The Dixon Brothers Trilogy: Hot Brits, Books 1-3

by Anna Durand

  "Dane is very stressed," she says. "I called him an hour ago, but he didn't pick up his cell, so I tried the direct line to his suite. When he answered, he sounded...rough."

  "What does that mean?"

  "He said he hadn't slept much last night and he's too busy with work to talk to me. I asked what work he has to do on the weekend." She smiles a little, like what she says next is almost funny. "He growled at me, then said he's working on the 'bloody devices' that I 'commanded' him to create."

  "Did you command him?"

  She waves a dismissive hand. "I asked him to create two new devices. That should be easy for a smart, talented man like Dane. But he's clearly more stressed than I realized." She touches my knee. "He needs your tender loving care."

  "Me? I have no idea what to do to help him." But yeah, I've noticed how stressed he is too. I did my best yesterday to make him feel better. What else can I do? We're not actually dating.

  Celeste doesn't know that.

  Should I tell her? Oh no, not in a million years. Dane would freak if I did that.

  "I told Dane I'm sorry," Celeste says, "if I put too much pressure on him. But honestly, he should've told me he was struggling. Since he's not comfortable discussing the problem with me, you are the only one who might get through to him."

  Can I? No idea. Should I try? Not sure.

  The clock on the wall tells me it's nine p.m., which is way too late for me to dash over to Dane's hotel and do...whatever. I need to go to bed so I can make my early morning train to Stamford. For my new job. The one Dane insisted on getting for me. He made a few passing comments yesterday that suggested he and his new PA aren't exactly hitting it off like a house on fire.

  After what Celeste has told me, I'm positive the friction between Dane and his new PA isn't Noah's fault. Dane is simply too anxious to get along with anyone.

  Except me. We hit it off just fine.

  "Okay," I tell Celeste, "I'll talk to him. But it'll have to wait until tomorrow. I need to sleep, or I'll be useless at my new job. I will stop by Dane's hotel after work."

  "Perfect." Celeste pats my knee and gets up. "I know you'll straighten him out. Every woman understands how to help her man relax."

  She winks.

  "Uh, sure," I say, pushing up off the sofa. "Somehow I'll relax him. Maybe a massage will help."

  Celeste slants in to stare straight into my eyes from inches away. "Maybe I wasn't clear enough. Dane needs sex. Relieve his stress with an orgasm, darling, not a massage."

  Then she walks out the door.

  Sure, the idea of getting it on with Dane makes me tingle all over, but I can't do that. Our "relationship" is a business arrangement. I want us to give each other fantastic orgasms, over and over, like Celeste thinks I should do. I want it so much that my sex is getting slick and hot just thinking about it. I want him.

  Maybe a good night's rest will help me figure out what to do. Give in to my lust and seduce Dane, or talk him down off that emotional ledge---then rip his clothes off and ride him until we're both sweaty and satisfied.

  I give up on cleaning and relieve my own stress the Celeste Arnaud way while I fantasize about Dane Dixon.

  Chapter Ten

  Dane

  For the entire weekend, I hide in my hotel suite and struggle to come up with ideas for the new devices I promised Celeste I'd create. I made that promise months ago, and I still have no ruddy idea what I'm going to do. I used to excel at creating sex toys that would make women feel good, but now I can't think of even one thousandth of an idea.

  Why can't you be as exciting as your toys?

  Those words still echo in my mind on Monday morning when I head for my office. The call I received from Celeste yesterday keeps replaying in my thoughts too, and I wonder if I am as pent up as everyone seems to think. I never used to be, but the re-launch is fraying my every nerve.

  "Good morning, Mr. Dixon, sir," Noah says as I walk past his desk. He smiles too. "Can I get you some coffee?"

  "Yes, please. One sugar, no cream."

  While he retrieves my coffee, I shuffle into my office and drop onto my chair. My shoulders sag. I brace my elbow on the chair's arm and rest my head in my raised palm, which forces me to slump to the side. I have no energy whatsoever, not for what I need to do today. Meetings, meetings, and more meetings.

  Noah brings me a cup of coffee, setting it on my desk in front of me. "Anything else I can get you?"

  "No, that's all. Thank you." I sit up and glance down at my desk. "Where's the agenda for today? Rika always has it on my desk waiting for me."

  "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Let me print that out for you."

  He leaves, shutting the door.

  And my phone rings. Will I never get a moment's peace?

  I snatch up the phone. "What is it, Noah?"

  Maybe I sound a touch irritable. And maybe I should apologize for that, but Noah speaks again.

  "Your brother Reese is here to see you."

  "Send him in, please."

  I hang up the phone and wait for Reese.

  He walks through the door, a casual smile on his lips and his eyes bright and clear, unlike mine which are bleary and bloodshot. Not sleeping well doesn't agree with me. My new position at Bonsoir doesn't agree with me. Noah certainly doesn't agree with me.

  Rika does. Always.

  "What do you want, Reese?" I ask.

  He sits down in one of the chairs across the desk from me. "I hear you have a problem with the new packaging. Celeste asked me to talk to you about that."

  I groan and let my head fall back against my chair. "Go on, then. Talk to me about it."

  Reese sets his ankle on the opposite knee. "What's your bloody problem with the packaging?"

  Though his words suggest he's annoyed, his tone of voice contradicts that. He's still smiling too. My cheerful, smiling brother waits for me to respond.

  "Well, uh, I..." Now I stammer when I speak to my brother? Christ, I need a tranquilizer or...something. "I don't want my picture on the ruddy box. Or my name on it either."

  Reese keeps smiling at me, though he tips his head to the side like he's trying to figure me out. "You didn't complain when Chance's girlfriend promoted you and your devices on her blog."

  "That was different. She didn't show my face on the package with the words Dane's Delights printed next to it, and she didn't label me 'the man behind the O's.' She didn't order me to get a girlfriend either."

  Reese chuckles. "Celeste told me about that. But you're with Rika now, aren't you? So that's one problem solved." He angles toward me and smirks. "Get Rika to shag your brains out, mate. That'll relieve all your stress."

  I clench my jaw. Celeste suggested yesterday that all I need is "one good night in bed with Rika, alone and naked." Now Reese tells me the same thing, as if sex will cure all my problems.

  I can't tell either of them Rika and I are only pretending to date.

  So I scowl at my brother. "You always claim sex solves everything, but it's not the panacea you say it is. And I do not want my face or my name on the sodding package." I slam my fist down on the desk. "Do you understand, Reese?"

  He raises his hands, palms out. "Take it easy, Dane. We'll remove your picture from the package, but I'll have to talk to Celeste about whether we can change the name. She won't agree to Bedroom Buddies, but if you came up with an alternative---"

  "Get my name off it, Reese. Now. You're the vice president of advertising, so come up with a new name yourself."

  "All right, all right. Let me work on that." Reese stands, then bends over my desk to look me in the eye. "You need a good shag, Dane. Trust me."

  My brother leaves my office---while humming cheerfully.

  What is wrong with me? I never yell at anyone. Certainly not my brothers. Yet here I am acting like a wounded wild beast, snarling and gnashing my teeth at anyone who gets too close.

  I rest my arms on the desk and s
tare down at the surface. Maybe I do need a good shag, but I can't ask Rika to give me one. She doesn't really want me. She's doing me a favor by acting like my girlfriend.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Groaning, rather loudly, I drop my head onto the desktop.

  "Are you okay, Mr. Dixon, sir?"

  Noah's voice makes me groan again.

  I wave a hand in the air but keep my face on the desk. "Fine, thank you."

  He doesn't leave, despite my assurance I'm fine. It's a lie, but he doesn't know that. Does he?

  "Uh, I have the agenda for today, Mr. Dixon, sir." The shuffling of feet on the carpeting tells me he's moved closer. "Here it is."

  I force myself to lift my head, and I see the paper he's set on my desk, just above where my head had been lying. "Thank you, Noah."

  He turns to leave.

  Groaning yet again, I mutter, "I need to get pissed."

  Noah stops halfway to the door, turning toward me. "You're really mad, huh?"

  "What? No, not really. I said I want to get pissed."

  His eyes flare wide for a split second. "Oh, I get it. Sorry, I don't do that."

  "You don't do what?"

  He gestures toward his groin with both hands, flapping one hand with his fingers curled like he's cupping his dick. "You know, the golden shower thing. I don't do that."

  For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. Then the meaning of his statement hits me like a snowball lobbed at my face.

  I growl, and that's not a metaphor or an exaggeration. I literally growl at him. "I don't want you to piss on me. I want to get pissed. Which means I have a strong urge to get drunk."

  Not that I think it will help. Can't hurt, can it?

  "Oh, sorry," Noah says. "I don't do that either."

  I brace my elbows on the desktop and cradle my face in my raised hands. "That will be all, Noah."

  His footsteps assure me he's left my office.

  After several minutes of sitting here with my head in my hands, I realize what I need. Not sex. I just need to see Rika. Why, I have no bloody idea. But I need it so badly that once I think of the idea, I find myself getting up out of my chair and stalking out to Noah's desk.

  "I have a dentist appointment," I say, lying much more convincingly than I'd thought I could. "I'll be back this afternoon."

  Noah glances down at his desk calendar, and the corner of his mouth crimps. "I don't see it on the agenda."

  "That's because I made the appointment myself on Friday, after Rika left. I forgot to tell you."

  "Okay, sure. Have a good dentist appointment."

  Does anyone have a good time at the dentist?

  I hurry out of the building and drive all the way to Stamford, breaking the speed laws the whole time. I don't get pulled over by a policeman, thankfully. By the time I park in Eddie Masters' driveway, I'm beginning to feel odd about this. What will Rika say when I turn up at her workplace? She'll probably think I've lost my mind.

  Which I have.

  The door opens seconds after I ring the bell.

  A middle-aged woman dressed in a maid's uniform smiles at me. "How may I help you?"

  "I'm here to see"---I swallow hard---"my girlfriend, Rika Solberg. She works for Mr. Masters."

  "Oh sure, hon, come on in."

  The woman leads me through the house to a set of sliding glass doors that access a large patio. I thank her, and she leaves.

  Out on the patio, Rika stands in her bare feet with one foot on the ground and the other leg raised behind her, with her arms outstretched. One arm is horizontal to the ground while the other is perpendicular to it. She wears only leggings and a tank top, with her hair tied up in a ponytail.

  And Eddie Masters has his hands on her.

  My fists clench all on their own. I can't think clearly enough to fist my hands on purpose, because that man has one hand on Rika's thigh and the other on her hip. He says something that makes her laugh, then he pats her hip.

  I storm out onto the patio and stop just past the glass doors. "What the bloody hell is going on here?"

  Rika's gaze swerves to me, and all the happiness floods out of her expression. "Dane? What are you doing here?"

  "The better question is what is that tosser doing with his hands all over you? You're my girlfriend."

  Eddie Masters backs away from Rika, holding his hands up. "Hey, relax. Nothing's going on here."

  Rika stomps up to me looking like she wants to throttle me with both hands. She seizes my arm and tows me into the house. As we cross the threshold into the living room, she tells Eddie, "Sorry about this. Gimme a minute, okay?"

  "Sure, no problem."

  We make it halfway across the living room before she forces me to halt and slams her palms onto my chest. "What is your problem? Showing up at my work to snarl at my boss? What the hell, Dane?"

  I've never seen Rika angry. She's always polite and happy.

  But I'm behaving like a sodding arsehole. Of course she's angry. I deserve whatever she wants to do to me.

  "He had his hands on you," I say. "That looked like sexual harassment to me. Since you had an employer treat you that way once before, I don't want to see it happen again."

  Maybe that is a small part of it, but mostly, I hated seeing another man touching her when I can't do that.

  The anger seems to flood out of her, and her shoulders slump. She sighs and rolls her head in a circle, like she's working out kinks in her neck. "Okay, fine, I can see how you might think that. But I don't believe concern for me was the main reason you shouted at Eddie."

  Maybe I should be honest, but I can't make the words come out of my mouth. "I---well---it, uh---"

  She holds up a hand. "Please stop. I forgive you, it's over, we're cool."

  I glance at the patio, where Eddie seems to be doing tai chi. "I'm sorry. It's just that every man who sees you wants you. You're beautiful, sexy, and clever. I wouldn't blame Eddie Masters if he did make a pass."

  She snorts, clearly trying to contain her laugher. "You don't need to worry about Eddie."

  "He's a man, and you're a beautiful woman."

  Rika smiles and lays her hand on my chest. "You're so cute, but you really have nothing to worry about. Eddie's gay."

  "Are you having me on?"

  "No, he's really gay. And he's way too nice to sexually harass anyone." She leans in closer. "For the record, Eddie had his hands on me because he was giving me a yoga lesson."

  "Oh. Maybe I should, ah, apologize to him."

  "Let me handle that. Don't you need to be at work?"

  "Yes, I do."

  She waves her hand. "Then go."

  I go, and I violate the speed laws again on my way back to work.

  Noah almost cringes when I step out of the elevator, heading toward his desk and my office. I pass him without glancing at or speaking to him. What can I say? Sorry I made you think I wanted you to urinate on me, then I snarled at you. I'd scared Noah. The bloke has known me for less than two days, and I've made a brilliant first impression.

  Well, I can kiss that Boss of the Year trophy goodbye.

  After fifteen minutes of glaring down at my desk and cursing at myself in my thoughts, I realize what I need to do. One thing I need to do, that is. Most everything else... I've got no fucking idea.

  I approach Noah's desk.

  He stops blinking and darts his gaze everywhere but at me. "What can I do for you, Mr. Dixon, sir?"

  "Noah, I..." Scrubbing a hand over my mouth, I try to figure out what to say. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved earlier. You didn't do anything wrong. It's entirely my fault."

  "Oh. Thank you, Mr. Dixon, sir."

  "Call me Dane, please."

  His eyes are large, but he sounds happier when he says, "Sure. Thank you, Dane."

  The elevator doors open, and Rika steps out.

  Before I can summon the brainpower to comprehend the fact she's her
e, she takes hold of my tie and leads me into my office using my tie as a leash.

  When we cross the threshold, she says, "Close the door."

  I kick it shut while I follow her around my desk to my chair. What is she doing? Her bossy tone when she ordered me to close the door made my cock wake up. What she's wearing wakes it up even more. She still has on the leggings and tank top, but now she's added running shoes and a long, open sweater that hangs down to her knees. Her ponytail bounces with every step she takes.

  And I imagine grasping that ponytail while I fuck her.

  She stops beside my chair and releases my tie. "Sit down."

  "Why are you here? Don't you need to be at work?"

  "I told Eddie I need the rest of the day off to take care of my boyfriend. He lent me his Corvette so I could get here faster." She wags a finger at me. "No more talking. I'm here to relieve your stress, Dane. So sit down and shut up."

  Relieve my stress? If she means to talk me into meditating or doing yoga...

  She grabs my tie again and hauls me closer, with only a hair's breadth between our bodies. "You'll want to be sitting down when I do this. Otherwise, your knees might buckle. For sure, your eyes will roll back in your head."

  I sit down.

  Rika kneels in front of me, crawling forward on her knees until she's wedged between my thighs. She undoes my tie and tosses it onto the desk, then she unhooks the top button on my shirt.

  Suddenly, I'm having trouble breathing. My cock is hard. She can't mean to have sex with me here in my office. Why would she make me sit down for that, anyway? I want to fuck her on my desk, up against the window, on the floor, any way she'll let me have her.

  Rika unfastens my belt, frees the button on my trousers, and slides the zipper down so slowly that watching her do it makes me breathe harder, faster, my mouth open and my whole body tense with anticipation. She bends toward me, her lips grazing my ear as she whispers, "I'm really good at doing this."

  "Doing...what?"

  She pulls back so I can see her face, and her lips curl into the sexiest little smile I've ever seen. "Prepare to have your mind blown." She glances down at my groin. "And other parts of you too."

  No, she can't mean to---