The Everest Brothers: Ethan - Hutton - Bennett

by Scott, S. L.

  We were supposed to be better in Brudenbourg, not enemies. What makes me madder is I feel weak crying over her. She doesn’t deserve my tears or kindness. Margitte hasn’t supported me personally or professionally in a long time. She may have kept her trap shut about my “activities” in Texas and a few of my wild nights here as a teen, but how much can I really trust her?

  A light knock on the door drags me out of my suspicions, but when the door opens and the most handsome man I’ve ever seen is standing there, I sit up to take in the full view. Holding the phone up, Hutton asks, “You summoned?”

  That roguish grin. His rugged good looks. How they help me forget my troubles. “I missed you.”

  Closing the door, he crosses the large room and sits next to me on the bed. Stroking my hair back, he narrows his eyes as he looks at me. “Why have you been crying, beautiful?”

  “It’s not important.”

  He kicks off his shoes and then stands to undress. As much as he’s distracting—perfection and Greek god-like—his expression is gentle when he looks at me. “It is important if it affected you enough to cry.”

  “I need to grow up anyway. I can’t stay a little girl forever and being here, where I’m treated like one, doesn’t help. I have no power, not even over myself.”

  He climbs under the covers and holds me to his chest. I love hearing his heart—the strong, steady beat—enveloped by arms that make me feel safe and protected in a way that I don’t in my home anymore.

  How did I ever taste pure bliss and then walk away like I didn’t care? I thought I could, but I failed. Not a day, not even an hour has passed that Hutton hasn’t crossed my mind. The memories we made have stayed with me as if the images could make them real again.

  But here he is in my bed, wrapped around me, willing to take on my problems and regrets as if they’re his own. “You have more power than you know. You hold all the power over me.”

  “Do I?” I ask, surprised by his admission.

  “You always did. We once asked each other if we were dating others. I told you I wasn’t. What you didn’t know was that I didn’t want to. I wanted you, but I couldn’t have you.”

  “If you had me, what would you have done?”

  “Anything you asked.”

  Tilting up, I expect to see a smile on his face or hear laughter—something that would signify he’s humoring me. But I don’t find it, and his honesty is evident in his soulful eyes. I push up and rest on my palm, still looking at him and half expecting him to tell me he’s just kidding. “You’re serious.”

  “I am,” he replies casually, tucking a few stray strands of my hair behind my ear.

  “How are you so sure of yourself?”

  “I’m not. I’m sure of you.”

  My arm weakens under his sweetness. Bending down, I kiss him. Margie’s words from earlier haunt me, placing doubt where there was none. “Why did you talk to me the first time we met?”

  “How could I not? You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. You still are.” He kisses my cheek and then my chin.

  “There were plenty of pretty women around, including Margie. She has so many admirers.”

  “That’s just looks.”

  “But you said that’s what drew you to me?” I’m confused and getting frustrated. Is she right? Am I nothing but a pretty face? An easy target or, worse, an easy lay?

  “Who said I was talking about your looks? My attraction to you was . . . soul deep. I was simply and inexplicably drawn to you.”

  He must be able to hear my heart thundering from happiness. “Soul deep?”

  “Yes, princess,” he says, his smile smug. “I like more about you than just your body.” He leans down and pushes the hem of my tank up, exposing my breasts. “Although your body is so fucking fantastic.”

  Running my hands over the deep wells of his carved biceps and the hills of his shoulders, I feel so much strength and power in his every move, and I see it in his steady strides. Even when he looks at me, I feel the hold he has on me.

  But it’s not just his looks that keep me entangled in him, either. I find him so utterly sexy when I listen to him talk business, numbers, and facts rolling off his tongue from ingrained memories. His passion for the company is undeniable when he speaks of their vision and the impact they’ve already made.

  “Do you know what turns me on, Hutton?”

  His hand sneaks between my thighs. “Yes, Ally, I do. I know exactly what turns you on and what gets you off.”

  I can’t hide my smile, and I don’t want to. I feel free when I’m with him and captivated by him. I don’t stop his hand, but he does. Looking in my eyes, he asks, “What turns you on?”

  “Watching you achieve everything you dreamed of.”

  “I haven’t achieved them all.” Kissing my neck, he gently sucks, causing me to ease into it until it tickles too much. “Not. Quite. Yet.”

  “What dreams do you have left to achieve?”

  “Everything that has to do with you.” His answer is just as confident as always.

  My cheeks hurt from smiling so much around him. “How close are you to achieving it?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Pretty damn close. I’m coming to New York with you.”

  He pulls back suddenly, the covers hiding us from the world outside—the world that makes us an impossibility. He’d be denied as a true contender for my hand if he decided to apply.

  Too bad for them.

  I refuse to walk away now that I’m in his arms again. In his life again. How can I?

  “What do you mean?”

  “I talked my parents into letting me be a part of the communications team. I’m traveling to New York, and you can show me around your headquarters.”

  “What happened to Jakob?”

  “Do you not want me to come?”

  A wry grin appears. “I always want you to come, princess. I also want you in New York. I’m just surprised. When did this happen?”

  “This afternoon.” I don’t tell him about the rest of the conversation, not about Margie, or about the offers, and my match. It will never happen. Not if I have a say, and I will have my voice heard even if I have to demand it. “I volunteered.”

  “I like you volunteering for the job. Are you up for it?”

  Cocking an eyebrow to match his, I reply, “I’m so up for it. Are you?”

  “I’m about to be.” I love the feel of his weight on me. He doesn’t put his full weight on me, but enough for me to savor the size of this large man. I wrap my arms around him, and whisper, “I guess I’ll have Margie book a hotel.”

  “Fuck that. You’re staying with me.”

  Margie will love that . . . not. “I don’t even know where you live.”

  “I’ll show you, and then I’ll take you to my favorite places. Wait, what is the security setup?”

  “Most people don’t even know about my country.”

  “Enough know for me to be concerned about your safety.”

  “I’m not famous like the Royals from England. Even on official business, I rarely need a bodyguard. This trip will be no different. But Margie might be there.”

  “She hates me.”

  “She does.” Why bother lying? “If I can get the clearance, I won’t need her by my side.”

  “New York is amazing. If I can have you there with me . . . We can walk in the park. You’ll love Central Park. We can see a show. We can do whatever you want to do.”

  He still doesn’t realize that spending time with him is all I want, and I’m starting to think it might be all I need. He might be all I need, but I see the excitement in his eyes when he speaks of the city. What if he really doesn’t want to be here, even if it’s with me? But what about the crown? My lifelong schooling?

  I lean my head against his cheek, wanting to hide from what I might be asking of him and the home he might not be willing to leave. Winding my fingers through his hair, I pull him down until our lips meet. A gentle kiss t
urns into more, and I deepen it, holding on to him as our lips part and our tongues greet.

  Soon, he takes hold of me and turns us over, our bodies tangled together. Mixed up in the covers, he tugs the blanket out from under me and pulls it over us until we’re buried under the fluffy cotton.

  So sexy.

  His golden skin is in stark contrast to the white blanket. White teeth highlighted by full lips that spread like wildfire into a heart-melting smile.

  Hutton Everest is a bright knight in my dark nights.

  Like him, I don’t rush the love we’re creating. Slow is not something we often do, but in the unrushed acts, I feel cherished. His hand covers the curve of my waist, and he lifts to look me in the eyes. “How long will I get you in New York?”

  “I have four days.”

  “It’s going to be the best damn four days of our lives.”

  “You don’t have to do anything special. I’m happy I get to spend time with you.”

  “I need to pull out all the stops. Roll out the royal red carpet. I have a princess to impress.”

  I run my hand over the prickly scruff of his jaw. “She’s already impressed, but what can I do for you?”

  “You’re doing it. Time alone with you is all I can ask for.”

  “Until the clock strikes midnight. Then—”

  “No thens or worries of the future. Just give me four days of Ally again. Don’t put restraints on our time before we’ve even left.”

  “I won’t, but my family will. I can’t promise I’ll be traveling alone.”

  He pauses his argument, and he shifts his gaze to the sheets. “Margie?”

  “We’ll see. My parents have recently expanded her role. She’s pretty busy.”

  “She hates me.”

  “It doesn’t matter. What I think does, and you know how I feel about you, so let’s not worry about her right now.”

  “How?” Dipping his head to the side, he kisses my throat to my collarbone.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you. I also know how much you love when I kiss this spot right here.”

  “I do love it.”

  “You do.” Kiss. “And just like that, you’re putty in my hands.”

  “God, yes, I am.” That traveling hand makes it to my hips before it detours between my legs. Like wings, I flutter open for him. Remembering how good his hand felt in the SUV, I crave the same roughness, the same desire, but this time, I don’t need his hand. I need him. “Make love to me, Hutton.”

  20

  Hutton

  Ally’s discounted because of her looks. In the few days I’ve been here, I’ve witnessed men talking over her more than once and dismissing her ideas as silly. These assholes are missing the big picture of what makes her beautiful. I wonder how many of them have a master’s in business and international relations. My guess is none.

  She’s not just a pretty princess to be admired for her looks. Ally has so much more to offer the world than sitting on a throne as a headpiece. With her master’s degree, she could give guidance not only to the committee regarding this deal, but she could also use her studies in international relations to extend olive branches to other countries. She’s the full package, and they don’t even see it.

  The duke speaks of her with no consequence. Mr. Yamagata pays her no mind as he tries to impress her father. No value is given to those with beauty.

  What they don’t know and what I won’t show anyone—since I want her all to myself—is that true beauty is found in the quiet moments. Here, with me, she’s vulnerable, and her guard is down with her arms open and her spirit strong. She thinks she’s weak for crying, but her strength is in her determination. Everything she wants doesn’t always make sense with how she wants to live her life, but she doesn’t shy away from her ambition. She’s impressive.

  I have no idea how I’d fit into this life, or if I’ll even be allowed. It’s a life I never imagined before, and I haven’t had time to measure the pros and cons. I need to calculate how I saw my life going—life in New York, growing the media division—with possibly staying in Brudenbourg doing I don’t know what.

  Frustration has set in. Hers. Mine. Ours.

  The increasing concern I see in her eyes growing with an excitement that still resides in the clear blue shows the tension she’s feeling. Does she really see me as her Prince Charming? Who knew a costume would lead to this? Not me. That’s for sure. But now that we’re here in the second act of our story, we’re going to have to decide who sacrifices their life for our love to survive.

  One day, she’ll prove she’s already a queen, ready to reign. But to me, she’ll always be my Ally.

  I stroke my fingers through her desire. Under the heat of the blanket and pressed against her warmth, I keep my voice low. “Let me take care of you first, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t. I want to feel the stretch. I want the burn. I want to sit at dinner and feel how my body has changed from being with you.”

  Kissing between her breasts, I trail my tongue along the curve of her cleavage. I move back, planting my forearms on either side of her pretty face. We’ve had sex a lot and done everything between sin and making amends, but this lump in my throat, the one that formed when I saw her tear-streaked cheeks, makes me want to replace her pain with something tangible. “When I told you I loved you . . .” She can’t touch love, but hers has touched me. Setting my eyes on her bright blues, I want her to know what she means to me. I need her to feel the words, not just hear them. “I meant it.”

  “So did I.” She lifts up and kisses me before lying back down and wrapping her arms around my neck. We don’t say those three words again, maybe soon, but I see them in her eyes, and I hope she feels them from me.

  With her legs open for me, I press myself against her. My natural inclination is to thrust fast and deep, but that’s not what she needs. I push in, keeping my eyes locked on hers. The heat from her welcoming body spreads, spanning from our connection.

  When her mouth opens, I kiss the corner, inhaling her scent. Her eyes close, and her arms tighten around me. A warm breath covers my neck, and she kisses the underside of my jaw as I move with intention—slow enough to feel every inch being engulfed but fast enough to touch the satisfaction we’re striving for.

  Her nails scrape down my back, my skin alive like a live wire.

  The words come as easy as breathing when I’m with her.

  “Beautiful.”

  I kiss her forehead.

  “Loving.”

  Rising into a pushup, I thrust faster. Her body glistens as it syncs to our own music.

  “Graceful.”

  Little moans fill the large bed, and the covers are tossed off me. My shoulders are grabbed as my body moves from instinct—hunt, gather, devour—take. Take. Take.

  I run my nose along her neck, her chest against mine, her breath in my ear. She says, “Please,” as if it’s all too much. It is. I start to lose myself but want to give. Give. Give.

  Her body tenses, her breath sucked in like the rough-edged rocks of the castle—sharp—and then as she crumbles into a million pieces, letting her body sink into the ecstasy, and I fall apart right after.

  My soul’s peace is in her arms as she holds me so tight that I wonder if she thinks I’ll disappear. I lift my head from her shoulder. “Hey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her hold loosens, and a languid smile graces her lips. When her eyes open, she says, “I don’t want to lose this.”

  “If you’re referring to me, you won’t. If you’re referring to my body, well, your parents might not be happy to see me still inside you if we head to dinner like this.”

  She bursts out laughing, her arms falling wide open on the mattress. “Fine. I won’t cling to you like a spider monkey.”

  “Strictly for the sake of the other guests. For me, spider monkey away.”

  “So what you’re saying is when I’m in New York, I can cling to your ba
ck, and you’ll carry me around?”

  “Yep.”

  Squealing in delight, she hugs me again. “Can’t wait.”

  The two of us, alone, out from under the pressure she feels here. “I can’t wait either.” I kiss the tip of her nose and then get out of bed. “Dinner is soon. I’m going to use your bathroom and then head back to mine to shower.”

  Propped up on her hand, she says, “You could stay. We could blow off dinner and make love all night.”

  “Yeah, that’d go over well. I’d be thrown in that dungeon of yours before the night was over.”

  Laughing, she says, “I’d take care of you even down there. You know, bread, water, blow jobs. The necessities.”

  I look back, impressed by my girl’s rebellious side. Before I disappear into the bathroom, I tell her, “Never change, okay?”

  Flopping back, she laughs. “Yeah, okay.”

  “I’m serious.” Her smile lightens, and she takes another look at me. I say, “When you become queen, promise me you’ll always stay who you are. Don’t change for anyone.”

  “What about you?”

  “Not even me. I adore you exactly how you are.”

  “Why are you such a charmer?” Crossing her legs, her foot bounces in the air as she tucks her hands behind her head.

  I cross the threshold and flip on the bathroom light. “Just telling you the truth.”

  “I like your truth, hot stuff.”

  “Good because I like you.”

  I’m closing the door when she says, “The mustard told me otherwise.”

  Stopping where I stand, I smile. I’d always wondered what she thought about that sandwich. “What can I say? It was made with love.”

  After taking a piss, I wash my hands and then splash water on my face. I’ve been fighting jet lag for days, but once I saw her again, there was no way I was going to miss a chance to spend time with her.

  The tie that binds us is stronger than ever. Knowing Ally’s going home with me is more than I could have hoped for. As for the media deal, I need to talk to Bennett because I might need to recuse myself. I want the deal to go through for him and Ethan. I need to talk to Ally about it, too, to hear what she thinks.