by Erin Watt
“Shit, she’s horny,” Hugh gloats. “Awesome. Can I have her when you’re done?”
“Sure. Let me do my thing and then she’s all yours.”
“How loose do you think she is? Heard she’s had a lot of action.”
“Don’t know yet. Can’t get her damn legs open.” He pushes me down onto a chair and thrusts a knee between my legs.
“Why not give her a little coke? That’ll wake her up.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
The pressure disappears as Daniel gets up and stalks over to the counter. I watch with alarm as he rummages through a drawer.
“Where does Farris keep that shit…I thought it was here…Oh, maybe the fridge.”
I hear muffled voices from outside the pool house. “Ella…seen her…Daniel…pool…”
“Reed.” I force myself to get to my feet. “Reed.” I stumble past the two girls who are busy kissing each other.
“Hey, hold up.” Daniel slams a drawer shut and races over to me, slapping his hand on the door before I can pull it open. “Where you going?”
“I need to leave,” I insist and grab for the doorknob.
“No you don’t. Come back here.”
We fight for the door. Daniel has something sharp and shiny in his hand. “Hugh. A hand please,” he calls.
I pound on the door. “Reed! Reed!”
Daniel curses and Hugh yanks me away, but they’re too late. The door bursts open and Reed appears. His blue eyes immediately become enraged when he spots the three of us.
I lurch toward him. Daniel, in his surprise, lets me go and I fall on the floor.
“What the fuck is going on?” Reed growls.
“Shit, man, she’s trashed,” Daniel says with a hasty laugh. “I had to bring her here so she wouldn’t embarrass herself.”
“No, no,” I protest, trying to sit up but it’s all a muddle. I can’t find the words to explain myself. I can only look up at Reed in despair. He’ll hate me now. He’ll really believe I’m a slut. All the fight drains out of me. I’m done.
More people arrive and five sets of big feet line up before my eyes. The number of people here to witness my humiliation grows. I drop my head to the tiled floor hoping that it opens up and swallows me whole.
“You have two options.” Reed starts speaking. His voice is strong and calm, as if he’s giving a morning address to the student body. “You can either apologize and tell the truth, and only one of us will beat your face in. Or you lie and we all take turns making your body into a science project. Choose your words carefully.”
Is he talking to me? I think he might be. I raise my head to protest that I did nothing wrong, but when I look up I see a wall of Royal bodies. All of the brothers are there. Every single one of them, including Gideon. Their arms are crossed and their faces are thunderous. But none of them are looking at me.
I peer over my shoulder where Daniel is, his hands at his sides and a syringe dangling between his fingers.
He clears his throat. “Reed, I didn’t do anything—”
“Guess you’ve made your choice.”
“A really stupid one, too,” I hear Easton mutter.
Dismissing Daniel from his gaze, Reed leans down and lifts me into his arms. He folds me against his chest, one arm holding my bottom, the other wrapped tightly around my shoulders. This guy has been my enemy, the source of so much emotional pain. But right now, I cling to him as if he holds the only comfort I will ever find in this world.
* * *
Inside the Range Rover, I begin to cry. “Reed, something is wrong with me.”
“I know, baby. It’s going to be okay.” He lays a cool hand on my leg and the sensation is mind-blowing.
“I need you to touch me.” I try to drag his hand upward.
He groans. His grip tightens on my leg, just for a second, but then he pulls away.
“No,” I protest. “That feels good.”
“Daniel shot you up with ecstasy, Ella. You’re in a drug-induced state of horniness and I’m not taking advantage of you.”
“But—” I argue, reaching for him.
“No,” he barks back. “Now, please. For the love of God, will you please be quiet and let me drive.”
I scuttle back, but the prickling sensation on my skin doesn’t stop. I rub my legs together to ease some of the ache and I find that helps a little. I’d rather have the touch be from Reed, but my own hands are providing relief and so I take it. I run my hands over my thighs, down my calves. My skin feels like it’s alive and I reach under Reed’s borrowed shirt to massage away the ache.
“Jesus, Ella, please. You’re killing me here.”
Embarrassed, I try to stop. “I’m sorry,” I apologize in a small voice. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Let’s just get you home.” He sounds exhausted.
The rest of the car ride is agonizing. It takes all my mental energy to keep from touching myself.
Reed whips the car down the lane and then jumps out of the Rover before the engine dies down. He jerks open the door and I tumble out into his arms. We both moan—me in relief, and him in frustration.
Other car doors slam and the other brothers join us with Sawyer running ahead to get the door.
Gideon speaks up. “She’s going to have a long night. One of you needs to help her.”
“In what way,” Reed grinds out.
“You know.” Gideon’s voice is low.
“Fuck.”
“You want me to do it?” Easton asks.
I curl into Reed. His grip around me tightens. “No. No one but me.”
My head is foggy as he carries me up the stairs and deposits me on the bed. When he moves away, I reach for him in dismay. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” he promises. “I’m just getting a washcloth.”
I start crying again when he disappears into the bathroom. “I don’t know why I’m so weepy.”
“You’re drugged to hell. Molly. Coke. God knows what else he gave you.” Reed sounds disgusted.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I’m not mad at you.” He presses the cold cloth against my forehead. “I’m mad at myself. I did this. Well, Easton and I. I brought this on you. I’m Reed the Destroyer.” He sounds sad. “Didn’t you know that?”
“I don’t like that name.”
He sits next to me, drawing the cloth around and around my face, down my neck and onto my shoulders. It feels heavenly. “Yeah, and what would you call me instead?”
I open my mouth and say, “Mine.”
24
We both stop breathing.
“Ella,” he starts, but he doesn’t finish. He just watches as I sit up.
I pull the wet cloth from his hand and toss it onto the floor. His borrowed shirt follows shortly after.
“Ella,” he tries again.
But I’m done with him trying to be noble. I need him right now.
I climb onto his lap, winding my legs around his hips. “Ask me why Daniel was so angry with me before.”
Reed tries to untangle my legs. “Ella—”
“Ask me.”
There’s a beat, and then his attempts to push me off him stop. His hands come to rest on my thighs, and a full-body shiver races through me. “Why was he so angry with you?” Reed asks hoarsely.
“Because I wouldn’t stop saying your name.”
His eyes flare.
“Because it’s you. It’s always been you and I’m tired of fighting it.”
Cloudiness fills his expression. “My brother—”
“You,” I repeat. “Always you.”
I lock my hands at the nape of his neck, and he groans. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Not ’cause of the drugs,” I whisper. “Haven’t been thinking clearly since I met you.”
Another groan leaves his lips. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
I tug his head down to mine. “I need you, Reed. Don’t make
me beg.”
And just like that, he gives in. One hand comes up to tangle in my hair while the other pulls me roughly against him. “You don’t ever have to ask again. I’ll give you anything you want.”
His mouth slants over mine, softly at first. Just featherlight touches, as if he’s memorizing the shape of my lips with his own. And then, just when I’m about to plead for more, he sweeps his tongue inside my parted lips and kisses me so deeply that I feel dizzy.
We tumble back onto the mattress. His hands find my hips and they move me against him. His mouth is fused to mine, hungry and demanding. I pour everything I have into the kiss. All my love, my loneliness, my hopes, my sadness.
Reed takes it and gives me everything in return. We tangle up in each other’s arms, and his mouth finds the pulse points behind my ear and at the base of my throat, as he kisses me like he can’t get enough.
He pushes one thigh between my legs and even through my panties and his jeans, I find the relief I need. Almost. It’s still not enough, and I make my unhappiness known in the form of an agonized moan.
He raises himself up on his elbows and peers down at me, his eyes at half-mast, lips swollen from our kisses. He is the hottest guy on the planet, and he’s mine. At least for tonight.
“More,” I beg.
He grins, then rolls over on his side and slides one hand between my legs.
A shockwave rocks my body.
“Better?” he whispers.
Not even close. I squirm, and another grin tugs at the corners of his mouth before his gaze smolders again. His palm moves in a small circle, and the heel of his hand presses into the spot that’s aching for him.
My body is like a live wire, seconds away from exploding. Literally seconds, because all it takes is another rub of his palm and pleasure bursts inside me. I gasp and tremble, stunned by how incredible it feels. Maybe it’s the drugs, but I like to think it’s Reed. His low murmur of encouragement as I rock against his hand. The proof of his excitement pressing against my hip.
His lips find mine again, and I kiss him with renewed urgency, because the need is rising again, faster than either of us expected. I reach for him, pulling on his shoulders until he’s on top of me.
Our mouths collide and he groans when I arch upward to rub against him. The hardness of his body is the only thing providing me relief. He’s huge and ready, but when I reach between us, he pushes my hand away.
“No.” His voice is tortured. “This isn’t about me. Not tonight. Not when you’re…”
Drugged, I think he wants to say, but I don’t feel high anymore. Or at least not high on anything other than him.
His mouth latches onto my neck, kissing and sucking it as he rocks his body against mine. The pleasure builds, but his jeans are getting in the way. I don’t want this to just be about me. I want—
He swats my hand away again and then moves off me altogether. But he doesn’t go far. Heat prickles my skin as he kisses a path across my breasts. Warm lips brush my nipple. When his tongue comes out for a taste, I see stars. When his mouth closes over me, I stop breathing.
Each teasing lick makes me hotter and hotter. Under his grip, I thrash, my body straining for something elusive. He shifts again, taking my other nipple into his mouth. And then he moves lower, his lips gliding down to my stomach.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. My nerve endings hum with need. “Reed,” I beg.
“It’s all right, baby, I’ve got you. I know what you need.”
My heart stops when he moves between my legs. I can feel his hand trembling as he slides the thin panties down my legs. A sharp intake of breath is all he gives before his mouth lowers onto me.
I cry out from the unfamiliar sensation. It feels good. So good. His tongue finds a sensitive spot, causing my hips to buck up. A loud moan flies out. I dig my teeth into my bottom lip to try to stay quiet, but Reed is driving me crazy. I almost pass out, grabbing the back of his head to pull his hair.
He peers up with smoky eyes. “You want me to stop?”
“No.”
He keeps going. His tongue is magic, flicking against me in a relentless rhythm. He makes a husky noise as if my response is as wonderful as all the things he’s making me feel.
His fingers trace a path up my inner thigh. He lifts his head to ask for silent permission. I give it to him with an anxious nod. I want this so bad.
His eyes close as he slides one finger slowly inside me. He grits his teeth. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“Told you so,” I manage to choke out.
He laughs. “Yeah, you did.” He pulls out and glides a hand over my thigh. “I’m going to make this feel so good for you.”
“I already feel good,” I protest, drawing up my legs.
A cocky, familiar grin shines up at me. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
He settles back between my legs, and his shoulders push me open so far that I should be blushing, but all I can feel is anticipation. With one arm looped around my thigh, he eases his finger back inside me.
The muscles in my legs tighten. My fingers dig into his skull but he doesn’t stop kissing me even as the pleasure crashes over me in waves that drag me under. Once I go limp, he climbs up and lies beside me, drawing me toward him.
His lips find my neck again and he breathes deeply.
“Why did you have to come here?”
I’m confused by the question. “I…you know why. Your father—”
“I mean why now.” His frustrated words heat my skin. “Maybe another time, away from this place, you and me would have a different story.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying this can’t happen again.” He lifts his head, and I see his misery. “I need to go away. I need to leave this goddamn place and remake myself into something better. Someone…worthy…” His voice trips on that last word.
“Worthy,” I echo in a whisper. “Why do you think you’re not worthy?”
He’s silent for a moment. His palm absently caresses my shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally says. “Just forget it.”
“Reed…”
He sits up and shrugs out of the spare T-shirt he’d put on in the car. The other shirt, the one he ripped off his back and put on me when we were leaving the party, sits discarded on the floor, along with the rest of my clothes.
“Close your eyes, Ella,” he says roughly, settling beside me again. He’s shirtless now, but still wearing his jeans. The denim scratches my bare leg when I swing it over him. “Just close your eyes and go to sleep.”
My voice is muffled against his bare chest. “You promise you won’t leave?”
“I promise.”
I snuggle closer, losing myself in the warmth of his body and the steady beating of his heart beneath my ear.
When I wake up the next morning, Reed is gone.
25
“You doing good, little sis?” Easton eyes me from the kitchen table as I stagger into the kitchen feeling like I’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.
“No. I feel awful.” I pour myself a glass of water at the sink, chug it, then pour another one.
Easton’s tone is lined with sympathy. “You crashed hard, huh? Happened to me, too, the first time molly walked into my life.”
“Molly?” Callum’s curious voice says from the doorway. “Got a new girlfriend, Easton? What happened to Claire?”
I can see Easton fighting back laughter. “Claire and I are dunzo. But this Molly chick is pretty cool.” He shoots me an impish grin.
My head is pounding too hard for me to even crack a smile. Callum’s gaze shifts to me, and he’s visibly startled. “Ella, you look terrible.” Suspicion darkens his face as he swings back to his son. “What kind of trouble did you get her into last night?”
“Just the usual liquid trouble. Turns out Ella can’t handle her liquor.”
I give him a grateful look behind Callum’s back. I guess the Royal truce also include
s covering for each other. Not that I willingly took drugs last night. My hands curl into fists as I remember Daniel’s lust-glazed eyes and the way he’d groped me.
“You got drunk last night?” Callum’s mouth is tight as he turns back to me.
“A little,” I confess.
“Oh, come on, Dad, don’t get all parental on us now,” Easton pipes up. “You gave me my first beer when I was twelve.”
“Eleven for me,” Gideon says, striding into the kitchen. He’s shirtless, and there’s a noticeable scratch mark over his left pec. He glances at me, his sympathy obvious. “How you feeling?”
“Hung over,” Easton answers for me, then glances pointedly at his brother when their dad isn’t looking.
Callum still isn’t happy with me. “I don’t want you drinking excessively.”
“You jealous she might dethrone you as Excessive Drinking Champion of the Royal family?” Easton cracks.
“That’s enough, Easton.”
“Hey, just pointing out the hypocrisy, Dad. And, apparently, the double standard. You don’t give a shit when any of us get wasted, so why can’t Ella?”
Callum looks from his sons to me, then shakes his head. “I guess I should be happy that you all are sticking up for each other now.”
Footsteps echo in the hall, and my breath lodges in my throat when Reed enters the kitchen. Black track pants ride low on his hips, and his muscular chest is bare and slightly damp, as if he’s just come out of the shower.
He doesn’t look at me as he heads for the fridge.
My spirits plummet, though I’m not sure what kind of reaction I expected. Waking up alone was a clear message. And what he’d said yesterday—this can’t happen again—only makes that message clearer.
“Oh, Ella,” Callum says suddenly. “I forgot to tell you. Your car is arriving tomorrow, so you’ll be able to drive yourself to work on Monday morning.”
Although I’m relieved that Callum can finally say the word “work” without frowning at me, I’m also hit with a rush of disappointment. At the fridge, Reed’s back stiffens. He knows what this means, too. No more carpooling for us.