On shaky legs, I walk out of the kitchen without looking back. I don’t have to turn around to know the man is walking behind me. In that moment, all I can hear is my thundering heartbeat and the sound of his heavy footsteps against the wooden floor.
Grabbing onto the railing to steady myself, I climb the stairs, but the crushing fear makes my head spin, and I have to stop once I reach the top step. A wave of dizziness overcomes me, threatening to pull me under and into the maddening darkness.
All at once, I’m swaying like a tree branch caught in a storm. I can feel the railing in my clammy grip. Blinking away the dizziness, I try and steady myself, but my legs are still wobbling, my knees knocking together. When the guy behind me places a gentle hand on my shoulder to steady me, I almost let out a scream. If I didn’t think I might tumble down the stairs right this second, I would shove him away.
“Just take it slow and find me that drive. No need to get yourself all worked up, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you unless I absolutely have to.”
“What about the guys? Are they safe? Are you going to hurt them?”
“Only if they do something stupid. Now isn’t the time to be a hero. As long as they follow directions, I promise nothing bad will happen.”
I swallow down my fear and give him a tiny head nod. Taking the last step up, I start down the hall and into my room. My feet are heavy as I head straight for my desk. With trembling fingers, I open the top drawer searching frantically for the drive. Pens, pencils, sticky notes, everything inside that drawer goes flying.
Every second I can’t find it feels like an eternity. Fear rapidly mounts, and for a moment, I wonder if maybe it’s lost.
What happens if I don’t find it? No. I can’t think like that. I’ll find it. No matter what. When my fingers scrape against the back of the drawer, I start to think of another place I might have put it… but as I move across the back, and to the other side, my fingers graze against something metal and tiny.
Sweet baby Jesus.
Wrapping my fingers around the small device, I almost sag to the floor in relief. “Here it is. That’s it,” I’m basically panting as I hand it to him.
He smiles, and it leaves me feeling cold rather than warm. “There you go. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Let’s go back downstairs. You walk ahead of me,” he orders and points his gun toward the door. I’m only feeling a little better as I walk out of the room, down the hall, and then the stairs. When we enter the kitchen again, I find all three brothers staring at me. One gaze more intense than the next, and I force the tiniest smile because right now, that’s the only way I can let them know that I’m okay.
“Got it,” scar face tells tattoo guy, a satisfying grin appearing on his lips.
“Great. Well, thanks for having us over at such a late hour,” the man snickers. “I hope it goes without saying that we were never here, the video never existed, and you forget the name Xander Rossi for good. I don’t have to tell you what happens if you don’t, right?”
“We’ll be happy to forget this whole thing,” I say quickly, wanting this moment to end.
“Perfect. You mind seeing us out, lover boy?” he asks, looking to Oliver. The way he’s looking at him gives me the creeps and makes me feel like something bad is going to happen. Everything inside me tells me not to let Oliver go with him, but as Oliver gets up from his chair, I find that I’m stuck in place, my feet sinking into the wooden floor like it’s quicksand.
With Oliver leading the way, I watch as the three men walk to the door, the dreadful feeling that something bad is about to happen only expands with each step they take.
Just before Oliver reaches the door, scar face steps in his way, and without saying a single word, he pulls his fist back and punches Oliver in his stomach, the force of the blow causes him to stumble backward.
“What the fuck?” He wheezes out, doubling over, pain etching deep into his features. He wraps an arm around his stomach just as the second guy delivers another hit, this one onto the back of his head. Oliver slumps forward, landing on the floor in a heap.
My heart sinks into my stomach. I have to do something. Looking to Banks and Sullivan for some type of guidance they both wince, and give me a head shake. I can see they want to do something, but the risk of me getting hurt outweighs what Oliver is going through to them. I don’t care, though, not with Oliver on the floor.
“Stop!” I scream, and jump up from the chair, my body floods with adrenaline, letting me move at speeds I didn’t know were possible. I’m across the room in seconds, but the guys are right behind me, grabbing me by the arms, and hauling me backward before I can tend to Oliver.
Scar face swings around then, pointing his gun at us. He shakes his head as if I’ve somehow disappointed him by not staying in my seat.
“Stop, you promised you wouldn’t hurt them!” I yell, my vision blurring from the onslaught of tears. I struggle against Banks and Sullivan, but there’s no point. Their hands are like heavy iron shackles around my limbs.
“I promised nothing bad was going to happen. This isn’t that bad… not considering what we could have done to you for threatening the Rossi family.”
More tears slip down my cheeks, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I watch them land another kick to Oliver’s stomach.
“Okay, okay, you made your point. Please, just… just leave,” I barely get the words out as I speak between sobs. “I swear, it will never happen again.”
Scar face lifts his hand, and his partner stops mid-kick. “Next time, it won’t be a little ass-kicking. Next time you’ll pay in blood.”
“We understand,” I pant. All I want them to do is leave so I can take care of Oliver. Staring at his unconscious body, all I can think is how this is my fault, if I hadn’t threatened my father then maybe none of this would have happened. This is my fault, all mine.
“Excellent,” scar face smiles, and gestures for the other guy to come over by him. “It was a pleasure doing business with you. Have a good rest of your night.”
Together the two men leave as if they were never here. As soon as the door closes behind them, Sullivan and Banks release me.
“I’ll lock the door,” Sullivan tells Banks, “make sure he’s okay.”
The guys bustle around me, but I’m too consumed with a need to get to Oliver that I don’t even pay attention to what they’re doing. Scurrying across the floor, I drop down to my knees near Oliver’s head. A whimpered sob escapes my lips when I see his face. He looks as if he’s sleeping, no pain on his features, but I know once he wakes up, he is going to be in a world of hurt. I just hope he is going to be okay… he has to be.
Holding his head in my lap, I run my hand over his forehead before spearing my fingers through his hair. I find a bump right away, and do my best not to press against it.
“He’s got a pretty good bump on his head,” I tell Banks, who is kneeling on the floor beside me. He’s got Oliver’s shirt pushed up, and I try my best not to flinch when I see that his ribs are already swelling, taking on a deep red, bluish color.
“He’s got some bruising, but he’ll be okay. He’ll be in a lot of pain, but he’ll live,” Sullivan tells both Banks and me, and even though, I know he’ll be okay, it doesn’t make the fact that none of this would’ve happened had it not been for me, any easier to handle.
“This is my fault, all mine. I’m sorry...I’m so sorry, Oliver.” I start to sob uncontrollably, my heart crumbling in my chest.
“Stop, Harlow. Don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault. Not every bad thing that happens is your fault.” Banks tries his best to soothe me, his voice soft and kind, but I don’t want to hear him tell me it’s not my fault, not when I know deep down it is.
“This could’ve been much worse, so we’re lucky that it ended like this, and not with you hurt, or one of us dead. People get their houses broken into all the time.” Like always, the guys pretend that these bad things would’ve happened to them even if I wasn’t par
t of their lives. This wasn’t a random break-in. These people were here because of me. I’m a poison, destroying and infecting everything in my wake.
Holding Oliver’s head in my trembling hands, I pray he wakes soon, and that I can find a way to make the Bishops’ lives safe again.
Every time I need saving, they’re there for me, rescuing me like white knights, but I don’t want to be a princess that needs to be saved anymore.
I want to save myself and them.
41
“Would you stop, you’re worse than a mother hen.” Oliver slaps at my hands as I inspect his ribs for the fiftieth time today. The guilt of what happened a few days ago is still fresh. Like a newly stitched wound, it stings and burns.
“I’m sorry,” I pout, “I just feel terrible about what happened, and you wince every time you walk. It makes me…”
“Stop,” Oliver orders his voice strong, powerful, and way too loud for the library. “You’ve been beating yourself up for days over this, and it’s not your fault.” Leaning into my side, he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. “I’m glad it was me. I would much rather feel this than ever see you bruised and in pain. If it were you that was hurt, you know damn well my brothers, and I would most likely be dead by now, trying to kill those fuckers.”
I shiver involuntarily, the gruffness of his voice, the truth in his words. They light a flame of pleasure in my core. I still want to be the one to rescue myself, but there isn’t any harm in letting a man cherish my body, my heart. Or letting three do so, all at once.
“I know, you’ve said that a few times now, but I still feel bad.”
“Well, don’t… in fact…” He presses a kiss to the sensitive spot right below my ear, and I already know what he’s thinking. Mostly because I’m thinking it too. Tenderly he sucks on the flesh, and I find my fingers circling around the pencil a little tighter.
“I can’t focus with you doing that…” My voice is breathless, my thoughts swirling, heading to a place that involves both of us naked, sweating, and not doing homework.
“That’s the point, baby,” he whispers into the shell of my ear, before scraping his teeth across the flesh that he just sucked on. The sensation is like fire and ice. Pain and pleasure.
My nipples harden against the fabric of my bra, and I drop my pencil. Oliver lets out a low chuckle, and together we shove everything into our backpacks. Before I can start walking toward the exit, he takes my hand in his and tugs me toward him.
Giving him a confused look, I let him guide me wherever it is he wants to take me. A short walk later, we’re in what looks to be an upper part of the library. Old books surround us, and dust clings to the air like it’s a second skin. Oliver pulls me over to a door that has a little sign on it that says DO NOT ENTER.
“What are we doing?” I whisper, afraid that we’ll get caught being somewhere that we clearly shouldn’t be.
“Fucking,” Oliver grins at me over his shoulder, “that is if you want to.” The way his teeth sink into his bottom lip, and the deepness of his voice as he speaks, it all acts as a firework to my already throbbing center.
Closing the door behind us, I don’t wait to ask him any more questions. I want him, and I want him now. Like a hungry kitten, I pounce, gently shoving him against a nearby bookcase. He grins down at me, two beautiful dimples appearing on his face.
“You’re so fucking beautiful and perfect, Harlow. I know you think that everything bad that happens is your fault, but you don’t see the joy that you bring. You don’t see how happy you make us; how much better our lives are because of you.”
I gasp, because his words touch me, not in a sexual way, but in a way that makes the gnawing guilt a little more bearable.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper, pushing up on to my tiptoes. Slanting my lips against his, I kiss him with a hunger that rivals all others. And he gives it right back to me, biting at my bottom lip, and squeezing my hips in a way that makes me groan deeply into his mouth.
Our tongues collide, and in this moment, he’s thunder, and I’m lightning. The perfect elements for a storm. Brushing my chest against his, I wonder if he can feel how hard my nipples are, how much they ache to be in his mouth?
Breaking the kiss, he nudges me backward until my ass hits the edge of a desk. I’m grinning like a fool, my hands slip under his shirt, and move over the perfectly sculpted muscles there. He’s ripped, and all I can think about is kissing each and every little bruise, tending to his every want and need.
Before I can get that far though, he’s on me, his hands tugging at my shirt, his mouth sucking at my flesh. All I can hear is our heavy pants and my own pulse in my ears. With my shirt off, he pushes my bra straps off my shoulders and removes each breast from its cup before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth.
My fingers cut through his hair, and I hold his head in place as pleasure flickers deep inside my core.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I pant, wondering if he’s going to get me off with nothing but his tongue on my nipple.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,” he smirks around my nipple, releasing it with a loud pop so he can pay the other side the same attention. I can feel how wet I am for him already and know it won’t take much to make me come.
“Pants,” he orders, reminding me that I’ve still got them on. While he peppers kisses against my chest, I undo the button on my jeans and slide them down my thighs, kicking them away once they reach my feet.
Oliver breaks away to undo his own bottoms, and within seconds we’re both naked. Even in the dim lighting of the room, I can see that his cock is swollen and angry looking. There’s a drop of pre-cum on the tip that I crave to lick away.
“My eyes are up here,” he says, chuckling, and I can’t help but smile.
His hands trail down my body until they reach my hips, once there they come to a stop, he squeezes my flesh before lifting me to place my ass at the edge of the table.
“I have to taste you right now.” The urgency in his voice confirms his need, and with a gentle nudge, I’m on my back and lifting my hips for him to pull my panties off. Peeling the silky fabric down my legs, I can’t help but grin as he tosses them to the floor and presses my knees to my chest. Leaning in, he gives me one long lick.
“Oh, god…” I mumble at the onslaught of sensations. My fingers grip on to the edge of the table as he does it all over again, spreading my lips with his fingers. That skilled tongue of his flicks against my swollen clit, and I gush like a waterfall, my legs shaking as he sucks the tiny bud into his mouth. Heat rises in my cheeks, and my entire body warms as lightning rods of pleasure zing up my spine.
“Come for me, come all over my tongue.” Oliver’s husky voice vibrates through my core, and within seconds I’m falling apart, my hips bucking against his face as he continues licking me, savoring every last drop of my release as if it’s a fine wine.
Like a wave, I come crashing back down, my body a liquid mass against the table. Oliver moves from between my legs, coming to stand. There’s a carnal look in his eyes, and in that moment, I’m ensnared, trapped in his web, a willing victim to the pleasure he’ll bring me.
Through hooded eyes, I watch him stroke his cock. One stroke. Two strokes. My mouth waters. I want him. Need him.
“Please,” I whisper, my eyes pleading.
He smirks, “Please, what? Say it. Ask me.”
My cheeks flame, but I say it anyway because I’m no longer a shy, naive, virgin. I’m a woman who is loved by three different men. “Please, fuck me.”
“Gladly,” he growls, gripping on to one hip with a possessiveness that makes me warm inside. Bringing his cock to my wet entrance, he enters me in one thrust, and for one tiny second, all is right in the world. Nothing but us matters. Not what could happen tomorrow, not my father, not anything. There is just us and our joined bodies.
“Fuck me, you’re so tight, and warm, and shit, I’m not going to last if you keep squeezing me like that.”
The telltale signs of an orgasm start to snake up my spine. My toes curl, and my chest rises and falls rapidly, and though air fills my lungs, it feels like I can’t breathe. Like I’m free-falling out of the sky. It’s coming faster than usual, and Oliver must know it because he too starts to thrust harder and faster, bringing me to the edge of the cliff in nothing more than a few strokes.
“I’m coming,” I pant, my nails raking across his flesh.
“Yes, come for me. Squeeze me. Milk my cock.” His filthy mouth only encourages me, and within seconds I’m shattering like glass that’s been squeezed too tightly. My hips buck, and my eyes flutter closed as euphoric pleasure consumes me, wrapping me in a blanket of warmth.
As I’m coming down from my high, floating through the sky like a feather, Oliver starts to fall apart, his movements grow jerky, and I open my eyes to stare up at him, needing to see him come undone.
The brown of his eyes is darker now, and he bites on his bottom lip to stifle a groan. Damn is he sexy. I want to make him feel the same way he made me feel.
“Come inside me, please...” I lick my lips and wait with bated breath for him to fill me with his come.
“Fucking Christ, Harlow,” he curses, squeezing my hips with both hands. His hips piston, and all I can feel is him impaling me, breaking me apart to piece me back together again. And I love it. I love him. Three thrusts later and with a groan, I’m pretty sure the entire library heard, he starts to come, his cock pulsing deep inside of me, filling me with his sticky release.
The Bayshore Rivals: The Entier Series Page 38
