Miller Brothers in Love

by Erin Wright

  “Are you…who told you that?” he demanded, peeling her fingers away again, but this time, Jennifer twisted out of his grasp.

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” she mumbled as she began gathering up her clothes. “Stupid, ugly Jennifer.”

  Then she was being lifted in the air and swung around to the bed, where Stetson plopped her down.

  “You—” she yelled, starting to scramble off the bed.

  He threw himself on top of her and pinned her in place. She struggled and pushed and squirmed, but it was like a granite block had landed on top of her – not squishing her flat, but she wasn’t going anywhere until he was willing to let her. Finally, worn out, she slowed to a stop. “Why are you keeping me here?” she asked dully, staring up over his shoulder at the ceiling. “Do you want to force me to listen to all of the ways that I’m failing you? I’ve lived through that before. Don’t think you’ll come up with something new.”

  “Who the hell did this–whoa. Whoa. Okay.” He took in a few deep breaths and blew them back out again. “Paul – was it Paul who said those things to you?”

  She shrugged – moving as much of her shoulders as Stetson would allow anyway – and continued to stare up at the ceiling. There was a swirl in the plaster that looked like a cloud scuttling across the ceiling. She focused on it. It was safe. Just a cloud moving on the breeze – free to go where it wanted; do what it wanted.

  “Jennifer, I do think you’re perfect and beautiful. Your breasts are just the right size, and come equipped with the most exquisite pink tips that I want to lick like ice cream.”

  “Like ice cream!” she repeated, her eyes jerking from the plaster cloud to his. “But how could you like—”

  “Babe, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but guys tend to fixate on female body parts. Like, some guys are tits guys, and some guys are ass guys, and some guys are all about the legs, you know? Not every woman has to look like a replica of a Barbie doll for hell’s sakes. Me? I like the trim, sleek look and for the record, I’m a total ass and legs guy. I mean, tits are fun and I meant what I said about wanting to lick yours like ice cream, but have you ever stared at your legs in the mirror? Or your ass?”

  She shook her head tremulously, not trusting herself to speak. Was he lying? If he was, he was the world’s best liar. He seemed to mean every word he said.

  Which she just wasn’t even sure how to process.

  “Well, you should. Although I don’t suppose that you’d find them nearly as sexy as I find them, since we humans always seem to focus on our flaws instead of our good parts. Me, for example. There’s this scar right here.” He pointed to a light scar at his temple that she hadn’t even noticed before. “A horse kicked me when I got too close to his back legs. I was a kid and playing around where I shouldn’t have been. My dad didn’t notice until it was too late. The horse’s kick knocked me clean out, and I had to have seven stitches to close up the gash. Dad always joked that my hard head saved my life that day. The truth of the matter is, I’m not so sure that it’s a joke.”

  “But I hadn’t even noticed that scar before,” she protested. “It’s such a tiny thing. My boobs…well, they’re tiny too, but not in a good way.” She wanted to cross her arms across her chest again, but Stetson wasn’t letting her move.

  “I guess I’m just going to have to prove to you how delicious you look to me,” he said softly, and then bent down and began nibbling at her tits, licking and sucking and lightly biting his way across one and then the other. After he swirled his tongue over each peak, groaning with pleasure as he did, he blew a stream of cold air across them, causing them to tighten up and almost reach straight for his mouth.

  Traitors. They didn’t seem to know that they were playing with fire; that trusting a man was a scary thing to do.

  He grinned cockily up at her. “I do believe that I’ve at least convinced part of your body to believe me, even if I haven’t convinced the most important part yet.”

  “Most important part?” she repeated faintly, realizing that a part of her wanted him to just get back to bathing her nipples in kisses, which was not a thought she ever believed she’d have.

  “Your brain. But I’ll convince it someday.”

  And with that, he went back to lavishing her nipples with his tongue, and then began working his way down her stomach and tiny waist – finally, a feature that she was proud of – until he got to the apex of her thighs.

  “I’ve been smelling this pussy for days, I swear it,” he growled, looking up at her with hot eyes. “I’ve wanted to do nothing more than to bury my nose in it since the day you got here.”

  “Really?” she panted, surprised. He likes how I smell…is he lying about that too? “I…I thought you hated me the day I got here.”

  “Didn’t mean I didn’t want a taste of your pussy too,” he said, verbally shrugging, and then he got to work, running his tongue up her slit and to her clit, and back down again.

  Jenn began to writhe on the bed, pleasure singing through her veins. “Oh, oh, oohhhhhh…” she groaned, shoving her fingers into his hair and holding on tight.

  He pulled the lips of her pussy gently to the sides, and then blew lightly across the wet, hyper-sensitive flesh. “Oooohhhhhhhh!!!” she howled, digging her fingers tighter into his hair. “Yes, oh please, oh yesssss…” she hissed as he continued to kiss and lick and blow. He brought her closer and closer to the precipice with every flick of his tongue, until she was plunging over the side and howling with delight, her thighs clasping his head and riding his tongue.

  Finally, he pulled away, her juices practically dripping off his chin, and grinned at her triumphantly. “You make me feel like a million bucks, you know that?” he said, worming his way back up her side until he was hovering over her again.

  She smiled dreamily up at him. “I make you feel like a million bucks?” she said, laughing quietly. “Do you know what you just did to me?”

  “That’s why you make me feel like a million bucks. Truthfully, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever been in bed with. I can’t begin to figure out why on God’s green earth you agreed to this. But honestly, it doesn’t really matter how gorgeous a woman is; if she’s enthusiastic and loving in bed, she’s going to be amazing. If she’s gorgeous but bored and demanding in bed, she’s gonna be as ugly as a toad. Women don’t seem to understand how much power they hold in their little pinky.”

  The laughter on her lips died and she just stared at him for the longest time. He gave her the mental and physical space to think through what he just said, and the small part of her brain not occupied with wrestling this new viewpoint into submission, appreciated that breathing room.

  “I didn’t know,” she finally said softly. “It…it makes sense. I guess. My whole life, I thought guys only cared about looks. I mean, have you picked up a fashion magazine lately? Or watched a TV show? Looks have always been what mattered. Nothing else.”

  He began kissing his way down her side, tickling her with his scruff on his jaw. She writhed on the bed, begging him to stop between her howls of laughter, until he finally looked up and said with a naughty grin, “Oh, looks still matter, and I happen to think you’re gorgeous. But they only matter for roughly 3.7 seconds after I meet a girl. From there, personality takes over.”

  “At 3.8 seconds?” she asked, laughing.

  “Maybe 3.9,” he said solemnly, and then winked. And then groaned.

  “Want me to kiss it better?” she asked, teasing him. “When I glued you earlier, I forgot to kiss it when I was done.”

  “Probably a good idea, really. What if your lips had become glued to my forehead? I think that would’ve been difficult to explain to Carmelita.”

  She bust up laughing. “I think Carmelita definitely would’ve had questions,” she said dryly.

  “Is it always this much fun to have sex with you?” he asked bluntly.

  “What?!” she yelped, caught off guard by the question.

  “I do
n’t think I’ve ever laughed this much in bed before. I was just curious if sex is always like this for you.”

  Her mind flashed back to the humiliation, the negativity, the assessments of her body, and how she never lived up to the standards of a real woman.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed in bed before,” she said seriously. “I’m trying to remember a time, and…no. I haven’t.”

  His eyes were serious even as he said lightly, “Well, let’s start breaking some records together, shall we? Have you ever come twice while having sex with a guy?”

  She blew out a startled laugh. “I was lucky if I came once,” she said dryly. “Twice…never.”

  “I think that’s something we oughta change,” he said with a naughty grin.

  And then he set about doing just that.

  Chapter 34

  Stetson

  He rolled over, his nose leading him before his brain could even begin to register anything. There was the most delicious perfume in the air…

  And then he was snuggled against something warm and amazingly soft and his eyes popped open. “What the—” he rasped out, before his brain finally caught up with the rest of him.

  Oh. Right. He was in bed, like always, but this time, there was a Jennifer Kendall in bed with him.

  Which was not like always.

  Her face was slack and open and trusting, deeply asleep, and he took the opportunity to study her without her blushing or trying to change the subject or, heaven forbid, walking away. Her long, thick eyelashes laid like little miniature fans against her cheeks, hiding the brilliance of the green eyes underneath. He swallowed hard. He was honestly glad to have those hidden from him, at least for the moment. They flustered him so much, it was hard to think when they were trained on him.

  Not, of course, that he’d admit that out loud to her. She was brave enough to open up a little to him last night, and he could only admire that bravery, without actually being ready to mimic it himself. He’d opened up to a female before, and even if this one was more beautiful and more happy and more open than the last female, it still didn’t mean he could entirely trust her.

  Trust was a hard-won thing in his world.

  His eyes skimmed over her pert nose and small chin, down to her collarbone, then dipping down to her delicious tits.

  He’d meant every word that he’d said the night before, of course – lying to a woman never turned out well, in his experience – and the sight of the pink tips, soft and plump, were hard to ignore. He licked his lips, forcing himself not to lock his mouth around her nipples. She was dead asleep and probably wouldn’t appreciate a horny cowboy forcing himself on her first thing in the morning.

  He pushed himself out of bed and into the shower. She needed her sleep – he’d quite happily kept her up most of the night – so he’d best get some work done and leave her the hell alone. She could come downstairs when she was ready, and not a minute before.

  Chapter 35

  Jennifer

  Jennifer jackknifed straight up, her heart tripping into overtime, panic gripping her. She was alone. Why did that scare her? She was always alone. But she shouldn’t be alone today. It was wrong, somehow. And she certainly shouldn’t be alone in a weird room. Whose room…? She looked wildly around, completely disoriented. Nothing looked familiar. Where was she?

  It took her a few seconds to register what she was feeling – she was feeling empty sheets. She’d expected to find a sleeping man next to her and instead she found…nothing.

  Oh.

  She was in Stetson’s room.

  By herself.

  Stetson had left her.

  Not again. Something’s wrong. Panic pulsed through her, making it hard to concentrate. Maybe…maybe it just meant more to me than it did him. I’ve been through this before. It’s going to be okay. It was fun, but this is just one of those things, right?

  She dressed quickly in Stetson’s t-shirt and shorts that she’d commandeered as her PJs and headed down the stairs. She had to apologize for her lack of professionalism to both Stetson and Carmelita, keep her head up the whole time, and then get a ride back to town. Maybe Carmelita would drive her. She could re-rent her old room at the Drop-Inn Motel, and just ignore the strange looks that Margaret would give her.

  Then she could beat herself up, in the privacy of the dingy motel room.

  Don’t let him know it hurt. That gives him all the power.

  She could totally pretend she was fine. Totally.

  When she reached the base of the stairs, she could hear voices drifting through from the kitchen.

  “…her that I have some chores to do? I’ll be back in a little while. I’m going to take her on a tour of the farm this morning, now that she has some real clothes to wear.”

  Jennifer paused outside of the doorway to the kitchen, plastering herself up against the hallway wall. She felt ridiculous for hiding from Stetson and Carmelita, but as she listened to them chit-chat and then heard the back door open and close behind Stetson, she felt even more ridiculous for her reaction to waking up alone.

  C’mon, Jennifer, think about it. Stetson wouldn’t lie to Carmelita about something like going out to do chores. Of course he has chores to do. He’s a farmer, for heaven’s sake.

  Which made a lot more sense than he was trying to leave her because he didn’t think her tits were big enough.

  She shoved her hands through her hair and scrubbed at her eyes. Now that her brain was functioning a little better, she could laugh at her lizard-brain reaction to waking up by herself. She wasn’t sure what it meant, that that was where her brain leapt to first.

  Nothing good, she was sure.

  She took a few deep breaths, pushing the panic down. She felt her heart rate slow, and her muscles unclench. She was fine.

  A little more relaxed, she put her shoulders back and walked into the kitchen with a big smile planted firmly on her lips, letting out a yawn that she politely hid behind her hand. “Good morning, Carmelita,” she said around her yawn.

  But now that her first blush of panic had disappeared, she found that a second wave was right on its heels, but this time, it was centered on the housekeeper.

  How much did Carmelita know? How much did she guess? This was like trying to sneak around with a boyfriend in high school. She hadn’t been good at it in high school, and she had a sinking suspicion she wasn’t any better at it now.

  For the first time, Jennifer could see a downside to having a live-in housekeeper – okay, one who lived in a cottage close by but was in the house all the time – who could spear you with one glance.

  But instead of a blistering stare, Carmelita looked up from the frying pan with a huge smile playing around her lips that she was trying – unsuccessfully – to suppress. “Good morning, Jennifer. Stetson went outside to do some chores; he will be back soon,” she said, deftly flipping the bacon over without splattering grease like Jennifer always did, and then she slipped the grease splatter shield back in place over the cast-iron pan. “Did you sleep well?”

  If Carmelita had white hair and a white beard – okay, and was male – she’d totally look like Santa Clause in that moment. Her eyes were twinkling with delight, and she seemed entirely too pleased with last night’s activities.

  Jennifer opened her mouth to demand how it was that Carmelita knew she’d spent the night in Stetson’s bed, and then thought better of it. Some things were better left unknown.

  “Uhhh…yes,” she finally said, realizing she hadn’t yet answered Carmelita’s question. Jennifer stole another look at the grandmotherly woman, trying to decide if she was genuinely asking if she’d slept well, or if she wanted an actual report on what it was like to sleep with Stetson.

  She wasn’t sure if she could share deets like that with Carmelita. It just seemed wrong on so many levels.

  But Carma just nodded her head, accepting Jennifer’s terse answer, and set about serving up breakfast, which was, as usual, enough food to feed two Stetsons, an
d at least five Jennifers.

  Jennifer promised herself that she’d do extra cardio down at the gym when she got back to Boise. But until then, do as the Romans do, right?

  She dug into her waffles with gusto, chugging a bit of Carma’s delicious coffee between bites. Something about sleeping with Stetson last night had completely rocked her world, and she didn’t feel like she was on an even keel this morning. She was off-balance; prone to freaking out over absolutely nothing at all.

  Coffee could only help this morning. Having a panic attack when still trying to wake up was not the premier start to her morning that she’d been hoping for.

  “Stetson says he is going to take you on a tour of the farm today,” Carmelita said as she began rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher.

  “Yeah, he offered the other day but…well, I didn’t exactly come equipped with the right clothing for a ride on a four-wheeler, so we went shopping at Frank’s yesterday to buy me some country clothing.”

  “Country clothing for a city girl, eh?” Carma said with a grin over her shoulder at Jennifer. “You better watch out. We will make you into a cowgirl yet.”

  “As long as I don’t have to like country music, I can live with that,” Jennifer said with a laugh. “I may be an Idaho girl, but I’m starting to realize that there’s a world of difference between Boise and Sawyer. It’s hard to believe that we’re in the same country, let alone the same state.”

  “Oh, you have only just begun to see,” Carmelita said with a teasing laugh. “Just wait until you realize how big this farm is. City people with their city lots – an acre seems large to them. There is nothing like a farm spread in a city.”

  Jennifer nodded politely, taking another bite of her food rather than saying anything in response to that comment. It was a ridiculous thing for Carmelita to say, of course – Jennifer knew exactly how big the farm was. The acreage was on the operating loan. If need be, she could state how many acres were being used for pasture versus how many were being planted in row crops. She knew how many cows Stetson had, and how many water shares the farm came with.