The Barrett Brothers Collection

by K B Cinder

  Jason

  I was a goner. Elena Julian was more than a beauty with a body made for sin. She was witty, charming, and, best of all, hilarious.

  She could have run out of there at the sight of me and never looked back, and with how I treated her before, she should have. But she stayed. She stayed, and she laughed, and she wrapped me around her little finger with every word.

  We bantered about the business over dinner, lamenting about the outdated system, and cackling over suppliers. She wowed me with industry knowledge, listing product lines and material needs that seasoned marketing managers couldn't keep straight. She had a degree in supply chain and logistics, the perfect fit for a product role, not the position they had her in. It was no wonder she was on top of everything.

  Unlike other dates who’d pick at salads, she respected the glory of Colby's, ordering a filet with whipped potatoes, savoring each bite. It was strangely erotic watching her, the tension long gone, replaced with subtle, sultry moves I never noticed in anyone before.

  Her fingers snaked around her wine glass brought images of them on my cock to my mind, those full lips pressed to my flesh. The timid brunette from the sales floor was now a confident vixen, morphing into a living, breathing fantasy. She was radiant, skin flushed with a dewy glow, hair tucked into a frilly updo that begged my hands to muss it up.

  When I spotted her at the table, I was sure I was going to be sick, my worst fears realized.

  I could have run out the door, and she would never know the difference, but I would.

  I had no clue where it would end up, but I could handle it. What could be so wrong about grabbing dinner with a beautiful woman? I wasn't fucking her. It was harmless, and I’d keep it that way.

  But with every glance, I felt my willpower melting. She was as dangerous as I initially thought; I was a fool to think otherwise.

  Regardless of my gut instinct to bolt before things really caught fire, I stayed. The heat was there, a burning connection that pulled at my core. I needed to bask in its warmth for as long as I could.

  I started plotting how to extend the night after my second whiskey sour, and by the time the check came, I was desperate, kicking myself for not planning beyond dinner. I was expecting a pretty face, sure, but nothing like what Elena brought to the table.

  I remembered the carnival near the hotel. The last weekend of its run was in full swing, swamping the streets with face-painted kids and exhausted parents.

  “Let's live a little, Jewels.” I tacked on her nickname for good measure. “How about we go to Sixth Street Carnival?”

  She eyed me, brows arching in surprise. “What time is it?”

  I glanced at my Rolex. “Nine-thirty.”

  Her lips twisted, making my cock twitch. “That's late to head over. They'll be closing soon.”

  “They're open till two,” I replied, knowing the lights and shrill voices went well into the night.

  “Wow, really?” she breathed, taking a sip of wine. In the dim light, her eyes caught the glow, twinkling like dancing orbs, lips slick.

  “My room is right across the way. I hear it every weekend.”

  “Explains why you've been such a grouch...” she teased.

  “Oh, you're so funny.” I signed the receipt, tipping our server forty percent. He hadn't been spectacular, but I was feeling generous with how lucky I was.

  “We'll be awfully fancy...” she noted, gesturing at our outfits.

  “Want to stop home and change?” I asked, forgetting all about our attire. She was likely wearing heels too. Shit.

  “I'll be fine,” she assured, a gentle smile touching those slick, seductive lips.

  I pushed my chair back, and she followed suit, forcing me to hurry over to help her to her feet. If I found the marble slick in my Canali oxfords, I couldn't imagine how precarious it was in heels.

  As she stood, I got my first full view, her body draped in a slinky navy number that hugged each glorious curve. If it’d had a plunging neckline, it would have been the exact dress from my dream.

  “Let's go, Keebler,” I teased, attempting to wheel in my lust.

  Elves in trees. Elves in trees.

  “Really?” She shot me a hard look, but her mouth curved in a smile. “Didn't my people tie one of yours down once in your travels?”

  “I escaped unscathed.”

  I took her arm in mine, weaving through the crowd toward the exit. As we made our way through the foyer, I felt prying eyes our way, the old bastards stealing free glances at what was mine. I met each appreciative look with a murderous glare.

  We hit the exit and stepped into the soft glow of the night lanterns.

  I hailed my driver with a flick of the wrist, the black Mercedes creeping towards the carport entrance.

  “A driver?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Didn't want to fuss with parking,” I explained, shrugging. “Did you drive?”

  “No. But I took a cab like a normal person.”

  I grinned, leading her towards the waiting vehicle as the driver popped out and opened the rear door. I helped her settle in, rattling off the address and we were off.

  We rode in relative silence, the fifteen-minute ride punctuated by a few nervous jokes.

  We left Bear and Jewels at Colby's and were stepping out as Jason and Elena. The reality was there, clinging to every inch of the car.

  This was more than dinner. We made a choice beyond that meeting, and I wasn't sure where it'd take us. I made a lot of brash decisions for women, whether it was flying a booty call in or dropping thousands on a shopping spree. They were impulsive, ridiculous, and stupid, but never risked my career.

  My palms were clammy, and I fidgeted until we reached the carnival grounds. I waved off the driver as we departed, and he left us there dressed in formal wear among a sea of casual carnival-goers, sticking out like a sore thumb.

  “Maybe not the best choice?” I joked, trying to shake the awkwardness hanging in the air.

  “It's great,” she reassured, staring at the thousands of lights in awe.

  The place was as incredible as it was annoying, bringing the area to life with rides, games, and vendors. The streets were packed; children replaced with moody teenagers given the time.

  We made our way into the heart of things, the sights and sounds of the night in full swing. Laughing, singing, and carousel music echoed, the sickeningly sweet scent of cotton candy in the air.

  I wanted her to take my arm to give me some sort of physical connection, but her manicured hands remained at her sides. Those sexy lips wore a frisky smirk, the same ones I wanted to turn agape in ecstasy. She was a blank slate, a chameleon of emotion. I thought she wore it all on her face in the past, but she fooled me.

  In my position, I prided myself on my ability to read people, to sense their immediate wants and needs to close a deal. With Elena, I was lost.

  I couldn't fathom why that shaggy-haired idiot had given her up. Any sane man would give his right nut to have her.

  We stopped at a worn wooden bench, sitting to scan the area. It was better than wandering around aimlessly.

  “I like you, Elena. Not Jewels. Elena.”

  She smiled, thawing my heart. “I like you too, Jason. Not Bear.”

  A slight breeze came through, whirling the loose waves around her face and wafting her coconut scent all around.

  I soared at her words, sailing passed relief into full-blown excitement.

  “You're not such a Debbie Downer, after all,” she teased.

  “I try not to be. Sometimes it's hard.”

  “I know. Especially in the office.”

  I took a nervous breath, unsure of where things were headed. “I like you as a person. I don't want my position to get in the way of being friends.”

  I was lying through my teeth. I didn't want to be friends. I wanted her. Thoroughly.

  One good fuck was all it would take. That was the usual deal, at least.

  She relaxed, unaware
of my secret lust. “It shouldn't,” she replied.

  “Hey Jason?” she murmured, voice hushed, a breathy octave reminiscent of phone sex.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you do me a favor?” she asked.

  I swallowed hard. “Anything.”

  “Forget about Croft.” She glanced up with a slight smile, smoky eyes heavy with desire. “This isn't about that place. This is about us.”

  “Absolutely.”

  There was a loud screech to our right, a roar of laughter following.

  A rowdy race of bumper karts was heating up, the squeak of tires and shrieks of delight piercing the night air.

  “Let's do it!” she dared, rubbing her hands together. Another breeze lifted her skirt enough to reveal the creaminess of her thighs.

  I gritted my teeth and stood, tearing my eyes from her skin to her face, determined to pull myself from the gutter. “Let's go, Keebler.”

  We weaved through the crowd to the ride entrance, a few straggler children dotting the line ahead. Each pass of the cars sent a burst of air whipping by, exhaust combining with cotton candy, bringing back memories of nights at the racetrack with Pops.

  Round and round, the racers went until there were two contenders left: a dad with his freckled son and a preteen girl. While the dad played it safe, sticking close to the center of the track and avoiding his opponent, the girl was wild, weaving to take him out. A bold strategy, but reckless as she found out, resulting in her spinning out and the daddy duo completing the last lap for the win.

  As the riders filed out, the gate opened, ushering in the new wave of competitors, including us. Without a ticket or a wristband, I slipped the operator a twenty, and all was forgiven.

  Elena strolled to a purple kart while I hopped in the nearest one, a green beater with a squeaky steering wheel. I filled the tiny kart to capacity, knees bent toward my chest. As I buckled in, something told me it wouldn’t be the comfiest ride, the shoulder strap more than snug.

  At the sound of the horn, we were off, a redheaded kid taking the lead. I was on his tail, wanting to get the damn ride over with as my legs began to cramp from the angle.

  There was a ruckus behind me, tires squealing and maniacal laughter, other racers having a battle royale. Elena was somewhere back there, likely picked off by a preteen, but with each pass of the track, I didn't spot her.

  Our redheaded leader continued to taunt me, blocking the road with a back-and-forth sweep. If I were willing to take a gamble, I'd bump the little shit and risk one or both of us going off course, but I refused to lose to a kid that drove like ass.

  I still didn't see Elena as we powered on, passing countless kids stranded, a few red-faced and crying in defeat. I steered clear of the outside of the track, avoiding catching one in a drive-by collision.

  By lap eight of ten, I was ready to be free, cramping to my thigh and growing tired of the friction of the band across my chest. I was way too old to be stuffing myself into amusement rides.

  It was smooth sailing once I hit the final lap, the redheaded kid finally in the dust after wrecking on the barrier. It was full speed ahead, the steel pedal flush against the floor as I jutted towards victory. I couldn't be going more than fifteen or twenty miles an hour, but it was invigorating, the wind lashing my hair.

  There were karts in the distance, the low horsepower machines sounding more like lawnmowers than traditional go-karts. The laughter was gone, a hushed silence prevailing as my triumph loomed. I zipped by stranded riders looking on in defeat, including my redheaded nemesis.

  As I rounded the final corner, I fought off the urge to showboat, focused on the final prize, never one to let a win slip away.

  Out of nowhere, there was a squeal of tires and a flash to the left, my kart taking a vicious blow from another rider.

  I tried to maintain control, but the strike proved fatal, the cart taking a dive into the center barrier. My knees hit my chest as the nylon strap squeezed tight, my body folding like a well-muscled lawn chair.

  “Motherfucker!” I hollered, whipping the belt off to face my attacker, only to see a purple kart crossing the finish line.

  Elena.

  Someone played dirty. She likely followed me the whole damn time and waited for the perfect moment to strike.

  Dangerous indeed.

  Jason

  I drove to the starting point, earning a glare from the attendant for my lack of a seat belt, but I didn't care. My body wasn't stuffing back into that thing again.

  Elena was waiting, still beaming from her win.

  “Long time no see,” she teased, a few more locks of hair freed from the confines of her updo courtesy of the ride. “Didn't see you back there.”

  All I could muster up was a lopsided smile, my ego dinged from falling for the oldest trick in the book. I slipped right into amateur hour.

  “You must have been a palm tree in a previous life,” I declared, taking her arm in mine as we exited the track.

  “Why's that?” she asked.

  “Because that was shady.”

  She grinned ear to ear. “That was terrible.”

  “Not as bad as that dirty move, Keebler.”

  “Boohoo!” she taunted, pulling me ahead. “Ferris wheel time!”

  “I thought you're afraid of heights?” I asked, more surprised she wanted to head up into the sky than by her dirty driving.

  We rambled on about phobias once when the Bowmore had me feeling loose. The feisty brunette was afraid of heights, spiders, and serial killers if I remembered correctly. Not that a serial killer is a phobia, really. They weren’t irrational to fear.

  She shrugged. “Avoiding it forever won't help me get over the fear, now will it?”

  With winner's high blazing, she led me down the street, gliding across the asphalt. Every step was pronounced with a confident bounce, breasts heaving. I didn't doubt for a second I was missing an incredible show from behind, her ass likely just as juicy.

  While I was a puddle of jelly over her, she wasn’t affected by my presence. In contrast, I had a half chub for most of the night, stoked with every glance her way.

  Unlike the raceway karts, there wasn't a single person in line at the big wheel, so with the slip of a twenty, we boarded.

  We climbed in the gondola and settled on either side. I had to invade her side with my legs, but I did my best to give her as much space as possible. As we took off, she tensed, breath hitching as we made the slow climb into the night sky.

  “Well, tonight has been interesting...” I trailed, trying to keep her focus on me and not the ever-growing elevation.

  To be honest, I wasn't crazy about riding on a machine slapped together and taken down more times than I'd like to think about either. Probably by some kid fresh out of high school too. Fuck.

  “I'll say.” She remained stiff, staring into the distance, breath ragged. Her hands balled on her knees, knuckles white.

  “I thought the host had seated you by mistake. I'm glad he didn't.”

  “Really?” she asked, flicking her eyes to mine and biting her lip.

  “Absolutely. You?”

  “I thought you were being a jerk,” she laughed, smiling. “But once you said Bear I was shocked.”

  “Pleasantly surprised, I hope?”

  “Horrified actually,” she admitted.

  I couldn't blame her; I was never cordial. I couldn't be. Not with the thought of her mouth on my cock coursing through my mind at every glance.

  “But I'm pleasantly surprised now,” she declared, the truth out there for the taking. “You're a lot more personable than you let on. Dare I say likable?”

  “Of course, I'm personable! I work in sales!” I chuckled.

  “You're a lot easier to talk to when you're not so intense,” she offered, smile fading. “You can be scary.”

  “Old habits,” I admitted, shrugging.

  The easiest way to navigate the business was through confidence, hitting hard with unwavering strength. I br
ought that same intensity to the sales office, aiming to rub off on my employees.

  “But, you're everything I expected in Bear and more.”

  “More?” I asked, arching a brow.

  “You're a lot cuter.” Her cheeks flushed red, her eyes averted to her lap as she tilted her chin down. “Seriously. If you looked like Quasimodo, I would have had a moral meltdown.”

  I chuckled at her honesty. It was refreshing in a world of bullshitters. “And you're better than I ever imagined.”

  The ride stopped, her eyes popping wide. The gondola tilted my way, our weight difference launching her in the air, forcing us to rock precariously back and forth, her face reddening as the bolts creaked.

  I eased forward, dipping around the center pole to distribute my weight and reduce the movement of the cart. In my awkward angle, we were suddenly face to face, her cheeks flushed and lips parted.

  She sat perfectly still, eyes heavy-lidded. It was now or never. I'd either kiss her, and she'd kiss me back, or she'd punch me in the dick and never speak to me again.

  With a shaky breath, I leaned over the last few inches and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. Months of lust came to a head, finally crossing the line. Unfortunately, they were as soft and sensual as I imagined, tasting of honey chapstick and the Moscato she had with dinner.

  While I was only aiming for a peck, she deepened the kiss, knocking me off my game. Every ethics course I ever took flashed before my eyes with Croft handbooks close behind. But no amount of scare tactics could scare off desire.

  With nothing to lose but my sanity and career, I eased into the kiss and tasted her back, exploring her warmth. My control faltered, hands sinking in her hair.

  She was so sweet.

  So soft.

  So responsive.

  Her hands rested on my chest, small devices of torture burning everywhere they touched. One cradled my jaw, the smooth skin sliding over the grate of stubble as she claimed me right back.

  Mine had a mind of their own as one wandered to her chest, cupping gently and earning a moan of approval. My fingers wrapped around her, the heaping breast a perfect fit, her nipple puckering in my palm.