Phoenix (The Colton Cousins Book 1)

by Rebecca Rennick

  Magnus removes his apron and circles the table to stand in front of me. One hip leaning on the metal table and arms crossed over his chest. Intrigued, but not judging.

  “You’ve never had a thing for a girl before. Why now?”

  Not bothering to argue with him or correct him again, I actually think about his question. And I can only come to one conclusion.

  “I don’t fucking know,” I huff out honestly. Magnus just waits for me to continue. I take in a steadying breath before I go on. He’s patient and knows I need time to get over myself to speak freely with him. Because I know he won’t mock or taunt me for whatever I say in the end.

  “I’m just drawn to her. I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s even invaded my dreams.”

  “Interesting. Do you still bring women home that you pick up in the bar?” He asks genuinely, no prejudice in the question.

  “Not in a couple of weeks. None are appealing enough anymore.”

  “Why haven’t you fucked her then? If you’re attracted to her, what’s stopping you?” His green eyes are sincere as he watches and waits.

  “Because she’s my roommate and works for Pop. If it goes sideways, things could get messy. And Pop really likes her. He doesn’t want me scaring her off.” Leaning my butt on the table, I slouch, defeated. Why do I feel defeated? My traitorous heart aches every time I think of her. It pounds viciously even now when I talk about her.

  “True. But that’s never stopped you before.”

  “Yeah and look at how well that turned out.” Every time I got involved with anyone connected to the businesses, it was a nightmare. Especially when I told them I didn’t want anything more, and they did.

  “Okay. But you’re suppressing your feelings and ignoring your attraction. Eventually, it’s going to blow up in your face. You need to confront that shit and sort it out. Like now.”

  Ha yeah, right, my feelings? I don’t have feelings for women. The only feeling I get for them is the feeling in my groin when I want to feel inside them.

  “So, you’re telling me that when Clover starts dating and brings a guy home because she got tired of waiting for your commitment phobia ass. You’re not going to try and break the guy’s hand the moment you see him touch her?”

  Imagining the scenario Magnus described at the very moment the hypothetical man kisses Clover, and his hands run over my sweet cheeks, I snap his neck. My hands tighten around the edge of the table I’m leaning against. The clenching of my jaw actually starts to hurt. Maybe he has a point. I’ve never had that kind of response to someone before. Is this what it’s like to have feelings for someone? It’s not very pleasurable. Why the fuck do people want to feel like this? Strung out, confused, irritable. My insides constantly feel like I’ve been snorting too much blow, and they’re rotting from the inside out. Doesn’t seem worth it to me.

  “What do I do to keep from killing the shit-dick that she chooses instead of me?” I ask, trying not to look him in the eyes. I just can’t. It’s hard enough to admit he could be right.

  “You have to decide.” He says softly.

  “Decide what?”

  “How much you really like her.”

  How much I like her? I freeze at the realization of hearing it out loud. I like Clover. I mean, shit, I knew I was attracted to her and enjoyed her company and seriously wanted to fuck her. But actual emotional attachment—that’s new to me—feelings are new to me. Having those kinds of feelings, even more so.

  “Look, you know how I feel about bringing an innocent woman into our lifestyle, but you have to decide. In or out.”

  I do know how he feels. Magnus hates the idea of bringing someone from the outside into our world. Into the violent and blood-soaked world, we tend to thrive in. He doesn’t want to taint her, to cause her pain or worse. So, for him to tell me to decide to go in with Clover. It carries way more weight than with any normal person—and I so fucking want in her. That’s not what he means, though it’s what I want.

  He thinks I should go all in or disconnect completely. Thinking about not seeing Clover every day and hearing her sassy mouth sits like an acid-covered rock in my stomach. Physically hurting me at the possibility of her leaving. Turning that around and thinking of actually getting deeply involved with her makes me almost literally break out in hives. Stealing the air from my lungs and drying out my mouth.

  How can he possibly tell me to choose one or the other? I can’t make that decision. It’s not that fucking easy for me. Ever since Robin, I’ve been too afraid to connect with anyone. What happened to her could easily happen to anyone. That scared me. Magnus doesn’t want to bring a woman into our family for fear of tainting her purity and innocence. I am afraid for a whole different reason—it’s actually partly the reason for my number two rule of no women staying the night in the house. Reading the indecision and fear on my face, Magnus tries to calm me down.

  “You don’t have to confess your undying love for her or kick her to the curb this second. You just need to figure out how you truly feel for her. Do you have real feelings for her? Or do you just want to get into her pants?”

  “I think I can do that. But what the hell do I do once I decide? What if all I really want is to fuck her? Should I?” Because I really have no goddamn idea what to do or how I’m even going to come to any conclusion on how I feel. I don’t do emotions, as is evident by me asking Magnus to tell me what to do.

  “You’re going to have to make that decision on your own, Nix. And you’ll have to deal with the consequences of whatever choice you make.” Magnus returns to his dough, leaving me dizzy with thoughts of Clover.

  If I decide to have sex with Clover, there are so many ways it could go wrong. She could get attached and then get jealous and freak the fuck out when I bring someone else home to dip my dick in. She could cause a scene at the bar or quit. Pop would not like that at all. Honestly, I wouldn’t like that either. I like seeing her behind the bar with my family’s logo stretched across her glorious tits. Or worse, I could get attached to her and be the jealous one. I’m already getting murderous at make-believe men that touch her. I can’t let that fucking happen.

  Then again, maybe neither of us will get serious feelings for the other, and we could just have casually fucked. Yeah, I like that. A live-in fuck buddy. One that I can walk down the hall and have whenever I want. Feeling a little less freaked out, I exhale a deep breath and relax a little. There is a way for me to have her and not have to deal with emotions. I just have to make sure she’s on board with the idea. I don’t even notice when a smile spreads across my face.

  “Don’t go jumping in, thinking you can be fuck buddies either with her Nix.”

  Dammit, how the hell does he know what I’m thinking?

  “She’s not the type from what I hear from the girls. Don’t think a no-strings-attached approach will work. You’ll end up with a bigger mess on your hands.”

  “Don’t worry, cuz. I got this.”

  “Do you?” He asks snarkily.

  Of course, I do. I always have it. I know I want her; I know she wants me. The sexual tension between us is palpable. We both just need a good fucking then we’ll be fine. I think. Though I can’t bring myself to answer him for some reason.

  Instead, I shift the conversation over to him.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You meet anyone worth it?”

  “Not yet.” Magnus turns and removes a fresh batch of donuts from the oven and starts prepping his signature glaze.

  “Those are for me, right?” I try to grab one, but he swats my hand away.

  “No.”

  “But I wanted to take some home for Clover.” He side-eyes me. “And Beau.” I quickly add. Fuck. I want to bring her donuts. And not just any donuts. Magnus’s donuts. He might be right. There might be something more to these feelings he speaks of. Great, just what I need.

  “Fine.” He huffs, giving in.

  “You’re too soft
, man. That was too easy.”

  “Only when it comes to baked goods.” He chuckles. Magnus has a huge but soft heart. A true romantic. Nothing like me. I wouldn’t know romance if it punched me in the nuts.

  “Thanks, man.” I give him a grateful smile.

  “It’s no problem. I can make more.” He shrugs.

  “No. Thank you for…” I make a hand gesture signifying everything else.

  “You’re welcome, Phoenix.”

  Chapter 19

  Clover

  T he house is quiet this morning. No sound seems to be coming from anywhere. I think Beau is still asleep, and I hope that Nix has already left for the day. I snuck out earlier to start my laundry and didn’t see anyone. I try to do it when the house is empty.

  Laying in the fluffy cloud that is my bed, all I want to do is hide in here. Crawl under the covers and let the world pass by around me. Working nights is tiring. Avoiding Nix is tiring. I stress every time he comes home, or I have to knock on his door to ask for a ride to work, or if it’s okay for me to take the Camaro. Lately, they’ve been letting me borrow it to drive to work. Even though I haven’t seen him bring a woman home from the bar in weeks, I’m still afraid he’s going to have another woman in his room. Ugh. I’m pathetic. All this moping around is draining me. I really should just move on. It’s depressing. I can’t keep pining over him.

  “Uhhh,” I groan, forcing myself out of the heavenly bed. Can’t just curl up and hide from the world, Clover. Shit still moves on, and it’s time you do, too. One step at a time, one day at a time. First things first: clean clothes.

  Poking my head out my bedroom door, I check that the hall is empty. All is quiet, and there’s no sight of either of the men I share this house with. Quickly, I make my way to the laundry room and start switching my laundry. At least Nix has kept his pants out of my laundry since then…

  It’s at that moment that I pull out a giant pair of blue jeans. Motherfucker. He is home and put his shit in with mine, again. What the hell is his problem? Can’t he do his own fucking laundry? He just keeps adding insult to injury. I’ll show him. Grabbing the bleach bottle off the shelf above the washer, I plop his wet clothes in a bucket.

  “I warned you, Prince Charming. I hope you like bleach and tie-dye.”

  Chapter 20

  Phoenix

  R eturning home with the pink bakery box of donuts, I find it empty. Did everyone leave already? It’s not time for Clover or Beau to go to the bar yet. It’s still too early. Clover must still be home. Maybe she’s upstairs. It wouldn’t hurt to check.

  Leaving the donuts in the kitchen, I head upstairs. Everything is quiet. Clover’s door is closed. I think I hear the shower running. Damn, do I want to join her in there. Watch the water running down her porcelain skin, her dark red hair soaking wet and sticking to her back, her breasts. Why do I continue to torture myself? Cupping my dick through my jeans, I shift uncomfortably. It’s already hard enough to bust my zipper. I need to rub one out before I can see her. Before I can do anything, really. A stiff dick makes it hard to concentrate on just about anything.

  Returning to my room, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor before unzipping my pants and pulling out my erect cock. I don’t have time to wait. The need is already pulsing through me. My heart races in anticipation of the relief I’m urgently seeking.

  Sliding my hand from tip to base, I squeeze my shaft. Leaning my back against the door, I run my thumb over the tip, spreading my precum. It’s embarrassing how quickly I’m fully aroused by this woman. This red-haired, petite, busty, pouty-lipped woman. All I can see when I close my eyes is her in the shower lathering her body in soap. I pump my hand a little faster. Her hand slides over her erect pink nipples. Groaning, I cup my balls with my left hand while my right continues to pump my cock. I’m so fucking hard it’s bordering on uncomfortable. My dick throbs in my hand as I can feel the tingle starting in the base of my spine -this isn’t going to take long. Her hand slips between her thighs, and those dainty fingers slide between her wet folds.

  Fuck, I can feel my balls tightening as I stroke faster, harder. Pausing for a moment at the tip, sliding only the head through my hand before returning to stroking my shaft. Oh shit, I’m going to come already. Giving my balls one last good squeeze, my orgasm shoots through me, pushing me over the edge. All the muscles in my abs tighten, and I clench. Releasing my hot cum in my hand. Running my thumb over the sensitive tip, I squeeze it gently, making sure I get every last drop. My hips jerk at the sensation. How I wish it was Clover’s sweet pussy instead of my hand.

  Goddammit, I can’t keep doing this. I need to take Magnus’ advice and make a damn decision. Soon. Blinking away the post-orgasm haze, I notice the neatly stacked clothes on the foot of my bed. I can’t pick them up with my hand full of cum, so I wash up in the bathroom before returning to the stack. It’s the clothes I threw in the wash with Clover’s this morning before I left for the bakery.

  A smile sneaks up on me and spreads across my lips. Thinking about her handling my clothing is the closest she’ll get to handling me, for now. Until I make a decision. Until I know what she wants. Immediately, my smile turns to a frown.

  “What the fuck?” I ask out loud. There are bleach stains on all the items I put in the wash. Unfolding my jeans, she’s managed to make a pattern of starburst circles all over them. Two rather large ones on each ass cheek. Bitch. These jeans cost $150 alone. I can’t believe she actually bleached them. I figured she was just bluffing. Apparently, I was wrong. Well, I’ll teach that little minx. I’ll show her that I can rock any look, including the bleach patterned jeans and shirt. I choose a black t-shirt that looks like she dipped only the left shoulder and sleeve into the bleach before inspecting my new look.

  Checking out my reflection in the full-length mirror, it’s not half-bad. Somehow, I make this look good. With a cocky grin on my lips and a little swagger in my step, I go downstairs in search of the bleach artist.

  I’m lucky when I find her in the living room sitting on the couch, her back turned to me. Taking the opportunity, I strike a pose like a model at the end of a runway. Hands in my pockets, one hip cocked to the side with my head tilted up and back.

  After a few moments, she realizes I’m here and turns to see me. Bursting out in hysterical laugher, she tries to muffle it with a hand over her mouth. A snort escapes from under her clasped fingers. She is so adorable, and I can’t help the grin that takes over me—all anger over her ruining my favorite jeans forgotten.

  She stands and faces me. She was already dressed for work in black rolled-up shorts, and a white tank top with the Colt 45 logo in black blazed across her breasts. I can see the lacy white bra beneath, and although my dick is happy at the sight, that’s not the first thought to pass through my mind. All I want to do is run my fingers along the edge of the bra across her ample mounds. I want to explore every inch of her body, to touch and taste her skin. To see goosebumps of desire and anticipation rise on that skin. To see that shy smile when she realizes I’m watching her—the flush of her cheeks. These thoughts are different from the norm but not so unappealing. I try not to suppress them as Magnus has instructed and just let them flow.

  “What do you think? Is it the next big fashion trend?” I strike another pose. She continues to giggle at me as she walks around the couch, and it’s so good to hear her laugh. To see her smile. I can relax for the first time in weeks, the tension leaving my chest at the joy in her bright eyes.

  “I like it. It’s very chic. You’ll be all the rage with the ladies.” She giggles, and my heart contracts. Shit. Magnus is right. I do like her, more than just a good fuck.

  “But wait, you haven’t seen the best part.” I give her a wink and turn so she gets a clear view of the bleach spots on my ass. “Does this make my ass look big?”

  Again, she bursts out in wholesome laughter, a tiny snort in the middle of it all. Clutching her sides, she tries to right herself and catches her breath. />
  “Not at all. Your ass looks perfect, sweet even.” And we both break out in a full belly laugh. It’s been years since I remember laughing like this. It feels good. I want more of this with her. I’ve never wanted it before—the feeling is foreign but not completely horrible. Letting go and letting whatever this is take over me has relieved the tension I felt. My stomach doesn’t want to drop out of my ass anymore. Now it’s just filled with nervous anticipation of what might happen next.

  “Oh, no. The only sweet ass in this house is yours.” Without questioning my impulse, I reach out and wrap my arms around Clover’s waist and hoist her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around my waist. This is a very agreeable position. Her breasts are pressed up against my chest, and her arms reflexively wrap around my neck. Her lips are only inches from mine, and this is the first time I have gotten to touch her—it feels so fucking good. I have been fighting the urge to touch her since the first night I met her. Giving in and just going for it is liberating. Like eating a whole box of donuts. You know you shouldn’t, but you really fucking want to.

  With very little shame, I cup one of my hands under that beautiful ass I’ve been dreaming about. It is firm and perfectly round. My hand is large enough to cup one entire ass cheek. The boisterous laughter that had taken over her is now silent. Wide blue eyes stare at me in wonder, and she sucks in a breath. Even though I desperately want to lean in the last few inches and suck on her bottom lip, I don’t want to frighten her off. Which is weird because normally, I liked frightening them away. Then they wouldn’t attempt a second pass at me.

  “What are you doing, Nix?” She asks. The heat from her breath coating my lips.

  “You have to be punished for bleaching my clothes.” A wicked grin stretches my mouth wide. A matching one plays across those pink lips of hers. She’s in a playful mood. Finally.

  “I only did what I promised. I don’t deserve punishment. You’re the one who is in the wrong.” She says sweetly, batting her long lashes—the picture of innocence.