“Don’t you worry, little Kylie,” he whispered, “I’ll take care you. We all will.”
“We all will,” Dono echoed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Reckless Abandon Cowboys
The smell of brewing coffee seeped past Kylie’s sleep-fogged brain, waking her slowly. She didn’t move, not certain where she was. Usually no problem, now she waited for her memory to kick in.
She inhaled the coffee’s irresistible fragrance, realizing she couldn’t be inside her house. She didn’t own a coffeemaker. In one big blast of images, she recalled everything, especially after Dillon had lassoed her.
Her heart rate spiked, and Kylie’s eyes flew open. No Vega brother to the right of her. Tensing with apprehension, she gradually rolled over. Nope, no Dono or Dash to the left of her. She was alone on the humongous, deep purple bed.
Surprised she didn’t feel that sore, Kylie propped herself on her elbow and took her time eyeing the length of the strange bed, unlike anything she’d ever seen.
Talk about purple passion.
A hysterical giggle lodged in her throat, suppressed when she spied a breakfast tray loaded with covered dishes. Kylie sat upright, not bothering to grab the blanket as it slid down her torso.
Around her bright streams of sunlight flooded the large room, most of them coming from two skylights. “Wow. They weren’t kidding.”
The furnishings were definitely for three men and one woman. Not exactly lavish, yet well outfitted. At least those were the words that came to mind as she gazed at the selection of chairs, the U-shaped couch, and the cabinets half-way around a table that could have been in her grandmother’s dining room.
“What’s the deal with all the chests?” There were six of them she could see. Magnificent wooden chests with ornately carved lids sat in various areas of the room. “Okay, I’m not looking. I’ll bet there’s sex type stuff I don’t even want to know about.”
At least, not yet, she mentally added as she remembered the ultra-amazing sex she’d had with all three of the brothers.
Good Lord have mercy, they were enough to drive one woman crazy with…what was the term in romance novels… reckless abandon?
“Yeah, that’s what I’m calling it. Reckless abandon. That’s how I feel with those three.”
Kylie edged toward the food tray, the smell of percolating coffee still inside her nostrils. Not particularly hungry, but damn curious, she perched on her knees. While uncovering the nearest dish, she noticed a small stack of clothing on top of an ottoman.
Two fried eggs eyed her as she eyed them. Picking up a slice of buttered toast first, she tasted, then nibbled while lifting another lid. It appeared to be applesauce and a bowl of oatmeal.
“Too bad I’m not a breakfast girl. Course, that could change if things continue this hot and heavy with the Reckless Abandon Cowboys.”
Suddenly her emotions erupted to the surface, and Kylie felt trembly inside. Shit, she didn’t know which way to jump. Bewildered by the sheer number of thoughts and feelings boiling around inside her, she mentally clamped down the lid on herself, even as she removed the next lid, and stared at the small jars of honey and jelly.
Kylie smeared strawberry jelly on the rest of her toast and polished it off. After licking her fingers, she looked under the last cover. The two tall glasses of orange juice and milk reminded her she was thirstier than anything else.
Grabbing the orange juice, she practically guzzled it down. Hardly taking a breath to savor the unique flavor, she drained the glass of milk next.
“Uh oh.” Leaping off the raised, rounded edge of the bed, Kylie plucked up the top shirt on the ottoman. She threw it on as she rushed toward an open door, hoping.
Relief washed over her as she moved into the room. There was her tub, drained and sparkling, the cakes of soap lined up. With quick steps, she headed for the enclosed area. Moments later, she plunked down on the weird-looking but obvious toilet bowl and let nature have its way.
Having washed her hands, Kylie wondered if there was a shower somewhere in the large room that really was a pink paradise. Buttoning up the man’s white shirt, she sauntered toward a frosted glass screen etched with elegantly styled roses. After admiring the wide, elegantly tall screen, Kylie peeked around it.
Sure enough, it was a shower, but what a setup. Okay, right, the oblong area could easily hold her and all three of the Vega brothers. So, that was their obvious plan as her supposed husbands. Sex in the shower.
Matching the surrounding walls, a polished stone bench stretched the length of one wall. Kylie couldn’t tell the type of stone, probably granite that resembled marble. Instead of pink, though, the color was a pale smoky lavender with veins of gold.
Stepping inside, she gave one handle a slight turn. Water dribbled from a huge shower head. “Yes!” Kylie pivoted back to the entrance. Shedding the shirt, she ran a hand through her hair.
Only God knew how it had dried after a soapy bath. Her cheeks flamed as she recalled being sandwiched between Dono and Dash, and all the things they’d done to her body. Good God, lust must’ve been pouring out of her pores.
Not knowing the heat level of the water, Kylie carefully turned both handles until the shower steamed around her and pelted her like a lovely steady rain. Investigating a couple of pear-shaped bottles, she decided the gel inside was a type of shampoo. It certainly lathered up well.
She spun slowly as she rinsed her hair, relishing the feel of the water sluicing over her. Combing her fingers through the saturated strands, she opened her eyes and froze in mid-movement. Dillon stood beside the edge of the screen watching her. A mug of steamy coffee held casually in one hand, his dark gaze lazily devoured her whole.
“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, little Kylie. And get a private look-see at that sweet-dream body of yours.”
His gravelly timbre traveled over every inch of her skin, and hit her pussy like a storm.
“You’re back,” she muttered, not knowing if he could hear her above the shower. She should have asked him, glad to see me, cowboy? Given the I-want-you strain against the zipper of his jeans.
Kylie slowly lowered her arms. The sudden swell of her breasts, their increased tenderness beneath the pummeling drops of water, it was all for him. For Dillon.
“Much as I’d like to join you, your nipples being a mighty temptin’ invitation,” he drawled, “I’m waitin’ on a message.” Straightening, his demeanor more like her Viking, he continued, “I’m around, darlin’ angel. You’re not alone.”
She nodded, watching a small smile curl the corner of his too-sexy mouth. His eyes flared with possessiveness before he pivoted away, fast.
Automatically, Kylie finished showering. Her flesh hummed with excitement, as if beams of light sizzled through her. Deciding her body would never feel the same again, Kylie turned off the shower. After squeezing the excess water out of her hair, she walked around the screen with her pulse throbbing big time.
Placed there by Dillon, a giant-sized pink bath towel hung from a hook obviously meant for it. Beside it was a hooded terry cloth robe. Kylie took her time drying off, enjoying the thick softness of the towel. She certainly appreciated how they were taking care of her. No doubt. Yet, she had no idea what was really expected, other than sex and more sex. And being their gardener.
Shit, or shoot, as her mom and dad said instead. Kylie blinked back the scalding rush of tears at her loss of them. No use bawling like a baby now. No, it appeared as though life went on and she had three husbands to face and deal with.
Bending over, she used the towel to pat more moisture from her hair. Shoot, it wasn’t like she’d ever taken a course in husband management. Yeah, a new university class, The Management of Multiple Husbands.
Kylie would have laughed at her own thoughts, if she been up to it. “Maybe, there are courses like that on this side of the dimensional divide.”
Nope, she’d never envisioned this crazy ass scenario. Whenever she’d thought
about being married, it’d been to an educated man, maybe a handsome professor. They’d share about their careers over a lovely, intimate dinner out. Enjoy each other’s company. Hold hands and laugh. Be impassioned lovers.
Realistically, Kylie had known that was a manufactured ideal. Still, she’d never ever imagined marrying a yeehaw, ride’em cowboy type. Though, if Dillon had asked her out, she’d have gone two-stepping at a western bar with him. No hot-to-trot question about it.
Hanging the towel, Kylie swept up the shirt and slipped into it. She shook her hair briskly as she usually did after washing it, then moved toward the vanity definitely calling her name. Pink pearl, that’s what she’d call the high sheen on the futuristic-looking piece of furniture. The large oval mirror was to die for, appealing to her feminine side.
The delicate chair before the vanity matched perfectly and had a darling pink leather seat. Hoping to find a brush or comb inside the drawers, Kylie perched on it. She hesitated, seeing her reflection. Paler than normal, her face stared back at her with eyes that looked over bright and haunted, even to her.
A pang spread through her belly, and she looked away, opening one of the drawers. The different types of makeup caused her to blink with astonishment. Was she expected to make up her face every day? Well, hell, not on your life.
She’d become accustomed to using it for nights out, on special occasions, and at her whim. Being too short on time, she abandoned the practice, discovering it was a freedom she damn well liked.
Pulling out the opposite drawer, she spontaneously smiled at the collection of brushes and combs. Selecting a long-pronged comb, she ran it through her short hair, styling it as she preferred. Kylie shook her head once she’d finished, preferring a tousled appearance.
With curiosity nagging at her, she inspected the contents of the center drawer. Glittering hair ornaments, many of them designed with feathers, filled up the space. However, they were for long hair as far as she could tell.
Scooting back, she opened one of the bottom drawers. What met her gaze stunned her. The silver tray, broken into segments, held jewelry. Not costume baubles, but what looked like the real stuff. Kylie had no idea if it was real. Yet, what caught her attention, other than the beautifully sparkling colors, was the western logo engraved on the silver, copper, and gold bracelets.
Selecting a copper bracelet, she studied what appeared to be a type of brand. The three Ds had been created as a running surface for several horses, and above them were three prominent stars. “The ranch’s brand?” she murmured to herself. “Dillon, Dono, and Dash.”
In secession, Kylie lifted out several of the gem-studded, armband type bracelets, each one utterly gorgeous. The Three D design had been done differently on all of them, from stark and simple to a filigree design she found particularly beautiful.
Frowning, she wondered if the Vega brothers had been married to another woman before her. She hadn’t gotten that impression. Still…who knew? Placing the bracelets back in the tray, Kylie spied a pair of gold stud earrings in the shape of stars. “Perfect.”
Since she hadn’t worn earrings for several days, now was the time to save her pierced ears. Feeling a bit like a princess, Kylie slipped on the stars, then checked her reflection. With her hair nearly dry, she didn’t look half bad, even without makeup.
She supposed the brave thing to do, now, was face her future. Grab the bull by the horns. In her case, grab all three throbbing bullhorns. The mental images of her doing just that made her giggle out loud. As her giggles threatened to escalate out of control, Kylie pulled open the last drawer.
Suppressing her urge to laugh hysterically, she stared at the cobalt blue spray bottles, five of them. Fragrances wafted upward and Kylie smelled a sweetly pungent lavender, an irresistible delicate rose, and another amazing scent she identified as having gardenia in it. Picking one bottle up, she sniffed before checking the simple elegant label.
“Cactus Rose,” she read out loud. “I should have known.”
Checking the ingredient list, she raised her eyebrows appreciatively. It was a water-based essence with yellow rose, sage, and the flower of prickly pear.
“Okay, I have to know what’s in all of them.” Setting the bottle on her vanity, she plucked out each one, reading their labels.
One proved to be a lavender mixture with verbena and lilac named Purple Fields. The next bottle, called Guadalupe Wildflower, had several flower species listed, two of them daisies. Gardenia Evening enticed her with its tropical luxurious scent. Yep, definitely for a night out.
The last bottle teased her nostrils with its tangy citrus fragrance, almost like lemonade. Kylie didn’t recognize two of the fruits that were listed, along with lime flower and the herb, melissa.
“Cactus Rose it is.” Kylie spritzed it on her wrists, wondering if the scents had been chosen because women liked them or because they were preferred by the Vega brothers.
Whatever, the scent of rose was uplifting and she needed all the help she could get, right now. Not to mention, she’d always loved the smell of sage, and this blend smelled divine.
After flipping the comb through her hair again, she placed the bottles back in the drawer. So, what the crap was her next move? Her stomach hungrily rumbled, as if answering. No, she hadn’t eaten much, not for several days.
Padding back toward the have-sex room, as she’d named it, Kylie anxiously gazed around for Dillon. Shit, shoot, when had she ever been so freaked out by a man? In both a good way and a bad way.
Kylie wanted Dillon to show up, yet felt completely stupidly nervous over whether he did or didn’t. Hissing an exasperated sigh at herself, she lifted up the cover eyeing the fried eggs again.
“Eat,” she commanded herself, as her belly fluttered against it.
Recalling she once ate her father’s runny eggs with honey, she spooned some on and picked up the heavy fork that looked like old silverware. Gingerly sitting on the edge of the purple passion bed, Kylie convinced herself to take a taste.
Her father’s jovial voice filled her head, him saying loudly, Come and get it. It’s Fried Egg Sunday. “Dad,” she whispered. Her heart flip-flopped painfully for an instant. Steeling herself, Kylie took a bite. The eggs went down better than she’d thought, and the applesauce even better.
Once she’d wiped her mouth with the overly large cloth napkin, Kylie debated about trying to find the kitchen while carrying the tray, actually too big for her to handle. It’s not that she was against doing her share around the house, then again, she didn’t really want to become the queen of everything domestic, either.
God help her, she soooo didn’t want that. “What an effing mess as far as knowing what to do and what not to do.”
Taking action, Kylie stood and picked up one of the serving dishes, then headed toward the main door. What she really wanted now, besides seeing Dillon, was a hot cup of chocolate, the way she fixed it. Might as well check out the kitchen, find out if there was any cocoa powder. Yeah, hope, hope.
Sunlight filtered over the native stone walls of the hallway as Kylie moved in the direction she remembered. With what she knew about ranch chores, she wondered how the Vega brothers managed to keep their household going. “Guess I’m about to find out.”
The serving dish hit the thick rug beneath her feet with a muffled clatter. Kylie shrieked at the same moment, as a humongous cat jumped in front of her. Gazing at her like a damn mountain lion, it twitched its tail menacingly.
Quickly recovering her own attitude, Kylie glared back at the heavily furred mountain of cat who now sat in her way. His gaze proclaimed that this was his territory. “Who are you?” Not bothering to pick up the dish yet, she planted one fist on her hip. “Oh, I remember now. You’re Dono’s cat. What would he think about you acting this way?”
“Sam,” Dillon commanded, “get out of the lady’s way. Now.”
His tone reminded Kylie of a mild-mannered lion
Blinking his amber eyes lazily at her, Sam reluctantl
y stood and sauntered past her, flicking the tip of his tail as if he dismissed them both.
Kylie almost burst out laughing at the cat’s arrogance, however Dillon eyed her now, his gaze smoldering, no, blasting at her with his hunger.
Instead of saying anything, he moved with deceptive speed scooping up the dish. “The kitchen is straight ahead, sweet thang. I’ll go get the tray and meet you there.”
Nodding, Kylie didn’t meet his eyes. Swerving around his hunk-tastic huge body, she rapidly walked down the long hallway. Could a man smell any better? Yowza, as some in her crowd had taken to saying, was he ever virility personified? Dayumm!
Out of breath when she entered the L-shaped kitchen, Kylie headed for the cupboards. Needing anything to distract herself, she perused the cabinets she could reach, finding sturdy dishes made out of clay and a variety of glassware, a lot of it unfamiliar.
Seeing an enormous coffee percolator at the far end of the brick countertop, Kylie knew why she’d woken up to the smell of coffee. It was the kind she’d seen in restaurants as a kid, the dark liquid sliding up and down a small glass cone on the top.
Moving in that direction, she opened a tall side cabinet and discovered foil bags of coffee beans, along with coffee-making supplies. The rich aroma had her inhaling several times, merely to enjoy. Spying a plain brown canister with Cocoa Powder on the label, Kylie hastily grabbed it out.
“The view around here has improved one hundred percent,” Dillon drawled behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Only It’s Your Cock, Not a Gun
Kylie straightened fast, clutching the canister to her chest. No telling how much he’d seen of her bare ass and sex, since she had no clue where the shirt ended. Slowly, she turned around. “Hot chocolate,” she managed the two words.
He set the tray on top of what appeared to be a type of dishwasher. “What do you need, little thang?”
You! I need you. Kylie realized in a heartbeat, she needed not only the recklessly dangerous passion that brewed between them. But him. All of him. Dillon.
Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 21
