Fragile Illusion: Stag Brothers Book 3

by Lainey Davis

  I laugh and assure her I'll let her know if I ever get bored. "I'm a curious person," I tell her. "I wouldn't be a good reporter if I cut people off when they're on a roll!" We talk a bit more about her work, and I start to jot some notes in my phone for the piece about the childcare they have on site. When we get to a natural pause in the conversation, I decide to just dive into the hard question. "What happened with Tim and Thatcher?"

  Alice pauses and sighs. "You know," she says, "I'm not really sure. Tim was mighty angry that Thatcher was late to Petey's birthday party, and I think they just started to bring up a lot of years of held-in quarrels."

  "I know Tim's opinion really, really matters to Thatcher. About everything," I tell her, looking out the window to make sure the guys aren't back yet. I see Juniper making her way up the steps to the back deck. She's wearing running tights and a sports bra and I nearly gasp when I see how fit she is. Her abs have abs.

  She bursts into the kitchen and grabs a glass of water, chugging it down before she greets us. "Hey," she says, finally, heaving a bit. "I ran separately so the boys could bond and fight out all their shit."

  Alice nods. "They really need to do that."

  I look back and forth between them, puzzled. Juniper chugs some more water and continues, "They still haven't finished whatever they were getting into at the birthday party, and Ty thinks Thatcher is hiding something." She winks. "He hopes I'm going to get you to spill your guts today."

  I frown, remembering that Thatcher had seen their father when he was waiting for me to change at the hospital. I guess he hasn't told his family about that yet. Well, I'm not going to be the one to bring that up. That's a hurt that runs years deeper than any of our involvement with this family. Then, of course, I realize that Thatcher is also hiding from them the fact that our relationship is pretend. I flush, realizing I'm part of this divide that's plaguing the Stag brothers.

  "No worries, Emma," Juniper says, clapping me on the back. "Hey, anyone want to jump in the hot tub with me before the guys get back?" I tell her I'm going to stick to the house and Alice agrees to let me set the table at least. When the guys haven't returned an hour later, the three of us decide to dig in without them, and Juniper, fully at ease after her hot tub, really opens up to all of my questions.

  Twenty-Five

  THATCHER

  Everything seems fine for about the first mile. My brothers give me shit about my new tattoos. I pretend that Tim is getting soft around the middle, and we all joke that Thatcher is starting to look like a shiny bodybuilder, his muscles are getting so big.

  Then, Tim falls back beside me, letting Ty run on ahead, and I know it's all about to go down. "I read Emma's article about you," he says. "Why didn't you tell me you had a show at the Conservatory? I would have come."

  I shake my head and keep running. "I did fucking tell you, Tim. I always tell you."

  "When?" He seems genuinely shocked.

  I just roll my eyes at him and speed up my pace. I'm not going to invite him to tell me I should really reach out to his admin if I want something to get on his master schedule. Somehow I doubt Alice has to do that, and my brother never misses one of Ty's hockey games. "I guess you don't remember shit unless it's earning your law firm money," I sneer at him.

  By this point, Ty realizes we aren't in step with him and he pulls over beside a flat rock, panting a little bit. Tim stops running when we approach Ty and asks him, "Did Thatcher tell you about his art show at the Conservatory?"

  Ty shrugs. "Probably? Was it in June? I can't be anywhere in June unless the team loses and--"

  "I told both of you, like I always do. Neither of you assholes listens to me anymore because you've got babies and girlfriends. You've iced me out of your lives, but then you have the gall to get pissed off when I am late for one of your things. Fuck that."

  I start running again, but Ty grabs my shoulder. "Don't run away, man. Let's talk about this."

  "Fuck you," I snarl. "I liked you better when you just beat the shit out of anyone who pissed you off."

  I take a step before I feel it. His fist is like a sledgehammer to my shoulder. Finally, I think. Then, I turn around swinging. Tim comes up to try to separate me and Tyrion, but years of scrapping have taught us both how to hit each other and how to avoid Tim's efforts to referee. I crouch low and aim for Ty's kidneys. He goes for my stomach every fucking time. Tim catches me in the eye with an elbow, so I hit him in the face, too. Eventually, exhausted, we all collapse onto the gravel path and just lie there, breathing heavy. I exhale long and slow through my nose and close my eyes. "Alex Clemont offered me a quarter million dollars to do a custom piece for his new gin joint and hand make all the glasses he'll need to serve."

  "Is that the builder guy who did the fancy hot dog place downtown?" Ty asks, sitting up and stretching. I nod. "He does a lot of cool spaces."

  Tim frowns and says, "Send your contract to Juniper. She's better at that kind of thing and can look at it for you."

  A few minutes later, we turn around and head back for the cabin, the mood lighter. I know it's only temporary, though, because eventually I'm going to have to tell them I saw our father.

  When we get back, the house smells amazing. I can tell Alice has outdone herself. She and Juniper are washing dishes and they both turn around, immediately swarming the three of us. Alice and Juniper see our cuts and bruises and get out the ice and soft hands, soothing Tim and Ty. I hear a lot of "poor baby" while they cluck their tongues. My blood is still pumping, and damn if I don't feel aroused after the adrenaline rush of fighting. I suck down some food until my brothers disappear into their bedrooms so their ladies can "check them out where there's better light."

  I roll my eyes and grab a glass of ice water, clinking the cubes together in the glass while I slowly swallow. I walk softly down the hallway to the bedroom, looking for Emma, and I stop in the open doorway. Emma is perched on the bed, typing furiously. There's a far-off look in her eye while she writes and I can tell she's in the zone. Fully focused. Creating.

  I chew on an ice cube, just watching her. She's so sexy, and I don't know if I'm just admitting it for the first time, or only letting myself concentrate on her while I'm agitated, but I want her. Badly. She's still wearing the too-big t-shirt she slept in, and it hangs low off one shoulder. Her red hair is piled on her head in a messy bun-thing, and I moan softly when I see that she's not wearing shorts. Just bare legs jutting out from beneath the laptop.

  My cock springs to life as I watch her work, the way she nods her head and smiles when she must have found just the right word. Eventually, she clicks a few keys triumphantly and then clasps her hands under her chin, smiling. She looks so fucking happy right now, and I realize this is how I feel when I finish a piece in the studio. When I take an idea and form it into something solid, something real. Emma's words are her art, and it's hot watching her creative process. Shit, I think, watching her stretch, seeing her heavy breasts move inside the baggy shirt. Fuck it.

  I crunch another ice cube, and she looks up at me, startled. "Oh," she says. "I didn't know you were back."

  I close the door behind me and walk toward the bed, sinking down beside her. "Can I see what you wrote?" I set the glass on the night stand and lean toward her laptop, but she slams the lid shut and clutches it to her chest.

  "NO!" she yells, surprising me with her ferocity. Then, she shakes her head slightly. "I never show anyone my drafts."

  I raise an eyebrow at her, confused. "Why not?" But if I'm honest, I can guess why. Probably the same reason I don't discuss my designs or let anyone in the studio with me when I'm working. Hell, half the time I send Cody away if I'm deep into an important piece.

  "It's like…it's too personal," she says. "It's private. It would be like seeing me naked."

  I smile, remembering the sight of her in her kitchen. "I've already seen you naked, Chezz." I remember the feel of her body last night in the lake, the way she wriggled against my aching cock. I'm bursting with need
for her. I slide the laptop out of her hands and set it gently on the floor beside the bed.

  She sits sort of frozen, and I can see her chest rising and falling as she breathes, anticipating. She wants this, too. Her nipples are hard and I can see them jutting out through the thin material of her shirt. Fuck me, she's perfect, I think. "Come here," I say, huskily, and she closes her eyes for a moment, swallowing. When she opens them, her pupils are dilated until there's just a tiny ring of green around a sea of dark, wet black.

  I lean back against the headboard and gently ease Emma onto my lap. She straddles me with those thick, bare legs of hers, and I groan as the weight of her settles against my throbbing hard-on. "I was watching you write," I say, moving her hips along my length. "You're so fucking sexy, Chezz. Do you know that?"

  Emma emits a tiny moan and I know I can't stop until I hear her make that sound again, until I make her come and get to watch her face transformed by pleasure. I lean in to kiss her, pulling her close against me. I have one hand on her neck and the other on her ass, digging my fingers into the soft flesh, slowly inching that shirt up until I have a hand on her panties.

  "Oh!" she exclaims, pulling back from my lips. "Your tongue is so cold."

  Twenty-Six

  EMMA

  "You like that, Emma?" he asks, sliding his frozen tongue along my lips. Holy shit, do I like it. The heat of his body, the ice-cold of his tongue. The mix of sensations is like nothing I've ever felt before. My skin has been buzzing since last night in the lake, and now I'm finally connecting with Thatcher, touching him, feeling him touch me. It's sexy enough to be sitting on Thatcher's lap with his hands on my ass, but when he kisses me? I'm gone.

  "Thatcher," I breathe, "I can't…work…" Alarm bells are ringing in my head. The ethics of what we're doing are already pretty terrible without me giving into some wave of lust. But then, I think about how long it's been since I've been with a man, and none of them ever touched me like this. None of them ever left me shaking with need.

  I can't seem to find any words, and I just start moving my hips along his rock-hard dick. Last night in the lake, I thought he was maybe he got hard because he was embarrassed to have to rescue me or something, but now, his grey eyes are intense as he looks at me and thrusts his tongue into the far reaches of my mouth. He explores my mouth and his lips suck and nibble at mine. He's shirtless from his run, and I finally get to feel every firm inch of him. My nipples, achingly hard, brush against his through the material of my shirt. This is far and away the sexiest kiss of my life.

  "I fucking burn for you, Chezz," Thatcher breathes, and I want to tell him I'm scorching, too. That I've been hot for him since he first pressed against me in that hallway, but I'm still reeling from the kiss, so I just sit there, panting. "Are you hot, too, Emma?" he asks, and then he looks at me, a devilish grin spreading across his sweaty face. He reaches onto the night stand and plucks an ice cube from his water glass. I gasp, nervous about what he's planning. His free hand slips down the back of my panties, his long fingers rubbing the sensitive skin of my backside. He lifts the ice cube slowly with his other hand, and I start panting when he presses it to my collarbone.

  Slowly, deliberately, he drags the ice along my chest, up my throat, and along my jaw. He follows behind with his mouth, now searing hot, leaving a trail of opposite sensations that have my entire core on fire. I'm circling my hips, desperate for stimulation on my clit. He's torturing me with how good this feels. Thatcher puts the ice cube between his teeth, freeing his hand, and his cold, cold fingers slip down the front of my panties.

  My shivers give way to frantic moans when I feel his icy fingers fluttering on my clit. "Jesus, Emma, you're soaked," he says, crunching the ice between his teeth before kissing me again. His tone is so casual, but there is urgency in his touch. His fingers start to circle my nub inside my panties and I drop my head back, exposing my throat to him. Thatcher takes the opportunity to suck on the taut skin. "This feels so good, Thatcher," I moan. I am out of my mind, drunk on the sensations.

  "Do you like this?" he asks me, sliding a cold finger inside me.

  "Fuck, yes, Thatcher. Please."

  "Please what?" he whispers in my ear, flicking his cold tongue along the shell. He never stops moving his hand on my center, teasing apart my wet folds. I can't even form thoughts right now and I struggle to answer him, but abruptly, he stops his movements. "Tell me, Chezz. What do you want?"

  My mouth hangs open. I pant, my chest rising and falling. I reach behind me to strip off the shirt, baring myself to Thatcher, and I gasp, "Please make me come, Thatcher."

  He laughs again and cups my breasts, the sensitive, soft globes filling his rough hands. His thumbs flick my nipples and I moan again as he says, "I thought you'd never ask."

  I start sliding my palms up and down his chest, over the stag tattoo that matches the ones his brothers both have. I love the feel of his muscles shifting beneath my hands and I hunch down to lick one of his tiny nipples, enjoying the rumble in his chest when my tongue connects. I lick a salty path all the way up to his chin. And then I'm lost when I feel Thatcher's mouth close over one nipple, sucking deeply, as he circles the other with another ice cube from his glass.

  I drop my head back and groan in pleasure, no longer able to think when he switches sides, sucking deep pulls on the frozen nipple. He eases the melting ice back into his mouth and begins to slide his lips up and down my stomach, tilting me back, his hands under my shoulders supporting my weight, until his mouth has the access it needs to my belly.

  He shifts his weight abruptly. Pulling me back against his chest, Thatcher kisses me again. I suck his tongue hungrily into my mouth, kiss his cheeks, frenzied in my need to connect with him physically.

  His busy hands move to the waistband of my sheer panties, giving them a tug. "Can I see inside, Chezz?" I nod, and then yelp when he tugs them with both hands. I hear a rip as Thatcher yanks the ruined material off my body. "Holy fuck, Emma. Fuck, that's so hot," he says, running his fingers through the soft curls. "You're red everywhere."

  My arms jerk and my back arches when he finds my slit. I might come if he touches me just once more. I'm trembling now as he takes his time exploring. "So wet, Emma," he breathes, sliding a fingertip just where I need the friction. Suddenly, Thatcher tips me backwards so I'm lying sprawled on the bed between his legs, looking up into his grey eyes. He grins his lopsided, devilish smile and reaches for the last ice cube. I gasp. He purrs, "You look flushed, Chezz. I want to cool you off." I'm frightened for a moment. Surely the ice on my most sensitive skin will burn? But then I feel the sting of contact paired with his scalding touch and I know I'm ruined for all other men. Forever.

  "Oooh, ooh, shit, Thatcher. Yes. Oh my god," I start rambling and mumbling, fisting the sheets into my hands when he starts the agonizing, slow tease, sliding the ice cube up one thigh, then the other. He never takes a hand from my seam, and his fingers are cool from passing the ice between his hands. I feel my hips jerking involuntarily, a building sensation throbbing throughout my body.

  Thatcher slides me back a bit further on the bed and bends forward. "Oh, god," I moan when he slides the ice inside me. There's just a small chip remaining, and the heat of my core melts it in seconds, but not before I come, hard, screaming his name and burying my fingers in his long hair.

  I think he will stop when the sensation subsides, but he doesn't. He sticks out his tongue and licks me, over and over again while his long fingers massage my ass. His thumbs reach around my legs to stroke the skin of my upper thighs and his tongue thrusts inside me. "I can't, Thatcher," I yell, pulling his hair. My thighs slam shut against his ears when he starts to chuckle.

  He sucks my clit between his teeth, lets go of my ass, and spreads my pussy open with his fingers. He dives back into me, fucking me with his tongue. Before the first orgasm wanes, I come again, so hard that I can't tell where my body stops and his begins, and I lose track of the world. All that exists is this wave of pleasure that
crashes again and again. Slowly, it subsides and I become aware that Thatcher has moved his head and hands away from my body.

  "Emma," I hear him say. I open my eyes to see him kneeling above me. He reaches into his waistband, stroking his cock inside his shorts, and stares at me. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."

  Twenty-Seven

  THATCHER

  "Emma," I say, looking down at the goddess on the bed, all curves and softness and cream. She opens a green eye, her blissed-out expression gorgeous as fuck. Knowing I put that look on her face has me hard as glass, but I want more. "I have to make you come again."

  "I need a few minutes," she says, reaching for my leg, one hand lazily exploring up and down my shorts. And then I remember something really fucking unfortunate.

  "I didn't bring any condoms," I tell her, sinking down to the sheets so I'm lying beside her. Fuck, I'm so hard it hurts. It actually hurts. "Are you on birth control?"

  "Of course I'm on the pill," she says, sharply. "But…" Emma looks at me, concerned. "Have you ever been…tested for anything? I know I'm safe…"

  I lean in to kiss her, moaning when I taste those soft, full lips again. "I always use condoms, 100% of the time. And I got tested, really recently, actually." I kiss her again. "I'm clean."

  She melts a bit in relief and closes her eyes again. "I trust you," she says, and with that I climb on top of her. I have to feel her against me. This is different from every other time. I've never even considered sleeping with a woman without protection, but suddenly I cannot imagine sex with Emma with any kind of barrier. Fuck me, I have to see her come again, have to feel it with nothing between us. I can't keep my hands off her pussy, the feel of that tight, wet tunnel capped with those amazing red curls. This is all new for me. Sure, the ladies have a good time when I'm with them, but it's never turned me on this much to make someone come. Taking Emma over the edge like that--twice!--was the sexiest thing I've ever done.