by Ember Cole
“Well, today is your day, then,” Jackson says brightly. “Whatever you want to do.”
“The chores still need doing,” Vance says. “This is a working ranch, you know. Shit doesn’t just come to a standstill because we have company.”
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?” I ask, my temper breaking free.
Vance puts down his fork, rests his elbows on the table, and leans forward, glaring at me. “I’m sorry if tending the animals and taking care of things interrupts your playtime,” he says. “But somebody around here has got to make sure things keep running. Not all of us can lose his goddamn mind over one woman.”
He doesn’t look at Amelie, but the rest of us do. The smile that rested on her lips so easily falls from her face.
“I can go,” she says, pushing her plate away. “I don’t mean to intrude. I can—”
“No,” several male voices say at once.
“Ignore Vance,” Memphis says. “He doesn’t know how to have fun. It’s just work, work, work all the time.”
“Believe me, I’d love to have the luxury of being the fucking waste of space in this family for a change.”
“Dude. You need to get laid or something,” Greyson says, not looking up from his plate. He’s always had an enormous appetite. I don’t know where he puts it, because he’s as lean and fit as the rest of us.
“Okay, everybody relax,” Jesse says. “Amelie isn’t going anywhere.”
There’s a collective exhale. I’m obviously not the only one who can’t stomach the thought of her leaving. Vance needs to shut the hell up.
“You don’t have to be part of this,” I say. “She’s our guest. Not yours.”
“Fine,” he says. “When her father comes knocking, you figure out how to explain the situation. I’m not part of this”—Vance gestures to all of us—“whatever this is.”
Amelie’s face is red now, her mouth tight. She’s pissed, too. I like that she’s mad at Vance. He deserves it. But seeing her mad riles up my already strung-tight temper.
“What’s your problem?” I burst out. Jesse tries to break in again, the annoying fucking voice of reason, as always, but I ignore him. “For real. Amelie needs our help, our protection.”
“No, she needs a dick,” he says, taking another bite of his lunch, like he’s discussing the weather. “That’s what she said when she showed up. As soon as one of you gives it to her, she’s gone. So don’t go getting attached.”
“That’s it.” I shove back from the table, my chair tipping over in the process and clattering to the floor. I’m ready to explode. And exploding on Vance works for me. He and I have been at odds for a while. Maybe all we need is to punch it out. “Outside.”
“I’m not fighting you,” Vance says in a weary voice. “Not over a woman you’re trying to get in your bed.”
We have two rules in our house. One, we always eat as a family. Two, we fight fair and we do it outside. But I may just have to sucker punch him if he keeps running his mouth.
“This isn’t about Amelie,” I say, stalking toward him. “It’s about you being a dick. I don’t know what your problem is lately, but I’m sick of it.”
I owe Vance a lot. I know that. He took care of all of us after Mom and Dad died. He came up with an ambitious idea to keep the ranch out of the bank’s hands and fucking pulled it off. At twenty-five. I don’t know if any of us could’ve done that. He also made a place for me when the military didn’t want me anymore. But I still want to hit him in that stupid face of his. He might be the oldest, but he’s not goddamn God.
“I’m not fighting you,” he says again.
“Reed.” Amelie touches my arm. I hadn’t even realized she’d gotten up from the table. “I’d really like to see the rest of the ranch. Do you think you can maybe show me around?”
Her touch calms me. Or maybe distracts me. Either way, a tiny bit of the rage eases. As I look into her clear green eyes, wide with concern, my fists slowly unclench.
“Sure,” I say, stepping away from Vance, even though I still want to rip his head off. “I can show you.”
“After we finish eating?” she says.
I let out a long breath, feeling the last of my fratricidal tendencies fade. For now. I smile down at her. She’s a woman with a heap of problems that don’t have easy solutions, yet she’s the one talking me off the ledge.
Everyone settles back into their seats and continues with their lunch. I hadn’t realized that most of the others had stood, ready to jump in and break things up if Vance and I went at it.
We finish lunch. The tension still hangs over us, sexual and otherwise, but Amelie’s questions, her laughter—her ability to ignore Vance, even as he watches her with dark, hooded eyes—bring a lightness to our conversation that hasn’t been there for a while. The vote to close the ranch to tourists has divided us. But Amelie reminds me that we haven’t always been that way.
Eventually, Vance puts his plate in the sink and stalks out without a word.
“What did I do to make him hate me?” Amelie asks after he’s gone.
“Nothing,” I say. “He’s always that way.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Jesse says. “Just the opposite, actually.”
She grimaces. “Well, he has a crappy way of showing it.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Greyson says. “Play with us instead.”
Memphis drops his dish in the sink and reaches for her hand. “C’mon. You’ve got to see the game room,” he says. “Darts, pool, air hockey, you name it.”
Before I can remind her about our tour, she’s gone, everyone but Tanner in tow.
“She is lovely,” Tanner says, looking at me. Of all my brothers, Tanner and I probably have the least in common. He’s observant, refined, abstract. I’m rough, not just around the edges, but everywhere. I’m sandpaper. He’s smooth, cool clay.
“Yeah,” I say, shoving my plate away.
“You have a problem with all of us wanting her, too?”
“No,” I answer right away. And it’s mostly true. I’ve never been the possessive type. But I’ve never shared a woman, either.
“She’s…unusual,” Tanner says. “An intriguing combination of strength and frailty. Of will and submission. Light and dark—no, not dark. Shadow, maybe. Shades of pink and white shot through with gray.”
Whatever. I can’t follow Tanner’s conversation half the time. Or just don’t want to. Red hair, pink skin, red lips, green eyes. That’s her palette to me. And I want it all.
Tanner leans back in his chair. He has his sketch pad out already, his hand moving confidently over the page in bold strokes.
“Don’t draw me.” Tanner has a way of capturing emotions with pencil and paper that is almost eerie. I don’t want to have to look into my own features on his pad and see the anger boiling there. And I certainly don’t want to see the wreck Amelie is making of my emotions.
He smiles to himself. “I’m not drawing you.”
He’s drawing her, I realize. He’s sitting here now, calm and collected, but he wants her, too. All my brothers do. No matter the outcome, no matter what Vance says about her only planning to sleep with one of us, I can’t see her leaving this ranch without all of us claiming her.
“Weren’t you going to give Amelie the grand tour?” Tanner asks, not looking up from his work.
“Yeah,” I say, getting up. I’m not ready to put my slow seduction plan into action just yet, but I certainly don’t want the other guys to have more time with her than strictly allowed. I head for the game room.
I hear her laughter before I even enter the room. It’s deeper than I have imagined. Throaty. She’s not self-conscious about letting it out, either. I love that. I envy it. Stepping into the room, I see that she’s at the vintage pinball machine we bought and restored several years ago. Memphis is pressed up against her, showing her how to play.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing,” Greyson says, shoving Memphis aside. “Le
t me.” He takes Memphis’s place, pressing his pelvis right against her ass.
They’re like dogs in heat, those two.
That’s okay, I tell myself. Let them be dogs. I’m planning a midnight dinner. A stroll in the moonlight. Soft music. Flowers. All the shit sweet girls like her want. And then, then I’ll make my move. I’ll show her how good I can make her feel.
Amelie laughs and the twins trade places again. Jesus, I can see that they’re hard for her from here. They don’t have any shame at all.
Then Jackson starts tickling her, and he and Jesse carry her to the oversize couch, settling her across their laps. She snuggles up to Jesse, pulling his head down for a kiss. She turns to Jackson and does the same. Hot looks pass among the three of them.
Fuck. Whatever happened this morning was more than physical. Maybe making her mine won’t be as easy as I thought.
I can’t watch any more. I need to hit something, so I head to the barn.
10
AMELIE
I watch Reed stalk off, his limp hardly slowing him down. I hear the back door slam and suddenly feel bad.
“Is he all right?” I ask Jesse.
I expect Jesse to reassure me that he’s fine, but he doesn’t. “He’s different since he came home from Iraq.” He frowns and looks at Jackson.
Jackson nods. “He’s definitely moodier and more…temperamental. And that’s saying something. He’s always been moody and temperamental. Even as a kid.”
He’s wounded, I realize. And maybe not just physically. That brings out an unexpected instinct in me, because even though I don’t know him very well, I want to comfort him.
“I should go after him. See if he’s okay,” I say, scooting off the couch.
“Try the barn,” Jesse says with a smile. I nod and head out the back door of the house. I can’t believe that even after what we’ve done together, Jackson and Jesse aren’t jealous that I’m going to find Reed.
I’d always thought that men were territorial when it came to a woman they were interested in, but I’m slowly beginning to realize that things are different with these brothers.
The sun is high overhead now, and the early-morning warmth has turned to humidity. The barn’s cool shadows are welcome.
My father has a stable and I ride frequently, but it’s nothing like this. Daddy’s stable is state of the art, clean and neat, an attendant at the ready at any time to saddle a horse for me and to take care of the animal when I return. But this barn is an old one, built for a real working ranch. There are no fluorescent lights overhead, no sterile cement walkways between the two rows of stalls. The ground here is strewn with sweet-smelling hay. Shadows lurk in the rafters, and the scent of horses and leather is strong. I can see why Reed would want to come here. There’s something so earthy about it, just dirt and horse and man.
“Get tired of the horndog twins?” Reed asks from the far side of the barn. He’s stacking bales of hay across and doesn’t even look at me. Since the doors on both side of the barn are open, he’s silhouetted against the bright daylight outside and I can’t help but admire his tall stature, his broad shoulders. He still has that tight, muscled military physique, but then none of the brothers are couch potatoes.
“I wanted to see if you’re okay,” I said. “You seemed angry.”
“I’m not angry,” he says, tossing the last bale on the stack. He leans against the wall next to the door, breathing hard from the exertion. “Just…frustrated.”
I approach him, stopping a foot or so away. I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, feel the anger buried deep inside him. I touch his arm.
He freezes like a wounded animal unused to human contact. But that only makes me want to touch him more, ease whatever is hurting him. I have the notion that he’s not a man who has experienced very much comfort in his life.
I go up on tiptoes then and hug him, lacing my arms around his waist. He hesitates for a moment, then wraps his arms around me. I lean into him, resting my head on his wide, hard chest.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” I say. “It’s the shirt—your scent on it.”
He drops his head, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply.
“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” My hands stray to his dark hair, only a little longer than military regulation. It’s soft between my fingers, and I play with the strands.
“You’re welcome,” he says finally. His body relaxes a fraction, but he’s all hardness and planes, inside and out.
“Maybe we can do that tour later?” I ask, pulling away to look up at him. Maybe that’s what has him so frustrated?
He lifts his head, too. The worry lines that bracket his mouth and crease his forehead are still there, and his blue eyes are intense. They dart back and forth restlessly, taking in every detail of my face and hair.
I want him to relax, be happy. Maybe even smile.
“Reed,” I say. “What can I do?”
He looks at me then, and even though he’s mostly in the shadows, a ray of sunshine slashes across his face, illuminating his flashing blue eyes.
“Kiss me,” he says, barely above a whisper.
Instantly, I wrap my arms around his neck. He hauls me against him, like we’ve done this a thousand times. It feels good. Safe.
I can’t reach his mouth without his help, but I can reach his jaw, so I press a line of kisses there, trailing my lips all the way to the point of his chin.
He inhales sharply when I pull my mouth away, and his grip on me tightens. I sense a barely leashed fire simmering just below the surface of this man, like a slumbering volcano about to explode.
I want that fire, I realize. Even though it scares me a little, I want Reed to let that violence free.
I go up on tiptoes and run my fingers through the short hair at his nape. His neck is burning hot, and I imagine there are a lot of other parts of his body just as heated. I press against him, wanting to feel them all.
For a heartbeat I wonder if he’ll ever kiss me, but then his mouth is on mine, hard and demanding. He takes what he wants, what I’m happy to give.
Spinning us around, he slams me against the wall, following with his body, pressing my back into the ancient wood. The roughness only spurs me on. He presses his knee between my thighs, pinning me in place. As if there is anywhere else on the planet I’d rather be.
His mouth covers mine possessively, his hands digging into my hair, holding my head right where he wants it. Thrusting his tongue inside my open mouth, he continues the sensual attack, stroking my tongue, nipping at my lips, stealing my breath. Desire rips through me like a wildfire. There is no slow burn. He’s turned the heat all the way up, and I’m already boiling over.
“Fuck,” he says, pulling back, gasping for breath. “I’m hurting you.” He shakes his head and puts a couple of inches of space between us, pain in his eyes. “Amelie, baby, you’re too good for this. You’re too good for me—”
“No,” I growl. I pull his head back to mine, my nails digging into the flesh at the base of his skull. I search his eyes, sure I look crazy. I feel crazy, so desperate for more. I ache with needing him.
“I want to come,” I say. “I want you to make me come hard. You, Reed. Right now.”
He’s surprised, but only for a split second. Then a smile plays at his lips. The first I’ve seen. It softens all the lines worry has etched into his face, making him look younger, less jaded.
“My pleasure.”
Before I can wonder at his words, he drops to his knees in front of me. He practically rips the button of my jeans off in his desperation to get inside, but I don’t care. I have the most insane image of him tearing the clothing from my body and taking what he wants while I’m helpless to stop him.
My knees go weak at the thought.
He tugs my jeans down roughly, tossing my shoes aside, before pulling my jeans and panties completely off. I brace my hands on his shoulders for support, practically whimpering now.
; “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says, staring at my pussy. “I knew you would be.” He presses his face between my thighs and inhales deeply. His breath stirs my neatly trimmed curls. “I’m going to eat you up, baby,” he rumbles. “And you’re going to be fucking delicious.”
Without warning, he hauls one of my legs over his shoulder, opening me to him. I lean heavily against the barn wall, my gaze glued to what he’s doing to me.
He touches me surprisingly gently at first, tracing the contours of my opening.
“So innocent,” he murmurs, delving inside with his index finger. My internal muscles immediately clench around the invasion. “Jesus, you’re tight. You feel so good wrapped around my finger. I can’t imagine how good you’ll feel wrapped around my dick.”
He adds another finger and presses deeper. I whimper as he probes my innocence. Then he holds my gaze as he presses through my barrier. The bite of pain is so good, so very good. I squirm on his hand, and my head drops back against the wall.
“Fuck, yeah. That’s what I was looking for. I want to make you mine so bad, baby, but this is all I can give myself. Someday, though, I’m going to sink balls-deep into this sweet pussy. You’ll be so full of my cock, you won’t be able to breathe.”
He’s thrusting now, his fingers sliding in and out of me. I’m tense, clenching around him, but I need more.
“But not today.” He withdraws his fingers, and I want to cry in protest. He chuckles and kisses the inside of my thigh. “Today I’m going to taste you.”
He covers my pussy with his mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. My mouth drops open and my leg threatens to give out, but he just holds my hips still for his sweet invasion.
My fingers curl into his shirt, clinging for balance. He licks my opening, lapping up all the wetness like he’s trying to savor every last drop, before thrusting his tongue inside again.
“Reed,” I breathe, my hips thrusting uselessly against his face. “I need…” Words. Words are so hard to come by right now. “I need…”
“It’s coming, baby,” he says. He thrusts two fingers inside me again. Then his mouth is on my clit, sucking gently but insistently. The combination of his fingers and his mouth working together is too much. Pleasure overload.
