The Good Mistake (Hemsworth Brothers #3)

by Haleigh Lovell

  “Oohhh.” I sent him a saucy look. “So this is your love den.”

  “Err, this is where I actually work. Like my home office is in my bedroom.”

  “Love den,” I teased. “Lurrrrrrrveee den.”

  “Okay,” he stated, the left half of his lips pulling into an asymmetrical grin. “You’re compellingly weird, woman.”

  “No shit, what gave it away?”

  “The bathroom is to your right,” he said. “You’ll find fresh towels in there; feel free to take a shower if you want.”

  “Why, thank you. I’d like that.”

  “Sure thing,” he said. “Mi casa es su casa.”

  “Hey.” I unzipped my duffel bag and grabbed my PJs and toiletry bag. “Thanks for being so cool with everything.”

  “Of course. And don’t worry, it’s not like you’re walking into a lion’s den or anything like that.”

  “I’m not worried. You’re more of a Simba than a Mufasa anyway.”

  Then, out of nowhere, Edric roared, “BAAAAAHHHHHHH SOWENYAAAAAAHHHHHHH.”

  Laughing, I found myself chanting along, “MAMABEESEBABAAAAAHHHHH.”

  And that chanting continued on in the shower. As I was lathering soap all over my body, my imagination took flight. I was Simba, looking out over Pride Rock as the sun rose on the horizon.

  It gave me hope.

  Hope for a new beginning.

  “BAAAAAHHHH SOWENYAAAAAAHHHHH,” I sang at the top of my lungs as hot water pounded against my skin and cascaded down my back. “MAMABEESEBABAAAAAHHHHH.”

  BOBBING MY HEAD LIKE a bobblehead, I breezed out of the bathroom humming the tune to Hakuna Matata (naturally by now I’d moved on from The Circle of Life) to find Edric sprawled on the king-sized bed. He was completely at ease with his half-nakedness.

  One muscular arm was curled behind his head and he was openly staring at me, giving me a charged, appreciative look that elicited a familiar tug between my legs.

  My eyes raked over the length of that tremendous male body, tanned and toned, cut in all the right places as he lounged there on the white linen sheets, grinning at me.

  Damn, he was fine. Those bedroom eyes, the little curve of his lips, and that sexy body made my genitals hum a little tune.

  Correction, this man made my vagina perform a whole symphony.

  But—there was always a but—he was also utterly insufferable once he opened his mouth.

  “Stop staring.” His grin was full of cocky confidence. “I’m not a sex object.”

  Though my body tensed with sexual awareness, I forced lightness into my voice, determined to hide my own traitorous emotions. “Who said I was staring?”

  “I did. By the way, was everything okay in there?”

  “Yeah.” I began toweling my hair. It was one of those incredibly soft and luxurious Egyptian cotton towels with about a thousand thread counts. “Why do you ask?”

  “Interesting,” he said pensively. “I thought I’d heard strange noises.”

  Tilting my head to the side, I rubbed the towel into my hair, gently massaging the long strands. “What sort of strange noises?”

  “Like a seal being clubbed to death.”

  “Humph.” I skewered him with a disdainful glare. “I was singing.”

  “Oh.” He chuckled. “Is that what that was? It must be so hard living your life being tone-deaf. You know, dogs have much more sensitive ears compared to us humans. And upon hearing you sing, my dog dug a hole and buried itself. May I suggest you not sing around dogs? It could be seen as animal cruelty.”

  “You don’t even have a dog,” I deadpanned.

  “Well, my imaginary dog,” he amended. “Now, now, now, no need to feel embarrassed,” he soothed when he saw the color rise to my cheeks. “I sing in the shower all the time.”

  “Really?” I said, drying the tips of my hair. “And I suppose you’re a fantastic singer?”

  He didn’t miss the sarcasm in my voice. “You suppose correctly. My voice is soulful and beautiful. I sing as if a songbird had sex with Andrea Bocelli and Sam Smith.”

  “That was very specific.” I smirked. “And by the way, do you own a pair of flannel pajamas? Or do you just lounge around in sweatpants all day?”

  In all honesty, Edric looked hot as fuck in grey sweatpants.

  Lawd have mercy. I was trying to be a child of God here but it was near impossible when he kept seducing me with those glorious grey sweatpants. The soft and snug fabric had a way of hugging all the right places, and by right places I mean his dick.

  I sucked in a tight breath. At this rate, I was going to have severe whiplash from all the double-takes produced from Edric and his dick imprints, enhanced by those grey sweatpants.

  Meanwhile, he was checking out my flannel pants. Narrowing his gaze, he asked, “Are those mermaids on your pajamas?”

  “Yes,” I said offhandedly. “Why?”

  Now it was his turn to smirk. “Seriously? What are you—thirteen?”

  “Excuse me?” I said a tad defensively. “Who wouldn’t want to be a mermaid?”

  “Err... everyone who wants to walk?”

  “Ugh.” I expelled an annoyed groan. “I hate you.”

  “I bet you also have horse pajamas.” There was a thread of amusement in his voice.

  “So what if I do?” I stomped across the floor and flopped down onto the bed.

  “And I bet you have unicorn ones, too. Now what is it with women and mermaids and unicorns? I don’t get it. I really don’t.” He appeared genuinely bewildered.

  “What do you have against mermaids and unicorns?”

  “Nothing. I’m not discriminating,” he said flippantly. “I’m merely mocking. And it’s nothing personal, really. I’m an equal-opportunity offender. Llama pajamas are just as lame, if you ask me.”

  “Well,” I huffed. “No one asked you. And just so you know, I have llama pajamas and they’re actually my faves.”

  “Oof!” He pantomimed a dagger to his chest. “I’m actually hurt that you didn’t wear your favorite llama jammies for me, Lucy Llama Ding Dong.”

  I cringed inwardly. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

  For a little while we sat in companionable silence and I felt him watching me as I toweled my wet curtain of hair, moving slowly and methodically up and down, while gently massaging my scalp.

  At last he spoke, his voice a deep and thick rasp. “You have really pretty mermaid hair, Lucy.” His gaze scorched with intensity, his eyes lingering too long. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

  Exhaling a clipped sigh, I let a touch of irritation enter my voice. “Edric.”

  “Yesssssss, my Lucy Llama Ding Dong?”

  “Is it wrong that I like you so much better with no shirt and no talking?”

  Of course all that derpflake heard was, I like you. “I know you like me,” he said smugly. “I am very much aware of the effect I have on women.”

  “And I am very much aware that you’re the kind of guy who’d stare directly into the sun during a solar eclipse.” I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

  Laughing, he lunged forward and reached for the remote. “You down for some Netflix true-crime binging?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s sir to you, young lady.” He lay back, stretching an arm to rest behind his head. “Now what should we watch? Cold Justice, Forensic Files, Murder Mountain, or The Confession Tapes?”

  I stifled a yawn. My eyes fluttered, fighting exhaustion as I settled back into the mound of pillows. “Cold Justice.”

  SOFT SNOWFLAKES FEATHERED over my face, as light as an angel’s kisses. As the snow gently melted on my cheeks, the sky broke into a fiery sunset and I stood there, on a mountain peak high above the Alps, transfixed as the orange glow streaked across the jagged mountains that seemed to march away in all directions.

  The view was so stunning, so otherworldly that it transcended this plane of humanity and soared toward the di
vine.

  “Look, Lucy.” Edric swept his arm out toward the horizon in a grandiose fashion. “Everything the light touches is ours.”

  Wait. Why am I standing atop a mountain with Edric?

  And why is he completely nude?

  Also, did he just drop a line from The Lion King?

  Hoo boy, he was a splendid specimen of a man. All I could think was, Give me Edric or give me death.

  He stood facing me and I openly admired his powerful physique. Thick muscles bulging over long limbs, wide shoulders that tapered down to a long, sculpted torso.

  He was so strong, so beautifully chiseled, so hard everywhere.

  As my gaze slid downward, my lips parted on a soundless gasp.

  He was hard there too. So hard and so thick.

  My eyes lingered on his large, erect cock hanging long and heavy between rock-hard thighs. The broad mushroom head of his shaft glistened with pre-cum.

  An ice-cold wind brushed across my breasts, making me keenly aware of my taut nipples straining against the intricate lace cups.

  Why am I in a skimpy lace bra and thong?

  The wispy lace fabric, golden yellow like sunbeams, barely covered my tits and ass.

  Another gust of cool breeze hit me and my nipples grew painfully hard, gathering to tight, prominent peaks.

  “Are they cold?” His eyes burned on my skin as he smoothed his fingertips over the diamond-shaped veil of lace covering my breasts.

  Feverish breaths lifted my chest. I was bereft of air as his burning gaze scorched over my tits, setting my body on fire.

  He didn’t wait for my reply. “Let me warm them for you.” His voice was dark, intoxicating. Hypnotic.

  My breathing turned erratic and my breasts lifted against the delicate lace as he cupped my tits, rolling his thumbs over my nipples.

  They responded immediately. My skin came alive as if warmed by the sun, my nipples quivering around the pads of his thumbs, poking through the wisps of lace.

  As he teased my tightly beaded nipples, his mouth found the side of my neck. “I want to lick every inch of you.”

  Closing my eyes, I wet my lips as he nibbled and licked the sensitive flesh there, all the way down to my heaving breasts.

  His desire filled the air. I let myself bathe in it. Drown in it.

  Little pinpricks of snow fell on my breasts, dusting my nipples, and I sighed softly as he curled his tongue around my nipple and drew the tip into his mouth, sucking me straight through the lace bra.

  Sifting my fingers in his hair, I held him to me as he suckled my tit hungrily as though I were somehow nourishing his raging thirst.

  Suckling and swallowing.

  Suckling and swallowing, settling into a blissfully hypnotic rhythm.

  Without lifting his mouth from my breast, he scooped me into his arms and carried me out onto the middle of the summit.

  A delicious shiver ran up my spine as he laid me on the fresh, powdery snow, and guided me onto my back. It felt like homecoming when he latched onto my other breast, closing his mouth around the distended nipple poking greedily through the lace.

  “Edric...” I heard myself whimper as he worked the tingling nub between his scorching lips. “Edric,” I whispered tightly as he drew on the throbbing point, suckling and suckling through the lace. Softly at first, then harder and deeper. The intricate fabric dug into my flesh as he sucked me straight to ecstasy.

  A deep groan scraped from his throat as my nipple slipped free from his lips, accompanied by an audible popping noise.

  His scent, hot and male, engulfed me as he pressed a wet kiss to my stomach, just beneath my navel.

  Just a little tease before he moved lower still until his eyes were level with the triangle of lace at the V of my thighs, the same golden-yellow of the lace covering my breasts. “Beautiful,” he rasped. “Like the sun.”

  He watched me intently as he dipped his middle finger through the textured lace. “So tight.” His voice was dark, thrilling as his finger parted the dampened folds of my sex and sank inside me. “So wet,” he rasped, sinking it all the way down to his knuckle.

  Slowly, painfully slowly, he eased his long finger from my quivering slit.

  My body rebelled, my pelvis lifted off the snow, straining for his touch.

  Then his voice pitched low and deep, dark as sin and sex itself. “Now I’m going to taste you.”

  I had to bite my lip to stop the scream that tore from my throat as his tongue cleaved through the lace of my thong.

  Staring at the clouds churning above me, I dug my nails into the hard muscles of his back as he worked his tongue inside my fluttering slit.

  Swirling and swirling and swirling, he worshipped me with his wicked, sinful tongue.

  A flurry of snow drifted around us, creating a translucent curtain of powder as he hooked my leg over his shoulder and licked his way deeper and deeper into my folds.

  More. I wanted more. I arched my hips, straining against the thong, writhing in the snow, pleasurably trapped between his tantalizing mouth and a web of lace as he stroked his tongue inside me, licking the snow before it had a chance to melt against my feverish skin.

  My breath came in shallow gasps as I felt the taut lace stretch against my labia, its webbing pressing deep into the soft folds of my sex, pulling from me a sharp hiss of pain.

  “Edric.” My voice was laced with delicious agony.

  His tongue, icy cold, slid across my moist folds again and again and again, the sharp, tingling sensations sending tiny sparks racing through me.

  Snow continued to drift around us, dusting my tits, my clit, my lips, bringing all my nerve endings to vivid life. The icy crystals stung, then immediately melted and I gasped, savoring the shivering sensations.

  His hands skimmed upward, caressing the soft swells of my breasts as he licked and licked and licked, stroking his tongue through the lace.

  Every inch of my skin gained pleasure from his icy tongue.

  Moaning with pleasure, I raked my nails across his flesh as he drew my clit into his mouth and sucked me through the wispy thong, sipping my juices through the lace, savoring my sweet release as it slowly dripped from me.

  I shivered around his lips, so blissfully cold against my skin as he sipped and sipped my hot, creamy release with a slow, sensuous torment.

  My body wept. I let the pleasure ignite me. Consume me. Liquefy me.

  I was melting atop the summit, surrounded by the snowcapped Alps as he brought me to the edge and back until his name was a broken cry on my lips.

  “Edric.” I writhed against his mouth as he molded his lips to my drenched folds, his breathing slow and thick as he licked me deeply, thoroughly, intimately, moving his tongue against my labia with steady intent, stroking and stroking and stroking me toward the summit, pushing me into another climax that exploded over me, bright and dazzling as a meteor shower.

  With a sudden force, my hips bucked against his mouth and I hurtled awake, bolting upright with a soundless scream.

  My mind seized. Where am I? I looked around in confusion.

  Edric was turned on his side, facing the wall, the bare skin of his torso dark against the white linen. Gingerly, I poked his shoulder.

  Sound asleep, he didn’t so much as stir.

  My heart was still racing and I took a moment to gather my thoughts.

  What in the blistering, bleeding hell was that all about?

  Okay, okay. Don’t panic, don’t panic.

  It was just a dream. A highly erotic wet dream.

  I’d hardly recognized myself then, or the lustful passion that had come over me. Wrecked me. I’d been all over Edric like a bitch on heat.

  Then, as my eyes zeroed in on his ass, I felt my heart drop out of the bottom of my vagina.

  Time seemed to stop as I stared unblinking at the red spot blooming across his grey sweatpants.

  Oh. My. Fucking. God. I was that bitch on heat.

  Noooooooooo. I recoiled in horror. This cannot
be happening.

  No. No. No. I buried my face in my hands. I should’ve known it was that time of the month. I was always insanely horny right before my period. Always.

  Somehow or other, I must have spooned him in my sleep or tried to mount him.

  Or maybe my bum had rubbed up against his bum.

  Yikes! The bloody evidence was right there staring back at me.

  I was mortified. So mortified I wanted to crawl into my own mouth and swallow myself.

  “Sjakakssksksks,” I mumbled something incoherent as Edric stirred awake.

  “Morning, Lucy.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy from sleep.

  “Morning!” I squeaked.

  Groggily, he snapped the sheets aside and I sucked at my bottom lip, staring at the indisputable evidence bulging underneath his grey sweatpants.

  Holding a hand over his morning wood, he got out of bed and started toward the bathroom, his hard cock leading the way.

  No, no, no. Yanking the sheets off the bed, I wrapped it around my waist to cover my bloodstained pajamas and leapfrogged my way across the room.

  He was no match for my sudden supersonic speed. “Sorry.” I shouldered my way past him and leapfrogged into the bathroom. “I call dibs!” I yelled as the door slammed shut. “It’s highly urgent.”

  “It’s fine.” He let out a loud yawn. “You can take a shit first.”

  “What?”

  “You can shower first.”

  “Thanks!” I rummaged through the first cabinet, looking for a tampon or a pad—something. Anything.

  I cursed under my breath when I found nothing.

  There has to be something here. I frowned. This freakin’ bathroom is like a marble palace. Frantically, I flung open the other cabinets and scanned the contents—toilet paper, Clorox, Lysol, scented candles, essential oils, potpourri.

  Potpourri? Why the hell does he have potpourri?

  I threw open the last cabinet and struck pearl. Tampax Pearl tampons! Boxes upon boxes of them. A ten-year supply of sanitary products.

  Humph. Edric must have women sleep over here on the regular. A whole harem of them, apparently. I rifled through a drawer and found an assortment of razors, eyelash curlers, curling wands, and hair straighteners.