by S. L. Scott
THE EVEREST BROTHERS
ETHAN - HUTTON - BENNETT
S.L. SCOTT
S.L. SCOTT
CONTENTS
Also By S.L. Scott
ETHAN
EVEREST
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Extras
HUTTON
BAD REPUTATION
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
BENNETT
FORCE of NATURE
Prologue
STRIKE
FALL
PROTECT
DEFEND
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 36. A
Chapter 36. B
Chapter 36. C
Chapter 36. D
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
The Rumors Are True
Thank You
About the Author
Also by S.L. SCOTT
To My Family
Also By S.L. Scott
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Audiobooks on Audible - CLICK HERE
FORCE OF NATURE AUDIO
The Everest Brothers (Stand-Alones)
Everest - Ethan Everest
Bad Reputation - Hutton Everest
Force of Nature - Bennett Everest
The Crow Brothers (Stand-Alones)
Spark
Tulsa
Rivers
Ridge
Hard to Resist Series (Stand-Alones)
The Resistance
The Reckoning
The Redemption
The Revolution
The Rebellion
The Revelation
The Kingwood Duet
SAVAGE
SAVIOR
SACRED
SOLACE - Stand-Alone
Talk to Me Duet (Stand-Alones)
Sweet Talk
Dirty Talk
Welcome to Paradise Series
Good Vibrations
Good Intentions
Good Sensations
Happy Endings
Welcome to Paradise Series
From the Inside Out Series
Scorned
Jealousy
Dylan
Austin
From the Inside Out Compilation
Stand-Alone Books
Missing Grace
Until I Met You
Drunk on Love
Naturally, Charlie
A Prior Engagement
Lost in Translation
Sleeping with Mr. Sexy
Morning Glory
ETHAN
Copyright © 2017 by S.L. SCOTT
All rights reserved.
The right of S.L. Scott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Design: RBA Designs
Photography by Scott Hoover Photography
Cover Model: Lance Parker
Editing:
Marion Archer, Making Manuscripts
Karen Lawson, The Proof Is in the Reading
Marla Esposito, Proofing Style
Kristen Johnson, Proofreader
Team Readers: Lynsey Johnson and Andrea Johnston
EVEREST
Six foot three. Dynamic green eyes. Utterly irresistible.
Ethan Everest stole my breath the first time I saw him. He romanced me with skill, dazzled me with his charisma, and proceeded to steal my heart right after.
I might have fallen for his easy-going smile the first time we met, but I fell for him the second time.
Honey-colored hair. Cherry-kissed lips. Captivatingly gorgeous.
Singer Davis was the first, and only, woman to ever intimidate me. She spoke to my heart with her wit, seduced me with her eyes, and became the only thing that made sense in a world that made none.
I let her slip through my fingers once. I won’t make that mistake twice.
Secrets broke us apart. Can a second chance bring us back together?
Prologue
Ethan Everest
Every female here has eyed me up and down, even the ones with boyfriends. They don’t even try to hide it. They want me to see. They want me to know I can have them if I want them.
Except her. Blue dress. Red lips. Hair the color of a golden sunset in winter.
Several girls made themselves more than available. I was offered a fast fuck in the bathroom within fifteen minutes of arriving. Fantasies may be taking over, but there’s only one woman who catches my eyes—the demure beauty sitting on the couch.
I want to stare at her.
She’ll see me though.
I want to sit next to her.
There are no more spots on the small futon.
I want to talk to her.
What do I say when she makes all the blood rush from my brain and shoot straight to my dick? Damn, I want her.
She’s given me no reason to think of her naked beneath me. No indication that I should have dirty thoughts about those delectable lips. Absolutely no sign that I could have the pleasure of stroking her bare back while I take her from behind.
Fuck. Me.
While images of her cloud my thoughts, I’m not sure I have a shot in hell of even taking up a minute of her time, much less a night. Nope, not one clue if I have a chance with this beauty.
I’ll take the risk, something I’m adept at doing. More often than not I win in the end. She won’t be an easy target, but nothing worth having ever is. I’m determined to find out if her tongue is as seductive as her eyes.
Although she brings out my instinctive side, this is not about sex and passing time. It’s about spending time with someone who challenges my mind while turning on my body.
Nudging the guy who lives here, I signal across the room and ask, “What’s her name?”
“Who?” He follows my gaze. “The hottie on the couch?”
Heart-shaped face, flawless skin, ample tits, hourglass shape at her waist. She’s not built like a girl who doesn’t eat. She’s shaped like a woman I want to meet. “Yeah.”
“Dariya Rostavik. She’s fucking hot.” He pats my shoulder. “And single. If my girlfriend wasn’t here, I’d be all over that.”
“Cuz you’re an asshole.” Her name, Dariya, rolls around my mouth, spikey instead of rolling off the tongue naturally. The name doesn’t fit her.
“Pretty much.” He laughs. “You gonna hit it, Everest?”
“I don’t know.” I feign interest to him, lying to get his eyes off her. “Fuck, they scored again.” My diversion works, and his attention is back on the big screen.
The truth is, I don’t know if I’m going to hookup with her. I’ve caught her looking at me when she thinks I don’t notice. But is she looking at me the way I’m looking at her?
Was I busted moving closer when she was talking to her friend? Did she see me eavesdropping to hear her voice? Did she notice when I joined a conversation behind her to be closer? Or that I stepped out of the way of the fridge when she wanted a bottle of water?
I never get shot down by women. I’ve lived on easy street when it comes to my looks and, from what I’m told, my personality, attracting the most attractive. Something tells me I might be rejected by her.
She’s not like the other girls here. Nothing about her fits in this environment—a party with a bunch of guys getting drunk while watching sports and yelling at the TV and girls dragged here by their boyfriends or convinced by their friends to stop by.
She’s an innocent among sycophants. Everyone wants something from me, except her. Sexy and smart—speaks right to my heart.
I catch her eyes on me again. This time I stare back until she looks away with a pretty pink coloring her cheeks.
This game with her is much more interesting than the one on TV. I follow her with my eyes as she gets up and joins a group by the window. She seems to know the other girl, but not so much the two guys.
Good, I inwardly growl.
Keith hits me in the chest. “Who do you have your eyes on?”
“The woman by the window.”
My best friend shakes his head. “No. Check out eleven o’clock. She’s a model from Romania. Hot as fuck.”
“Not interested. I want more than a fuck.”
“I’m sorry. Have we met?” His sarcasm is as annoying as he’s been lately at the office.
“I’m for real.”
“So am I.”
I exhale and shoot him a glare. “I really am. I can fuck anyone. I want to spend time with someone who interests me.”
“You’re working too much. You’re so caught up in your head lately you’re missing what life is really about.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I indulge him. “And what is life really about?”
“Doing everything in your power to get it while the gettin’s good.”
“Are we talking about business or women?”
“Both.”
The model is hot, but I feel like I’ve been there done that. I don’t care what he wants. He can have shallow, meaningless relationships. They’re more hassle than they’re worth.
Glancing toward the woman outside, an ease comes over me, releasing some of the pent-up pressure that’s been expanding lately. “You go for the model. I’ll go for Dariya.”
“Dariya?” I’m knocked on the arm, and he points toward the couch. “That’s Dariya, man.”
“The model?”
“Yeah,” he says, laughing.
Thank fuck I didn’t go outside and call the beauty by the wrong name. “I’ll be back.” I grab two cans and head toward the window. I stop briefly by the group she was talking to prior, but they’re buried deep into a conversation about American consumerism. I’m not interested in their philosophical views on finances. The only thing I’m interested in is the pretty woman sitting alone outside. The woman excuses herself and I ask, “Hey, you guys know her name?”
They look outside. “Singer.”
“She’s a singer?”
“No,” he says, chuckling. “Her name is Singer. Singer Davis. She came here with her friend, Melanie, who just left.”
I don’t hear most of what he says because I’m stuck on the woman with the red lips. Singer. Singer Davis. “Thanks.”
Singer’s been sitting on that fire escape by herself long enough to not feel like I’m invading her space, like she’s taken over my thoughts. I seize the moment and climb out.
This is where our story begins . . .
1
Singer Davis
The first time I heard the name Ethan Everest I was at a party in the Bronx. I was sitting on a futon sandwiched between a blonde model from Romania and some girl who kept sighing out of boredom. The model exhaled and said, “One day I’m going to climb Everest.”
I thought she was referring to the mountain.
She wasn’t.
She was referring to the man.
Almost a year later, he’s sitting just three barstools down from mine. This is not the first time we’ve seen each other since that party. It’s just the first time he makes his way over since then.
The memory of the first time I saw him comes back so readily.
At six three with a presence to match, Ethan Everest is impossible to ignore. Wearing an Astros cap in the middle of Yankees country, a white smile livens full lips, and dynamic green eyes manage to instantly brighten the dingy Bronx apartment.
Our eyes catch twice across the crowded living room and my palms begin to sweat. Ethan Everest doesn’t fit in with this crowd. He’s too happy, too content in his life, too much personality and has drawn the center of attention from both males and females. Yep. Impossible to ignore. No matter how much I try.
I turn away abruptly, not sure if I’m ready to talk to him.
We almost kissed last year. His lips were almost pressed to mine . . . and then they weren’t and he was gone. A sharp elbow to th
e ribs causes me to flinch. “Ouch.” After fifteen years of friendship, my best friend and I still haven’t perfected our non-verbal skills, so I ask, “What are you doing?”
Her lips twist to the side and she rolls her eyes. “Behind you.”
For a brief moment I convince myself he’s going to walk by and go to the restroom or order a drink. He doesn’t. I turn, and there he is in all his majestic glory—Ethan Everest.
The Man.
The Myth.
The Mountain.
He bites his lip as shyness shadows his light eyes. Then he smiles. “It’s good to see you again, Singer.”
The hum, the electricity, all that I felt on that fire escape, returns as my name rolls off his tongue in a purr, reminding me of what almost was.
His body folds to ease out the window, and he sits on the small staircase several steps down from mine. His presence consumes the small space high above an alley. It doesn’t feel like an invasion of my personal space, but more like a coup, considering the many women inside vying for his attention.
With a charming smile aimed at me, he casually says, “Avoid the discussion inside.” Enticing enough to let down my guard, his tone is easygoing, his voice deep and soothing. “They’re arguing that freedom is the illusion of the American consumer.” The small southern cadence to his words is something I could listen to all day.
What he said isn’t funny, but I laugh anyway, a nervous reaction to the hot-blooded masculinity rolling off him in waves. With movie star good looks, I can’t turn away. “What do you think?”
He chuckles. “I think I prefer being out here with you.”
I don’t remember blushing in a while, but with the weight of his gaze heavy on me, my cheeks are hot even if the weather isn’t.
Ethan Everest is rugged with his unshaven jaw and casual clothes, yet refined in his mannerisms as he offers me a beer. “I brought you a beer if you’d like it.”
“I would. Thank you.” I reach for it and our hands wrap around the can, the tips of our fingers weaving together. I hold on just long enough to look up and see the intensity of his eyes. On me. Sitting on the fire escape, I’m suddenly a girl who’s stumbled onto an Adonis and knows what she’s discovered—a male masterpiece made up of muscles and a hard body.
Add in that boy-next-door charm, and I’m caught in his gravitational pull. The female population of New York doesn’t stand a chance against the allure of this man, much less me when he cracks a smile.
When he releases the beer, he opens one for himself. “Cheers.” He taps his can against mine and my whole body awakens.
