I guess I always wanted Grant to be my first. My first crush. My first kiss. My first love. My first everything.
After all, even though he didn’t know it, he was my first orgasm. I could clearly see his face, the brooding depth of his dark, brown eyes, as that first orgasm rushed through my body. The pleasure of it surged through me like a flash flood. To this day, I still picture him showering with the hose when I orgasm. No matter who I’m with.
But nothing ever happened between us.
There was sexual tension, sure. There was more chemistry than in a scientist’s laboratory. I was crazy about him, and I’m sure he had a thing for me too. We saw each other all the time. We even went out of our way to spend more time together. But it was always in the teasing, playful way that family members spend time together. It was flirtatious, fun, happy, but never anything more.
He had too much respect for my father. He didn’t dare lay a finger on me, much to my frustration, and by the time my father passed away, it was too late.
By that time, we knew each other too well.
We were like family. Hell, we were family. We’d done each other’s laundry. We’d fought over the last slice of pie at the dinner table. We’d shared my father’s pickup truck on weekends, him to go down to the Rusty Nail and pick up the waitress, me to get to whatever high school party was happening.
Ugh, he’d even seen me throw up. He helped me keep my first drunken escapades from my father’s attention, but the truth is, I’d have rather my father saw me at those moments than Grant.
He’d also beaten up boys who hurt me. For that, I would forever be grateful, even if it meant I had to keep my romantic life secret from him now.
No. It was hopeless. Nothing could ever happen between us. I’d seen too many of the chicks he brought home, and watched them escape the mansion before sunrise as I sat at the dining table with my Cheerios. He had the libido of a stallion.
I’d also heard him talk too many times about how marriage wasn’t for him. How he could never settle down, never tie himself to just one girl.
It was a tough lesson, my first broken heart before I’d even been in a relationship, but I suppose I can’t complain. Grant took care of me like I was family. Since my father’s death, he had my back. I know he’d never let anything bad happen to me.
But my feelings for him have haunted me. Every man I’ve ever been with has been compared, top to bottom, to Grant.
And they’ve all been found wanting.
First, there were the kids I dated back in high school. They were all boys, and could never measure up to Grant. Muscle, sweat, suave, nerve. He was cocky back in those days. He’d say things he knew would wind me up, just to get a rise out of me. It was our way of releasing the sexual tension.
And I guess it worked. We behaved.
Later, when I reached my twenties, I had some real relationships. At least, as real as they ever got with me. But I was never able to get one-hundred-percent committed to the guys I was with. And I guess at some level they could tell, because more than one of them cheated on me. I always told myself I deserved it, because even though I was completely faithful, and even though I did everything in my power to make them happy, in my heart, it was only Grant I wanted to be with.
In my heart, I was only ever really faithful to one man.
And it had led me to a very lonely place.
Chapter 4
Grant
I COULDN’T TAKE MY EYES off Lacey during the ceremony. I mean, she’d always been beautiful to me, but the way she looked now was driving me crazy. She’d told me she’d be wearing her mother’s wedding dress, but I was shocked at how enticing she looked in it. The neckline came down low on her breasts, revealing the tender, pale flesh of her cleavage. The back was open, inviting my gaze to her perfectly sculpted shoulders. Her neck was as graceful and elegant as a swan’s.
Fuck me. She was like a baited trap, and I wanted to step right in.
She was the closest family I had in the world, and that fact alone was the only reason we’d never fucked. I had too much respect for her father. He’d taken me in, shown me kindness, trained me in the art of being a thief. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be in a prison cell now. He’d trusted me.
It wouldn’t be right for me to betray that trust by fucking his daughter. I mean, he loved that girl more than anything in the world. When I first arrived at the mansion all those years ago, she drove me wild with desire. At the time, I was convinced she was doing it on purpose. She taunted me, getting me to give her rides, wearing the sexiest outfits on dates with her high school sweethearts, making me come pick her up from parties after she’d been out having fun all night. It drove me nuts. She had no idea how beautiful she was, how much better she was than those idiots she hung out with.
I even had a spot in the barn where I’d go to jerk off, thinking about her. I wouldn’t allow myself to do it in the house. It was her father’s house, he’d invited me into his family out of trust. In return, I never invaded Lacey’s privacy. I never entered her room. I never so much as glanced at her underthings when they hung on the line, drying in the wind. And I’d have denied myself the pleasure of fantasizing about her too, but I couldn’t. Believe me, I tried. I told myself a million times I shouldn’t think of her in that way, but it was no good. My cock didn’t listen. It didn’t care that we were supposed to be family. One whiff of her perfume, one glance at her long, blonde hair, and my cock would throb with desire. I had to give in to it. But my compromise was to only ever do it in the barn. I never did it under her father’s roof.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her during the ceremony. I was overcome with waves of emotion as my eyes devoured every inch of her flesh. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. She was all grown up. I mean, she’d been grown up when I first saw her seventeen years earlier, but now she was in her prime. She was radiant. With the help of me and the brothers, she’d broken off her relationship with that cheating scumbag Matt, and for the first time in a long while, she was completely single. She was ripe for the picking.
Except for the fact that I could never do anything to disrespect her father, even in his grave.
She stood next to me after the ceremony and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was staring.
“Is there something wrong with my hair?” she said.
I looked away. “No, no, Lacey. Your hair is … perfect.”
She caught my eye. “Thank you. You look pretty dapper yourself.”
“What, this old thing?” I said. My tuxedo was brand new, bought by her and Faith a few days earlier.
She hit me affectionately on the shoulder and a feeling like electricity flowed through my arm.
It was weird. What were we to each other? Were we family? Were we siblings? Was a relationship between us forever forbidden?
It was a question I’d been grappling with my entire adult life, and I still didn’t know the answer.
“The ceremony was beautiful,” I said.
“Come on, Grant. I know you hate weddings. You’ve said so a million times.”
“This one was different.”
“Sure it was.”
“Really. I liked it. I can tell they’re going to be happy together.”
She looked up at me and smiled. She was wearing the same perfume she’d worn since high school. I caught the scent and it brought me right back. It had always driven me wild with desire. Even now, when I was in department stores, I’d pick up a bottle and that smell would make me hard. I maneuvered myself so that my throbbing cock wasn’t tenting my pants quite so obviously.
“I’m glad,” she said.
God, that perfume was destroying me. I inhaled deeply and shut my eyes. Seventeen years I’d been lusting after this girl. I’d been watching over her, making sure nothing bad ever happened, but I couldn’t help wonder if I’d been holding her back too. I hated every guy she’d ever dated, every guy that so much as looked at her, and she’d picked up on that. I was sure of it. It
must have affected her ability to make those relationships work. I hadn’t meant to do it, but she was still single, and that was partly my fault.
I looked at her. My eyes devoured her body. She was even more beautiful now than she’d been when she was seventeen. Her breasts were fuller. Her thighs and hips were broader. There was a look in her eyes that told me she knew more than she was letting on. She’d been a girl back then. Now she was a woman. It made me want her even more.
I was never one of those men that expected women to starve themselves. Lacey’s curves were intoxicating to me.
Could I do it? Could I do what I’d sworn to myself I’d never allow. Could I allow myself the pleasure of Lacey’s body? Could I live with myself if I did?
It was in a moment of weakness, fueled by the picture Lacey presented in that light blue dress, but I made my decision. I wanted her. I’d wanted her so badly, for so long, that it would be a crime to deny myself any longer. I had to have her. I had to claim her. I had to make her mine.
Lacey, the daughter of the man I loved as my own father, the girl I’d watched from a distance for as long as I could remember, would submit to me. She’d scream my name. She’d feel my cock pulse in orgasm, deep within her body.
It would be a sin. God knows, it would be a crime against everything I believed. But isn’t forbidden pleasure the sweetest?
It was no ordinary night. It was Jackson’s wedding night. It was a night we’d all been waiting a very long time for. It was a night when anything was possible.
And maybe, just maybe, it was a night I could get away with the impossible. I could taste Lacey. I could know her sweet flesh. I could put myself inside her writhing, sweating body. I could do what I’d promised I’d never do. Just this once, on this one special night, I could have what I wanted most, and no one but she and I would ever know it happened.
“You want to go get a drink?” I said to her.
The happy couple had gone off with the photographer. Everyone else was milling around, looks of satisfaction on their faces at having witnessed a beautiful ceremony. Forrester and Grady were doing a great job of hosting the guests, making sure they found their way to the bar that had been set up on the freshly painted porch of Jackson’s new house. Waiters in crisp, white shirts and black ties were popping open corks on bottles of champagne.
No one would miss us if we disappeared for a little while. No one would know what we’d done. Maybe even the old man himself, Lacey’s father, would forgive us this one moment of abandon.
“Sure,” she said.
She started making her way toward the bar but I stopped her.
“Let me show you something,” I said. “I’ve got a bar of my own hidden in the barn.”
“Grant,” she said, shaking her head. She knew all too well about my secret stash in the barn.
“Just one drink,” I said, winking. “The party will be fine without us for a little while.”
Reluctantly, she let me take her by the hand and lead her to the barn. It had been her father’s barn, and now it belonged to the Brotherhood, to all of us.
But that didn’t stop me from thinking of it as mine. I’d always thought of it as mine, even when the old man was still alive. Even then, I was the only one who ever used it, apart from Lacey when she wanted to ride the horses. It was the place I kept my tools for the vineyard, stabled my horses, stored my old cars and bikes. And it was the only place I’d ever allowed myself to fantasize about the girl I craved most in the world. Yes, it was my place.
I pushed open the big, red door and lit a kerosene lamp that hung just inside. It gave the barn a warm glow. At the far end, the horses whinnied at the disturbance before quietening again. I closed the door, shutting out the din of the party outside.
Lacey looked away when I turned to her. She’d been watching my every move.
“Up here,” I said, holding the wooden ladder that led up to the loft.
“Grant, shouldn’t we be joining the celebration?” she said.
I didn’t answer. I just looked at her, into her beautiful, blue eyes, as if they were deep pools of water that I was going to fall into.
She hesitated. Everyone who ever grew up on a farm knows what happens in the lofts of barns. It was no innocent decision when she began climbing the steps of the ladder. I held it steady for her before following her up, the lamp in my hand lighting up her dress.
“So,” she said breathlessly when we were both at the top, her delicious breasts rising and falling with her breath, “where’s this drink you promised me?”
It was a perfect night. The air was cool and still. Through the window we could see a million bright stars keeping watch over the valley. Faintly, we could hear the guests on the porch celebrating the love of a man and woman who’d just promised themselves to each other for all eternity. If this wasn’t the night for us to take this secret pleasure, this sweet ecstasy that we’d waited our entire lives for, then I don’t know what it was.
God would forgive us. Her father would understand. It would be just one night. One blissful night.
I pointed to the heavy beam above her head. “There’s a hip flask right above you.”
She reached up and grabbed it, but when she pulled it down, I saw that she hadn’t grabbed the flask at all. She’d grabbed something else entirely. Something I’d long forgotten was there.
Chapter 5
Lacey
“WHAT’S THIS?” I SAID, pulling down an old envelope, it’s paper worn with age.
Grant was surprised when he saw it.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “Here, give that to me.”
He’d never looked handsomer than he did at that moment. He was wearing an impeccable tuxedo, its crisp lines contrasting with his muscular, tattooed frame. He carried an old fashioned lamp in one hand, and with the other he held the ladder. His hair was combed, a rare sight for Grant, but it still refused to be tamed. His curls fell down around his face like ivy.
I was about to hand him the envelope when something about his urgency stopped me. What was so important about it?
“Not so fast,” I said.
“Lacey, come on. It’s private.”
I looked at him. “Can I take a peek?” I said, mischievously.
He sighed. Then he shrugged.
“Fine,” he said, “but pass me the flask first.”
I reached back up to the beam and this time found the metal bottle he’d intended me to find the first time. I unscrewed the lid and took a swig of the aged whiskey before passing it to him.
The envelope contained photographs and a letter. I tipped it and the small bundle of old photographs slid into my hand.
“What are these?” I said.
“We’re adults now,” he said. “I suppose you can see for yourself.”
I looked at them and gasped. They were pictures of me. Not naughty, I wasn’t naked or anything, just portraits that had been hanging in the hall of the mansion until we took them down for a remodel years ago. There was one of me at my high school graduation. I remembered the day clearly. Me in my hat and gown holding my diploma. Grant had taken the picture. That was before the other brothers had come to live with us. Another was of me on Mustang, the wild horse Grant had broken and given to me for my nineteenth birthday. My hair was long and wavy, flowing down over my shoulders in billowing curls. It was one of my favorite shots. Another was of me in my prom dress, taken on our wraparound staircase before my date arrived. I remembered thinking it was the most beautiful I’d ever looked in my life up to that point.
“How long have you had these?” I said.
He took a swig of the whiskey before answering. “A long time.”
“What were you doing with them?”
He was embarrassed. He didn’t answer.
“Grant,” I said insistently.
He came toward me and handed me the hip flask. Then he took the envelope and photos from my hand and put them back up on the beam. I hadn’t even read the letter but now I wasn�
�t sure I wanted to. What would it say?
“I didn’t mean for you to see those,” he said. “I hope they didn’t upset you.”
“Why do you have them?”
“That’s not important,” he said, sitting on a bale of hay.
“Of course it’s important.”
“Why?” he said. “Why is it important?”
“It’s important because I want to know. We’ve lived together since I was seventeen. What are you doing with photos of me?”
“What does it matter?”
“Grant,” I said, exasperated. “It matters.”
He nodded. “I know,” he said.
“Then tell me.”
He looked at me as if apologizing for a crime. “All right. If you’re going to force it out of me. There was a time when I had a crush on you, Lacey.”
I felt my cheeks redden. “That doesn’t explain having my picture.”
“It wasn’t just a little crush. It was an all encompassing, all mighty obsession. It burned inside me like a fire. I tried to get over it, I tried not to think of you in that way, but I couldn’t.”
“So you brought pictures of me out to the barn for what reason?”
I looked at him questioningly.
“Are you really going to make me spell it out?” he said.
My head was spinning. How did I feel about this? I mean, I’d had my fantasies about him, but this was different. Or was it? Was it exactly the same?
“Tell me.”
“I fantasized about you, Lacey. I didn’t want to disrespect your father by doing it under his roof, so I came out here to look at your photos.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“You were pretty, Lacey. In fact, you were hot, smoking hot.”
“I was never hot.”
“You’ve always been a beauty. You know that.”
“No I don’t,” I said, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“You knew it back then. That’s why you gave me such a hard time. It was torture living with you and never being able to make a move. You knew I wanted you.”
Wife Me Bad Boy Page 2
