by Alta Hensley
Plus, Monet was not the type of woman to be trusted. I’d seen her eyes flash, her cheeks flush as she defended her little store. Hell, I’d not seen a single sign of submission in that gorgeous body of hers, but rather the spirit of a fighter. Fighters could never be trusted. It would be easy enough to silence her. Those plump lips would serve her far better wrapped around my cock as I drove it into her throat. That corset had done little to disguise her generous breasts, and I could easily picture the mixture of pain and pleasure crossing her face as her nipples were pulled, twisted, sucked, and bitten. She had the perfect hips to hold onto while plunging my cock to the hilt inside her cunt or her tight little ass. On her knees before us or spread beneath us was exactly where the witch needed to be. Biting back a groan at the vision, I forced myself back to reality.
I didn’t have the luxury of thinking such things. My brothers and I had a continental move to arrange undetected by our enemies, a new way of life to begin, and a sweet, innocent sister to protect.
Alana didn’t need to know why we made the request to stay away and remain indoors; she just needed to obey. Putting the marker down, I tried not to overanalyze why I’d chosen a green one—one whose color reminded me of a pair of emerald eyes. Standing, I laid my hand on Alana’s shoulder. It was my honor to love her, but it was also my job to protect her.
“I don’t want to see you taken advantage of. Stay away from the store, and stay away from that woman. I mean it, Alana.”
Chapter Four
Monet
As the tiny bell chimed above the door, I looked up to see who’d walked in.
“Alana, you’ve come back.” The young woman timidly crossed the threshold and approached the counter where I’d been doing some paperwork.
“I needed to speak with you,” Alana said.
“I’m surprised you’re here. Your brothers came in yesterday and demanded I never have contact with you again.” Remembering the look on the sexy assholes’ faces, I felt obliged to add, “I’m not sure you should be here.”
Telling Alana this was difficult since I had developed a liking for her. There was something about this girl I couldn’t quite put my finger on. She almost seemed like a pixie of sorts, juvenile, mild, and in her own world. I always enjoyed her company. When Alana had walked in the door a few weeks back, an almost instant kinship had formed between us.
Alana smiled in a soothing way, unlike anything I’d ever seen. “My brothers are really protective, and can’t help it. They are just very busy with a move of ours, and they thought you were taking advantage of me, and well… they can be a little bossy. They have Irish blood, which can make them all hotheaded.” She looked down at her hands that fiddled in front of her. “I’m sorry.”
A little bossy? They’d seemed a lot bossy to me. Irish blood indeed. “Don’t be sorry. I have a feeling your brothers’ barks are worse than their bites.”
Alana looked up with a broad grin. “I like you. Even if you are a witch.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I have a little secret to tell you.” I leaned in close to whisper into her ear. “I’m not actually a witch.”
Alana giggled and whispered back, “I know, silly. It’s fun to pretend, though, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “It sure is.”
“I was hoping I could still come see you. I don’t care what my brothers say. I like you. They aren’t my bosses, anyway. I’m a grown woman.”
“Where do they think you are right now?” I asked, glancing toward the front window half expecting to see them storming up to the door with rage.
“I snuck out,” Alana said with a smile. “They are distracted right now. It seems everything has them angry and stomping out of the house, and today was no different, so I decided it was a sign I should come to see you.”
Well, the little imp has some spunk after all. It was another thing that made us friends, and that was exactly how I’d come to think about Alana. Despite my momentary misgivings, wondering if her brothers would agree, I nodded. I didn’t have a great many friends, and I liked Alana. Besides, sister or not, Alana wasn’t some kid who could be bossed around by her overbearing brothers for no reason other than to flex their muscles… their very large muscles. “I don’t see anything wrong with being friends. You’re welcome here anytime.”
Alana nibbled at her thumbnail for a second and then said, “My brothers work too hard running my father’s business. And they spend all their free time taking care of me. They are all just lonely. You would like each of them if you gave them a chance. Their names are Cal, Rogan, Nolan, and Derrick, by the way. I’m the baby in the family, and they definitely treat me as one sometimes.”
“Only girl?” I asked.
She nodded, her angelic smile lighting her face. “Yes. I was the miracle baby. My mom and dad had tried for years and years to have a girl. They always had boys, and then many years later—after my brothers were grown—I came as a surprise.” She paused and studied me. “My brothers can be scary. Like my dad was. But they aren’t. Not really.”
I shrugged, not certain what Alana was getting at. “I’m sure your brothers are very nice men.” I wasn’t positive I actually believed that, but I wanted to reassure Alana that everything was all right. “Hey, are you hungry? I know it’s past lunchtime, but with Granny G gone, I’ve been a little lonely eating by myself. Would you like to join me?”
“Really?” Alana asked with such disbelief I wondered if she’d ever just hung out with friends before.
“Absolutely. We can eat and talk about your…” I paused, not believing I’d been about to suggest she give me the goods on her brothers.
What sort of person was I? I knew they didn’t even want their sister near me… and would most likely shit a brick if they found out we’d shared a meal.
“I’d love to,” Alana said, her smile lighting her face. “You can tell me more about plants and how they can heal, books you like to read and, just to give my brothers a hissy fit, maybe you can teach me a spell or two.”
She didn’t only have spunk, she had a great sense of humor. Regardless of what her brothers thought, I would never take advantage of Alana, but wouldn’t attempt to stifle her either.
“Great. The apartment is upstairs. I’ll let my assistant, Julie, know I’ll be unavailable if you want to go ahead and raid the fridge.”
Alana practically flew across the floor and up the stairs. After finding Julie in the storeroom and asking her to watch the shop until I returned, I climbed the stairs as well. I hadn’t been fibbing, either. Since Granny G had died, I’d eaten every meal alone. It would be nice to share not only some food but some conversation, no matter the topic.
By the time I made it upstairs, Alana had not only pulled containers of leftovers from the fridge but had set the small table in the kitchen nook.
“I love your place, Monet.” She giggled and added, “It reminds me of your name. Your home is like a painting you just want to walk into and stay a while. It’s so bright and colorful.”
That was true. Both Gigi, when she was alive, and I had loved to surround ourselves with color. The walls were sky blue, the trim white, and vivid spots of color were scattered throughout the living room in throw pillows on the couch and rag rugs scattered on the wooden floors. The kitchen appliances were old—or, as I preferred to call them—retro. Both the fridge and the oven were lemon yellow, a color that was warm and welcoming. The table we sat at was once popular in many homes in the ’50s. The surface was red, the legs chrome, and the chairs reminded me of those found in ice-cream parlors. They were wrought iron, painted white, with pretty filigree filling their heart-shaped backs, and had thick, red padded seats.
As Alana and I filled our plates with our choices, we chatted about anything that popped into our heads. I didn’t push her for information on her brothers, but didn’t stop her when she offered a few tidbits. We discovered we not only shared a love of books, we shared a love of a lot of the same authors. Alana
had such an inquisitive mind, soaking information up like a sponge. Her positive outlook about everything made me forget about how down I’d been, mourning my grandmother’s death for the past few months. When my cell phone rang, I almost hated to answer it.
“What’s up?” I asked, seeing the shop number appear on the screen.
“Sorry to bother you, but there’s a delivery you need to sign for,” Julie informed me.
“I’ll be right down.” Turning to Alana, I smiled. “Thanks for joining me. I can’t remember the last time I had such fun. We’ll have to do this again, but for now, I’ve got to get back to work.”
“No problem,” Alana said. “I’ll just clean up and then be down.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “Just leave them. I’ll wash the dishes later.”
She smiled as she stood and picked up her plate and then mine. “Don’t be silly. You’ve worked all day, and it won’t take me but a few minutes.”
I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “All right, thanks.” I was at the door before I remembered we’d never gotten around to dessert. “Alana, there are brownies in the refrigerator.”
“That’s okay, I’m stuffed.”
“Please, you’d be doing my hips a big a favor if you took them for later. I’ve eaten far too many already. There are some bags in that basket on the counter.”
She gave me a little wave, and I left, taking the stairs two at a time. I sure hoped our little visit would go unnoticed by her brothers. From what Alana had said earlier, they were not only a bit bossy, but were extremely overprotective. I had absolutely no experience with men who actually gave a damn about anybody but themselves. But, even if I didn’t understand why, I did understand they’d been serious about forbidding Alana to come into my store. I was pretty sure they’d blow some kind of gasket if they learned we’d spent a couple of hours enjoying each other’s company.
A few hours later, I was locking up the store, about to make a run to the bank to deposit the day’s receipts, when the sound of an engine had me looking over my shoulder. The sun was just starting to set. Pinks, reds, purples, and oranges melded across the sky, setting a stunning backdrop. Still, I sighed as I watched a blue truck pull to a stop. So much for wishing our lunch would go unnoticed. What was it Granny G used to say? Oh, right. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Well, this man hadn’t arrived on a steed, but from the expression on his face, he not only knew about Alana’s visit, he was pissed. I could practically see the steam coming from his ears. Remembering both Alana and I were adults, perfectly capable of choosing our own friends, I took a deep breath.
Striving to control my emotions, I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and made my way to the rolled-down window. Another saying popped into my head. The best defense is a good offense.
“Good evening. Which one are you? Cal, Rogan, Nolan, or Derrick?” I bent forward, placed my arms on the door, and casually leaned in. “I’ve just closed up the shop, but if there is something I can help you with, I’ll be glad to open it.”
“Cal. And you better learn fast I’m not a man to mess with. Get in.” His order was sharp but not aggressive.
I swallowed back an angry retort and managed to keep my cool. “No, thank you.”
“Now.”
“I don’t make it a habit of getting into a stranger’s car.”
His tone didn’t change, but the storm in his eyes seemed to reach hurricane strength. “I’m not asking, Monet, I’m telling you. Believe me, you don’t want to make me repeat myself.” Leaning over in the seat, he opened the passenger door, pushing it wide. “Get in the damn truck.”
Not about to acquiesce… well, not immediately, I straightened. “You really do need to learn some manners, Mr. O’Shea, but since I don’t think you’ll leave me alone, I guess I can spare a few minutes.” I walked around the front of the truck and slid into the passenger seat, wondering if I was careless, stupid, or both. What was it about this man that had me doing everything I would normally run away from?
The leather seats were hot from the day’s sun. The truck smelled like pure masculinity, causing desire and arousal to build inside of me. I glanced at Cal’s chiseled profile in the luminosity of the setting sun. His look, his scent, his entire presence was downright erotic. What the hell was going on? He and his brothers might be the sexiest men I’d ever seen, but this man was infuriating, bossy, and drove me crazy.
“I told you to stay away from Alana. Did you really think my brothers and I wouldn’t find out?”
I focused on his rugged hands that were grasping the steering wheel and tried to fight back the sexual pictures attempting to invade my mind. “She came to me.”
“I’m not going to allow this.”
“I wasn’t asking permission.”
“Are you always this way?” he asked.
“What way?”
“Stubborn, pigheaded, and ridiculously headstrong?” Cal’s jaw tightened, and his expression darkened even more.
“Funny. My granny would call me determined, confident, and strong. I have to be in order to survive in a world full of Neanderthals like you.” I knew I should be angry but despite my words, I only felt aroused. I couldn’t stop imagining his hands on my body. “Where are the rest of the cavemen?”
He turned to face me, staring directly into my eyes. I took a steadying breath and decided to face him head on, refusing to break his glare. He slid across to the middle of the bench seat, invading my personal space until he was inches from my face. He sat so close I could feel the heat from his body, the intensity from his stare making my stomach flutter. We were having our own staring contest, and I wasn’t about to let him win. Not this time.
I wasn’t above changing the rules of the game either. What I really wanted to do was kiss him. I wanted to make the first move and throw all caution to the wind. I wanted to feel his lips, his hands, and his body pressed to mine. I didn’t understand how it could be possible I felt this way since all he and his brothers had done was insult me since they first met me, and I wasn’t even sure if I preferred Cal over all the others, but damn if I didn’t want to savor the taste of this incredibly strong sexual attraction.
Before I could muster the courage to lean forward, Cal took his turn, robbing me of that first move of the game. He grabbed me by the back of my head and pulled my lips to his. Tunneling his hands into my hair, he drove the kiss even deeper. The kiss was passionate, intense, and filled with so much promise of what else this chemistry could create I forgot to breathe.
When he slid his hand to my shoulder then softly down my side until it rested on my hip, I started to tense up, only to have Cal pull my body closer to his. Forgetting this was supposed to be a game played by my rules, I didn’t push him away. Instead, I splayed my fingers against his muscled chest, desperately wanting to remove the cotton shirt blocking my access to his skin.
Without breaking the kiss, he picked me up, placing me over his lap so I was straddling his hips. His hardness pressed against my stomach, driving my need to a whole other level. Cal reached for the buttons of my blouse and began to unbutton each one, causing a warning bell to go off in the back of my head.
Fast.
Too fast.
Too fucking fast!
This was crazy; I barely knew this man. I didn’t make out in cars, didn’t jump into intimacy, and yet neither did I moan as I heard myself doing now. Impulsive, reckless, and absolutely insane, was the only way to describe what was happening.
Cal kissed my neck and whispered in my ear, “Tell me what you want, Monet. Tell me exactly what you want.”
I struggled to find my voice. I sure hadn’t expected this when I’d climbed into the truck. I’d expected some yelling, perhaps some name calling, but not this. I really had no idea if I wanted him to stop or continue. Not able to articulate what I wanted verbally, I reached between us to the button of his jeans, tugging to release the contents. Sliding my hand between the denim and the fl
at plane of his abdomen, slipping my fingers into his briefs, I could feel the hair of his groin beneath my fingertips. Before I could explore what lay nestled in those curls, he grabbed my wrist.
“Let me be clear. This,” he said, palming my breast with his free hand and running his thumb across my nipple, “is not going to change a damn thing. So, let me tell you what I want. Exactly what I want,” he growled.
I looked into his eyes, taken aback by the ferocity I saw there. He evidently wanted exactly what I did. His hold was like iron… unbreakable, keeping my hand trapped, my knuckles brushing against a rod of steel I could swear was throbbing against my skin. Giving him what I hoped was a sexy smile, I was about to suggest we take this inside, to my bedroom to be exact, when he spoke.
“I want you to leave Alana alone. Stop seeing her. This is not a request,” he said, every word enunciated with a firmness that seemed to snap in the small confines of the truck’s cab.
What the hell! Was he fucking serious? I was practically holding his cock… his hard cock, and this was how he reacted? He couldn’t tell me that while I kept my clothes on? My blouse hung open, my boobs were practically falling out of the demi-cup bra I was wearing, and my nipples were as hard as pebbles. He didn’t even glance down or break eye contact. No, instead, he’d chosen to treat me like some slut he picked up on a darkened street corner. He’d chosen to stomp on my dignity.
Well, fuck that.
Furious, I yanked my hand out of his pants, climbed off his lap, and moved as far away from Cal as I could. As quickly as my fingers could manage, I jabbed buttons back into their holes to close my blouse. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”
Cal’s smile made me want to slap him. “When it comes to protecting my family, I’ll be whatever I need to be, sweetheart. Consider this your last warning.”
