The Everest Brothers: An Alpha Billionaires Series

by S. L. Scott

  “Yes,” I reply, but it tends toward more of a purr against his skin, skin I want to lick, to nip, and other things that will lead to us being naked together.

  He takes my purse and sets it on the table before leading me to the dance floor. Pulling me close, we begin to sway unhurried. The song is instrumental and not particularly slow, but with Ethan’s hand on my waist and holding my other in his like he owns it, it could be “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and I wouldn’t know the difference. Every song is a love song when our bodies are pressed together and his cheek is against mine.

  We’ve become a slow burn on a hot night. The air in here is so combustible I worry my heart will be obliterated by it.

  Our moment together is interrupted when a dark-haired man with darker eyes starts patting Ethan on the back. Ethan takes a step back from me, our hands falling to our sides—the perfect picture of platonic. A look in his eyes resembles the sadness I feel when I’m homesick. His lips move, but the words are silent, “I’m sorry.”

  Turning to the intruder, the man’s boisterous voice overwhelms the intimacy Ethan and I were sharing. “Good to see you, Everest. How’s business?”

  “Stellar. Lucas McCoy, this is Singer Davis.”

  His eyes widen as he gives me a once-over that strips me of any respect. “The very lovely Singer Davis. Maybe you’ll save a dance for me?”

  Ethan responds before I have a chance, “Her dance card is full. Sorry, McCoy.”

  Lucas laughs. Ethan doesn’t. Even from a foot away, I can feel the tension between them. Their friendliness is only surface deep, if that. I move closer to Ethan and press my arm to his. He glances at me and smiles. Lucas gets the not-so subtle hint and says, “Let’s catch up sometime over drinks.”

  “Sure thing.” Ethan shakes his hand, but that’s where the courtesy ends.

  Lucas looks at me and says, “If your dance card frees up, I’m happy to fill the spot.”

  I’m not given a chance to reply before he walks off.

  Ethan shakes his head and asks, “Would you like a drink?”

  “I have a feeling we could both use one.”

  “Sorry about that. He sued me years ago about cargo-hold rights at the shipyard in East Bay.” His hand returns to my back, the heat seeping through the thin fabric of the dress as we weave our way to the bar. I feel his fingers wrap around my waist, giving me a squeeze. “He lost the lawsuit, and he’s been trying to take what’s mine ever since.”

  I’m tempted to ask if that extends to people, but by the show Lucas McCoy just displayed, I don’t have to. Ethan orders a bourbon straight and champagne for me.

  “What’s on your mind?” Ethan asks as we step to the side where it’s a little dimmer and much quieter.

  “This party is so beautiful—the ballroom, the tables. Everything is dazzling.”

  “You’re the most dazzling one here.”

  “You say that so easily without looking around.”

  “I don’t have to look around. You far outshine them all.”

  “You’re very charming.”

  “I’m not trying to charm you . . . well, I am, but I’m also telling the truth.” He nudges me lightly with his elbow and lowers his voice. “Take the compliment.”

  With a nod of kindness, I reply, “Thank you.”

  “They’re serving dinner. Ready to eat?”

  He offers his hand then drops it. I say, “I’m afraid I don’t think we’re doing a good job of being just friends.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  I don’t want to hurt his cases or draw unwanted attention to him. “I guess we should try harder.”

  “Yeah,” he sighs.

  Once we’re seated, I’m introduced to the other guests assigned to our table. Everyone seems to know Ethan already, and he flawlessly introduces each person until Lucas sits across from us. Ethan stops, and Lucas starts to rule the roost from the other side of the table. He doesn’t have a date, but he’s seated between two beautiful women who are more than happy to give him their attention. Anytime my eyes meet his, my stomach twists, and I look away quickly.

  Intuitively, Ethan reaches his hand down to find mine under the table. Our fingers lace and our hands rest on my thigh. I like the weight of him, of us, on me. I like the warmth on my thigh where the dress has fallen to the side.

  When our food is served, our hands release, and pretending he didn’t just knock my world from its axis, I ask, “Do you come to many events like this?”

  “No. Generally, I prefer to make my donations quieter, but if it helps to raise more money, I’ll attend a few.”

  “Although this is a beautiful event, I don’t understand how spending tens of thousands of dollars on events raises more money than using that money directly.”

  “People like to be seen.”

  “So it’s part ego, part philanthropy that brings them to charity balls?”

  He chuckles. “I’ve wondered the same thing myself. How’s the food?”

  “Very good.”

  Setting his fork down, he leans in and asks, “Would you hate me if I want to leave after dinner?”

  With a smile from the possibility that lies ahead on my face, I reply, “Only if you were planning on taking me home.”

  His eyebrows rise as he wipes his napkin over his mouth and sets it down. “Don’t worry about that. I have no intention of doing such a thing.”

  I find myself eating as if they’re going to take my plate away before I finish. Logically I know that’s not the case, but damn if I’m not ready to see where this night leads.

  23

  Singer

  I’m twirled right off the elevator and into the hall of photography. That’s what I call it, at least. Ethan’s hands wrap around me from behind while the elevator door closes. My hair is swept to the side and kisses trail down my neck.

  I close my eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on me.

  He spins me back around and whispers, “Open your eyes.”

  When I do, I’m met with eyes I know well—almond-shaped eyelids, gold centers that fade into green. They’re eyes I’ve seen cry, happy, sad, pained, remorseful, regretful, full of joy, and blissful, but today I see them on a thoughtful face with delight caught in the middle. They’re eyes and a face I recognize as my own. A simple black frame, large white matte, me in the park surrounded by green grass. The photo hangs bright under the lone light along the black wall. “That’s me.”

  “I took it the day I ran into you at the park. The photo is a gift for you.”

  Smiling, I turn to him. “This is for me? It’s so beautiful.”

  “I wanted you to see how I see you.”

  I’m stunned to see how I look, not only to his eyes but possibly to others. I’m beautiful. I slide my arms around his neck and lift up, pressing my lips to his. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Gentle kisses turn passionate quickly. Our tongues touch and my back hits the wall. The evening has been foreplay until now.

  He licks his way to my neck, the feel of him tasting me so carnal. “God, Singer. I could fuck you right here.” Cool air breezes over the trail, leading right back to the skin he nips on my neck.

  “Do it. I want you to, Ethan.”

  With his lips to my ear, he demands, “Turn around.”

  I turn and my breath is whooshed from my chest when I’m pressed against the wall. The purple dress is lifted in the back. The pressure is light but sends goose bumps over my skin as fingers tap up the sides of my thighs until he’s kneeling behind me. The backs of my thighs are kissed, lovingly, while his hands slide my panties down to my ankles. He lifts one, balancing me when I lift one foot and then the other. Stealing a glimpse of him, he tucks my underwear into the pocket of his tux, the purple vibrant against the stark black.

  When he stands back up, he takes the straps from my shoulders and lets the dress float to the floor before lifting my arms above my head. “I want you to stay like that. Stay in that pos
ition just for me. Will you do that for me, Singer?” His voice is rough with desire and stern in his need.

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl.”

  I press my cheek to the smooth wall and watch as he drapes my dress over the back of the couch. First his jacket then his bow tie are removed.

  My Adonis returns. His eyes are dark, lust wrapped in the black night centers. His large hands cover my shoulder blades and run up before dipping low again and unclasping my bra. Ethan takes my wrists and carefully brings them down and around to my back. The bra strap tightens on one wrist before being wrapped around the other, securing them together.

  Lifting just a little, my back arches in response, my nipples kissing the wall and hardening. “Are we—?”

  “Shh, Singer. Don’t ask. Just feel.” His hands come around to squeeze my breasts, pinch my nipples lightly, and move higher. The right palm holds firm over my heart, and he says, “Your heart is racing. Do I do that or is that your body responding in fear?”

  “I’m not afraid of you, or this, but my heart always races around you.” I swallow, closing my eyes and find relief in the coolness of the wall against my hot cheek.

  “This? Say what this is, Singer?”

  “You’ve got me tied up. I’m at your mercy.”

  “Because you trust me.”

  “Yes, because I trust you, Ethan.”

  “Do you know how much that turns me on?” I feel his cock against my fingertips. Opening my palms, I take hold of him, eliciting a deep groan that echoes around us.

  Like before, his fingers tap over my hips, then his palms warm my behind. He’s assertive and commanding when two fingers run between my cheeks. “Have you ever been taken from behind, Ms. Davis?”

  My ankles wobble. “No.”

  He steadies me. “Will you wear those shoes while I’m fucking you?”

  This time my knees are solid, and my back arches again to prove a point. “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes.”

  No reason or explanation. Just yes. I don’t know why it feels like the heat was turned up, but damn, I’m a wet, hot mess. “Then I will. I take it you wanted them to be seen and not just hidden under a gown.”

  “I want them draped over my shoulders as I thrust every ounce of my desire into that sweet, tight pussy.”

  Good Lord, this man. Gone is the polite, wounded guy I want to make smile. Tonight I get a predator intent on ravaging my entire body before he’s done with me. His dirty-talking ways cause my thighs to rub together. He breaks character and asks, “You’ve never had sex with your back to your partner or you’ve never done anal?”

  I gulp. I should be embarrassed by my lack of experience, but I’m too turned on to hide behind lies. “Neither.”

  “You’ve been with selfish boys, Singer. They treated you like a girl. I’m no boy. I’m the man that’s going to treat you like the sexual woman you are.” His lips find mine, and he kisses me, his tongue as masterful as his words.

  Fingers slide between my legs, and he speaks into the back of my neck, “You’re so ready for me. Do you like to play rough?”

  “I like to play with you.”

  “I like that, too.”

  My backside is bare, exposed when he steps back. I hear the foil rip and the condom sliding down. When his hands return to my lower waist, my skin tingles in anticipation. Pulling me back by the hips, he says, “Keep your arms still. Your head back from the wall. I won’t hurt you.” For the first time, I’m nervous. Excited nervous, but nervous. I do as I’m told while he positions himself between my parted legs.

  “I’ll go slow.” He eases inside, my eyes closing as I realize how empty I was before now. “Just this one time.”

  My eyes fly open as he pulls back, leaving the tip inside me, and slamming back up. The grip on my hips is tight as he repeats each thrust with a harsh breath hitting my back while forcing mine out each time. Closing my eyes again, I do what he asked and feel. Every thrust. Every breath. Every moan. Every part of him invades me, enters my soul and burrows deep in my heart.

  This.

  This.

  This.

  I never want this to end.

  I never want him to stop.

  I never want to feel empty again.

  I want this.

  Every day.

  Every night.

  I want him.

  Strong fingers work their way around to the apex of my thighs, and he finds my clit. His fingers are unleashed fury as he demands my body to bow to his wants.

  My body bends to his every whim. “Ethan,” falls from my lips on the crescendo of an orgasm.

  Grabbing hold of my hipbones he slams into me. Balancing between the real world and the stars he’s sending me sailing to, I start to recover beside the large photograph. Moans that become grunts tell me he’s close, so close.

  My name is an uttered confession, “Sin. Sin. Sin,” until he repents with his release. “Singer. Singer. Fuck. Singer.”

  Tired, but feeling incredible, I try to even my rampant breathing. His tongue dips to taste the sheen between us, and then he turns me around. “You’re fucking beautiful.” Leaning down, he takes a nipple between his teeth and gently teases.

  His touch. The pressure. It’s hard to restrain myself from moaning. He is so good. So good. “Ah.”

  This time he puts his forehead to mine and whispers, “I’ve never felt like this. It’s never been this good before.”

  My eyes are growing heavy, my arms beginning to ache from being held behind my back. “How?” I ask, needing his words to cover me.

  “I don’t know how.” He cups my face and brings it up to look at him. “I only know why.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s you.”

  Like the yes he gave me earlier, things can be so simple sometimes. Not complicated, just easy honesty. He kisses me while his hand releases my wrists behind my back. “You standing naked in my apartment in those heels—I’ve never laid eyes on a sexier sight.”

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, he scoops me up into his arms. “I might want to keep them for special occasions like this.”

  “We can always buy more.” He cuts through the living room and down the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

  “I’m afraid to find out how much they cost.”

  “Don’t be afraid. I would spend ten times that just to see you smile.”

  “Because you’re a fool with money?”

  “No. Because I’m a fool for you, and I happen to have money.”

  I’m totally a fool for him, too, but hearing him admit his feelings for me . . . yeah, falling for him is easy. “Best of both worlds.”

  Bringing me closer, he kisses me. “Stay with me.”

  My feet land on the ground, but my heart is still floating in the clouds.

  “I’m here.” There’s nowhere I’d rather be.

  And just when I think tonight can’t get any better, Ethan speaks words that caress my heart.

  “I want you here long after tonight.”

  24

  Ethan

  Sitting across the table from my former best friend with his smug fucking face makes me rage inside. My fingers are starting to hurt from fisting them under the table. How can he sit there and feel justified in his actions? How can he fuck over someone he called his brother without remorse? How can he fuck my whole world up in one big swoop and sleep with a clear conscience?

  Fuck him.

  Reegan and my legal team line my side of the table. My four lawyers against his three. We take a thirty-minute break and leave the room, filing into the conference room down the hall. I walk to the corner floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of me and stare at the city.

  From behind me, Reegan asks, “How are you doing?”

  “Fine.” To the point. I can’t let my emotions get the best of me. I must show that fuckface in the other room that he won’t win. I will not let him stake claims over my money or my anger. I will show
him nothing more than indifference.

  Reegan sits at the table and says, “Let’s all take a breath and go over the notes.”

  I may only want Keith to see a blank stare from me, but behind closed doors, I can’t control myself. “Close him down. If I can’t have that company, I don’t want him to have it either.”

  “Things aren’t always fai—”

  I slam my fist on the table. “I don’t want fair. I want him destroyed.” Blinded by fury, when I open my eyes, the four of them are staring at me. I swallow down as much of my anger as I can and sit. “I made this company. I invented the site, developed it, put my fucking soul and every penny into it.”

  Reegan’s voice is even, emotions aside. “You brought your friend in on it and made him a partner.”

  “As president, and not with equal shares.”

  “He may not have been CEO, but the title of president of the company gives him rights, shares, and decision-making power.” He sits back. “Do you want to get something to drink and strategize? We need to review the package they’re offering.”

  “No. I’m ready to end this. Let’s mark it up and send back our final deal.”

  “And if he doesn’t accept?”

  “He’s got to be running low on funds to back this legal battle. I’ll use those extra shares I earned to fight it until there’s nothing left of him.”

  Reegan sighs. “This is personal for you. I understand that. You’re hurt. You’re angry. I just want to make sure you understand what’s at risk for you because it’s still business. The fees to fight—”

  “My business is personal, so I don’t care how much it costs. I’m right. I’d rather die being right, than live a life that’s wrong. I won’t accept anything less than what I’m willing to give. This will be my final offer.”

  Knowing better than to argue with me, Reegan opens the two-inch-thick file before him. “Do you want to review his offer again before making a final decision?”

  “No. I know what it says. Here’s my counteroffer: I want one hundred million in cash. Two million shares that divest in five years based on the highest stock price during that period. My name will be removed from all deals, business properties, and contracts backdating to the first of this month.” I watch as Reegan takes furious notes to keep up. The other lawyers are quiet, and the only sound is ink across their legal pads. “Neither he, nor the company, will make claims against my family, any current endeavors, or myself, including my businesses not associated with the company or my personal properties. No taxes shall come from my shares for this past year, or any other year that I will be collecting money. My share of taxes will be paid accordingly and directly from me, not through them on their tax end, so they will not receive tax breaks based on my payout or shares.”