by M. Never
“Down, boy.”
“Oh. You’re sexy as hell when you put me in my place.” He toys with me. Before I have a chance to respond, a groggy Reese is calling for his brother.
Dev nearly flies out of the room.
“Kayla, would you mind starting dinner?” Dev asks, almost in an attempt to keep me out of the room.
“Was just about to.” I peek in to see Dev and Reese speaking quickly and quietly.
Reese glances over at me then leans his head closer to Dev so I can’t see his face. What the fuck is that clandestine conversation about? I suddenly feel like an unwelcomed outsider.
I decide to throw together something for the two of them to eat and then get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough Dane drama for today.
I find some spaghetti in the pantry and a jar of sauce. Perfect. Quick and easy.
Once the water is boiling, I drop in the long sticks and warm the sauce in the microwave. I’m itching to leave, and by the time dinner is done, Dev and Reese have finished talking.
“Dinner is on the stove.” I poke my head into the dining room to find Dev lounging in the chair next to Reese just watching TV. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Hey!” Dev sits up. “Aren’t you going to have dinner with us? You made it. You should at least stay to eat it.”
“I don’t think so.” I retreat into the kitchen to make an escape.
“C’mon, Kayla.” Dev heads me off at the front door. Shit. “Just have some dinner and then you can go. Have you even eaten anything today?”
I think about it, and I haven’t.
I sigh, resigned.
“Go on.” He gestures with his head. “Go sit next to Reese and I’ll serve.”
“I don’t—”
“For God’s sake, Kayla, get your ass in here!” Reese barks.
I peer into the dining room, perturbed. “I can’t be held responsible for my actions if I stay.” I poke Dev in his very hard chest.
“I promise I won’t hold a thing against you.”
“Good.” I stomp back through the house and plop down in the seat next to Reese.
He smiles obnoxiously.
“Please,” I sneer.
“Oh, nasty,” he patronizes me.
“You haven’t even seen nasty.”
“I wish you would show me,” Reese expels under his breath.
I punch him in the leg as Dev walks into the room. He laughs in pain.
“You’re going to pay for that. One way or another.” His eyes flash with something deliciously dark, and my stomach quivers.
Fuck, I hope so. I mean hope not!
Dev pulls the table closer to Reese and me, making quick work of the cutlery and glassware. After that, he materializes with three plates.
“Are you a waiter or something?” I help him with his balancing act.
“Or something. A million years ago. I had to support myself somehow in college.”
He hands Reese a plate then runs into the kitchen one more time. When he returns, he has an opened bottle of red wine. He pulls the cork out with his teeth and pours me a glass, then himself.
“You can’t have any,” he taunts Reese.
“Oh no, say it isn’t so. I can’t have any crappy vino,” he replies dryly, slurping up his spaghetti. “The vinegar would probably burn my taste buds.”
God, what a redneck snob. He is unlike any man I have ever met.
“How have you put up with him your whole life?” I ask Dev, completely serious.
“I have no idea. Luckily, I only had to live with him for eighteen years.”
“That sounds like a prison sentence.” We converse casually.
“It was.”
“You know I’m right here?” Reese reminds us exasperated.
“We know.” Dev smiles, clearly amused.
“Laugh it up now. You two are going to miss me when I’m gone.”
“I highly doubt that. Maybe we should put up a countdown calendar just to show you how much we can’t wait until you leave.” I suck a noodle though my lips, mockingly.
Reese squints at me. “Smartass!” He flings a forkful of spaghetti at me.
I laugh and scream all at the same time. Then I retaliate.
“Look who’s talking? You’re incapable of being nice!”
Spaghetti starts flying back and forth with Dev dying on the sidelines. Loud, deep bellyaching laughter ringing around us.
Reese and I both pause, realizing Dev is still clean as a whistle and then simultaneously turn our attack on him.
The assault turns into an all-out spaghetti three-way.
By the time everything calms down, there are strings of spaghetti in my hair, on the walls, and red sauce smeared all over our clothes. It looks like we barely survived a bloodbath.
I don’t know how or why, but the tension breaks amidst the laughter, and I suddenly find myself bound to these two men in a way I can’t measure. A way that’s not seen but felt.
“You have one . . .” Dev pulls a piece of spaghetti from the collar of my V-neck t-shirt.
“That was my hit,” Reese declares proudly, sucking up some pasta.
Dear God. What have I gotten myself into?
I wipe off the sauce from my chest and change into the shirt Dev lent me. It’s about three sizes too big, but I improvise and tie a knot on the side with the excess material. When I walk out of the bathroom, I come face-to-face with two gorgeous, shirtless twins who are inked all over.
Holy. Fuck.
Dev is moving around the room cleaning up while Reese lounges with his hands behind his head on the bed.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t . . . Too late. My eyes nearly swallow their bodies whole. Both ripped and bulging in all the right places.
I shove down the desire as I’m lashed over and over by dual Apollo’s belts. You know, those V-shaped muscles men have that make women stupid.
Yeah. Right now, I’m a fucking idiot.
“Looks like you’re just about done here.” I grab the empty plates and bring them into the kitchen.
Dev follows with a wad of dirty paper towels. “Looks good.”
“What does?” I drop the dishes into the sink.
“My shirt on you.” He tugs at the knot, running his finger provocatively over the top of my jeans where my skin is exposed.
“You have no shame.”
“No, not when it comes to you.” Dev leans in closer, and my breathing ceases to exist.
Even though his lips only lightly brush mine, they feel like an anchor trapping my wading emotions.
“Dev.” I place my hands on his chest and sink my fingernails into his skin. I’ve never seen him shirtless before. Pantless, yes, but shirtless . . . He’s breathtaking, just like Reese. A sleeve covers his entire right arm, the skin made to look like it’s shredded with writing peeking out underneath. The tattoo reaches all the way up to his neck with another down his side and one over his ribs. Both inscriptions.
“What does this say?” I point to his arm.
He places a palm over his triceps. “Lyrics to my favorite song.”
“Which is?”
“Fuel by Metallica. I went through a bit of a heavy metal phase in high school.”
I’ve never heard it, but I’m making a point to listen to it when I leave.
“What about this one?” I graze his ribs lightly; Dev sucks in his stomach in reaction to my touch.
“It’s Latin,” he informs breathy. “It reads ‘If I can’t move heaven, I will raise hell.’”
“I like it.” I tickle my fingertip over his skin to the Roman numerals running vertically down his side. “And this?”
“It’s the date I officially became a doctor.” He presses my hand over the ink, linking us together. I breathe raggedly, the warmth of his body about to give me heatstroke.
Fuck, he’s so gorgeous and irresistible, especially when he’s this close, tempting me like a goddamn devil.
If Reese wasn’t in
the other room, and what happened between us didn’t haunt me, I’d say fuck it all and jump Dev, right here right now.
But I don’t. I gain some composure and back away.
“Kayla,” Dev protests, but I need to stick to my guns.
“I need to go.”
“You need to stay.”
I shake my head. That is the worst possible idea. I know exactly where I’d end up. And I’m just not prepared to go there.
“Tell Reese I’ll see him tomorrow.”
Dev watches reluctantly as I keep backing away, his eyes full of lustful unrest.
I slip out soundlessly, my entire body throbbing.
Once parked in my driveway, I sit in my truck in the dark, and just to torture myself further, I download Fuel by Metallica and listen to each and every energetic word. It’s getting harder and harder to resist him. As the bass pounds through my speakers, I come to the realization that one day very soon, I’m going to fall into the pitch-black ravine that is Devlin Dane and become lost forever.
Today felt like the longest day of my life.
I open the throttle and accelerate down the backcountry road. Only rolling hills and green pastures for miles. The only other living soul I encounter is the occasional grazing cow. I speed up and down the countryside leaning into the sharp curves as the serenity of the backcountry helps clear my head. I’ve missed this. The wide open¸ untouched land. The beauty of nowhere. I lived the fast life, working in a big city. But it wasn’t the fast I was looking for. I wanted more freedom and less pretentious attitude. I wanted to be where people were genuine, and what you saw was what you got. And I knew exactly where to find that. The place I grew up. It may not be fancy. There are no strip malls or shopping outlets, but the main road through town has two decent restaurants and a few small, family-owned shops. It’s simple and uncomplicated. To most, it may not be much, but to me it’s home.
I pull up to the road that leads to my house a little later than usual. It’s almost dark, but not quite. There’s still enough light to see Kayla sitting on the front porch as the night sky creeps in over our heads.
I park my bike right in front of her and hop off. I don’t take her sitting out here with a beer as a good sign.
“Rough day?” I take a seat next to her.
“You could say that.” She takes a long sip from the bottle.
“I have a cure for that.”
“Do tell?” She entertains me.
“A rough night.” I smile suggestively.
She grunts and rolls her eyes. “I’ll pass.”
“In no mood, huh?”
“Nope.” She smacks her lips.
“How bad was it?” I read her tense body language.
“Let’s just say I would rather hear nails being dragged down a chalkboard than hear him call my name again.”
“That bad?”
“I don’t think those extra pain meds you gave him are working. He was ultra-irritable today. I couldn’t do anything to make him comfortable. He drove me crazy. Has he always been such an entitled, ornery ass?” She carries a hint of humor in her tone, but not nearly enough to convey she’s joking.
“Surprisingly, no. He definitely has his diva moments, but normally, he’s tolerable. Even likable sometimes.”
“I couldn’t imagine.” Kayla laughs lightly with the rim of the glass bottle to her lips.
“Speaking of, what’s Reese doing?” The house is eerily quiet.
“Napping. Finally.” She drops her head back.
I want to empathize. I know Reese is being a bigger handful than usual. “Try to cut him a little bit of slack.” I slide closer to her, continuously picking up whiffs of her coconut shampoo in the soft breeze. “His career was just sidelined and being back here doesn’t really dredge up the fondest memories.”
“Why?”
“We grew up in this house,” I explain. “My mom left it to us when she moved to the Midwest a few years after our dad died. They were so close,” I stress. “He was Reese’s biggest fan. When Reese started racing in the streets, we could all see he had talent. He was poetry on two wheels. What he could do on a bike was amazing. So our father started taking him to the racetrack by Sutter’s Point.”
“Right. I know it.”
“He was only sixteen, but man, he was sick to watch. He just strolled in like he owned that track. It didn’t take long before the right people started to notice.”
“That’s a nice picture, Dev, but what does that have to do with Reese hating it here?”
I sigh, the pain is as potent today as it was twelve years ago.
“The day before Reese signed on to ride professionally, he found our father dead. He’d had a heart attack right here in this house. Reese came home late that night and found him in his usual spot asleep on the couch. Only he wasn’t asleep.”
“Oh, how terrible.” Kayla covers her mouth.
“It rocked Reese pretty hard.”
I steal the beer from her hand and take a long, hard pull. It’s never easy sharing that story. It was hard enough losing a parent, but what was harder was consoling Reese. I will never forget the way he broke down in his room that night after the coroner bagged and removed our father from his own home. I’ve never seen anyone cry the way my brother did. My eyes water from just the memory. I’m convinced that if Reese could trade all his fame and fortune for one more day with our dad, he would without batting an eyelash.
“Dev?” Kayla smooths over my name.
“Mmm hmm?” I turn my head vacantly to look at her. Her gaze is soft and compassionate.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I sniff, rubbing my eye. “Just not the most fun trip down memory lane.” I laugh at the sappy idiot I am, then down the rest of Kayla’s beer.
“I get it.” She knocks her knee against mine. “I almost lost Sam when I sixteen. She was shot trying to stop a robbery.”
“That’s pretty fucking scary. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Luckily, there’s nothing to be sorry about. But it definitely was one of the worst moments of my life,” Kayla muses, staring with wide eyes straight ahead.
Geez, what a couple of downers we are.
“Hey.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “How about I go grab us two more of these,” I ring the bottle, “and we swap some happy stories? They don’t even have to be fucking real.”
Kayla laughs. “You want to make up fake stories about ourselves?”
“Why not?”
“Seems deceitful,” she jokes.
“Only if you try to pass them off as real.”
Kayla pauses, looking at me quizzically.
“What did I say?” I question her.
“Nothing.” She shakes it off as if she’s being silly. “I could use that beer now.”
“Coming up.” I use her knee as leverage to stand—and as an excuse to touch her—before I creep into the dark house and hear Reese sleeping soundly. I swipe two more bottles from the fridge and sneak back out like Ethan Hunt just stole some highly classified intel.
I sit down next to Kayla, making sure our bodies touch. I pop open her beer first then my own. To my satisfaction, she doesn’t try to shift away or break our physical connection.
I’m still in my scrubs, so the thin material makes it easy for her warmth to seep through. I can’t see much of her face anymore, as the sky has turned black, but the backcountry is dark enough for the moon to illuminate our silhouettes in a silvery-gray shadow. It’s late June, so the temperature will stay comfortable well into the night.
“So you going to tell me a story?” I ask Kayla.
“Mmm, I don’t think I like the idea of fake stories. I think I’ll keep it real instead. I’ll remember what you told me about Reese and try to cut him some more slack.”
“Just Reese?” I tip my beer back, letting the tangy taste wet my taste buds.
“Dev,” she says my name softly, almost fatigued. Maybe I’m weighing on her. Maybe I’m finally wearing her down.<
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“Kayla,” I respond firmly as I inch closer to her. “Why do you keep fighting it?”
“Because,” is her weak response.
“That’s not a good enough excuse.”
“I know.”
At least she owns up.
“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you? How good I can make you feel?” I rasp in her ear, wanting her irrepressibly. Wanting her to want me irrepressibly. A reel of dirty images runs through my mind. Mainly of me licking her pussy right here on this stoop.
“I have an idea.” She shivers.
“You have no fucking idea.” I go in for the kill, but the second our lips touch, Reese’s groggy voice calls out for her.
She jumps, her work instincts kicking in.
“Fucking Reese,” I mumble irately.
“Coming!” Kayla yells back. Before she bolts into the house, she places one finger to my lips. “Dream about it,” she whispers.
“I’m tired of dreaming.” I look up at her, grabbing my crotch, the pulse in my cock thumping.
Kayla wants me to dream about her?
I already fucking do. Every painful night.
The past few weeks have been . . . Adventurous. I’ll admit Reese keeps me on my toes. Especially now that he’s stronger and moving around more freely. In an unforeseen twist, Dev has backed off. I don’t know whether I rejected him one too many times or what, but he hasn’t cornered me in weeks. Don’t get me wrong, he and Reese are still two of the biggest, fattest flirts around, but at least, they’re bearable. What’s unbearable these days are my dreams and the vivid sexual acts played out with not just one Dane, but two. You know that old saying, double the pleasure, double the fun?
Yeah. I’ve woken up drenched in sweat with soaked panties almost every night.
Explicit images that carry over into the daytime and hound me relentlessly. Dev’s lips on my skin . . . Reese’s hands around my waist. Sometimes, I can literally feel them sandwiching me between their bodies. The two of them simultaneously fingering, fondling, and fucking me. Pulling my hair and pushing my desires straight into the red.
But how insane? Two men? Brothers, no less, sharing one woman? That isn’t reality, that’s a porno. A wet dream, a filthy fantasy.
