seen him do it many times whenever he comes across an unexpected adversary. The sane part of me is unnerved that he’s making his scary face at me, but the larger part, the one fired up with alcohol and envy, doesn’t give a shit.

  “What does it look like we’re doing? We’re on a date.”

  Fuuuuck that. “You. You’re going on a date with Andrea?”

  “Is that so terribly hard to believe?” Andrea snaps.

  I ignore her. I get that’s rude, but this is between Noah and me. Brothers don’t encroach on each other’s turf. It’s the law. Andrea’s so irrelevant to this conversation, she might as well be on the moon right now.

  “I wasn’t aware that would be a problem,” Noah says like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

  “You’re on a date. With my employee.” Andrea cries out in indignation, but I’m still st
aring down my little brother. He, of course, stares right back. Noah never backs down from a confrontation. I so don’t want to get into a fight with my brother, but my entire body is urging me to rip his smirking face off.

  I can still save this. I turn to Andrea. “Can I speak with you?”

  “No, you can’t! I’m busy.”

  “Andrea …”

  “Don’t ‘Andrea’ me. If you really think I’m going to go with you when I’m in the middle of a date with another man—”

  “With my brother, you mean.”

  “—then you’re a—”

  “It’s okay, Andrea. Go talk to him real quick.”

  Andrea’s mouth drops open in surprise, but I need no other encouragement. I take her arm, helping her down rather quickly from the chair. She stumbles slightly on those heels; I instantly pull her to my side.

  She feels right—she feels perfect—nestled there.

  “Don’t worry, Noah. I’ll be back. This won’t take long,” Andrea calls over her shoulder as I tow her across the room.

  “Oh, it’s not you I’m worried about,” he says, dark eyes glittering at me.

  I grunt in acknowledgment. He’s right to worry.

  “Is this really necessary? Do you really have to drag me away from Noah to talk about something unimportant?” Andrea hisses under her breath as we weave around various people, all of whom turn to stare at her.

  “You bet your sweet ass we do.”

  “What did you just say?” Andrea barks in astonishment, but there’s no way I’m repeating that statement. Once is dumb enough.

  I lead her past the bar, where Nathan is outright glaring at me, around a bunch of drunk people, and even past the jukebox that’s blaring some country hit. Andrea slows as we near the bathrooms, but obviously I’m not going to pull her in there. Abernathy’s, while wonderful for many things, is not known for its cleanliness.

  Instead, I push open the door to Nathan’s office and drag her inside. Andrea barely opens her mouth in protest before I slam the door shut and back her up against it. She’s going nowhere while we have our little chat.

  “What the hell has gotten into you? Give me some space, will you?”

  I do no such thing, not because I’m an asshole who expects women to put up with my manhandling, but because the office currently spins impressively fast around me and movement might not be the best idea at the moment.

  “I want to know what the hell you’re doing with him.”

  Andrea frowns. “It’s none of your business.”

  “It sure as shit is.”

  “How could you possibly think that?”

  “You’re my employee.”

  “So? That has zero relevancy with regard to who I do or do not date.”

  “You’re my employee, and you’re on a date with my younger brother. Do you know how that looks?”

  “How that looks? It looks normal, is what it does. You’re out of your mind.”

  “People are going to wonder what’s going on when you work for me but are seeing him.”

  “No, they’re not. No one is going to give a single shit.”

  “This is Ovid. Of course they’ll care. Everyone cares about everything.”

  A strange light enters her eyes. “Oh, now I get it. It’s not that others will care, but that you do.”

  “I don’t care who you date.”

  “Yes, you do. I can see it on your face. Holy shit, you actually care whether or not I date your brother.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Andrea laughs a startled, disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe this. You’re jealous!”

  I scoff. “You’ve gone off the deep end.”

  “You are so jealous right now. You, Mr. I-don’t-need-no-one-and-no-thing, are jealous of the fact that I came here with your little brother.”

  She’s definitely laughing now. Laughing at me. It pisses me the hell off, because I know, deep down, she’s right.

  “Yeah, well, when you look like—” my mouth snaps shut before I finish the sentence, a sentence that’ll get me into all sorts of trouble.

  “When I look like what?” Andrea repeats again from earlier today. Her eyes twinkle up at me; she’s not even attempting to hide how much she’s enjoying this.

  Fine. She asked for it. When I know I’ve got her full attention, I trail my eyes suggestively down her curvy little body. My gaze snaps back to hers. Her eyes widen.

  “When you look that fucking good.”

  “Axel—”

  I kiss her. There’s pretty much no other option at this point. We’ve danced around this all day long. I’m the kind of man who acts on what I want.

  And I want to fuck her senseless.

  I don’t just kiss her. I grab that ass that’s tempted me for hours and haul her off the ground. Andrea moans and grabs my shoulders in surprise.

  I wrap her legs around me, her heels digging into my ass exactly like I imagined. I jerk up her dress, my hands seeking the curves I’ve been fantasizing about ever since she sashayed onto the farm today in that dress. Christ, she fits perfectly in my grip.

  Andrea plasters herself against me, nibbling on my lip until I open for her. She tastes like wine and woman. Softness. Temptation. I want to sink entirely into that taste.

  I press her into the door, freeing my hands to roam over her curves. In seconds, I’ll be balls-deep inside her. Andrea grinds against me, my cock hard against her stomach. Her fingers plow into my hair, nails scraping my skull. Fuck, she’s hot. My little nerd of an accountant is a wild woman. I’m going to screw her right here against this door, until she can’t remember her own name.

  Fists suddenly pound on the door. I tear my mouth from her throat. “Axel, get the hell out of my office!”

  Chapter Ten

  Andrea crawls up my body, her knees straddling my waist as she stares down at me in desire. “I want you.”

  A noise rumbles out of my chest in approval. Andrea smiles at the strangled sound, tongue darting out to lick her lower lip.

  “You want me too, don’t you?”

  Another sound tears from my throat in answer. I’m beyond making an intelligent response. Andrea rakes her nails down my chest as her smile widens. Then, with aching slowness, she leans up and then gradually, so very fucking gradually, lowers herself down onto me. My hands dig into her ass, pulling her down onto my shaft as tightly as possible.

  “Fuck,” I growl, panting.

  “You feel so good,” she moans, sliding up and down my length.

  My heels dig into the bed as I struggle to refrain from flipping her onto her back and pounding into her with fury.

  “But you know who feels better?”

  My eyes jerk to hers. “Huh?”

  Andrea locks eyes with me, her smile turning wicked. “Noah.”

  I jerk awake, covers flying off me. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  I groan, rolling over and burying my face in my pillow. Fucking horrible dream. No, make that a nightmare, because dreaming about your younger brother pleasing a woman better than you definitely belongs in the realm of nightmares.

  These dreams need to stop. This is actual torture. I don’t care if I deserved this one after I literally stole Andrea away from my brother, yelled at her in my other brother’s office, and then very nearly fucked her against the door before both of them practically dragged her away from me. No sane man can withstand such torment.

  I get out of bed; there’s no way I’ll be getting back to sleep today. Not when I know who’s waiting for me in my dreams.

  Naturally, my head feels like it’s being perpetually run through a meat grinder over and over. Damn bourbon. And I thought that a couple of drinks would relax me enough to forget about all this. Plot twist: I just made the situation immeasurably worse.

  Today’s going to be a very long day.

  I go about my morning routine, lifting, eating, showering, etc. The entire time it feels like I’m slogging through water, like I could swim for f
ive hours and only go a mile. I’m sluggish and in pain, making me one hell of an irritable devil.

  My men stay well away from me. I think I even catch a couple of them whispering about the bar last night. Wonderful. That means the whole damn town probably knows about last night. Another thing to worry about.

  I don’t harvest with them. I tried that the day before and it did little to distract me. It’s not likely that it will make much of a difference today, anyway, when every couple of seconds my brain screams that if I had any sense at all, I’d be pounding into Andrea this very moment. So instead, I hide. I drive over to the corner of my property right next to the old Larson farm.

  I’ve been trying to get this area to produce its usual yields from the past four decades, but for the last three years or so, they just haven’t been doing well. The trees are a little sickly, their branches producing a third of what they used to. All fruit trees have a natural life before they need to be ripped down so new trees can be planted, but these should have had another good eight years on them.

  That’s why I wanted the Larson farm. I can increase our total production for the year while also analyzing Rory’s forty acres back here, which has not been used but will nevertheless probably suffer the same problem. I’ll at least need to test the soil composition and drainage between these two pieces of land to finally get to the bottom of it. It might take a few years, but I’m committed to figuring out how to solve this problem.

  “Planning for the future?”

  My eyes flutter closed. Of course she found me.

  “I always am,” I say without turning around. If I don’t move, if I can just get through this conversation without looking at her, I might be able to return to our usual professional interaction.

  “Really? Because last night, I would’ve sworn weighing the consequences of your actions is something you never do.”

  And fuck. I whirl, steeling myself for the sight of her. Thankfully, she’s not in another killer dress but back to her usual form of baggy clothes, her eyes hidden behind those thick glasses. Even her hair, so long and curly yesterday, is back to its high bun on the crown of her head.