Brothers in Blue: The Complete Trilogy: Brothers in Blue Boxed Set - Books 1-3

by Jeanne St. James

  He looked exactly like his two older brothers…and his father, only younger. They were all carbon copies of each other. Though something seemed different about Matt. Off. Besides him being a blatant asshole.

  Hot? Definitely, but…hollow.

  “Did I pass inspection?” he asked her.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Too late. You already demanded that I fuck you. So no take-backs.”

  “Yeah, that won’t be a disaster,” she said, sarcastically.

  “It’ll be a beautiful disaster.”

  “Right.”

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “About the sex? No. About this scheme of me moving into your house? Absolutely.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t even have my stuff. And we didn’t discuss rent. Nor did I even get to see the inside yet.”

  Yes, the boarding house was a horrible choice. No doubt about it. However, it was cheap and she didn’t have the money to live elsewhere at the moment. She worried when she slept at night, so she kept her door locked and a dresser blocking it, as well as a steak knife under her pillow. Then again, in her situation she couldn’t afford to move to a nicer place. She couldn’t even afford a place with her own private bathroom. And with not trusting the locks on the shared boarding house’s bathroom door, she always showered at the hospital.

  Studying the house in front of her, she asked, “How much a month?”

  “We’ll negotiate the rent.”

  She glanced at him. “Seriously though. I can’t afford much.”

  “You’re a doctor,” he said, not hiding the disbelief in his voice.

  She sighed. Right. Everyone thought doctors were rich. It was the farthest thing from the truth since she was saddled with huge school loans and elderly parents who needed constant financial help. Not to mention, she was trying to put some money away in savings…

  But he didn’t need to know all that.

  “You do what?” she asked him in shock, staring at an extremely large khaki-colored tent planted in the middle of the backyard. Not a Boy Scout’s tent, no. This was a full-sized military-type canvas tent. Similar to the kind seen in some war movies.

  “I live in here, so you’ll have plenty of privacy and personal space. I only come in to use the bathroom and the kitchen.”

  “Why the hell wouldn’t you sleep in one of the bedrooms?”

  He ignored the question.

  The over-sized tent had to be ten times the size of her room at the boarding house. For a second, she actually considered buying a tent like this for her own. She’d just need to find an empty lot or field somewhere to stake it out in.

  Shaking her head, she cleared it of the ridiculous thought.

  Though dying to see the inside set-up, it was all closed up and he made no move to invite her inside.

  “Are you going to be living in that thing come winter?” The winters were harsh up here in northern Pennsylvania. The area could have some storms that were no joke. That’s why she drove an SUV. Or used to, anyway.

  She’d need to buy another one. Damn it. She hoped her insurance covered most of the replacement cost. Otherwise, there went the little savings she had. In the meantime, she needed a vehicle for work, so she’d have to get a rental until they settled the claim.

  “I’m not sure where I’ll be come winter,” he muttered.

  What? Oh yeah. The tent. Winter. Cold. Snow.

  They walked back into the house through a large sunroom that looked super inviting. She could see herself curled up on the couch with a cup of tea, reading a book.

  He led her through an updated and modern kitchen. And then up narrow stairs to the second floor. The steps complained under his weight.

  She regarded his ass as he climbed; it appeared well-muscled like the rest of him. The snug black T-shirt he wore accented his cut arms and made it easy to see that his chest and back were built too. The man worked out. No doubt about it.

  She bet his thighs were strong, and she hoped his tongue was too.

  She stopped abruptly on the stairs, grabbing the hand rail and closing her eyes. Since when did she become so depraved?

  “You okay? You still dizzy from that head injury?”

  Opening her eyes, she saw him standing a couple steps above her. That’s when it hit her. This man had seen war. He’d seen destruction, pain, and death. He’d been in the service for years, doing his so-called patriotic duty. Sacrificing himself for the rest of the Americans back at home. Deploying again and again to an unfriendly, dangerous, miserable place that no one in their right mind would want to go to.

  And he did it willingly. Over and over. His mother had told her more than she needed to know in her short time at their farmhouse. Matt’s time serving his country had affected Mary Ann more than anyone knew.

  Carly didn’t even think Matt realized how much his mother had suffered with anxiety and fear of him being over there. Of possibly losing her youngest son forever.

  But she had seen it in the older woman and had empathized.

  He did what every male in the Bryson family had done. Went into the Marines to serve their country and then became a cop to serve their community.

  Even so, he was still an asshole.

  She gave him a slow smile. “How soon can you be naked?”

  Without a word, he spun around and ran up the remaining stairs.

  4

  Carly slammed the bedroom door behind her while kicking off her shoes and yanking her T-shirt over her head, working it carefully over her glasses. She wanted to leave them on to see him more clearly. She wanted to see every chiseled piece of the man.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots. However, he watched her, not what he was doing.

  His gaze seared her as she fumbled with the snap and zipper on her jeans. Eventually she got them open and pushed them over her hips and down her thighs. She kicked out of them too.

  She stood before him in her cream-colored panties and bra, which were nothing fancy. Plain and utilitarian, if anything. She hadn’t known she would be getting naked in front of anybody today. Otherwise, she would have given her undergarments more thought. Not that she kept anything sexy as a change of clothes at work anyway, but still…

  Hell, they wouldn't be on long anyway, she thought, and reached behind to unhook her bra. She let it fall to the ground and then glanced up. He still sat on the bed fully dressed, his boots placed neatly beside him, his socks rolled and tucked inside.

  What was he waiting for?

  Heat flooded her cheeks and chest. Then she became even more mortified about actually being embarrassed. She had been so eager she now stood practically naked before him. Maybe he didn’t like what he saw. Maybe that was why he hesitated?

  She brought her hands up to cover her breasts.

  “Don’t.” He stood up and moved in front of her, grabbing her wrists and pulling her hands away. He cupped them in his own, testing their weight, smoothing his fingers along the outer curves, brushing his thumbs over the hard peaks.

  Carly closed her eyes, goosebumps breaking out over her body at his touch.

  “Look at me.”

  She did.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  That was the last thing she expected from an asshole’s mouth. “I’d like to say the same about you, but you’re still wearing clothes.”

  With a sharp nod, he stepped back and methodically stripped himself of his jeans, shirt, and boxer briefs, neatly folding each piece of clothing to a uniformed size and stacking them on top of his boots.

  She was right. His body looked like sculpted art. The lines and planes were hard, firm. Not an ounce of softness to be found on this man. His muscles rippled as he moved. And he moved like a machine.

  Then he turned and she gasped. She moved closer and brushed her fingers along his shoulder blades and down his spine.

  His whole back was inked; his skin a canvas for the Marines logo, the American Flag, and the words Semper Fi in a banner alon
g his lower back. All in gray-scale. The art was beautiful, but the piece seemed extreme. At least to her.

  The tattoo probably took days, weeks, possibly even months. A lot of pain and a lot of dedication.

  As well as a lot of healing.

  His head dropped for a moment as she pressed herself against him from behind. His hard, lean body against her soft one. She hadn’t been this close to a man in a while.

  She needed this. She needed him. At least for this moment. She wasn’t worried about tomorrow or the next day. She only cared about right now.

  But he hadn’t moved. Hadn’t said a word. Instead, he stood frozen in place.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered against his ear.

  With a growl, he spun around, tore the glasses from her face, grabbed her by the waist, and tossed her onto the bed. He followed right behind her, stalking her, as she scrambled to the headboard.

  He took her panties in both hands and pulled, ripping them apart to expose her, to bare her to his gaze. She reached down and spread herself open, inviting him.

  He accepted the offer, pressing her knees back, pushing her legs even wider, settling between her thighs. His mouth found her clit and he sucked it hard, teasing with his tongue, scraping with his teeth.

  Her hips danced off the mattress and he laid a heavy arm across her lower belly to keep her still. Fingers invaded her—one, then two—discovering her slick heat. She cried out as pleasure vibrated down her spine, landing in her core. She clenched tightly around his fingers, wanting to come. Needing the release. He jammed his fingers inside her harder, faster as he sucked her clit deeper into his mouth, his tongue flicking, swirling.

  Her fingers clawed at the bedspread as her back bowed. Her breath hitched for one second, two, then she screamed when the waves of orgasm ripped through her.

  Before the last wave settled, he rose above her, pinning her hands to the bed, and pushed into her roughly. She gasped at the unfamiliar stretch inside her. Had it really been that long?

  He didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause. No “are you good?” His movements became raw and fast and hard. He pumped into her as if his life depended on it. As if he chased demons. He gritted his teeth and grunted with each thrust.

  She expected him to close his eyes, retreat into his own world, his own pleasure. But he didn’t. He watched her. The shadows behind his eyes darkening as he fucked her relentlessly.

  He released one of her wrists and grabbed a handful of her hair, tugging it, pulling her head back, arching her neck. With a loud curse, he sank his teeth into her skin. Not drawing blood, no. But the sensation made the adrenaline rush through her body, all the way to her toes. She wrapped her legs around his hips, accepting the onslaught of his cock as he fucked her deep, stretching her, filling her. She grabbed his ass with her free hand, his glut muscles flexing and tightening under her fingers as he fucked her.

  He gasped against the delicate skin of her neck and then groaned, his body tensing.

  She closed her eyes as he grew even harder. His cock pulsed, ready to release. And the thought of him coming inside her threw her off the cliff she teetered on. She squeezed her thighs tightly around his hips and threw her head back even farther, screaming mindless words, sounds, as the orgasm rocked her.

  Then she found herself back in the bedroom which sounded quiet except for their rapid, hard breathing. Her body melted into the mattress, almost boneless, and very spent.

  He remained still, except for a slight tremble in his arms as he held his weight above her. His eyes were closed, his skin slick with sweat. His breath puffed along her heated, damp skin.

  She really wanted to stretch like a freshly woken cat and start purring. She had needed a good sexual romp for a long time. But after coming twice, she realized just how much she needed it. It cleared the cobwebs from her exhausted mind and she felt remarkably refreshed.

  Or she would after she took a shower.

  If he ever moved.

  When she ran her fingertips along his brow his eyelids popped open and his eerie light blue eyes bore into her. He didn’t smile. He didn’t say anything. But he did finally move.

  He twisted his body and fell to her side.

  Warm wetness trickled from between her thighs.

  She cursed silently.

  He hadn’t worn a condom.

  She wasn’t worried about becoming pregnant, but pregnancy prevention wasn’t the only reason to wear a condom. As any good OB/GYN should know.

  Fuck.

  Matt watched Carly press her fingers to her parted lips and her eyes widen. It made him realize they hadn’t kissed.

  Hell, kissing seemed too intimate. And this was a simple fuck. A needed release. Not just for him, but apparently for her as well.

  Kissing would complicate things.

  And he didn’t want any…complications.

  He let out an explosive curse, making her jump.

  He had lost his head. And now…

  Fuck.

  Her becoming pregnant would be the ultimate complication.

  He covered his eyes with his hand, cursing himself silently. “You’re on birth control.”

  “Is that a question?”

  “No. That’s a statement you will tell me is true.”

  Silence.

  Matt jumped out of bed and went over to the window, staring out, not really seeing anything but what filled his head. The last thing he needed in his faulty brain were images of a screaming infant like Hannah, dirty diapers, and spit up.

  He closed his eyes, fighting the memories of dead and dismembered children in war-torn villages and towns. You couldn’t protect the innocent, no matter how hard you tried. Whatever you did, or tried to do, was never good enough. Someone was always dying. Screaming for help, for mercy. Arms out begging for assistance, for relief.

  He gripped the window frame so hard his nails dug into the wood. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass.

  No matter what, he couldn’t save them all.

  He cursed himself for being so careless. Especially with a woman he’d only just met. Pushing himself away from the window, his hands clenched and, before he could stop himself, he slammed his fist through the wall.

  The sting of his knuckles brought him back to his dilemma. The gaping hole and the pieces of drywall on the floor made him instantly regret his loss of control.

  He needed to be better than that. If he couldn’t keep his shit together, he’d lose his job, his career.

  Reluctantly, he turned to face Carly. She sat up, the covers wrapped tightly around her, her face ashen. She looked scared and it added one more regret to his ever-growing pile.

  Taking a step toward the bed, he stopped when she drew the sheet up higher. He should apologize, but an apology would never cover everything he felt sorry for.

  “I’ll fix the wall. The rent will be two hundred a month, and I’ll get Leah to take you to the boarding house to pick up your things.”

  He stooped to pick up his boots and pile of clothes, then walked out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Carly sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. She had a day full of appointments, but her mind was more on the whirlwind of the last twenty-four hours.

  She went from living in the boarding house with a bunch of strangers and sharing a toilet, to sitting in this fully stocked kitchen, grateful for a working coffee maker.

  And, even better, only living with one stranger.

  She thought about the hole in the wall and everything that occurred prior to that. Mary Ann was right when she said her son had issues. But even so, he had stepped in to offer her a better place to live for insanely cheap rent. And by taking the offer, it meant she’ll be able to sock more money away in her savings, as well as not worry about her safety when she slept.

  Gratefully, last night Matt’s future sister-in-law, Leah, had gone back to the boarding house to help her pack her things. Not that she had much, but whatev
er she had she needed.

  She liked Leah and, in the little time they spent together, the woman had given her a little more insight on the family.

  But not a lot on Matt. Carly wasn’t sure if Leah didn’t know much, since he had only been discharged from the Marines six months ago, or if she just remained tight-lipped. Whatever it was, Carly could tell that Leah held a deep respect for him.

  Maybe that said something about the man.

  Who, at that moment, happened to burst through the back door in a rush. He avoided looking at her while he filled up a travel mug with the coffee she made. Skipping the sugar and cream that sat on the counter, he swigged a mouthful before popping on the leak-proof top and frowning. “Make it stronger next time. Especially if you’re going to use my coffee.”

  He wore a baseball cap on his head, camo cargo pants, and an olive drab T-shirt. The lines on his face and the shadows in and under his eyes made him look older than the thirty-one years Leah revealed that he was.

  No one should be old before their time.

  He went to leave the kitchen and stopped abruptly, but didn’t turn around. “If you end up pregnant, I’ll take care of it.”

  Carly almost choked on her coffee. She cleared her throat. “Take care of what?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  “The pregnancy.”

  He spat the word pregnancy out like a curse.

  “And how do you plan on doing that?”

  “I’ll get you the money.”

  Carly stared at the man, his back to her, his body stiff. She knew exactly what he meant, but wanted to hear him say it. “Money for what?” she asked slowly, carefully.

  “To take care of it.”

  She could have told him last night she couldn’t get pregnant. But she didn’t. If he wanted to beat himself up about his slip-up, then fine, let him. Even though she bore as much as the blame as he did.

  Though, now, in the light of day, she could see it ate away at him.