by Lily Harlem
“But it works…or so far it has.”
“It’ll be better now we’ve connected, me and you.”
He grinned suddenly. “Connected in the best way possible.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.” She stroked her finger over his mouth. She’d always adored his bottom lip; a little bigger than the top, it was so sensual, so damn sexy. “But can we agree on something?”
“Anything.”
“If we have an issue, me and you, we talk about it straight away. No matter what it is.”
He was silent.
“You’ve been letting this frustration fester, Mason, it’s not good. And I know I’m partly responsible for what happened, but please…I want to feel close to you, not distant. You have to promise to tell me how you’re feeling, let me fix it if there’s a problem.”
“I promise.” He kissed her. “If there’s ever anything, I’ll talk to you.”
“Before everyone else is aware. I’d rather it had just been between us.”
He paused. “Me, too. And I’m sorry, you know, if I’ve been a dickhead.”
“You haven’t, you were hurt. I understand.”
He smoothed a few strands of her hair from her cheek.
“What?” she asked, sensing something else was churning through his mind.
“I like it, this set-up. I mean, you clearly do, you’ve got five blokes, all head over heels in love with you. But it works for me big time.”
“Go on.”
“It’s hard to explain, but I feel like I’ve gained three more brothers in Raul, Evan, and Harry. They’re great guys, I know we’d all do anything for each other, and we’ve proven that with what we’ve been through. The world is our oyster, adventure awaits.” He paused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t care what other people think of us being a sixsome, as long as it suits us, then that’s all that matters.”
She smiled. “I agree. Totally.”
He kissed her, a gentle, lazy kiss. His cock was softening inside her, and a wonderful sense of satisfaction washed through Olivia.
Mason.
Finally.
She’d taken her fifth lover and it had been worth the wait.
Chapter Two
Eventually, Olivia rose from the bed. She was half dressed, with one boot still on and her leathers bunched around her ankle.
Mason tucked his cock away, set his hands behind his head, and grinned. He wore a lovely languid expression, utter contentment, and Olivia gained satisfaction knowing she’d put it there.
“I’m going to shower,” she said.
“And I’ll go and find out what’s happening with the others. I bet they’re all thinking about their stomachs.”
“So am I, to be honest.” She tugged off her boot and pants, then pulled her t-shirt off. After releasing her bra, she let it slide down her arms.
“Mmm, I might just have you for dinner.” He grinned and let his gaze slide over her naked body.
“Which means we’ll wake with growling bellies in the middle of the night.” She tossed her bra at him and laughed.
It landed on his face, the cups pointing up at the ceiling.
He chuckled and plucked it off. “Go shower. But lock the door if you actually want to go out and get food, otherwise I’ll get distracted with thoughts of you needing to be soaped up.”
“This is what I love about you black belts, such stamina.”
“You better believe it, hen.” He held the bra up, examining the small lace details. “And don’t think I won’t check the door is locked.”
She drank in the sight of him—laid on the bed, his ankles crossed, the leather hugging his long legs, and his tight t-shirt a little damp with sex sweat. She wouldn’t mind getting soaped up by him at all. But really, she was getting hungry.
As she walked to the en suite, she wiggled her naked ass, more than a bit, knowing he’d enjoy the view.
He whistled. “That sight is enough to give me wet dreams for the next year.”
When she emerged, feeling refreshed, a pale pink holdall sat on the dresser. There was a note next to it.
This arrived. Courtesy of Vidal Inc.
I’ll be back in ten.
Mason x
Curiosity nibbled at her, and she opened up the bag. She was greeted with clothing and began to pull out items. First a pair of brightly colored loose pants decorated with a swirling red, yellow, and purple pattern. Then several t-shirts in block colors that matched the pants. A pair of washed-out Levi jeans, pale cream combats, a little khaki skirt and several short-sleeved white cotton blouses. Six sets of plain white underwear, a bikini, and finally a dress in a delicate shade of lilac.
She held it up to herself. The hem stopped a little above her knee, the straps were thin and the material light and swishy. It was strange to have clothes bought and delivered. She guessed it was Riley who’d always organized it up till now, but this lot…she wondered if Harry might have had a say in it. And wow, they were all designer, and the highest quality. They more than made up for the few things she’d lost when Temptress had gone down and would be much better than wearing leathers in the heat of Africa.
Glancing across the room, she spotted her biker boots. Not ideal with the dress. It was then her attention fell on a box on the floor. She hung up the dress then yanked off the lid. Inside were shoes.
They think of everything.
Heels in the exact shade of the dress, a pair of sturdy walking boots which would go with the jeans and combats, and some brown leather thongs. Everything she’d need for Africa.
She smiled, and a lovely sense of anticipation settled in her chest. It wasn’t just the African project, but also remaining with her guys that she was looking forward to. The thought of going back to Portsmouth, without them, and carrying on with her life as it had been, was enough to make her want to curl up in a ball and sob.
“But you don’t have to.” She let the towel fall to the floor. “Thank goodness.”
Within minutes she was wearing the dress and heels, and her hair was dried and hanging down her back. In the box with the shoes she’d found a little red bag containing makeup basics and a bottle of perfume. Quickly, she applied a dusting of powder, lip balm, and mascara. The perfume was light and fruity, and as she sprayed her wrists there was a knock at the door.
“Coming.” She opened it.
Mason and Lucas stood there, both dressed in jeans and smart short-sleeved white shirts, which showed off the lower sections of their heavy arm tattoos.
“Wow, looking good, guys,” Olivia said.
“You think?” Lucas asked. He ran his finger around the collar on his shirt.
“Let’s just say I’d definitely do you.” She grinned and set a kiss on his cheek.
He laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“You’re looking pretty hot yourself, hen,” Mason said.
“Do you like this?” she asked, spinning on the spot and enjoying the way the material wafted upward a little.
“I prefer you naked,” Mason said, “but I guess that can’t be all the time, so if you’re going to have to cover up in public, then aye, that’s a sweet wee dress.”
“Can you finish zipping me up?” She turned and lifted her hair.
“With pleasure.” His fingertips brushed her skin as he fastened the dress.
“Where are the others?”
“They’ve gone downstairs to the restaurant. I said we’d follow, with you.”
“I’m very honored to have two such handsome men come to knock for me.” She grabbed the room keycard and handed it to Mason. “Can you keep this? I don’t have anywhere to put it.”
“Sure.” He shoved it into the back pocket of his Levis.
“Shall we?” Lucas held out his arm and smiled.
“Why thank you.” She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and let the door shut behind her.
They rode the elevator, discussing what the menu options might be. After cooking by the campfire a
nd not always knowing where their next meal was coming from, the thought of a slap-up restaurant dinner was very appealing.
“Let’s hope it’s up to Raul’s standards,” Mason said when the elevator doors opened.
“He’ll be happy not to be cooking.” Olivia stepped out, her arm still linked with Lucas’s. “And it’s bound to be nice. This place is great.”
They wandered across the lobby to the restaurant and she was aware of the two female receptionists letting their gazes linger on the twins. Not surprising. The men gave off don’t-mess-with-us vibes, and had a handsome bad-boy look going on with their super-short hair, tats and thick muscles. Throw in the fact there were two of them, identical, and they were enough to get most girls salivating and most guys hesitating.
The restaurant lighting was dim with a golden hue. Scents of oregano, basil, and sweet tomato filled the air. A gentle hum of conversation greeted Olivia and they headed toward a round table in the corner that was set by a window overlooking an elegant courtyard.
Around it sat Paul, Harry, Evan, and Raul. Each wore plain white, short-sleeved shirts.
As they approached, the men turned.
Olivia was aware of other people glancing her way, and then toward the table—probably because Harry was there, and unlike when he was in biker gear with a neckerchief over his lower face, he was recognizable. Also it was clear there was no difference between the stunningly perfect pictures of him in glossy magazines to how he was in real life.
Olivia’s heart did a crazy little flutter then knocked up against her chest. She loved him so much. She loved them all so much. If one of her men went from her life, she didn’t know how she’d carry on.
Raul was nearest and he hopped up, in his usual springy manner, with a grin on his face. “Mi niña hermosa, how perfecto you are in that dress.” He tugged out a chair, which meant she’d be sitting between him and Evan.
“Thank you.” She smiled and dropped her arm from Lucas.
“Mmm,” Raul said, stepping in close. “And you smell good, too.” He slipped his arm around her waist and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.
She enjoyed his nearness, and his scent. It was a new cologne, slightly exotic, which suited him.
“Sit,” he said. “We are all hungry and I am told by Harry the chefs here are good.”
“Of course they are,” Harry said, pouring sparkling water into a glass and sliding it past Evan toward Olivia. “My father only employs competent people. That’s why all his companies are successful.”
“Not always, mate,” Evan said, resting his hand on Olivia’s leg, beneath the table.
“What do you mean?” Harry said.
“Temptress,” Evan said. “There was some real bloody incompetence going on there.”
Olivia resisted sighing.
Harry scowled.
The twins shared a look and then glanced at Paul, who was watching on with undisguised fascination.
“We figured it out, though,” Harry said, taking a sip from a glass of red wine. “No one died.”
“Yeah,” Evan said, “but that was thanks to Olivia and her fixing the thermostat, and Raul for grabbing all the stuff we needed, and then—”
“Stop it.” Beneath the table, Olivia placed her hand over Evan’s and squeezed. “That’s in the past, and as Harry said, we did figure it out.”
Evan turned to her. He had a wicked glint in his eye.
She frowned at him. He enjoyed winding Harry up a bit too much. Mainly because he knew damn well no one else dared to speak to the billionaire heir the way he did.
“And if it wasn’t for my watch,” Harry said, rubbing his thumb over the face of his new Rolex. “We’d still be there, on Elysium.”
“Seriously.” Olivia shook her head at him. “It’s in the past, but what isn’t in the past is the fact I don’t have a glass of wine.”
“Ah, babe, we can fix that,” Evan said, resuming his usual easygoing state. It suited him much better than when he was sparring with Harry. “What d’you want? Red or white?”
“She’ll have white.” Lucas lifted a bottle of Chenin Blanc from an ice bucket, then stood and stretched over the table to fill her glass.
“Thanks, Lucas.” She smiled at him, remembering the night they’d had together in the hotel and how they’d shared a bottle of white wine. She didn’t like red. It gave her a headache.
“The sea bass sounds good.” Raul flicked the menu from one hand to the other. “Or should I have the squid ink pasta? Harry, what do you recommend?”
“The pasta is awesome.” Harry licked his lips.
“Really?” Mason downturned his mouth. “Sounds gross.”
“Why you say that?” Raul tutted. “It is a delicacy.”
“Squid ink. It’d make my stomach delicate,” Mason said. “Think I’ll go with the lasagne.”
“Ah, si, good choice.” Raul nodded.
“As long as it hasn’t got snake in it, I’ll have the same.” Lucas set down his menu and picked up a slim glass of beer.
“There is no snake in lasagne,” Raul said. “That would be crazy.” He tapped the side of his head with the tip of his finger. “Or maybe not. Maybe fabulous new recipe for my Barcelona restaurant.”
“I’d go for it.” Evan shrugged.
“Yeah, you would,” Harry said. “You’d eat anything.”
“Hey, it was okay,” Evan replied. “And we were hungry.”
“Hang on. Hang on.” Paul held up his hands. “What are you all talking about?”
Olivia giggled and reached for her wine. To an outsider, her group of men must sound crazy chatting about eating snakes.
“I cooked,” Raul said to Paul. “The snake, it was going to bite Olivia, it was hiding in the mangos. Evan threw knife, sliced off its head.” He clapped. “Bang, gone. Snake headless, and its body writhing and squirming, but dead.”
“And we’d had no luck with the fishing lines that day,” Mason said. “Coconut was getting boring.”
“So after Evan had saved Olivia, he gutted it and Raul cooked it.” Harry sat back and folded his arms.
There was something about the way he’d spoken that made Olivia think he was proud of what Evan had done…really proud.
“And it tasted good?” Paul asked.
“Yes, it was perfectly nice,” Olivia said. “Meaty and seasoned. We certainly didn’t go to bed hungry that night.”
Paul nodded. “And where did you all sleep, on this island?”
“Evan had a good plan for a shelter which we soon constructed,” Harry said. “Then he started a fire with some driftwood.”
“Quite the survival expert, aren’t you?” Paul placed his menu over his white napkin and set his attention on Evan.
“It’s a big bad world out there,” Evan said, gently stroking Olivia’s leg under the table. “If you want to survive you have to know how to.”
“And Africa,” Paul said. “You been before?”
“Nah, but there can’t be any more poisonous critters there than in Australia.”
“Bigger ones, though. Hippos can be lethal.”
“As long as I’ve got my legs to run and a knife to fight, I’ll be okay.” Evan turned to Olivia. “We’ll be okay.”
“I know.” She smiled at him. “I’m not worried, not if we’re all together.”
“Excuse me, are you Harrington Vidal?”
Olivia’s heart sagged at the sound of a female voice to her right.
Harry turned to the two women holding iPhones. They both wore heels, skin-tight jeans, and strappy tops.
“Hi, yes,” he said, producing a smile which Olivia now recognized as a fake one.
“Would it be possible, before your food arrives, for us to have a photograph?” the one with the blonde hair asked.
“It would really make our day,” the other said.
Harry glanced at Olivia.
She hesitated, then nodded.
He raised his eyebrows.
“Ye
ah, I’m sure,” Olivia said, “go ahead.” She appreciated him checking with her.
Harry stood and reached for both of their phones. “How about my girlfriend takes the shots.”
“Your girlfriend?” The redhead spun to stare at Olivia.
“Oh yeah, you’re the one from that picture, on Twitter, or was it Instagram?” The blonde placed her hands on her hips.
“And from the boat.” The redhead studied Olivia. “I remember now.”
“Liv, be a sweetheart,” Harry said, reaching for her hand and pulling her to standing. “It’ll only take a second.” He swept his lips over hers.
She rested her palm on his chest, absorbing his strength and heat. They’d had such rows in the past about girls throwing themselves at him. Perhaps this would work, her being there, as his girlfriend.
“Sure,” she said, plastering a smile on her face that she was sure was as fake as Harry’s. “Let me have the phones.”
Harry passed them to her and then shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his chin. The girls stood on either side of him, pressed in close, but they didn’t drape themselves on him, paw him or kiss him.
Olivia quickly took a couple of shots then Harry whisked the phones off her.
“Here you go, have a nice evening,” he said, passing them back.
“Thanks, Harrington, you too.” The blonde took them then wriggled her fingers in a strange little wave as her friend tugged her away.
“You okay?” Harry asked, stepping up to Olivia. He cupped her face in his hands. “Better that time?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Thank you.”
Chapter Three
Harry swept his lips over Olivia’s, then held the back of her chair as she sat between Raul and Evan.
“You cool, babe?” Evan asked and took a sip of beer.
“I’ll have to get used to it,” she said, reaching for her drink. “People want a piece of my boyfriend, other women especially.”
“Fucking hell.” Paul held up his hands. “You’re really doing this.”
Everyone turned to him.
Olivia held her wine halfway to her mouth, frozen. The look on Paul’s face shocked her. It was part disbelief, part amusement, and included a sprinkle of horror.
