Craving Control

by Kylie Hillman

  My mother is weak. My father is dangerous.

  Menace calls to me much more than fragility.

  As they leave, I notice that Dad’s spine is equally rigid as my mother’s—for opposite reasons. It’s clear that he has a different take on this situation. His tall frame telegraphs his arrogant satisfaction. It buoys my wavering belief in my plan, and I stand taller in turn.

  For the first time in my life, I have the chance to make at least one of my parents proud of me.

  THREE

  “Dad! Brendan Taylor’s at the door,” one of the O’Brien boys’ yells when he sees it’s me. I think it’s the middle one. Josh or Joel, or whatever his name is. Who knows? They all look the same to me—big, brawny, and brainless. Whichever one he is, his quiet disapproval is written on his face, and he drives it home by slamming the door shut before I can speak.

  Heavy footsteps can be heard from the other side of the door, a huge figure looming large through the glass panels that decorate either side, seconds before it’s swung open and I come face-to-face with Beast O’Brien.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  Charming.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, so I don’t tell him that I’m here to fuck his daughter and destroy his son. He’s well-known as a volatile psychopath, so he’d probably head-butt me if I told him the truth. And since I’m slightly attached to my straight nose, I’d rather he didn’t.

  Instead, I clear my throat and remember what my dad said. Be respectful. Lull them into a false sense of security. Separate Maddi from them as quickly as possible.

  “Ah, Mr. O’Brien, I was wondering if I could have a word?” I sound like a good, little country boy. Then I compound that image by holding my hand out for him to shake. He tucks his bottle of beer under his arm—seriously it’s barely midday and he’s drinking—and takes my hand in one of his paws. I’m not kidding. He lives up to his menacing nickname. The guy is a literal beast.

  He squeezes my fingers together, lifting my entire arm up and down while he does it. I grit my teeth, determined not to let him know that I know I’m in danger of him ripping my limb off, and return the pressure as much as I can. I’m not particularly interested in the gym, but I’m strong from helping work our land—and sex. Lots of sex. Lifting. Penetrating. Thrusting. Slapping. I do it all, and more, on a regular basis and that, along with the genetics I was blessed with, is enough to keep me in better shape than most. I bite back a shit-eating grin when the strength I apply to our never-ending handshake becomes enough to widen Beast’s eyes the tiniest bit. Once I’m satisfied he understands that I won’t be intimidated, I let go of his hand, and reembrace my innocuous, country boy persona.

  “As I was saying, I’d like to speak to you.”

  “About what?” He leans his head back and drains his beer bottle. Visions of taking the amber bottle and cracking it over his head float in front of my vision. His lack of manners is beyond ridiculous.

  “I met Maddi last night at the New Year’s celebration and was wondering if I could ask your permission to take her out on a date.”

  “That so?” A smirk appears, and Beast’s eyes light up with dark humour.

  Can I amend my previous vision? This one is much better—using the broken bottle to gouge out his smarmy eyes. Perversely, this updated vision makes it easier to continue with my ruse.

  “It is, Sir. I felt that we hit it off quite well. She seemed to enjoy speaking with me.”

  Actually, she enjoyed my tongue massaging her tonsils, if you really want to know.

  I give myself a mental shake. The voice is my head is getting out of control. One of my thoughts is going to come out of my mouth soon if I’m not careful.

  The smirk changes to a genuine smile. He slaps my shoulder, hard enough to knock me off my feet if I hadn’t seen it coming, and then chuckles. “Come and have a beer with me. There’s a few things I need to discuss with you before I let you anywhere near my baby girl.”

  I expect to be taken through the house and given the opportunity to pick up some pointers about Maddi and her family. Instead, Beast pulls the front door shut and leads me through the side gate. His long legs put distance between us and I find myself widening my stride to catch up with him as I follow him to the back patio.

  He offers me a seat next to him at the table located under the veranda. Silence grows, and I let it get to me for a moment—until I work out that that is what he wants. I open my mouth, ready to break the quiet, when Benji comes storming out of the back door.

  It slams shut behind him and he launches straight to the point.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  The scowl on his face makes the humble act I’m about to feign worth the dent to my ego. I widen my eyes then look between Benji and Beast. Holding my hands palm up in the air like I’m surrendering, I answer with false humility, “Oh, hi Benji. I came here to ask your dad if I can take Maddi out to dinner.”

  Benji pounds his fist on the table, leaning over it and pointing his index finger in my face. “Highly fucking unlikely. Maddi doesn’t date and she, definitely, doesn’t date fucksticks like you.”

  It’s physically impossible for me to speak. If I do, I’m going to start laughing, and that would kill the angle I’m working. Poor, poor Benji. He’s so thin skinned that it almost makes me feel sorry for him. To care so much for a person you can’t control seems like a recipe for disaster to me. He’s handed me his downfall on a platter.

  Hurt his sister; hurt him.

  “Step down,” Beast comes to my rescue. He nods his huge head once before reaching over and slapping his son on the shoulder. “Get us a beer. It’s fucking hot out here.”

  With a final look of annoyance sent my way, Benji does what he’s told. He hands his father an open bottle, cracks the top off his own and drinks half of the contents, then bangs my open bottle down on the table in front of me. It foams and froths inside the amber glass from the impact. Before it erupts from the bottle, I take hold of it, tilt my head back and let the cold liquid slide down my throat in one long pull. When I’m finished, I stand and slam it down in front of him.

  “Thanks. I needed that. With that type of efficiency, you’ll make a fine waitress one day.” In the perfect world, I’d stop at one snide comment, but something—everything—about Benji pushes my buttons. I add insult to my words by blowing him a kiss.

  If we were alone, the way he tries to climb the table to get his hands on me would be funny. I’d meet the little shit head on and teach him what it means to go toe-to-toe with a Taylor. Having Beast as a spectator drains my amusement before it can gain a foothold. Instead of meeting him halfway, I’m forced to retreat. Fighting Benji at this juncture wouldn’t be smart, and at the end of the day, I’d much rather chip away at him, piece by piece, until I have him perfectly positioned for our final showdown.

  Victory tastes sweeter when you have to work hard to earn it.

  I’ve taken one step back when Beast’s hand lands on my shoulder. He pushes me down into my seat. I sit without argument, stifling a chuckle when he reaches across the table and seizes Benji by the front of his shirt. A silent exchange goes down between them—the son’s angry blue eyes boring into lethal gaze of the parent without flinching. I can’t read their exchange, but whatever is transmitted is enough to shut down Benji’s anger. He nods once, then takes hold of his father’s wrist and yanks his hand from his T-shirt. He throws himself into the closest seat, an irate glint shining brightly from the same blue eyes that grace his twin’s beautiful face.

  My attention is still stuck on attempting to decipher the wordless conversation they had in front of me, so I don’t see Beast’s attack coming. With his beefy forearm across my neck, he thrusts me back into my seat, pinning me in place with his body and the deadly promise in his eyes.

  “I’mma let you take my baby girl out. One time, that’s fucking it—unless she comes to me and says she wants to see you some more.” I muster a nod of agreement. My bo
dy is screaming at me that it needs oxygen, yet I know that the only way that’s going to happen is to let this madman get his clichéd threats out of his system. “This is gonna be your only warning, Mr. Pretentious. You fuck up and you’re in for a world of hurt. You hurt one hair on my baby girl’s head and I’ll mince your snobby ass and feed it to your mama as stew.”

  He pushes against my throat again, driving the last remaining molecules of oxygen from my lungs. A wheeze leaves my lips and goddamned Benji smiles. I vow that he’s going to pay for his amusement in the worst way. My plans for payback are growing bigger by the second.

  “Do you get me?” Beast demands. “One tear runs down her cheek and you’re dead.”

  I nod again, and the humility that shows on my face isn’t feigned this time. Beast has driven his point home and it’s making my blood boil. He’s made it very clear that I’m going to need to separate Maddi from the crazy men in her family quicker than I’d previously intended. He’s thrown a giant spanner in the works, forcing me to swallow my pride and return to my father for more advice as soon as I can.

  Thankfully, Beast mistakes my silence for agreement. He straightens, removing his weight for my throat, and retakes his seat with a smile on his face.

  Pounding his fist on the table twice, he addresses Benji. “Get us another beer. Threatening farm boys is thirsty fucking work.”

  The burst of bellowing laughter that erupts from him must come from the very pit of his stomach. It’s dark and greedy, filled with the promise of my death if I break his rules. When he has his mirth contained, he pounds his fist again. “A beer, Benji. Then tell Wendy to get baby girl. This fucker here wants to ask her on a date.”

  More chuckles fill the air. I ignore Beast, my gaze firmly locked on the back door that Benji’s opened so he can speak to Wendy. A startled look fills her face, then her eyes dart to mine. Disapproval radiates from her, loud and clear. For about the millionth time in my life, I wonder what the hell went down between her and my father. After a second, she nods her head and disappears into the depth of the cavernous house in search of my prey.

  Date, I mean, my date. My humour is restored with that thought and a grin lifts the ends of my lips for the first time since I let my annoyance at Benji get the better of me.

  The door swings open, and Maddi emerges. She looks fresh and innocent—absolutely perfect. My initial inclination is to rise to my feet and greet her. I don’t. It becomes quickly apparent that doing so would just embarrass her more. Bright eyes flick between me and her father, increasing the redness on her cheeks.

  Maddi’s gaze is diverted to Benji when he slams another beer on the table in front of me and retreats from the main table to sit on the low, brick wall that surrounds the alfresco area. Worry fills the blue depths of her gaze, making me yearn to squeeze Benji’s throat until he stops breathing for daring to upset my angel.

  Maddi runs a shaky hand over her hair, then smooths down the front of her shirt.

  “Wendy said you wanted me, Dad?” The small catch in her voice tells me more than the deliberately blank look sent my way moments later. My little innocent miss is quaking in her shoes. The tentative smile with which she favours Beast consolidates my thoughts and I bite back a smile.

  I move slightly in my seat to test my theory. Just enough to drag her attention from her dad to me. A knot of anticipation grows in my stomach, replacing the last of the annoyance caused by Beast’s brutish threat, when she looks at me. My cock makes his interest known, hardening in my jeans, as Maddi runs an assessing gaze over my body. Subdued interest and something more—something that sends a chill down my spine—flits across her face at my blatant perusal.

  Ambivalence. That’s the other emotion warring for dominance on her tan skin. It doubles my need to steal her from under their noses. Maddi seems uncertain. Curious rather than attracted. Less lustful. More calculating. It’s appears that she’s undecided about me.

  Which is a shame.

  Because little does she realise, but her complicity is merely a bonus, not a defining factor in my game plan. I’m happy to proceed with or without her acquiescence.

  It will come with time, anyhow.

  I’ll make sure of it.

  Maddi’s cheeks have been pink since she emerged from the house, but her obvious discomfort doesn’t satiate my need for more. Wanting a repeat of the scorched scarlet from our encounter last night, I return her perusal with immodest eyes, moving them with deliberate provocation over the more salient parts of her delectable form. It takes a moment, and for Beast to clear his throat with disapproval at our obvious eye-fucking, but the blood that I wanted to taste last night finally makes its way from her elegant neck. It pools in her plump cheeks, a fitting tribute to the faultless hand I’m playing in this game.

  I have Maddi right where I want her—and the thud that Beast’s bottle of beer makes when it hits the tabletop says he’s not happy about it. He pats the seat next to him, motioning for Maddi to sit down. My attention is drawn to her long legs as she glides to her chair, and lithe limbs encased in tight denim jumps to the top of the list of things I find attractive in a woman.

  “Baby girl, Brendan’s dropped in to ask me if he can take you out on a date. I told him that it’s up to you what you do. Although, I’ve warned him that if you say yes and he goes and hurts you in any way, I’ll fuck him up. Permanently.”

  Beast’s uncouth recount of our conversation pulls my attention from Maddi. I mentally declare myself the winner in this battle as I watch him sit straighter in his seat and glare at me.

  He’s rattled.

  My heart performs a victory dance all through my chest when Benji mutters his own threat, “That goes double for me.”

  Maddi flinches at his hostile words before she sets her shoulders back, a frown creasing the delicate skin between her eyes. Her expression changes in an instant. She widens her eyes and grins at Beast through gritted teeth. Her irritation is easy to see, albeit a rather curious response given the situation.

  It takes a second for me to understand what’s responsible for the change in her demeanour, but when it hits me, the good news comes complete with a marching band and confetti. Another crack in the O’Brien family has revealed itself and it’s the best one so far.

  Miss Madelaine O’Brien doesn’t like to be bossed about. The overprotective, almost psychotic way the men in her family keep her separated from the opposite sex doesn’t fill her with gratitude. It annoys her.

  As this new layer of her personality is revealed, a devious glimmer of strategy becomes clear to me. Soft spot number two—better known as the second chink in her armour—has been identified and it takes my win from very likely to unstoppable.

  “Seriously,” she murmurs, almost under her breath. “I’m not a bloody child.”

  I make a small sound, just loud enough to let her know that I heard her, and that I agree. Maddi smiles a tiny bit when she looks at me. The ambivalence I noticed earlier steals the hard edge of her defiance, but I school my own features into the perfect blank foil for her upcoming boldness.

  With a softened gaze, I try my hardest to look unsure about myself. My ruse works. The angelic innocence Maddi normally exudes disappears. It’s replaced with rebelliousness, which ushers her further inside my trap with her next words, “What did you have in mind?”

  “I thought I could pick you up and we could head into Emerald for dinner on Friday night. If you don’t already have plans?”

  My offer is barely out of my mouth before Maddi is nodding. “That sounds good to me. What time would you like to pick me up?”

  The groan her easy acceptance elicits from Benji sends victory dancing through my veins. The shit-eating grin that splits my face makes Beast slam his beer back down on the table and uncertainty appear on Maddi’s flushed face.

  It’s time to throw the final, knock-out punch. I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table, regarding Maddi with as much faux sincerity as I can muster. In a tone that prom
ises her control of her world, I ask, “Would five o'clock be all right with you?”

  A single incline of her head is my only answer. For now, it’s enough. Soon, very soon, I’ll be teaching Miss O’Brien that her lack of enthusiasm toward me is simply not going to cut it.

  Turning to Beast, I keep my tone respectful while ensuring that he can see a hint of steel in my expression. “What time do I need to have Maddi home, Mr O’Brien?

  “It’s Beast, Brendan. No man in my family answers to Mr O’Brien.” He chuckles, his outward demeanour appearing friendly while he shoots daggers that promise my death toward me with his eyes. “I think midnight is a fair time.”

  Maddi beams. Apparently, his answer satisfies her. I watch with fascination as the deadly promise disappears from his face and he wiggles his thick, black eyebrows at his daughter. This interplay between the O’Brien’s is captivating. Their protectiveness gives Maddi the power to hurt them because they live to please her—which, in turn, provides me with the upper hand I crave.

  Unlocking the reason why she’s held on a pedestal by them will hopefully provide me with the solution to my current conundrum.

  How to separate her from them willingly.

  My father’s advice is ringing in my ears as I finish my beer and make idle chit-chat with Beast. I use his sudden pleasantness as a cover for my true motivation, taking my time to observe the silent looks that he exchanges with his oldest son when they see that my presence is making Maddi smile. I stay, playing my part as the lovestruck fool, until Benji’s on the verge of exploding with rage. Once he’s properly enraged, I decide that it’s time to leave. Passing Maddi on my way off the elevated alfresco patio, I lay a hand on her shoulder.

  Touching her has the same effect as last night, leaving me grinding my teeth together so I don’t lean down and kiss her. It takes a second, but I pull myself together, and with an innocuous smile—which is the best I can manage while the need to devour her tries to overwhelm me—I confirm our date.