by Charlie Hart
“Right, because I’m just a woman,” I snap back, shutting the textbook with a thud.
“No.” He lifts his head, dark eyes piercing me. “Because you didn’t spend ten years in school studying chromosomal mutations.”
“Maybe not ten years,” I take the notepad he was scribbling on, and glance over the formulas. “But I wrote my MA thesis on the methodology of gene manipulation.”
I probably shouldn’t have told him that. Keeping my identity a secret is more important than my ego, but I hate the way he treats me like I’m an uneducated floozy.
One dark eyebrow lifts, and I can see the questions in his eyes. Women, especially not women from lower socioeconomic backgrounds like the identity I claimed coming here, don’t have the means anymore to get degrees, unless they’re of a domestic nature. Or, unless like me they were raised and educated in one of the top boarding schools in the country. My father may have backwards thinking about a woman’s role in society, but he never denied my desire for higher education. Even fought the dean of the university to have me placed in the Master’s program.
My throat tightens at the memory of my father. We’d never been close, but the past couple of years, often working side by side with him on his research, I thought we’d connected. That was until he decided to sell me off to Lawson for an insanely large bride price without even asking my opinion.
I’d known Lawson since I was a teenager. From one of the wealthiest families on the west coast, the man had been a graduate student under my father, and afterwards rose up the ladder within the University quickly.
I’d worked with him on occasion at my father’s labs. He was attractive in a way. Nothing like my husbands. But it was his arrogance that had repulsed me.
There was cruelness behind his stoic gaze, one that promised pain if I ever disobeyed him.
Banks is still watching me, questions in his eyes.
I’m saved from having to give an explanation, by Fallon who comes in the front door, features pulled tight, skin flushed from the cold, and probably anger.
At least with Fallon I know he’ll never hurt me. I didn’t have the same assurance with Lawson - or my father.
Banks takes one look at Fallon and shakes his head and sighs. Fallon doesn’t notice. He only has eyes for me at the moment. He walks straight up to me and tells me he’d like another word with me. “Alone,” he adds.
Banks snorts.
Fallon’s eyes go hard. “What?”
Banks picks up his book, eyes back to the page. “Maybe you can intimidate Huxley to leave the room, but not me.”
I pull in my lips, hiding the smile that’s creeping across them, but I can tell Fallon is ready to fight by the way he clenches his jaw.
“Play nice,” I warn them both. Then I take Fallon’s hand and lead him from the room. Our fingers lace together and there is a giddy thrill of excitement running up my spine. Truth is, the idea of being alone with Fallon is more than intriguing. And while the day was relaxing as I got to know the men better, part of me kept waiting for Fallon to return, to scoop me up in his arms and drag me away to my room.
I want to be alone with him even if his attitude is infuriating. Because when we were alone last night he revealed another side of himself.
A side I want to see again.
I expect him to take the lead and drag me upstairs, but instead, once we are alone in the hallway, he turns to face me, a familiar look of intensity on his face.
“Why are you mad at me now?” I ask. “I didn’t leave the house all day, I swear. And I didn’t sleep with anyone, even though I have your permission to do so.”
His fingers rake through his hair. “No, dammit, it’s not that.”
I frown. “What is it then?”
“I know I’ve been an ass and to make up for it I thought we could go out tomorrow after breakfast. Just the two of us.”
My mouth falls into an O. I was not expecting that.
He shuffles his feet, not meeting my eyes. As if this is the most difficult thing he’s ever done in his life. His confidence seems to flounder as I consider his words and it softens him to me.
This is all new to him as well.
“I’d love to,” I tell him. “But the othermen are going to bepissed.”
“I’ll talk to them. I owe you for being such an ass.”
His words soften me to him, and I appreciate that he can at least see the error in his ways.
“Anything I need to know beforehand? Should I wear anything in particular?”
He lifts his eyes and nods. “Yes, Hypatia. Wear something green.”
“Green?”
He nods again, this time I swear there’s a hint of pink on the tops of his cheeks. Is the intimidating Fallon blushing?
“Green,” he repeats. “To match the color of your eyes.”
Chapter 14
Fallon
I’ve never asked a woman out on a date in my entire life. Never knew one I’d want to go out with, none ever met my requirements. Plus, most of the women around here were destined for the lottery. No sense getting attached to someone who would one day be someone else’s wife. But that didn’t stop some from fooling around beforehand. I’d known enough girls like that.
I’d never considered putting my name in the lottery.
I knew if I was ever going to put my name in the lottery it would only be for a woman who made my heart ache with desire. And damn, one look at Hypatia in the bottom of that ship, and I knew I had to have her.
Looks like the Universe agreed.
The other guys though, they’re pissed.I may be making things up to Hypatia, but I’m making everything worse with them.
“You’re just taking our wife for an entire day? Alone?” Huxley asked, anger in his eyes.
I got his point - and I backed off. A little.
Two hours with her, nothing more, nothing less.
Then I’d bring her home in one piece and keep my hands off her for awhile.
“And where are you taking her, is it safe?” Giles asked, concern in his eyes.
“Yes, it’s safe. And I’ll have a gun.”
That seemed to satisfy them, even if they weren’t happy. And I didn’t press my luck. I know when to leave well enough alone - and this is more than well enough.
Now I have Tia all to myself but I can’t seem to stop pissing her off. She’s a woman in her own right, who has her own needs and hopes and dreams. And if I want to get close to her, close enough to have and to hold, then I better figure out what the hell those are.
“So where are you taking me?” she asks, sitting in the passenger seat of my truck.
“It’s a surprise,” I tell her, turning on the engine and backing out of the driveway. I’m looking at her instead of the road because I can’t fucking help it. I told her to wear green, and she did as I asked.
Now I can’t focus on driving my rig. Her winter parka is unzipped, and I can see the V-neck of the pine-tree colored sweater, her breasts pressed together so damn perfectly. I’ll have to zip up that coat of hers before we get out of this truck. Don’t want anyone else looking at my wife the way I am now. Not that I expect anyone else to be where I’m taking her.
“I didn’t realize you did surprises, Fallon,” she says, buckling her seat belt, a grin playing on her lips.
I punch in the security code and the front gate rolls open.
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” I tell her, my eyes planted on the road now. The roads are all clear, but you can never be too safe. Especially when you are carrying precious cargo like Tia.
“Tell me something,” she says. “Something about you I don’t know.”
I run a hand over my beard trying to think of how to answer. “I like gardening.”
She lets out a small laugh. “Really?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“I don’t know, I guess not,” she backtracks. “But you sitting outside a flower bed? I don’t know. I can’t really see
it.”
“Not a flower garden,” I clarify. “Vegetables. Lettuce. Tomatoes. Carrots.”
“Okay, I can see that, a rough mountain man, hands in the soil. That’s kind of hot, Fal.”
Fal. I like the sound of that.
I smirk, wanting to catch another glimpse of her profile. “It’s not hot, it’s practical.”
“Maybe,” she says slowly. “But you without a shirt on, working the land...that’s sexy whether you like it or not.”
“If you like it, I like it,” I tell her. “You can help with the garden come spring.”
“I’ve never done anything like that.”
“No? My mom always had a garden. I remember her and my sister canning green beans and pickles for days. You never did that?”
She shakes her head. “No, I was usually indoors. Nose in a book. And the wrong ones, come to think of it. I should have been reading cookbooks and memorizing recipes. That would have been more useful out here.”
“What were you reading?” I ask.
She waves a hand in the air. “Nothing that matters.” She sighs, reaching for my hand. “Maybe Huxley can find us some books on canning. We could do that together.”
“You’d be into that?”
“I could try. I want to be useful here, it’s strange not really having a job.”
“No women have jobs, not anymore.”
“Right.” She sighs. “Well, I’d like to at least have a purpose.”
“You have a purpose.” The most important purpose. To be my wife.
She gives a small smile, one that tells me she’ll never be satisfied with just that. And I understand her need to be doing something meaningful. It’s the reason I am a bush pilot.
I turn right, towards an empty parking lot and park the truck. “We could plan out the garden together too. You know, choose the vegetables you like and what not.”
Her lips turn up.
“What?” I ask, unbuckling and turning toward her.
She leans over and kisses me. A soft and gentle kiss, but one that gets me hard nevertheless.
“What was that for?”
“You’re just cute when you get all domestic,” she says. “I didn’t expect such a macho man to have a soft side.”
“Working with your hands isn’t soft.”
“No?” Her eyes are bright, and I know she doesn’t believe me.
I shake my head playing along, unable to resist running a hand over the curve of her breast. When I brush my thumb over her nipple she gives the slightest moan. “No,” I tell her. “It means I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”
Her cheeks redden, and I love how her body responds to my touch.
“Did you bring me all the way out here to have sex in your truck?” she asks.
I raise an eyebrow, scoffing, “Hell no. I won’t have my way with you in public. I brought you here to go sledding.”
Her mouth drops open, then her face breaks out in a grin. “Really?”
“What did you think, that I’d make you go to a shooting range? Or teach you to skin a deer?”
“I honestly don’t know what I expected.”
“Well, know this: with me, I can’t always promise to supply you with jokes or fucking lingerie or insight on a classic novel, but I’ll always do my goddamn best to make you happy.”
She tilts her head, softening to me. “And you thought sledding would make me happy?”
“You said you wanted to feel free. I figured flying down a mountain might give you a taste of that.”
“Thank you,” she says, smiling. “This is perfect.”
I let out a breath, finally feeling like I did something right for a change.
And as we make our way up the hill, snow crunching beneath our boots, Tia’s gloved hand in mine, I have to agree with her. This. Her. Us. Is perfect.
I just hope to God I don’t do anything else to fuck it up.
Chapter 15
Tia
My feet and fingers feel like icicles by the time we drive back up to the compound, but it was worth it just to hear the howl of laughter from Fallon as we tumbled down the hill together, then laid in the white powder and stared up at the clear sky, and the multitude of stars.
The whole night was romantic and sweet, and totally unexpected.
But I can already feel Fallon’s walls going up as he pulls the truck into park. He stares ahead at the house.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He gives a curt nod. “I know you don’t need my permission. But I...”
I place my hand on his and squeeze it. “My feelings for the others will never change how I feel about you. But I can’t ignore them. And I don’t want to.”
His jaw tightens and his nostrils flare, but he says, “I know that.” Then he lets out a sigh and his features relax slightly. “But it doesn’t stop me from wanting you all the time.”
I kiss his cheek. “Come on. I’m freezing. And I’m starting to think the hot tub is a really good idea right now.”
He chuckles, and opens the car door. “Seeing you in that little bikini again does nothing for my self-control.”
“I like when you lose control,” I tease, racing him to the door.
We’re both laughing when we stumble in the living room, five pairs of eyes all lifting to meet our gazes.
“Hi,” I say, calculating the mood of the room.
Banks is still buried in his books. Salinger is talking on the phone, and seems frustrated by something the other person is saying. Giles, despite our commotion is fast asleep on one of the couches. And Huxley and Emerson are bent over a game of Chess.
“Hot tub, anyone?” I say, raising my brows as I strip out of my jacket, hat, and gloves.
“Hell yeah,” Huxley says, standing, and starting to strip out of his clothes right there.
I chuckle, and can’t help but let my eyes wander down his torso, over the defined abs, and knotted muscles in his shoulders and arms. He’s the shortest of the men, but he still towers over me. And those eyes, blue rimmed with thick, inky lashes, make my stomach flutter whenever they focus on me.
He gives me a wink, then turns, taking off his underwear, giving me a perfect view of his ass as he walks out the door toward the hot tub.
I hear Fallon give a small sigh behind me.
“You coming?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Go. Have fun.”
Grinning at the others, I pull my green shirt over my head, and toss it with my jacket. Screw the bikini, the sexy underwear Huxley got me will do just as well.
I shimmy out of my jeans, a smile itching at my lips when I catch the men’s open-mouthed gazes.
“Anyone else?” I ask.
Emerson barks out a laugh, one that makes Giles stir, but not wake up, then starts undressing himself. “I’ll put up with Hux’s bare ass for that.”
I’m surprised Salinger doesn’t join us, I see in his eyes he wants to, but he’s wrapped up in his phone call. He just drags his fingers through his hair and looks flustered as he turns away.
Fallon has disappeared up the stairs before Emerson and I are out of the house. I try to ignore the twist in my stomach knowing how hard this is for him. But not touching me, not claiming me is just as hard for the others. Except maybe Banks. I still haven’t figured him out.
Emerson takes my hand and helps me into the warm water.
“Nice bathing suit.” Huxley grins at me as his eyes wander over the thin lacy bra and thong he bought me. “Bet they’d look better off though.”
I chuckle, and watch Emerson as he sinks into the water beside me, fingers longing to trace the dark ink that covers his left arm.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say, feeling slightly emboldened, but even more so, tempted to tease Huxley. It’s a game we’ve been playing. Him with his comments. Me with my own little suggestions. Suggestions that haven’t come to pass, yet.
And then there’s Emerson. Sometimes the man reminds me of a lion with that mane of hair
. He’s pulled it back in a bun right now, but a few wisps have come loose framing his trimmed beard.
I give my back to Emerson, and ask over my shoulder, “Would you mind unhooking it for me?”
He coughs and Huxley laughs, giving me a knowing look. The man enjoys the teasing as much as I enjoy doing it. And I wonder if he wouldn’t be just as happy to watch me with the others.
Emerson’s fingers fidget with the clasp until it finally comes free, and I toss my bra over the side of the tub.
“Better?” I ask. My breasts are fully exposed and it’s exhilarating to be naked with my husbands.
“Hell, yeah,” Hux says. “But you’re still wearing too much.”
I shrug, turning so that I’m practically straddling Emerson. I lean in, wanting my nipples to brush against his bare chest, aroused at the closeness of our bodies. “I’m not the only one.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, and those eyes, the lightest shade of turquoise fill with a heat that leaves me breathless.
“Dangerous game,” he says huskily.
“It’s not a game.” I place my palms on his chest and inch closer, feeling his hard length against my stomach. He’s so big and solid; my pussy clenches as I press myself closer to him.
This is the very thing I’ve craved since we met. I may have entered this compound a virgin, but I very much want to give all that I am to the men I have taken vows with.
He brushes his hand against my cheek and there’s affection mixed with lust in his gaze. Neither of these men are overbearing or intimidating. They are friendly faces inviting me in. Maybe that’s why I feel so capable of being sexually vulnerable with them. Why I lower myself against Emerson’s cock without blushing. Why I drop my head back against Huxley’s body and lift my eyebrows with playful innuendo.
Emerson holds onto my hips, drawing our eyes back together. God, I want this.
“I’ll take mine off if you take yours,” I tease.
Emerson moans, and he pulls my face to his, consuming me with a kiss that makes me forget that Huxley is with us. That is, until I feel another set of hands on my back and ass.
