The Cassidy Brothers

by Sienna Blake

  “There is no us.”

  “Not now with you pushing me away all the time.”

  She took a step toward me, and I took one toward her. Before I knew it, we were marching toward each other.

  “Me? You’re the one who disappeared without a trace.”

  She let out a humourless laugh that was chilling. “Are you joking? You’re mad that my parents died?”

  “Of course not. I’m mad that you didn’t keep in touch. You didn’t call. You didn’t write.” I was yelling now. I never meant to admit all this. But now I’d started, I seemed determined to get it all out. “Nothing! You just vanished without a trace. Then you show up here three years later and expect to be welcomed back with open arms?”

  “I couldn’t contact you. I wasn’t allowed.”

  I shook my head. “You mean you didn’t try.”

  “Every day of the last three years I wanted to hear your voice. If I could contact you, I would have.”

  “Un-fucking-likely.”

  “Jesus Christ, Aogán.” Her face was red as we stopped in front of one another, hands clenched, breaths hot and jagged. “What are you so damn angry at me for?”

  I threw my hands up in the air, anger and what I feared was arousal, rolling off me. “We kissed, Orla. Do you even remember that?”

  “I thought about it all the time.”

  She…did?

  We stared at one another, the heaving of our breaths and the soft purr of the forgotten feline the only sound between us. Was she remembering my lips on hers and the touch of our hesitant tongues? Because I certainly was. Was it heating her blood, stirring up old feelings like fallen leaves? Because there was no denying it did for me.

  “You...did,” I said, my voice like dust.

  She did. I could see it in the darkening of her eyes and the quickening of her breath.

  She swallowed. “I…still do.”

  That was all it took.

  We collided in a tangle of limbs, my lips claiming hers, my tongue demanding entrance.

  I picked her up, her legs going around my waist, her arms hooking around my neck. The junction between her legs settled in just the right spot, drawing a growl from the centre of my chest as my erection throbbed. I backed her up against the wall of the house.

  This was nothing like the sweet and innocent kiss we shared years ago. I poured all of my pent-up frustration into it, every ounce of desire that I had tried to ignore for the past two weeks. It was rough, demanding. Pure need. Insatiable want.

  I wanted to make the clothing between us disappear, but I wouldn’t rush this. I wouldn’t rush her.

  I’d wanted it for too long. Waited for too long to fuck this up.

  Breaking our kiss, I leaned my forehead against hers.

  She moaned in protest. Her lips were already slightly swollen, the colour of blood so rich it rivalled her flaming hair. Gorgeous. Perfect. Mine.

  “Why’d you stop?” she asked, nipping at my bottom lip.

  I let out a growl. “Because…”

  The damn feline mewed as it rubbed around my ankles.

  “Because?”

  “Because,” I breathed. My head spinning, trying to catch up to where our bodies had already gone. “If I don’t stop now, I’m going to fuck you against this wall.”

  She sucked in a breath. Oh. She liked the sound of that.

  “Would…would that be so bad?” she whispered.

  My cock stiffened even further, practically screaming at me to keep going. I let out a groan, burying my face in her neck to avoid having to answer a question I just couldn’t find words for. I kissed and sucked the spot where her neck met her shoulder, making her moan softly in my ear like music.

  This felt both too fast and yet long overdue. How many times had I thought about having her body wrapped around me like this in the past two weeks? Too many to count. I’d spent almost every night palming my cock and thinking of her since we arrived.

  Despite all my resisting, I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. Not now. Orla was special to me. Always had been. Always would be.

  She needed to know that.

  She, however, didn’t get that memo.

  She ground herself against my cock, making my blood burn, my nose thick with her scent.

  “No,” I muttered.

  “Yes,” she hissed as she slid a hand down between us. I caught her wrist and slammed it against the wall above us, pinning her to it with my body.

  “Not like this.”

  She pouted and tried to kiss me.

  I pulled my head away.

  “Why not?” she said, an adorable sulk in her voice.

  “Not until you say you’re mine.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Orla blinked at me for the longest time. I swear my heart began to crack under the weight of her silence. She pushed at me with her other hand. I helped her lower her legs to the floor and stepped back, giving her space, my heart thundering in my ears as I waited to hear what she had to say. Her next words had the power to end me.

  “I…”

  I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my heart. “Don’t you feel this?”

  “I do, but…we just reconnected.”

  “Orla, my heart has been yours since we were kids. I know what I want. What I’ve always wanted…you.”

  “But I don’t know what I’m doing. Where I’m going to live. To do for money.”

  “We can work all that out. Together. Just say you’ll be mine.”

  Orla’s face fell, her eyes refusing to meet mine.

  My heart squeezed. “You don’t want to,” I realised.

  She shook her head. “That’s not it.”

  I stumbled back, the cracking of my heart echoing, the same way it had broken three years ago when she left.

  Orla grabbed my arm, pulling me close again. “That’s not it,” she repeated, firmer. “Aogán, you were the first boy I ever wanted.”

  “But…?”

  “But we’re not kids anymore. Life is more complicated now. I need to figure out my life before I can figure out how I fit into someone else’s.” Her eyes, round and doe-like, fixed on me. “Please don’t hate me.”

  “I could never hate you.”

  She gave me a small half-smile. “You did a good job of pretending the last week.”

  I winced. “I guess I was a little bit of an ass…”

  She made a face at me.

  “Okay, a lot of an ass.” I slipped my arms around her and tucked her under my chin. Her slender arms went around my waist, and I felt for the first time in a long time like I’d come home. “Okay, baby,” I said into her soft vanilla-scented hair. “You take your time. We’ll do this your way.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her shoulders sinking with relief. “But…”

  “But?”

  “Can we keep this between you and me for the moment?”

  I stiffened. Something didn’t feel right. But I wasn’t about to give her any reason to back out. “Sure,” I said, tucking her tighter against me.

  She was off the hook for now. But I wasn’t letting up.

  She’d said I’d been the first man she ever wanted.

  I would make sure I was the last.

  Donncha

  I wasn’t sure when it happened, the change was so subtle. One day, about three weeks after we arrived at our country estate, I walked into the living room and realised that there was no tension in the air. Tristan and Aogán were already in the room, the former reading a book while the latter sat with his laptop perched on the arm of the couch he was pressed up against, probably doing some work for the toy company. Taking an honest holiday break just wasn’t in his nature.

  The fire was burning, and the lights of the Christmas tree were plugged in. The smell of pine filled the air and I spotted a plate piled with chocolate fudge on the coffee table. The scene could have been on the cover of a Christmas greeting card.

  This was all
Orla’s doing. If she wasn’t here, I had no doubt that we would have put off decorating at all until the day before our parents’ arrival, and we’d surely have done a poor job of it. It was more than just the colourful lights and garland though.

  Like now, we all drew together, Orla as the centrepiece. It was like she was working some kind of magic with the three of us, reforming a connection between us that I had thought long lost, her mere presence lighting the room, making all us boys smile at the sight of her.

  Taking a seat on the couch, I switched on the television. Channel surfing, I tried to find a Christmas movie, something fitting for this time of year. After a few minutes, Tristan closed his book and announced that he was going out to the pole barn. I waited until I heard the back door open and close before speaking.

  “Do you think he’s working on a new toy?” I asked.

  Aogán furrowed his brow as he looked off in the direction of the backyard, as if he was trying to see through the walls and into Tristan’s design studio. “I don’t know. He’s being cagey about it.”

  That was Tristan, always playing things close to the chest. I’d never even seen inside of his studio.

  “Any more news from the head office?” I asked.

  We had worked hard to prepare the company for the holiday so that we could take this time off. I had spent the last three months marketing our toys to shops around the country, getting The Three Bears brand stocked up everywhere I could think of. We didn’t launch new toys in the month of December, choosing to have the last of our big releases of the year in early November so that we had plenty of time to advertise and get them in stores.

  When we left Dublin for the country three weeks ago, we left Barry in charge. He was one of the company’s most senior executives, having been with the company since the beginning, when our parents started it. Nowadays, he was Aogán’s right-hand man.

  “Holiday sales are as projected.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “As good as we can expect.” He rubbed his forehead with his fingers and let out a sigh. “It’s been a long year.” His voice sounded heavy, weighed down with worry. Picking up a glass of whiskey from the table at his elbow, he took a long sip.

  “Well, come here,” I said getting up from my seat and walking over to him, “let’s have a look at the figures.”

  “Don’t bother yourself with it.” Aogán closed the laptop, shutting me out. Again.

  I halted, feeling like he’d slapped me. I threw myself down into the closest armchair. “Why won’t you let me help?”

  Aogán frowned at me. “That’s not your job.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just a salesman, but I do have half a brain, ye know.”

  “Whoa, what? Just a salesman?” Aogán blinked at me. “Who said that?”

  “You did.”

  “I would never call you just a salesman.” Aogán’s voice rose with fervour.

  “You didn’t have to.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You make it quite clear with your actions.” I waved my hand at the closed laptop.

  Aogán clenched his jaw and a shadow passed across his eyes. “You’re good at your job, Donncha. Marketing is your thing, and you do it well.”

  I blinked at him. Did he just compliment me?

  “You shouldn’t have to take on my problems,” Aogán continued.

  I shook my head. “The Three Bears is a family business, not a one-man show. This company is our legacy. You can’t shut me out.”

  “I was made CEO. It’s my job and only my job to make sure this company performs.”

  “Bullshite. We’re brothers. Family. That makes us a team. You can’t take on everything by yourself. That’s madness.”

  Aogán let out an exasperated noise. “Yeah, well. I’m sure you won’t have to put up with me for long.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I doubt I’ll be asked to stay on as CEO next year.”

  “That’s rubbish, Aogán.”

  “Is it? Look at the year we’ve had. That’s on me as CEO. Me. The Three Bears is about to crash into an iceberg and I’m the one driving.”

  Suddenly Aogán looked ten years older. I could almost see the weight of the responsibility he’d taken on himself. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t look like Aogán the CEO, but Aogán the older brother who taught me how to ride a bike, who helped me with my math homework when I was too ashamed to tell our parents I was failing, who loved me.

  I leaned forward in my chair. “That’s on us as a family.”

  Aogán stared at me for the longest time. I was sure that he was going to continue arguing his point, being the stubborn ass that he was.

  “I suppose…it wouldn’t hurt for you to look at the figures, too,” he said slowly.

  I blinked, almost unsure if I’d heard him right.

  “If ye drag that chair over we can both see the screen.” Aogán opened the laptop and angled it. He gave me a look. “Are ye coming or what?”

  Yeah. Right.

  I scooted the chair over and my big brother and I crowded around that screen. He began to talk me through the spreadsheet, pointing things out.

  This conversation didn’t magically fix everything between us. One shared spreadsheet didn’t build a bridge, but it was a start.

  Later that afternoon, I opened the door to my room. A wolfish smile stretched across my face. Orla was in my room, wiping down every surface with a dust rag. She’d already pulled the sheets off my bed, and they were sitting in a basket by the door, ready to go into the washing machine. I’d tried to tell her that she didn’t need to clean my room, but she insisted. She was determined to feel like she was contributing.

  I stepped inside the room, closing the door behind me. Orla spun around. She was wearing a long skirt with a scoop-neck sweater that showed off a hint of cleavage. Her long red hair was down today, a wild mane that I yearned to tangle my fingers into.

  “I’ve told you that you don’t have to clean up after me,” I said.

  “Someone has to,” she said in a teasing tone, “you’re a slob.”

  She had no idea. I had been picking up after myself more than usual to make it easier for her. I knew that I was probably the messiest of the three of us.

  “I have a better idea of how you can spend your time.” I strode across the room, closing the distance between us. Orla backed up as I approached. When her back bumped into my dresser, she braced herself against it.

  I grabbed her waist, taking her mouth in a scorching kiss. Our tongues tangled, and I ran my hands freely over her body, my hands itching to tear all these pesky pieces of clothing off her.

  She pulled the hem of my t-shirt up, until it was off and discarded on the floor. Her nails raked down my back, fraying my nerves in the best way.

  “Do you feel that?” I asked, grinding myself into her. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

  Another slow rotation of my hips had her panting. “Donncha…I want…”

  “Tell me,” I commanded. “Tell me what you want.”

  All this sneaking around these last few weeks had made me feel like a teenager again. And so desperate. I barely felt under control around her.

  “Touch me,” she pleaded, and it was music to my ears. “I want you to touch me.”

  Fuck, yes, I could do that.

  I hiked up her skirt before picking her up, seating her on top of the dresser, pushing her thighs out wide so I could step between them, her hem riding up between us. I trailed one hand up her side, sliding along the swell of her breast, lingering there. I traced her collarbone with my fingertips and ran my thumb over her lower lip.

  “Like this?” I asked, a teasing tone in my voice. “Is this how you want to be touched?”

  Orla nipped at my thumb and a tingle ran down my spine. I chuckled.

  “More then?” I asked innocently. I slid my other hand under her sweater, skimming my knuckles over her flat stomach. Slowly, I worked
my way up, watching her face as I reached her bra and traced the lace edging.

  Her skin was so incredibly smooth and warm. I wanted to touch every delectable inch. In my exploring, I found a front clasp to her bra. Flicking it open, I brought my other hand under her shirt and cupped her breasts as they sprang free. They were heavy with pebbled tips that I yearned to taste.

  “Donncha,” she gasped. “More.”

  I’d give her more. And more. And more. Until she was hoarse from begging.

  I sealed our lips once again, sliding my tongue inside her while I continued to play with her breasts, thumbing her nipples and pinching them until she began to squirm.

  “More.”

  I ran a hand along the outside of her thigh, up her skirt, palming her ass before tracing the hem of her panties along her inner thigh until I was so close to her heat. This had been the point when she’d stopped us. I paused, taking a second to give her a chance to object.

  This time she didn’t.

  I slid my fingers underneath her panties. I found her slick and hot, so ready for me.

  I groaned. “Damn, baby. You okay with this?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. “More.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. Tweaking a nipple with one hand, I found her clit with my thumb. Orla arched her back against the wall as I applied light pressure, making tight circles. An unintelligible sound came from her, and I couldn’t hold back my smirk. Her hands gripped my arms tightly, as if she were holding on for dear life.

  “You think you can be quiet, baby?” I teased.

  “More, fuck,” she was begging now. “Donncha…”

  I slipped a finger into her, shuddering at the tightness. The thought of spreading her wide for my cock made my head spin. The world around us seemed to fade away as I explored her, finding every single spot that made her gasp. All that existed in this moment was Orla; her moans and shudders, her wet heat.

  It didn’t take long before she was on the edge of orgasm. Her body tightening against mine, her nails digging into my back as she grabbed onto me, her hips bucking, causing the dresser to rattle, cussing on her breath. The whole house would hear us if she wasn’t careful.

  I didn’t fucking care who heard. But I knew Orla would.