Never Have I Ever: Reynolds Pack, Book 1

by Alisha Rai

  He shook his head to clear that thought. The vague shame the answer brought made him uncomfortable.

  She was his. He’d braved the dragons—Ana’s three moderately insane and very overprotective older brothers—and captured the princess. He wouldn’t let anything jeopardize that, not even his own abnormal cravings. Even if it meant he was doing a hell of a lot more working out lately to keep those cravings under wraps. The car ride had been hot, yes, but he’d still retained control of himself. He wouldn’t let it slip, no matter what.

  He leaned against the doorframe. “Something smells good.”

  She cast him a quick smile over her shoulder. Sometimes he felt like her laughing dark brown eyes could just swallow him whole. “Who’s complaining about my purchases now?”

  “Not me.” He walked over to where she stood stirring a pot of red sauce on the stove. The aroma of garlic and tomato filled his nostrils and whet his appetite. Placing his hands on her waist, he brushed a kiss on her neck. A whole different kind of appetite sat up and took notice. She’d showered while he’d caught a nap, and he inhaled the scent of vanilla, the lotion she used after every bath. It had gotten so bad he couldn’t smell that scent anywhere and not get hard for her.

  He pressed openmouthed kisses down her neck, making her giggle and lean back against him. He could almost span his hands around her waist, and he wanted nothing more than to smooth them up and cup her sensitive breasts. Unfortunately she was wearing The Apron, and he feared what would happen if he started something.

  To be fair, he assumed she’d found this one in a drawer somewhere, since it didn’t exactly look like the one she wore at home. It was pink and frilly, though, and it was close enough to be The Apron to be dangerous to his mental health.

  Every time she slipped it on, all he could think about was having her wear that, handcuffs and heels and nothing else. Then he’d have her come to the breakfast table where he sat and bend her over at the waist and feed every inch of his cock into those full, bee-stung lips…

  He removed his hands from his wife and stepped away hastily. God, maybe he’d been too overconfident, thinking he would be able to win out over the memories this place carried.

  “I’ll set the table,” he blurted out, eager to have his hands occupied with something that wasn’t Ana’s soft skin or perfect firm tits or round thighs…

  His grandmother. Baseball stats. A snowdrift.

  His jaw clenched. It was a lost cause. He should have done some pushups or something before coming downstairs.

  “It’s already set,” she informed him, all cheerful and unaware of his seething—yeah, seething—lust. “Why don’t you help me bring the food to the table?”

  Excellent, he’d take any excuse to keep his hands occupied. He hefted the larger pot of spaghetti and followed behind her, finding it difficult to avoid staring at her twitching little rump, the cheerful bow of her apron bouncing right on top of it.

  He managed to avoid spilling the contents of the pot all over the fine lace tablecloth Ana had rustled up. When he glanced at her, she was tugging at something behind her. She met his gaze and grimaced. “I think I knotted this thing. Do you mind?” She turned and presented him with her back.

  He drifted closer and reached down to unwork the knot she’d made of the apron ties. They were stubborn.

  Cloth bands, securing Ana’s slender wrists to his metal bedframe…

  He yelped. Flat-out yelped, like a fucking nancy boy, and dropped his hands. Blinking, he looked up to meet her puzzled gaze. “Are you okay?”

  Taylor licked his lips. “Yeah.” His voice sounded too loud, even to his own ears. “Hang on.”

  Stalking over to the butcher block on the granite counter, he grabbed a knife and came back to Ana. Her eyes widened, but he didn’t give her a chance to say anything as he slit through the ties with a well-placed jerk. “Taylor! You ruined this apron.”

  He grunted.

  “This wasn’t even mine. We can’t go around cutting stuff up when we’re a guest in someone’s home.”

  “Trust me, Eli won’t care or notice.” Most likely, Eli had probably used the apron as a sexual prop or a way to humor some female he had up here. He doubted his friend even remembered that it existed.

  She frowned at him as she draped the forlorn fabric on another chair and sat down on the one he pulled out for her. “I’d care.”

  “You’re not a guy. Thank God.”

  Ana shook her head. “Seriously, Taylor, I—” The lights in the deceptively old-fashioned chandelier flickered above their table. She jumped. “Is the power going out?”

  He waited for a second, but the electricity stayed on. He shrugged and filled her plate, adding more than she’d probably take on her own. “I don’t think so.”

  He fixed his own plate and grabbed a piece of garlic bread from the serving dish in the center of the table. Though he was starved, his wife had her rituals, so he waited, head bowed, as she murmured a quick prayer. He waited for her to pick up her fork before reaching for his.

  “This tastes great,” he said between bites. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  As he stopped to take a sip from his wine, he realized that she was barely nibbling on her own food. Or rather, nibbling less than usual. Ana had a tendency to eat like a bird in any case, something that had puzzled him when he first met her. The women he’d grown up around had eaten heartily. Sometimes they’d even fought over the food on each other’s plates. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Actually, I was just wondering if we should go test the generator before it gets too dark. I mean, didn’t Eli say he hasn’t been up here in a while? Maybe it’s no longer working or…”

  Taylor stifled a smile. Now this was his Ana—professional worrywart with a gold medal in being cautious. They had initially bonded over their similar childhood trauma—both of their mothers had died of cancer, leaving them in the custody of their dads. While his father was a cold-blooded bastard he hadn’t spoken to in almost twenty years, though, her father was a warm and loving man, and he and her older brothers adored Ana. He’d expected the lone girl and youngest child in a family of men to be a pampered princess, but Ana’s experiences had molded her into a caretaker. The jury was still out on what he’d been molded into. “When Eli’s not here, he has the money to make sure someone comes up and checks on everything. Trust me.”

  “Hmm. Okay.”

  She continued to poke at her pasta. With a sigh, he twirled strands of spaghetti around his fork, and then held it out to her. “Trust me,” he repeated softly.

  She smiled, her eyes brightening with that look he’d come to crave, loving and full of trust. The fact that this woman depended on him and entrusted him with her heart both panicked and humbled him. She leaned forward and accepted the bite of pasta into her mouth. Those fuck-me lips closed over the tines of the fork, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Unable to help himself, he continued to feed her from his own plate, no longer hungry, simply enjoying fulfilling his ma—

  He stiffened. His wife. His wife’s needs.

  She stopped him by placing her hand on his wrist. “I’m stuffed. Here.” She held up her uneaten garlic bread and brought it to his mouth. He took a bite from it, then another, until the small piece was gone. Her laughter pealed out when he continued to playfully lick and lap at her fingers. The laughter subsided when he not-so-playfully caught her finger between his lips and sucked it hard.

  Her chest rose and fell as he changed fingers, being careful to clean them of butter and garlic. As he released her pinky, he glanced up to meet her gaze. The lights flickered in the inky darkness of her eyes as she watched him without blinking. Hectic color had flooded her cheeks, and her breathing was definitely faster.

  “Are you finished?” he murmured.

  “Yes.”

  “Ready to turn in?”

  A small smile curled her lips. “It’s early.”

  Not so early, since turning in will mean I hav
e you under me. “Mmmm.”

  “How about we watch TV for a while?” She stood up gracefully and began collecting their plates with economical motions.

  If by watch TV, you mean fuck my brains out then… “Sounds great,” he said loudly, and then stood and stopped her from picking up his plate. “Why don’t you go put something on? I think there’s a bunch of DVDs under the cabinet. Just pick a movie or something. I’ll clean up.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Perfect.”

  It didn’t take him long to clean up the kitchen now that his personal catnip had left the room. Though he wasn’t a very talented cook, he was great at tidying things. He put the dishes into the washer, made sure the counters were clean and even dried out the sink with a paper towel.

  As he finished wiping down the kitchen table, the cut apron caught his eye. Unable to resist, he picked it up and brought it to his nose. He could swear the slightest hint of vanilla clung to its folds.

  Ana, greeting him as he came home from the office, wearing The Apron and a string of pearls. Dropping to her knees, unbuttoning his slacks…

  He tried to shake the images away. If fabric could burn, this pink thing was singeing his fingers. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he threw it into the garbage can and closed the lid. Wishing, as he did so, that he could shut his imagination down just as decisively.

  Chapter Three

  Ana hadn’t planned on stumbling across a stash of porn that would probably make even a connoisseur blush, but what was she supposed to do now that she had?

  Not look?

  Please.

  The DVDs on the bookshelf were all fine, mainstream flicks that were in any person’s home. Curious as to what was in the cupboard below them, she’d opened it up and been bombarded with boobs and ass.

  She was a guest in someone’s home, so she knew it wasn’t proper to go snooping into obviously private property.

  But…porn! Lots of it! She’d never seen so much!

  Grabbing a handful of the cases, she settled cross-legged on the ground to sort through them. Bondage, bondage, bondage, spanking, dominatrix, ménage—she paused at that one and set it aside—more bondage, more spanking…there was a definite theme going on here. Holy crap, Eli.

  I wonder if there’s a spank-and-tie light here for beginners…

  Okay, so she wasn’t a complete newbie to the adult film industry. The internet made that pretty much impossible. But while she’d been honest in the car and occasionally looked up some smutty books or pictures or video clips, she’d never quite watched a real porno.

  A smile spread across her lips. A decidedly naughty smile.

  This was the perfect place and time to broaden her education a little, wasn’t it? Heck, she practically had the Smithsonian of porn sitting here.

  She flipped through the cases on the bottom shelf, almost overwhelmed at the selection. Ana had trouble picking out a pair of shoes when there were too many choices. How was she supposed to pick one movie out of this smorgasbord of flesh and kink? If things went as she sorta planned, she doubted they’d be watching more than one.

  When she heard the water running in the kitchen, she knew she’d better hurry up and make a choice. Her darling, stickler that he was, had probably finished cleaning the kitchen so thoroughly it was cleaner than when they’d arrived. That was how he rolled.

  Picking the least-intimidating video, she pushed the others back into their cabinet and dropped the DVD into the player. She’d managed to get past the very telling title screen and first scene when Taylor entered the room. The screen was frozen on the image of an open road. “Did you find something?”

  “Yup.” She shoved the case onto the bookcase and hastily pushed another one on top of it. Play innocent, a mysterious imp inside of her whispered. “I just grabbed the first one that was on top. Hope that’s okay.”

  “You know I’m not picky.”

  He sat on the couch in what she called his man sprawl, legs spread apart, slightly slouched, arms draped over the back. She sat right next to him. Well used to his TV habits, she yanked the remote control out of the way before he could snatch it off the couch where it lay. “Nuh-uh. I want it.”

  “I was just going to make sure the volume’s loud enough,” he protested.

  “Yeah, and then you’d hold it for no reason for the rest of it and distract me by fiddling with the buttons.” She hit play and tossed the control to the end of the couch before snuggling up next to him. His arm came around her, pulling her closer.

  The scene opened with an empty road. A car zoomed by, leaving dust plumes in its wake. A split-second later, a police car started to chase behind it, sirens blaring. “Some kind of cop drama?” he asked, disinterestedly.

  “I think so.” She snuggled closer into his side and patted his chest, allowing her hand to linger.

  The little sports car pulled over, and the camera focused on the busty blonde woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Dressed in a mockery of a pinstriped business suit, her hair raked back in a bun and a pair of glasses sexily dropping down her nose, she glanced in the rearview mirror and began cursing. The video quality wasn’t bad, Ana thought critically.

  Taylor snorted. “This woman isn’t a very good actress.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Two men got out of the police car and Ana almost hooted. Okay, if it hadn’t looked too much like a porno before, the men just about cured that. She’d never seen police uniforms quite so tight and formfitting.

  With her hand on his chest, she could feel the instant Taylor stiffened. “Um, Ana…”

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  The cops strolled up to either side of the woman’s car, their faces stern, the outlines of their erections evident beneath their pants. The one on the driver’s side bent to rest his arms on the window.

  The woman cast her gaze over one, then the other, and then returned to the silent man on her side. “Officers, is there a problem?”

  His eyes were narrowed as he looked at her thoroughly. “We clocked you going almost twenty miles over the speed limit, ma’am.”

  She licked her full, probably collagen-enhanced lips. “Why, Officer, I could swear I was just under the limit.”

  His eyes narrowed further. “Are you arguing with me? License and registration.”

  Taylor shifted. “Ana, I don’t think this is a movie you’re going to want to see.”

  She tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. “You don’t know what I do or don’t want. Now watch.”

  She didn’t wait for him to respond, but turned back to the TV. After a second, his hand slipped below her hair to cup the back of her neck. She shivered at the gentle touch, the leashed power in it.

  The woman in the car was fumbling through her purse on her lap. “I swear, my license is right in here…”

  The police officer at her window did a credible acting job when he stiffened and took a step back from the door, resting his hand on the butt of a rather realistic-looking gun. “Lady, put that purse down and step out of the car.”

  “What?”

  “Put it down.” His tone was low and just a little bit mean. The woman dumped the purse on the seat next to her and got out of her car, huffing in irritation the whole time.

  As soon as she was out, the officer spun her around and pushed her down on the hood of the car. The non-business suit skirt was so short it rode up to reveal her thong. “How dare you do this!”

  “You have a license for that mace in your purse, ma’am?”

  “What? Of course not…oh.”

  Ana took a moment out of the fantasy to wonder why the cop needed to pat down a woman who was wearing an outfit so brief and tight that it would be impossible to hide a weapon in it. But the sexiness of the big, muscled man roving his hands over the buxom lady’s body got to her so quickly, she dismissed the fleeting pragmatic thought.

  He was even checking her between her legs in an impersonal manner that nonetheless had an effect on the ch
ick. She tossed her head back and moaned as the man pulled her up to fondle her breasts and stroke down her stomach, pushing up her skirt to check between her legs in the front as well. “How dare you treat me this way, I swear to God I’m going to kill you.” Her breathless voice and slack mouth belied her tough words.

  “Was that a threat?” The cop finished patting her down, his tone darkly amused, and looked at his heretofore silent partner. “I think I heard a threat, what do you think?”

  “I think she needs to be cuffed. For our safety.”

  “Oh please, no.” Her pleas didn’t contain a lot of heat as the first officer roughly pulled her hands behind her and cuffed her.

  “You’ve been really bad. You’re going to get quite the ticket here.”

  She arched her back, shoving her huge breasts into the other man’s face. “But I can’t afford another ticket.”

  The officer ripped at her too-tight blazer, the driver’s gasp of outrage melting into a moan when he pushed down the barely there bra and squeezed and manipulated her nipples. “Then maybe we can have you pay your fine right here. Do you want to do that, bad girl?”

  “I don’t know, partner, if she can be good enough to get us to rip up her ticket.”

  “I can be good,” she insisted on a moan.

  The officer put his mouth right up to her ear. “You have to do whatever we say. Your ass is ours. Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  The woman cast her eyes down to the ground. “Yes, Officer.”

  Ana heard Taylor give a groan, and she realized that her hand, which had been unconsciously stroking his stomach and pecs, was now rubbing his hard penis through his jeans. Licking her lips, she glanced up at him under her lashes. “I guess this is turning you on.”

  He shook his head, green eyes intense. “You’re fucking turning me on. I can smell…I mean, I can practically see how wet you are. This is working for you, isn’t it?”

  She was already soaking between her legs, so she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. “Yes.”

  His hand tightened on the back of her neck. “Unzip me. Play with me while you watch.”