by J. L. Beck
“You’re not even wearing shoes,” he points out and I look down at me feet, my toes wiggling freely. I guess he's right, still I don't want to be a damsel in distress. I may have almost died, but my legs still work.
Oliver walks ahead and unlocks the door for us. Walking inside, Sullivan switches on lights as we go. It's strange to be alone with all three of them, almost intimate, like we’re in our own secret little world where we don't have to hate each other.
“Alright, I'm going to go and get out of these wet clothes and into the shower. I’ll be out in a little bit,” Oliver says, before disappearing up the stairs. As soon as he's out of sight I feel it, this strange tug at my heart. Like being away from him is losing a piece of my soul.
Something clicks in my brain then. He saved my life. He jumped into the ocean in the middle of the night and somehow found me, pulling me out.
Thinking it once doesn't quite hit home, so I let it run through my head again.
He saved my life.
Oliver saved my life. My mind is still reeling from this revelation as Banks and Sullivan take me upstairs and into the bathroom attached to one of the guest bedrooms.
I watch Sullivan turn on the water and pour some bath soap into it, while Banks sits down on the edge of the tub, still cradling me to his chest, wrapped up in a blanket like a newborn baby. I watch the water fall into the huge corner tub, the bubbles building little cloud like mountains as it fills up. When it’s about half way full, Banks starts to peel the blanket back.
“What are you doing?” I gasp, grabbing onto the blanket like it’s my protective barrier. I kinda guess it is since it's the only thing shielding me from their eyes.
“You gonna take a bath with the blanket around you?” Banks asks, his thick brow raised curiously.
Shaking my head, I feel my cheeks start to heat. “No. I can take a bath on my own though.”
Banks exchanges a disbelieving look with Sullivan before shaking his head. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
Clenching my jaw, I say, “I told you. I didn’t try to kill myself. Someone pushed me. I’m not making this up. I swear. Someone pushed me right over the edge. One minute I was standing there and the next I was in the water.”
“Did you see who it was?” Sullivan asks, his gaze colliding with Banks’. It's almost like they're communicating in some strange brother way, and whatever they're thinking or saying they don’t want me to know.
Even stranger is Sullivan’s reaction, it’s like he believes me.
“No. I was holding onto the railing looking out onto the water and someone just shoved me from behind. I didn’t hear or see anyone coming."
Remembering it makes me shiver. Who would want to hurt me? No one other than the Bishops, but the brothers didn't do it, they saved me.
“Either way, you almost died tonight, you shouldn’t be alone right now. Let me help you into the tub and then we’ll just sit down on the floor to keep you company.”
Biting my bottom lip, I contemplate it. I guess they’ve already seen me naked, Sullivan was holding me under the blanket, and I let him feel me up the other night, so there is really no reason to be shy now.
“Okay, but don’t look…I mean, at me… again,” I say suddenly feeling self-conscious. I'm not anything spectacular to look at, nothing like the girls they were with tonight. My hips flare out, and my thighs are a little thick, my boobs are pretty stellar or at least I’ve been told. I’m short, with hair the color of sunshine but I’m nothing special and yet, Banks and Sullivan are staring at me like I am.
Banks helps me stand up and frees me from the blanket. My cheeks feel like they are on fire as soon as the fabric is pulled away. As promised neither of them look directly at me as I step into the bath on shaky legs. Never in my life did I think I would be in this situation. The Bishop Brothers are supposed to be my enemies and yet here they are caring for me.
Banks places his hands on my arms to steady me until I’m submerged in the tub. The hot water soothes my sore muscles immediately and I sink down into the bubbly water with a soft moan.
“Your back is bruised a little bit. I can put some arnica cream on it when you get out if you want me to?” Sullivan asks, as he and Banks take a seat on the floor next to the tub. I’m not sure what arnica cream is, but anything that he wants to rub on me right now sounds good. My entire body is one big aching mess.
The water fills up until it’s almost at the edge before Sullivan gets up and shuts it off. For a few minutes I just soak in the water and let the tension seep from my body.
“Do you want to call the police? If someone tried to kill you…” Sullivan suddenly breaks the silence.
“No,” I cut him off. “I don’t want to call the police. One, I don’t have anything to tell them. I didn’t see anything, plus I was drinking…underage drinking. I’m already the center of attention at school, there’s no need to make things worse for myself. Maybe whoever pushed me didn’t want to kill me. Maybe it was just a joke that went too far? I don’t know but I don’t want to do anything that might add to my problems.”
“You really believe that?” No, but I want to believe that that’s all it was, because the alternative is too scary to consider.
“I don’t know what to believe, but I do know that I want this to be over. I want to be a normal college student and forget this whole thing ever happened. I’m probably the laughing stock of the campus now.” I frown staring down into the bubbly water. “Well, more than I was already.”
“Look…” I glance up at Sullivan. Those blue orbs of his bleed into mine, making my heart skip a beat or five. I can almost see the apology forming on the tip of his tongue. I shake my head slightly, hoping he understands. I don’t want an apology. I should be the one apologizing. All of this is my fault.
“You should stay here for a few days,” Banks interrupts. “If someone really did push you, maybe it’s not safe for you at the dorms anymore.” Logically speaking he’s not wrong, if it wasn’t just some sick joke then that means someone's out to get me, but who?
“You don’t really want me here, we all know it.” I avert my gaze so they can’t see the sadness flickering in my eyes. I’m ashamed over how weak I am for these men, how much I want them, when I know I shouldn’t.
“If we didn’t want you here we would tell you to leave, you should know that. I want you to stay, and although I can’t speak for my brothers, I’m sure they feel the same.”
“Feel the same about what?” Oliver says, walking into the bathroom, droplets of water clinging onto his hair. He looks clean and happy.
“Harlow staying here for now,” Sullivan explains. “Banks thinks she shouldn’t go back to the dorms if someone tried to kill her and I agree. It would make watching over her easier.”
“Yeah, I agree too,” Oliver says, without thinking about it. “It’s settled, she stays.” He decides clapping his hands together.
“Mhm, she is right here, and she should get a say in where she goes, right?” I say into the room, knowing damn well that they’re all going to disagree with me.
“No.” All three of them say at almost the same time. Each of their faces hold the same expression, a mix between fight me, and annoyance.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and sink down a little deeper until I’m chin deep in the water. If they want to play hotel for the next few days, then so be it. It’s not like they don’t have the space here for an extra person and I’m not going to lie, this is much nicer than the dorm shower stalls. I allow myself to soak a little longer while all three of them stand and hover over me broodingly, like someone could possibly get to me in their guest bathroom. It’s kind of cute how protective they’re being. Almost enough to make me forget their bullying ways.
When it’s time to get out of the bath it’s just as awkward as it was getting in. The guys kind of avert their gazes but insist on helping me out. Sullivan wraps me up in a large fluffy towel and before I can take a single step he be
nds to pick me up. I don’t even say anything knowing he’s not going to put me down. What’s the point in wasting my energy?
They want to treat me like fine china then I’ll let them.
We walk back through the guest bedroom, but instead of putting me down on the bed like I expect him to, he keeps walking until we’re in another room, a room that has to be his because it smells just like him. The room is vaguely familiar and I realize it’s the same bedroom they cornered me in the night of the party. Except now the lights are on and I can see the contents of the room. Dark sheets, grey walls, a wrought iron bed, close to the floor. The room screams masculinity.
Reaching the bed Sullivan sits me down on the edge of it, and I sink deep into the memory foam mattress. It feels like heaven. I consider rolling over in the towel and letting the mattress swallow me whole when he walks over to his dresser and pulls out a shirt and pair of shorts. My eyes feel heavy and my muscles ache. It’s starting to feel more like I fell down a flight of stairs and less like I was shoved off the side of a boat.
“You’ll stay here tonight,” he says, returning to the bed and placing the clothes beside me.
“I know, we discussed this already,” I say mid-yawn. Our eyes meet and there is a warmness within his gaze that I’ve never seen there before.
“No, I mean here. You’ll stay here, in my bed tonight. Tomorrow you’ll stay with Banks and then Oliver. We’ll switch off and on.”
“Wait, what?” I tighten my hold on the towel, needing something to hold me to this reality because what he just said makes zero sense to me.
“Your dreams are coming true, Princess, you’ll get to sleep with each of the Bishop Brothers,” Banks teases from the doorway and I give him a disgruntled look.
Pfft, this is not my dream. Totally not my dream. I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“No. There has to be like three extra rooms in this house. I'll just take one of those. I don't need to be babysat while I'm sleeping.”
Sullivan shakes his head, his features hardening as he leans forward and into my face. I should shrink back, get up, run for the door, leave this house but I can't, not only that, but I don't really want to.
His big hand reaches out and cups my cheek and I bite my lip needing something to focus on so I don't nuzzle my face into his hand like an unwanted dog needing pets.
“Don't fight us, please, because you won't win. There are three of us and one of you. One way or another we’ll get what we want. So let us do this for you. Let us take care of you. It’s the least we can do.”
The compassion in his voice tugs at my heartstrings. I must be having a mental break down because I'm on the verge of tears.
“Don’t lie to me, we’re enemies, rivals, you don't want me here,” I whimper, my emotions breaking through the surface.
Sullivan smiles, really smiles and when he speaks, I swear my entire body breaks out into a shiver, “Rivals or not, I've always wanted you here.” He pulls back, his hand dropping from my cheek, the moment ending all too soon. “Now, let’s get you to bed. We can figure stuff out tomorrow.”
Nodding my head I try to understand the feelings coursing through me. They should hate me, and they do, but there's something else there. The feeling is like a snake bite, the wound festering, the venom spreading through my veins. I look up from the floor and find all three of them staring at me. I've never felt so confused and complete all at once.
This makes zero sense but I'm too exhausted to try and figure it out right now. Maybe I’m so tired that I’m making this all up in my head. I should just go to sleep and reevaluate this whole day tomorrow.
And that's exactly what I do. I quickly slip into the clothes Sullivan laid out for me with the guys turning around like the gentlemen they are. I cuddle up on the king size bed, Sullivan stripping down to his boxers and crawling into bed next to me.
I gulp down the nervous anxiety of having him so close to me while being damn near naked. Banks and Oliver say their goodnights and leave the room. Exhaustion starts to tug at me and I’m only vaguely aware of the door closing and Sullivan leaning over to whisper in my ear.
“Sleep tight, Harlow,” his voice carrying me off into a dark slumber.
Chapter Eight
When I wake up it’s not yet light outside, the sky through the shades casts a dark shadow inside the room. Slowly I turn, lifting my head to find Sullivan still asleep. He looks so at peace. A Greek statue, with hard edges, and well-defined muscles that makes my mouth water.
I’m mostly laying on top of him my leg draped over his, my arm wrapped around his middle, those perfectly shaped abs pressing against my skin, with my head resting on his firm chest. I don’t remember falling asleep like this, but I’m not complaining about waking up in this position.
My cheek is hot where my skin is pressed up against his and when I try to move, I realize his arms are caging me in, holding me tightly to his side. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel secure, and protected in his arms. I’m content, so content that I almost forget that I nearly died last night. The unpleasant thought sends a shiver down my spine and I nestle even deeper, like I’m trying to embed myself into his skin.
“Are you cold?” Sullivan’s sleepy voice vibrates through me. It’s husky, and strokes something deep in my belly. My feelings for him—hell for all three of them—are spiraling out of control.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, my own voice raspy and my throat sore from swallowing all that ocean water yesterday.
“How is your back? Are you hurting anywhere?” He questions, his voice strong.
“Just sore, but I’ll be fine. I’m stronger than I look,” I tell him as he starts to gently rub his hands up and down my back. I bite my lip to stop myself from making any loud mewling noises.
“Let me see it. I forgot to put some cream on it last night. I can do that now,” he offers, nudging me off of him. I scoot away and lay down on my stomach beside him. This is bad, but oh so good. He peels the blanket away and gently pulls the shirt I’m wearing up.
The cold air of the room kisses my bare skin and I hiss out through my teeth at the sensation.
“Don’t move, I’m getting the cream.” He orders and gets up from the bed. God, he’s so bossy, it’s almost infuriating. I don’t watch him, instead I bury my heated cheeks into the mattress. His scent swirls around me, it’s inside me, in my pores, swirling around my head. I’m supposed to hate him, but hate is the last thing I’m feeling right now.
He reappears a moment later with a tube in his hand. Sitting down next to me, he squeezes some onto his fingers and starts to lightly massage my back. His touch is gentle, and sensual at the same time. It sends small jolts of pleasure up my spine and then back down again, and into my core.
“Oh god, that feels good.” I groan into the mattress without thought.
“I told you I could make you feel better,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing my ear. I can almost see the smug look on his face, the glint of mischief in his eyes. It doesn’t take long for me to turn into a pile of mush beneath his strong hands. His fingers trail across my skin, the cream he used penetrating deep into my muscles. He pulls away and I’m not sure what overcomes me, but I feel the need to apologize, to tell him that I’m sorry for ruining everything for him last year. I never should’ve listened to my father, believed his lies, not when he was far worse than the Bishops.
Pushing up off the mattress I settle onto my knees, the shirt falling back into place. When my gaze finds Sullivan’s, I see the heat in his eyes. Instinctively my eyes drop down to his boxers, a sizeable tent having formed there.
Shit, he’s huge, and hard as stone. I lift my gaze back to his face before I say something to embarrass myself.
“I… I just want to say sorry, for that night, for ruining…”
“Shhh,” Sullivan reaches out, pulling me into his arms. My lips press into a firm line at his touch. The organ in my chest starts to pound and my chest rises and falls in an unsteady rhythm.
With his hands on my hips he moves us back towards the headboard. I gasp as his stiff cock presses against my center. He must be able to feel the affect he has on me.
“I don’t want to talk about the past, in fact I don’t want to talk at all.” Fingers ghost over my hips and I wiggle against him, enjoying his hardness against me. His grip tightens and he groans, and I swear to god it has to be the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard in my entire life.
Lifting my hands I place them on his shoulders and lean in, my lips finding his full firm ones. The kiss is saturated with lust, with a primal need for something more and like two souls trying to find their place in each other we collide with a heat that could rival the sun. Sullivan’s tongue slips past his bottom lip, and presses against mine begging for entry into my mouth. Without hesitation I part my lips and our tongues meet, stroking each other tenderly.
My hands move all on their own gliding over his strong shoulders, and down his firm chest, over his eight pack abs, and to his tapered waist, before moving back up again, until my fingers find purchase in the longer strands of his hair, in this light it’s almost a rusty color that suits him.
Breathlessly, he pulls away, the blue of his eyes the color of a thunderstorm before it rains, his pupils dilated, “Fuck, Harlow, I want to kiss you everywhere, taste every inch of you.”
His confession should frighten me being how inexperienced I am, but it doesn’t it excites me, because I would love nothing more than to have his lips on my skin, his tongue stroking me in ways I could never imagine.
“Do you want that?” He questions, leaning in to press a kiss over my throbbing pulse. Pressing down on his cock I swivel my hips, the pleasure that zings through me is indescribable.
“Yes.” I reply hoarsely feeling only a little timid when he pulls away and grabs the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing, pulling it up and over my head. The shirt falls to the mattress beside us, and suddenly I’m sitting in his lap, my breasts exposed, and my cheeks feeling fifty shades of red. Instinctively, I lift my hands to cover my breasts but Sullivan isn’t having it, he shakes his head, and grabs onto my wrists, bringing my hands back to his shoulders.
