by M. Sinclair
The house was silent, the television volume down as I watched the light reflect against her stunning tan skin. I hadn’t been lying to her—I did prefer this house over our own, but not because it was anything special right now. It was far more about what it could be for the group of us. I brought my lips down to press against her cheekbone as she mumbled something in her sleep, smiling softly as she stretched against me and fell back into a peaceful slumber. My eyes traveled down her sexy form, a blanket covering both of us from the waist down, but leaving her little halter top to my complete appraisal.
I let out a small groan, noticing that her nipples were slightly hard, pressing against her top and making me realize she wasn’t wearing a bra. How easy would it be to push her shirt up before biting and kissing her soft skin like I’d always imagined. I fucking knew her tits would be perfect, and it was a damn shame I’d never seen them.
Although, there had been a few times this past summer by the pool that I’d cursed her tiny bikini, because fuck—it was less of a bikini and far more of the world’s cruelest tease.
My fingers ran over her soft stomach as I felt shivers break out onto her skin, making my grin grow, unable to help the surge of pride and fascination at how her body reacted to mine, even in sleep. What would she do if I buried myself between her long legs so that I could devour every inch of her little pussy? I was hoping she would at least let me finish her before she hit me over the head for being an ass and practically attacking her.
I tensed, thinking about how I suddenly hated the word. I did want to pin Dahlia down, but the word ‘attack’ instantly had me feeling furious at Ian. I couldn’t go there right now, though—not when she was in my arms. I tried to distract myself, because I was angry enough tonight, and that wouldn’t do any good.
Instead, I looked around the large family room we were in. The bones of the brick colonial were massive, and a lot of the walls had been taken down throughout the years, expanding the visual size of each floor. I think there were four in total? Possibly five, including the basement. While that base work had been done, almost everything else needed to be updated so that Dahlia fell in love with it.
I was actually really excited to get on with this part of the plan, and I had absolutely no doubt that with the help of an interior designer, Dahlia would be able to make this twelve thousand square foot estate comfortable and cozy. She filled every space with light and energy.
Plus, she was going to be thrilled when she realized who King had hired for this project. Originally, when he had asked me to reach out to one of my mom’s contacts, I hadn’t fully understood why, but as usual, King was ten steps ahead of everyone, and we’d caught up pretty quickly. Now I’d managed to secure one of Dahlia’s favorite designers from an interior design show that she always watched.
The woman had been absolutely thrilled, and while we had refused to be put on the show, I think the commission we were offering was more than enough to pad it. Honestly, Dahlia could decorate everything in neon pink, and as long as she loved it and it made her want to live here with us, I would be thrilled. My smile grew, wondering how the hell this conversation was eventually going to go down.
The concept of leaving Wildberry Lane had never been one that was particularly appealing to any of us, so while this concept of living together had always been an idea that we wanted to pursue, it had been fairly stagnant until the previous owner of this estate had moved out. I shouldn’t have been surprised when King had brought it the next day. It had sat empty most of the summer, and for whatever reason, my brother and I hadn’t fully put it together that the purchase he was talking about was this property until he came back into town. To be fair, between practices and spending time with Dahlia, we had been more than a bit distracted.
I had noticed her staring at it with curiosity often, probably wondering what the inside of it looked like now. A hunch that was only solidified tonight when she had walked the entire first floor with a wistful expression on her face before coming to cuddle. I knew that she was probably noticing all the subtle changes that had been made since we’d last visited in high school, but all too soon, none of the current design would matter.
It was set to become a blank canvas for a home with our girl.
Burying my nose against her throat, I let out a happy hum at that thought. Dahlia always smelled amazing, but right now she smelled especially sweet, her tan skin smelling faintly of coconuts from the lotion that she’d used tonight. I loved it. More than anything, though, I loved this stolen moment together, and I found myself wishing that this was more normal than not for us.
Maybe it could be…
I knew she would be confused about our kiss when she woke up and started to overthink it. I just needed to break her out of that mentality. Dahlia was far less confused about what was going on here than she gave herself credit for. The woman had kissed both Sterling and I today and had simply fallen into a pattern like it was normal, because it should be for us. She hadn’t found it weird when we had been essentially book end to her at the bonfire, and whether she realized it or not, she talked about our group as if it was already the established family that we were going to be in the future. So maybe this could become the new normal.
I mean, cuddling on the couch wasn’t that odd, but this had a different edge to it.
I craved to wake her up just so I could see her face flush like it had been all night. I loved when Dahlia blushed, and I loved how open she was with her emotions. There was such a realness to her reactions, and I didn’t want anything to taint that. It was why I hadn’t given her too much shit when I’d woken up to my brother practically pinning her down on the couch in her bedroom suite. In fact, if anything, I’d been jealous.
Jealous that he’d kissed her first.
Now that I had kissed her, though—really kissed her—I couldn’t even blame him for acting like a possessive weirdo all night. It was enough to make a man want to lock her up in a room just so that no one else got to see her like that. To hear those soft little noises she made when you gripped her body and dominated her mouth.
Swallowing down my emotions, I ran my fingers against her elegant throat, realizing that I was so deep in that it was possibly dangerous to everyone around me. Dahlia brought forth urges in me that I hadn’t even realized existed. Ones that told me to hide her away from the rest of the world because I was selfish. Really fucking selfish. She was ours, and that had become clear a long time ago.
We just needed to tell her.
Kingston was going to be furious when he found out I’d also kissed her. Well, not furious, but frustrated. He couldn’t talk, though—Kingston always made fucking decisions without us, and while usually they made sense in the long run, sometimes it was because he was an impatient fucker. So now he could deal. Dahlia had kissed both my brother and I… really fucking eagerly. I couldn’t regret it, and I would probably continue to do it. We would just have to deal with adjusting our timeline on telling her.
One that we hadn’t even worked out. I think we were all so freaked out at the idea of fucking up this careful balance that we had just done nothing. Until today. It didn’t surprise me that my brother had kissed her, because how could you not when Dahlia was laid out against you on a couch? My eyes flickered down to my case in point. But I’d been so goddamn worked up at the prospect of what could have happened with Gregory that I hadn’t been in full control of my reactions. My body had jumped ahead of my common sense, and before I knew it, I was devouring her soft lips as she kissed me back like it was the most natural thing in the entire goddamn world. Like we’d been doing it forever.
I had imagined kissing Dahlia again a million times in my head, not the sweet kiss from when we were younger, but one where I finally kissed her like I wanted. And now that I’d kissed her again, exactly how I wanted, I realized that my fantasies were absolutely nothing compared to the reality of it.
I should have been scared about my emotional spectrum regarding Dahlia, because it was like nothing I’d
ever felt before. Her frame shifted against me as if sensing my tension as I tried to relax, just thrilled to have her here in my arms. It had been a smart idea for King to send me back here, because I’d almost lost it. This wasn’t about Dahlia not being around when he beat the ever living fuck out of Greg and made it clear that he shouldn’t ever breathe her name. No, this was about me getting out of there before I did something to land myself in legal trouble. We were dealing with enough of that this weekend.
My jaw clenched as images of what I’d like to do to Greg, how I wanted to make him suffer, flashed across my brain. I knew that there was a part of me that was broken, and there was no damn reason for it. I’d grown up normally, with a loving family. So why the fuck did I have such an insane sense of bloodlust? Honestly, I think maybe King was the only one who knew the true extent of it, because it was something I carried so tight to my chest that even my own twin hadn’t caught on yet.
Then again, King and I had been through a lot together.
Yates, Sterling, and hell, even Stratton had lines they wouldn’t cross. Mind you, not many, as in seriously very few… but I didn’t really have those same hang-ups. I took pleasure in watching someone like Greg become terrified, and I had to admit, I was a bit jealous I wasn’t there right now, watching him lose consciousness.
Not that I would trade holding Dahlia for any amount of violence… but it was something I’d find enjoyable. It was probably better that Sterling was there, because he would attempt to convince King that we had to keep the bastard alive. We couldn’t kill two people in one weekend—that was excessive, even for us.
I also didn’t trust myself to stick to that if I was actually around Gregory. His words to Dahlia infuriated me, but not nearly as much as the concept that he would suggest she could be with anyone but us.
I would probably end up leaving quite the mess if I was involved.
My eyes darted down to my phone, wondering when we were going to get another call, one related to someone that unfortunately wasn’t getting the same pleasure of just a beat down. No, the other bastard was going to die, and if I had to assume, we’d be getting that call sooner rather than later. I just wish we had been able to do it ourselves.
Although, as Mr. Carter had repeatedly told us, if he wasn’t out of the country, we would be the main suspects if he ‘happened’ to be hurt.
Well, it was good he would be firmly back in Scotland before that happened, then. Trying to calm the fury I could feel building, I entertained myself with the first time I’d ever felt like this. Ever felt enraged at the concept of Dahlia being anyone but our girl. Even when we were younger, the idea seemed foreign and unnatural.
“Dahlia?” I called out my friend’s name, pushing into the private study room in our high school library, the last afternoon period leaving the space essentially deserted. I frowned, realizing that the space was empty, her backpack and books abandoned on the table. Putting down my backpack, I checked my phone, noticing that I had no messages from her. A bit of concern hit my chest as I stepped back out of the room. Where was she?
I knew she needed to work on shit, and I wish I could tell you I was here to be productive, but honestly, it was really just to hang out with her. I’d been assigned an insane amount of work today in my advanced classes, and I needed these next forty-five minutes to detox before we went home for the day.
Suddenly, I heard her familiar laughter ring out from nearby as an uneasy feeling ran through me. Walking down the hall, I came to the glass door of the study room next to ours and felt a low, annoyed grumble break through my throat before opening the sliding door and drawing both their attention. Yeah, this wasn’t going to fucking happen.
A wave of jealousy and possessiveness that had no right to exist at fifteen crashed into me. Dahlia looked up from where she sat at the study table, talking to Finn, her smile lighting up the entire goddamn space. What the hell was he doing talking to her, and why were they alone in a study room? I tried to shake the red haze as both looked over at me, my emotions doing an unbalanced dance.
“Dahlia.” I offered a small smile as her gaze brightened on me. She stood up and immediately waltzed over, wrapping her arms around my center as I pressed a kiss to her forehead, narrowing my eyes over her head at Finn. He scowled as I looked down at her, her voice lightly talking about the assignment they’d been given in class today and how complicated it was. Honestly, it only made me feel moderately better that there was an academic reason that she had for her interaction.
Couldn’t we just hire a private tutor for the group of us?
“Want me to help you out with it?” I asked her, gently twirling a piece of her hair around my finger, the wavy texture messy from being in school all day. She always fidgeted with her hair, so it usually looked a bit wild by this time of day.
“I would love that,” she said, smiling. “Then when we get home we can work on that project.”
“Let’s go.” I nodded, and Dahlia turned towards Finn, bidding him a goodbye as I offered a smug smile, letting the door shut as I led her back towards our room.
For the next forty-five minutes, I was more than happy to focus on her assignment, because I’d rather work all day, every day on homework with her than ever have her be alone with Finn. He could fuck off. Plus, I did want to focus on the project I’d promised her. I felt like building her a computer to hold all of her pictures was a pretty good show of my friendship and better than whatever that bastard could work up.
Following that incident, Finn didn’t fuck with Dahlia. But not everyone was as smart as Finn—some people, like Greg, pushed the envelope until I snapped. Well, more specifically, King snapped, in this case. It actually surprised me that I had such a terrible temper, considering how good I was at compartmentalizing information. I was known for being rather clinical, except when it came to Dahlia. She seemed to be the exception to most things.
Any other time I was usually rational, my head focused on computer codes, some site I was developing, or fucking with the stock market program I’d designed. It was my escape from the intense emotions and need that spiraled through me whenever Dahlia was close. I had to imagine, now that I’d kissed her, tasted her, that I would never fully be able to detach again. I would always be thinking of her lips on mine, and it was going to completely anchor me to this plane of existence with an emotional spectrum that was volatile to those around me. Dahlia had no need to worry, but everyone else? They should be a bit concerned.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, my cock twitched at the idea of her being on top of me again, stradling my much larger frame and rocking back and forth on my cock. I was always so goddamn hard around her, and it had almost been amusing to see her realize that tonight. I could show her up close if she wanted. Hell, she could even fucking open that pretty mouth of hers—
The door opened, pulling me from my thoughts as I sat up slightly, putting a finger to my lips in warning as Kingston rounded the corner into the family room. He pointed towards the kitchen, and I sat up, trying to not shift Dahlia. Yates and Sterling followed after King, and Dermot offered me a head nod, sliding against the floor in front of her as I let out a small yawn, wishing I didn’t have to get up.
My smirk grew as I made a mental bet that Dermot took my spot by the time I got back. I wasn’t even that bitter about that, because I was eager as hell to know what they’d done to Greg.
I had my suspicions on why Kingston was so comfortable with Dermot’s feelings for Dahlia. His very obvious feelings. Why he trusted him in the first place with the most important woman in the world to every single one of us. It was the same reason that I grouped him naturally as one of us, rather than someone like Finn.
I had known Dermot for a few years now, after traveling overseas with Kingston, and since then we’d kept in touch. I knew he came from a fucked-up family life. Far worse than he even liked admitting to, considering his father was an emotionally abusive prick. Still, Dermot had turned out to be a good guy, which was why I t
rusted him.
Everything about his actions was authentic, and while I had no idea how Dahlia felt about him, I was comfortable with him around her. It helped that his reasoning for why he came here and his unwavering loyalty to Kingston spoke to that quality about him. I couldn’t have predicted how he had felt about Dahlia, or her reaction to him, but I would bet my ass King had guessed. It wasn’t any secret that obsessive tendencies ran rampant in the Ross family.
Which was another reason why everything going on with Dahlia was bothering Kingston so much. He hated not understanding shit about her, and unfortunately, I had a feeling that there was something much larger going on here than we had initially assumed. I didn’t think that this was just a case of her having been bullied online. I think it was far more serious, and it terrified me the way that she sometimes looked so haunted and exhausted. I didn’t like how delicate she seemed, not even just emotionally, but physically. It made me want to wrap her up in protective bubble wrap, forever. I knew that wasn’t a healthy mindset, but ask me if I gave a fuck.
None of us did, really. If it kept Dahlia safe, it was good in my book. I was prepared to run on instinct, and if that meant trusting Dermot, I was as cool with it as I was with putting a tracker on her. Something I was slowly convincing my twin of.
“Holy shit,” I chuckled as my brother turned on the kitchen lights, the other two already spread throughout the massive room. I couldn’t help but smile at Yates’s shirt, which was covered in blood, or the fact that King’s hair was dripping with blood that ran onto his face, both of them looking completely unaffected by the nature of the situation, making me wonder what would have happened if they’d gotten pulled over like this.
I would have paid to see that shit.
I looked over my brother, surprised he didn’t have blood on him too. He offered me an amused smile, clearly knowing where my thoughts had gone. I was smiling as well, but more because I knew fucking Greg suffered. I also knew that this had gone a long way to work out the frustration from what had happened with Ian, since we hadn’t been able to take direct action at that.