by Ember Cole
His gaze drops, taking in my lack of clothing. All I’m wearing is a thin T-shirt and pair of girlish white cotton panties.
When his eyes find mine again, they are dark, needy.
He wants me.
Whether it’s the alcohol, the late hour, or the fact that we are alone and there’s barely any clothing between us, he can’t hide the longing in his eyes. I may not have a lot of experience with men, but I understand Vance’s anger now. All those insistences that I leave, they were all because he wants me. And he thinks he shouldn’t.
But I’m not my father, and while I’m young, I’m no fool.
He rests his forearms on the shelves on either side of my head, boxing me in. His body is a breath away from mine, and I feel the heat radiating from his bare flesh.
“You should head back to bed now.” His voice is strained, like he’s in physical pain.
I nod, but don’t move away. Instead, I teeter closer, wanting to feel his warmth on my skin. Wanting to feel his lips on mine. I touch his chest, resting my palms against him, feeling the light spray of crinkly hair beneath my palms.
“Amelie,” he rumbles. His eyes close as he breathes deeply. And then his big hands are framing my face, holding me in place to receive his kiss.
It’s tender at first, not much more than breath mingling, lips barely brushing, anticipation drawing out the seconds. My eyes flutter closed, my body feeling bubbly and tingly.
He pulls away and I whimper—I can’t help it. But before I can drag his face back down to mine, he growls and flat-out devours me.
I’m shocked at first. I’ve never been kissed like this. Everything about it overwhelms me. The foreign feel of his lips moving on mine, demanding more. The rough texture of his callused fingertips against the fine skin of my cheekbones. His thick fingers, threading through the tangled hair at my temples. The heat of his body, the hardness of it, presses into me, consuming my smaller frame, almost as if I’m dissolving into him.
Without my permission or conscious thought, my body arches into his, begging for more. He nips at my bottom lip, and when I gasp, he thrusts his tongue inside my mouth, setting off a whole flurry of new sensations. He slows down then, his grip loosening a fraction. Domination turns to seduction, and he takes the kiss deeper, tipping my head back for better access.
He slides one hand through my hair, down my back; suddenly he’s pulling me against him so that my soft curves melt into his hard angles.
He explores all the recesses of my mouth, the light tang of whiskey only adding to the decadence. My arms creep up to wrap around his neck. I thread my fingers though his soft hair, loving the silky feel on my knuckles. Tentatively, I begin to kiss him back, no longer a passive vessel, but an active participant.
If his chest-deep growl is any indication, I’m doing okay. He strokes my ass, coaxing my cotton-covered pussy against his jeans-clad thigh.
Oh God. That pressure. That’s exactly what I need. Only more. It’s my turn to groan. Heat floods my belly. My skin feels like it’s alive, hypersensitive to every touch. My nipples have hardened to painful points, and I imagine his big, warm hands covering them, teasing the tips, kneading their swollen fullness. I press against his leg, desperate for more. More heat, more of his touch, more everything. I feel out of control and totally shameless and I don’t care.
Finally, I understand what desire is. Finally, I understand what it is to want a man. To be wanted.
And I like it.
All of a sudden, Vance is gone. He steps back, putting space between us. He’s breathing hard, his eyes wild, staring at me as if he wants to shove me right back up against the bookshelf and do it all over again.
Boldly, I stare right back, letting him see how much I want him, too.
After a heartbeat, he looks away, frowning at something playing inside his mind. He shoves a hand through his hair with a whispered “fuck” before meeting my gaze again.
“You don’t belong here. You’re too innocent for me. For all of us.” He shakes his head. “Best you go home. Or go somewhere else. Anywhere but here.”
And with that ominous warning, Vance leaves me alone with my newly awakened libido, more determined than ever not just to rid myself of my virginity, but to discover what else I’ve been missing in my life.
3
REED
Ranch work has always been a way for me to blow off steam. When I was younger, tossing bales of hay into the loft, digging postholes, and wrangling cattle alongside my dad and brothers was a way to burn off some of that extra testosterone that made me ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Later, the military served the same purpose. I had loved the physical aspect of that life—testing myself in hard conditions, using my wits and physical strength to survive the harshest environments. I’d had a sense that I was doing something important. For the first time, I felt at home. And then a damn roadside mine tried to take my leg off and ended everything.
I feed the horses, trying to ignore the stiff ache in my knee. I’ve recovered, but I’m not healed. Amelie’s arrival only highlights that fact. She’s a bright light, perfect in her innocence, and I’m most definitely not. I’ve seen too much, done too much, suffered too much to ever be that wide-eyed and pure again. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to her, even though we’ve barely spoken. My darkness is drawn to her light.
I finish with the horses, wondering if they will be sold off now that there aren’t rich tourists paying to play cowboy at our ranch every weekend.
Jesse leans against the stable door, arms crossed. “What are we going to do about Amelie?”
“No idea,” I say, putting away the feed buckets. “She seems determined that one of us fuck her.” I hope Jesse doesn’t hear it in my voice, how much I want to be the one.
“Vance thinks we need to send her home.”
The anger flares to life like a sleeping snake that’s just been stepped on. “Yeah, well, Vance doesn’t get to make decisions for all of us. He just thinks he does.”
Jesse cocks his head, looking at me, eyes narrowed. “You’re volunteering for the job?”
I shrug, unable to speak.
“Shouldn’t it be the lady’s choice?” Tanner asks, strolling into the barn. “That is what we’re talking about, right? Who gets to help Amelie with her, um, problem?”
Jackson is close behind.
“Weren’t you supposed to be on a plane?” I ask him.
He smiles. “I booked a later flight.”
Fucker. He wants Amelie, too. Enough to put his plans on hold for the opportunity to have her. And he’d be an excellent choice for a virgin. Smooth, suave, refined. She’d be in good hands. But not my hands. I practically growl as I push through the gathering crowd and head out to the pump in the middle of the yard.
The others follow. I open the spigot and splash water over my face and bare chest. It doesn’t do anything to cool down my temper. I want to punch something. Or someone. With six brothers, there’s always someone spoiling for a fight.
Not Jesse, though. Nothing seems to get to him. Except maybe Amelie, given the way he was looking at her last night. Like we all were.
Memphis and Greyson amble over, laughing and pushing each other.
“So, who fucked her?” Memphis asks, splashing me with water from the spigot.
I glare at him and scrub my hands over my dripping face.
“Wasn’t you,” he says. “You look ready to chew nails.”
My fists clench, ready to wipe the grin from Memphis’s face.
“Nobody did anything but sleep last night,” Tanner says.
I stifle a snort. I doubt any of us did much sleeping. Tossing, yes. Turning, yes. Beating off to fantasies of Amelie’s tender, untouched skin pinkening with desire, her soft passion-filled sighs, and the feel of her tight little body rocking in ecstasy? Hell, yeah. All night.
“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Jesse says. “She stays here for a few days. She can hang out, relax a little. Think things over. For all
we know, she’ll be homesick within twenty-four hours and leave on her own.”
“She’s not a little girl at sleepaway camp for the first time,” Greyson says. “She’s only a couple of years younger than me and Memphis.”
“She’s not going home,” I say. “Not if her father is going to force her to marry an old man. You’d really let that fucker steal her innocence?”
“I don’t like the idea of that, no,” Jesse says. There are dark circles under his eyes, too. Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he appears on the outside. “But it’s not up to us. It’s up to her.”
“And what if she still wants one of us to help with her other request?” Tanner asks, frowning. “What if she still wants one of us to relieve her of her virginity?”
“We cross that bridge when we come to it,” Jesse says.
“So, no sex?” Jackson asks.
“No sex.”
“Fuck that,” Memphis says.
I agree with Memphis’s sentiment but don’t say anything.
“What about Vance?” Tanner asks.
“He’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t approve of her being here at all,” Jackson says.
“Vance doesn’t get to make all the goddamned rules,” I say, my jaw clenched tight. “If we decide she stays, she stays.”
“I can make Vance see reason,” Jesse says.
I’m not so sure. There are a few other grunts of disbelief, too.
A feminine voice cuts through the jumble of male voices. “Good morning!”
We step back to allow Amelie into our circle. Her hair is a more vibrant red now that it’s dry, and it’s hanging in a messy cloud around her clean, makeup-free face.
She’s wearing my shirt over last night’s jeans.
Holy fuck.
Who knew seeing a woman in my shirt would be so damn sexy? I’m staring. I know I’m staring, but I can’t stop. I want to see her in my shirt and only in my shirt. I want to see her bare legs sticking out of the bottom. I want to see her bare feet. I want to see the outline of her nipples pressing into the cotton. The only thing better would to see her smiling up at me and stripping out of my shirt.
Get a hold of yourself. I don’t know what it is about this girl that sends me around the bend. I’ve slept with plenty of beautiful women, but I’ve never felt this surge of possessiveness before. That’s new.
I swallow it down and hope the other guys don’t see how Amelie affects me. I nod to her casually. “Morning.”
“Did you sleep well?” Tanner asks.
“Yes,” she says, but there’s a blush to her cheeks. “Considering.”
Goddammit. One of these bastards did something to her. Maybe they didn’t actually fuck her, but something happened. I know it. I look from one to the other, examining their expressions for guilt. They don’t seem to notice anything.
I let out a breath and shove a hand through my hair. Maybe I’m finally losing my damn mind. No woman has ever affected me like this.
“I really appreciate you guys letting me stay here last night,” she says. “I figured I’d call my friend today, or maybe my cousin in Houston, and figure something out. Last night I was a little…emotional.”
Oh, shit. Has she changed her mind about this whole thing then?
“You still wanna fuck though, right?” Memphis asks, a hint of panic in his voice. It’s the thought that’s running through all of our minds. We’re all silent, waiting for her reply.
“Oh, well, I…” Her gaze drifts from one man to the other, seeking a safe place to land. But there isn’t one. We all want her. “None of you really have to do…that…if you don’t want,” she says, like it would be a goddamn favor to sink into her sweet body.
Yeah, we’re all fucking saints.
Jesse takes her hand, and seeing the tender look he’s giving her, I have the sudden urge to punch him in the face. “Here’s what we were thinking. We don’t want you to make a rash decision about this. Why don’t you stay here at the ranch a couple of days? Think everything through. Then if you are still determined to go through with your plan, you can do it at that point.”
Tanner smiles. “Until then, no pressure. Just hang out with us and relax. Have fun.”
“Wow,” she says, looking from one of us to the next. “You guys would do that for me? Let me stay here while I decide?”
“Absolutely,” Jackson says.
“We’re fine with it,” I say. “We’ve all agreed.”
A frown puckers her brow. “Vance agreed?” There’s a slight flush to her cheeks.
Son of a bitch. He’s the one who touched her. Acting like the bad guy like he doesn’t want anything to do with her. And then as soon as we turn our backs, he makes his move. Damn him.
“Vance has been outvoted,” Jackson says shortly.
“So majority rules then?” she asks, a slight upturn to her pretty mouth.
“Always,” Tanner confirms.
She takes a deep breath and gives a nod. “Okay,” she says, her smile blindingly beautiful. “I’ll stay. Thank you all so much.”
“No problem,” I say. But not having her in my bed is a problem. A big one.
4
AMELIE
I must be some kind of slut. Is it even possible to be a virgin slut? Because that’s how I’m feeling. One of these men, these big, sexy men, might be the one to take my virginity. Or maybe two of them, if Memphis and Greyson have their way. And I get to choose. That does things to my insides. Warm, melty things.
I wet my lips, looking at each in turn. They are all beyond attractive, each so similar and yet so different. Tanner, with his soft eyes and kind smile. Jackson, smooth and in control. Jesse, logical, reasonable. The twins, playful and low-stress. And Reed. I haven’t gotten a handle on him yet. More hotheaded than the others, for sure, and he looks like he’s spoiling for a fight, just like he did last night.
And what about Vance? He has evidently extracted himself from the whole situation. He wasn’t as affected by our little thing in the library like I was, clearly. I hardly slept, playing it over and over again in my mind, wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped.
“Reed and Tanner will go get your car,” Jackson says.
“We’ll put a spare on and park it in one of the barns for now,” Tanner says.
“Thank you. I didn’t even think about the car last night.”
“Shouldn’t take long,” Reed says, and he and Tanner head over to a pickup.
Jackson holds up a bag of what looks like tools. “I have a fence to mend. Want to come along?”
I nod, letting him take my hand and lead me away from Jesse and the twins.
I glance back at the others as we walk away. Reed and Tanner track me from where they’re standing by the pickup, Jesse’s frowning, and Memphis and Greyson look like someone just took away their favorite toy.
I’m so screwed.
Hopefully literally.
5
JESSE
Jackson and Amelie are out fixing the fence by the creek, and I’m getting more and more frustrated. Jackson is a smooth operator. I’ve heard women talking about the private massages in low whispers when they didn’t know I was able to hear, and I know those massages included a happy ending. I just wonder how happy an ending Jackson is providing our little Amelie right now.
Pacing the barn, I’m about to lose my mind. This isn’t me. I’m the calm one, not ruled by impulse like most of my brothers. I operate on logic, think through all the options before choosing the best action for all involved. But with Amelie—there’s just something about her that makes my brain short-circuit. I want her. Want her in an intense, irrational way that I’ve never wanted another woman.
Why? That’s the question that plagued me all night. Why her? Why now? The ranch’s future is finally decided, and I had a plan for the next phase of my life. And now there’s Amelie. A temporary distraction, maybe. But a distraction that causes uncertainty, and uncertainty is not what I handle
well. I want her. I need to know if I’ll have her.
I have the sudden irrational urge to punch the wall. I settle for kicking a feed bucket, which spills feed everywhere and knocks into the pitchfork and shovel leaning against the wall beside it. They clatter across the floor with a satisfying racket. At least now I know why Reed lashes out. Cursing, I hurry to clean up the mess before one of my brothers wanders in and discovers I’m not nearly as composed about all this Amelie business as I want to appear.
What is it about her? She is beautiful, obviously, but I’ve known a lot of beautiful women who didn’t unsettle me as she does. She appears fragile, but has an inner strength that belies that outward appearance. I admire her for taking control of her own life and choosing what she wants instead of accepting what’s been handed to her. The problem is, she’s affected all of us the same way. How can seven grown men, brothers, all want the same woman? She’s only going to choose one of us to take to her bed. And that leaves six of us out in the cold.
“Problem, brother?” Vance is leaning in the doorway, watching me.
“No,” I lie, striving to regain my composure. “Just cleaning up a mess.”
He strolls into the barn, turns over an empty bucket, and sits on it wearily. There are dark rings under his eyes. He hasn’t shaved, and he looks bleary-eyed, like he was up nursing a bottle of his favorite whiskey all night.
“She’s trouble,” he says, and I don’t have to ask whom he’s referring to.
I shovel the last of the mess into the garbage and return the tools to their places. I want to argue with him about Amelie, but he’s right.
“Yeah.”
“She’s got all you running around chasing after her cherry.” I wince at his crude words, but he’s right. His expression is dark. I haven’t seen him like this since after our parents died and he returned to the ranch where he’d always felt trapped.
