by Shayla Black
when they were leaving, they didn’t tell her to pick up a case file and get busy.
Instead, both he and Tate had caught her alone and done their utmost to tempt her to kiss them. They’d invaded her space with their big, male bodies and stared down at her with hungry eyes, reminding her of everything she’d almost had. When she’d weakened enough to melt against them, when she could feel her blood humming and her sex aching, then the bastards would walk away, reminding her that she knew where to find them and they’d welcome her anytime.
Something had to give, and she worried it would be her. She’d spent three restless nights knowing that they were just down a flight of stairs. She’d also spent three nights dreaming of dead girls swinging from a rope and the monster who dragged them to their deaths.
She shivered, despite the heat of the day. It was morbid, but she couldn’t seem to stop the terrible dreams. She’d even gone so far as to check into the house’s history on a local historical website. It hinted at the home’s colorful past. Those tales were more rumor than anything, but the police reports on file corroborated Gates’s story. All the deaths had been suicides, not murders.
“I’ll be leaving now, Miss Wright. Thank you for allowing the interns to help with the inventory. We’ll get this mess put behind us so you can move on. The most important thing is to find your grandmother’s papers. She told me she had a life insurance policy, but I don’t have the name of the insurance company or the policy number. I’ll need to file on your behalf so you can receive the funds.” Mr. Gates looked nervously around the house as though he thought someone might jump out and yell “boo.” Belle found his demeanor unsettling.
A cool breeze brushed past her legs. Cooler than cool, really. In fact, it felt like an arctic blast. Mr. Gates obviously felt it as well because he stiffened and took a giant step back to the threshold of the front door.
“I think that’s my cue to leave.” The lawyer’s eyes had gone wide. He swallowed nervously. “Expect the interns shortly.”
Belle frowned. The guy was really freaked out about the house. She’d noticed that when she’d first come here. That cold draft probably wasn’t anything more than the air conditioning being temperamental. The HVAC expert would be here in thirty minutes. Problem solved.
Unfortunately, now she’d have a group of wet-behind-the-ears wannabe lawyers parading through her house. So what was one more, especially if he managed to keep the temperature in the house stable? If necessary, she would shut off the rooms with exposed wood and pray she didn’t have to spend more than the rest of the funds her grandmother had left.
“If you think your interns can find the insurance paperwork and it’s worth some money, I’ll dance a jig.” Belle smiled, mentally making a priority list of all the things she could renovate.
Gates backed out of the house until he stood in the midmorning sun. Once he’d cleared the threshold, he visibly relaxed and regained his composure. “Thank you, Miss Wright. You know, all these repairs to the house will be quite expensive. My buyer is still willing to take this house off your hands and pay you in cash.”
She shook her head. Even with the debt mounting, she refused to sell. Despite her bad dreams, Belle loved being here. The house had quickly grown on her, and she felt a connection to the place she never had before. Her father had grown up here, and being under this roof reminded her how much she’d missed him.
She looked up, and the sight caused every sad thought to dissipate.
Tate jogged up the sidewalk, his big body covered in nothing but sweatpants, sneakers, and a fine sheen of sweat. Every muscle on the man’s body bulged. The definition of his shoulders and chest almost made her drop her jaw. Belle hoped she could remember to breathe. Damn, when he wore next to nothing, she needed one of those arctic air drifts blasting through the house.
A flirty grin transformed his face as he jogged his way up to the house. “Hey, baby. You should have worked out with me. I burned roughly seven hundred calories given distance, time, exertion, and my relative weight.” He utterly ignored the lawyer nearly blocking the door and gave her a sexy little growl. “Although oral sex burns roughly a hundred calories per half hour, and you wouldn’t have to do anything but let me love on you.”
She gasped and slapped his perfectly muscled bicep. “Tate! Hush, you dirty man. Go take a shower. You’re supposed to be the one with the delicate nose.”
“I can’t smell myself.” He shouldered his way past Gates, who recoiled and grimaced. Then Tate leaned in and ran his nose along her neck, breathing against her and lighting up her skin. “But you smell so good.” He turned to Gates, suddenly focused and protective. Tate morphed from horny man to shrewd lawyer in the blink of an eye. “What do you need with my client, Mr. Gates?”
The older man frowned. “If that’s the way you treat a client, sir, then I’m afraid we have different ideas about professionalism. And my business here is done.”
He pivoted on his heel and walked away.
“You didn’t have to be rude,” he called back. Tate tended to correct people he didn’t like. He’d said he merely tried to make them more likeable, but Belle was pretty sure he did it to irritate them.
But that got her thinking… Maybe she should treat Tate a bit like Sir. When he was good, she’d toss a cookie his way. When he was rude, she could spray him with a water bottle. If nothing else, it would give her a giggle.
Tate eased inside and closed the door. “I don’t like him. He sets off my douchebag radar.”
Belle felt the same, but no sense in adding fuel to Tate’s fire. Once they’d finished all the paperwork associated with her grandmother’s estate, she’d never have to see Mr. Gates again.
“I need to get back to work.”
“One second.” He grabbed her elbow and pulled her so close the heat of his body wrapped around her.
God, even sweaty, he smelled amazing. So musky and manly… Her girl parts clenched in a silent pleading.
“What?” she breathed.
“Did you know that sex is one of the best workouts a man can get? I could burn a hundred and forty-four calories during actual intercourse and that doesn’t include the hundred I would have shed from eating your pussy.”
Heat flashed through her system again. The weak part of her longed to throw herself against Tate and forget prudence, but if she gave him an inch now, he’d more than take a mile. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“Is he going on again about eating your pussy?” Eric asked as they meandered into the kitchen.
Crap, he wasn’t wearing a shirt either. His thin jersey knit pants rode low on narrow hips. What had happened to her buttoned up, always-in-a-perfect-suit men? Now they walked around her house like super-hot cavemen, scratching their perfectly formed six packs.
“Neither one of you should be talking to me about any sort of sex. In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all since this isn’t your office. And why doesn’t anyone wear clothing anymore? I thought you’d set up a legal practice, not a Playgirl cover shoot.”
Belle hoped like hell that they couldn’t tell how she’d flushed at the sight of all their muscles and bare skin. Her cheeks only grew hotter when they managed to wedge her in between them. Sandwiching her between them and the kitchen counter, they cut off her only avenue of escape—something they seemed intent on doing more and more these days. She constantly found herself surrounded by gorgeous men eager to verbally seduce her every chance they had. Even Kellan had developed an alarming problem with personal space. She’d asked him to stay, and he’d decided that meant right against her.
Eric grinned. “What’s the problem? I’m enjoying this whole telecommuting thing. I could totally get used to ditching the jacket and tie. And baby, in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s way hotter down here than in Chicago. I’m too uncomfortable to wear clothes. When is the AC guy supposed to arrive? I hope he’s more competent than that idiot Mike.”
She sighed. “The electrician came highly recommende
d. I have a list of contractors. He was the first on the list.”
“Seriously? Who gave you the list?” Tate sounded irritated.
“My grandmother’s lawyer. You guys seem to have taken a dislike to Mike, but his quote is very reasonable and he seems to know what he’s doing. So let him do it.” The sooner she got the wiring fixed, the faster she could figure out how much money she had left for the pretty stuff. For now, focusing on prepping the living room walls for paint would force her to look at something besides the lovely male chests on display.
Another knock sounded on the door. Tate scowled. “I don’t like all these people coming in and out. We don’t know who they are. Baby, our place in Chicago doesn’t need this much work. You could move right in. We’d make sure you were totally happy and comfortable.”
She tried to squeeze between the two men to head for the door. But she brushed her breasts against Tate’s chest. Then she felt it. He had a massive, gloriously thick erection that pressed against his sweatpants and prodded her belly. The feel of him, hard and wanting, caught her off guard and she stepped back—into Eric.
Eric laughed, glancing down at Tate’s junk. “Dude, I have no idea how you run with that thing.”
But she felt Eric’s too, jutting against her ass. He wasn’t at all small or flaccid either.
“I can’t help it,” Tate defended. “The average adult male gets approximately eleven erections daily during waking hours, but when I’m around Belle or think about her—or even remember something that reminds me of her—I get hard. I’m probably skewing the average.” He shrugged. “I’m a guy who happens to be really crazy about a girl. Sue me.”
“Nah, I’d have to sue myself, too,” Eric admitted.
“No doubt.” Tate slapped his buddy on the shoulder and headed toward the stairs. “I’m going to take care of this thing, then I need to conference on the Harrison case.”
“Take care of what?” Belle just blinked. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant.
With a wink, Tate jogged up the stairs with more energy than a man who’d already spent an hour running should have. He would have that stamina in bed. The thought slammed her out of nowhere. This time, more than her cheeks flamed.
“He’s going to go masturbate,” Eric said matter-of-factly.
Someone knocked on the door again, this time more insistently.
“More information than I needed.” She scurried for the kitchen door, trying to put space between them. They were driving her completely insane, and if she didn’t spend the next hour imaging Tate bringing himself pleasure, it would be a miracle.
“We’re in your face because you’re being a stubborn little thing.” Eric caught her before she escaped by placing a palm flat on the door, caging her in. “Come home with us, Belle, to a place we can all share. Give us another shot, baby. Let us show you this can work.”
He was so close, his mouth lingering just above hers. She nearly lost herself in his glittering greenish eyes. All she’d have to do was lift her chin and inch up on her tiptoes to feel those firm, talented lips against her own. Already, her body prepared itself for him. She’d softened and had to force herself not to lean into him. Her nipples peaked. Her pussy moistened and throbbed.
Whoever stood outside banged impatiently against the door again, and the moment was broken.
Biting out a curse, Eric stepped back. “I’m going to set up that conference. This afternoon, we’ll help you paint.”
She shook her head. “You don’t need to do that. I understand you have work.”
“I said we’ll help you after lunch. And I expect you to eat today. Lunch is at noon. See you then.” Eric turned and planted himself at the breakfast table again.
Shaking her head, Belle pushed her way out of the room and hustled to the door, signing for an overnight package of new bedding she’d ordered.
As soon as she shut the door, she leaned against it and closed her eyes. What was she going to do? The guys weren’t going to leave. They’d already made that point crystal clear. If she kept them here, their business would eventually suffer.
Or they might do exactly what they threatened and move the whole damn office here permanently. Tate had already bought a book on passing the bar in Louisiana.
She dug into the box, trying to busy herself…but in the back of her head, she couldn’t help but wonder how much longer she could resist them.
“Belle!” Kellan strode down the stairs, her puppy in the crook of his arm. “Your rat-thing crapped in my dress shoes. Do you have any idea how expensive those damn loafers were?”
She did since she’d been the one to order them. “Sir, please stop that.”
Belle refused to chastise the puppy too much. He still wasn’t completely housebroken, and he’d likely forgotten to bark at her so that she knew he needed to go.
She reached for her dog, watching as Kellan’s face went red. She winced inwardly because she’d managed to get through three whole days without the big bad Dom figuring out her little joke. But now the jig was about to be up. She winced.
“What is it you think I need to stop, Belle?” He clipped and carefully enunciated every word.
She scrambled to avoid answering him because she and Kellan had formed a decent truce and she was reluctant to upset him. “Uhm, you have to stop holding my dog that way. He needs to have his underbelly completely supported or he feels unsafe.”
Sir proved her words a lie as he did everything he could to wriggle out of her grasp.
Kell ground his teeth together. “Annabelle, did you name that thing Sir?”
She tried to send him a bright smile. “I wanted to help his self-esteem. I’m sure he could be an alpha dog.”
The puppy yipped, and Belle let him down. Immediately, he started chasing his tail. Somewhere beyond the kitchen, a door slammed shut. Sir scampered behind Kellan with a little whine.
He shook his head. “You’re changing his name.”
“Am not,” she said quietly as he walked into the kitchen.
“You absolutely are. Now, Annabelle.”
“My house. My dog.” She marched toward the living room, Sir hard on her heels.
Kellan came after her. The ringing of his phone was the only thing that saved her from more of this confrontation. Belle left the room while she could…but she was pretty sure he would think of some punishment soon.
* * * *
Tate sighed and let his weary body slide into the chair across from Kellan. Painting sucked. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as sex, but Belle probably didn’t trust that there’d be no repeat of the debacle in Dallas. And she obviously wasn’t ready.
The question was, would she ever be ready?
All Belle seemed interested in was reading that journal of her grandmother’s and fixing up this old house, though they’d had a promising couple of minutes earlier in the day, so Tate had high hopes for the evening. But right after dinner, Belle had escaped into her grandmother’s office and began browsing an old photo album she’d found.
Her father’s mother had been a beauty who had surrounded herself with other gorgeous women. Page after page showed pictures of Belle’s grandma standing near women who looked like they belonged on the silver screen. He’d loved the smile on Belle’s face as she pointed out her dad during various stages of his childhood and adolescence.
Again, Tate recalled the day she’d spoken to him about her father’s death. She’d haltingly admitted that her mom had shut down after he’d died. Though she’d received basic care, Belle had been utterly alone. He related. Even in a house filled with family, no one who shared his flesh and blood had reached out to him as a child. He wondered if that festering hurt caused any of Belle’s hesitation to dive into a relationship now.
Eric walked into their “office,” yawning. “I got the briefs filed in time. I’m going to have to fly back next week. I don’t want to, but I have to handle the court date myself.”
After just three days away, the strain on t
heir business was becoming evident. They could handle much of their case load via computer and phone, but Kellan and Eric still appeared in court routinely. Tate avoided it like the plague. Mostly because he’d come to realize that judges were pompous windbags who liked to hear themselves talk, and being forced to listen to other lawyers pontificate made him want to punch someone in the face. He preferred contracts and corporate clients to dealing with criminal cases. He usually ended up wanting to punch unscrupulous assholes, too. Tate understood the law. People were another matter altogether.
At the moment, that included Belle.
“Okay. Do you need me to schedule the flight?” He was probably the only one of them who remembered their passwords.
“Yeah. Fuck, we need a secretary.” Eric sat in the chair beside him.
Kellan chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think any of us really understood until now how much Belle did for us.”
“I would reward her properly if she would let me.” In fact,