by S. Ann Cole
“No need to lie next time,” he tells me. “If you know you’re gonna fuck around with another dude after my cock’s been inside you, just say so. I don’t need your false promises.”
“You’re being an asshole,” I snap.
“Not unprovoked.”
“And I didn’t ‘promise’ you anything. You demanded,” I point out. “I’m a grown, independent woman and I can do whomever and whatever the hell I please.”
“Good.” He steps back from me. “So can I.”
Striding back to the desk, he packs up his laptop and folders, then slings his messenger bag over his shoulder. He turns and gestures to the door for me to go ahead of him.
I do.
“Did Aaron agree to the meeting?” His voice is casual and easy, all the tight accusation gone.
Though wary, I relax. “Yeah. You can come by the house after our meeting with the Nelson’s.”
“Cool.”
As we trek up the hall, I notice that the door on the right that had been closed before is now wide open, with deep barks of laughter echoing from inside.
Kholton stops to poke his head in. “I’m on the move.”
Tipping up on my toes, I try to peek inside, but he’s too tall, so I settle for peering under his arm instead. I spot Brock, leaning against a wall, arms crossed. He’s smirking at someone as he conspiratorially jerks his head to the door, unaware that I can see him.
“The redhead?” someone whispers, or at least tries to. No such thing as whispering with a voice that deep. “She’s out there?”
Kholton shakes his head and steps aside, muttering under his breath, “Idiots.”
Taking my hand, he pulls me past him and into the office. “This is Serena,” he introduces. “Serena, these are my brothers. You’ve already met Brock and Brian. This is Brody, and that one’s Brandt.”
“He-e-e-y,” I drawl, slack-jawed. Awed. Ovaries imploding.
Wow. Wow. Just…Wow. So much hotness in one room. How is this office not exploding right now? I mean, holy shit! I’ve seen Brian alone, and I’ve seen Brock alone, but seeing all three of these brothers together in one setting is an entirely different experience. I can’t even imagine if Brian was here.
Although Brock and Brian are twins, these four men are all individual fireballs on their own. All have dark hair, muscles and sharp jaw lines, but what’s more striking is their undetectable ethnicity. They’re a rather unique, distinct and intriguing lot.
Brody and Brandt toss amused grins my way, but Brock is a rock.
“Forgive me if this is offensive,” I start, “but what’s your ethnicity? Are you black? Mexican? Native? What?”
Brandt laughs, teeth white and straight. He has the lightest complexion of the three, along with sea-green eyes. “Nah. We get that question a lot.”
“Mom, African-American and Puerto Rican,” Brody joins in. “Dad, Italian and Swedish.”
“Wow,” I whisper.
“What about you, Serena?” Brandt asks, mischief in his eyes. “What’s your—”
Kholton tugs me out of the office and slams the door. Deep chuckles rumble behind the closed door.
“That was rude!” I say, punching him.
He scoffs. “Trust me, you want nothing to do with those assholes. Don’t take their smiles for kindness. They’re a wolf pack.”
“What’s BCI Services?” I ask. “I mean, what do they do here?”
“Private Investigation.” He lets go of my hand. “It’s growing faster than we anticipated, so we just bought the entire building.”
“We?”
“We’re brothers,” he reminds me. “We create, build, and grow together.”
So, he’s also a shareholder in a successful private investigation company. What does this man not do?”
“Go call the elevator,” he tells me when we get to the front area.
As I do so, he saunters over to the Hispanic’s reception desk, flashing a cocky playboy smile and a wink at her.
He’s never done that with me. I’ve seen him like that with others, but never with me. I get the lovable asshole.
Leaning over her desk, he tugs a lock of her hair. “You know what, I think I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ve got a late meeting, so it’ll have to be around ten.”
Little Miss Hermosa all but dissolves under his attention. I roll my eyes and stab the call button once more.
“Ten is perfect,” she says with shameless eagerness.
He brushes his knuckles caressingly under her chin before he backs up. “I’ll get your number from Brock.”
The elevator opens and I get on.
In no hurry, Kholton saunters in right before it closes.
The silence inside the steel box chokes us both.
I won’t comment on what he just did in front of me, because that’s what he wants. It stings, and it’s embarrassing, but if I react, he wins.
Do I believe he will hook up with that girl later? No. At this point, he’s as hooked on me as I am on him.
What he did was done simply because he didn’t get his way. That’s the adult-male version of a temper tantrum.
I exit the elevator ahead of him.
Exit the building ahead of him.
Outside, I stop and wait for him to pass me.
He crosses the parking lot to a silver sports car and opens the passenger door for me.
I start to enter, but then stop and tip up to kiss him. He kisses me back with natural ease, neither of us touching the other.
I break the kiss and duck into the car.
He slams the door.
Rounding the vehicle, he gets in and buckles his seatbelt. Then he just stares straight ahead.
I smash the ice. “Where are we going?”
“I wanted to see you. I wanted to do shit with you,” he says. “But my mood’s messed up right now. I’ve got a million decisions to make and you…”
Me. Me. I messed up his mood. Well, hell. I knew better than to admit to anything, yet I did. I should have just told him his instincts were off and maintain that he’s crazy. “You want me to leave?”
It takes him a while to answer, but he does, staring intensely out the windshield. “Yes.”
I laugh. Because, screw his jealousy. I’m in this for a baby and I’m not leaving without it. See, things like this are why I don’t ask for exclusivity and why I’m dead set on a child without a relationship.
Though it may seem distasteful to others, I’m not above using my sexuality to seal deals. Do I regret what I did with Paul? No. A few misleading smiles, some hand-holding, and a dodged kiss got me a multi-million-dollar deal.
Granted, I’m the one to be blamed for not being aboveboard about my intentions with Kholton, but he hated me at first. No way would he have gone for it.
Now, as if falling for him isn’t trouble enough, this. His jealous possessiveness of me only makes my heart beat harder, my feelings deeper. But I can’t encourage it.
Sooner or later, I’ll take a pregnancy test, it will come up positive, and then I’ll leave him. What’s the point of falling? I’m using him just like I did Paul, leading him on with deceitful, underlying intentions. I’ve done it countless times.
Only this time, it’s different.
Not only does it include real, hot, passionate sex, but it’s not as detached as it should be. I haven’t faked a single thing with him. My lust is real, my smiles are real, my feelings are real, my happiness is real. He is real to me.
This is a tangled web I’m weaving. A disaster waiting to happen. If I care anything about him, I ought to quit while I’m ahead. I should get out of this car and let him be. He’s got so much crap on his saucer already. Where’s my conscience? My empathy?
I should back off. But, I can’t. I’m selfish. Thoughtless. Greedy.
Karma is going to get me hard for this. But I don’t care. I’m not done with Kholton Sharpe yet.
“Too bad we don’t always get what we want,” I say.
He glances over at m
e. “Sorry?”
“I’m not leaving,” I tell him. “And you don’t want me to leave, either. You think you do, but you don’t.”
He watches me for a minute too long. “What do you want from me, Serena?”
Too much. “I don’t want anything from you. I just want you.”
“Fuck that,” he fires. “I don’t believe you.”
I reach across and rest my hand on top of his.
He flips his hand palm-up and laces our fingers together. It’s reflexive, natural, as if he can’t help himself, even if he knows deep in his gut that he’s not supposed to trust me.
“At least give me the benefit of the doubt,” I cajole. “Let me prove it.”
Closing his eyes, he lets his head fall back on the headrest. Conflicted.
His instincts are on point. But I’m the wretched Lilith.
I say, “I know exactly what you need right now.”
With his eyes still closed, he shifts our entwined hands to his crotch in suggestion.
I laugh. “Not that, you insatiable horn-bag. Get out of the car. I’m driving.”
One eye pops open. “Thought you didn’t know how to drive.”
“I took lessons and got my license,” I update him. “After that night…you won’t ever find me in another situation where I can’t drive to save myself.”
“That’s good.” Both his eyes are open now. “I’m glad you did that.”
He untangles our fingers and exits the car.
I climb over the console into the driver’s seat while he goes around to the passenger side.
“Take your time,” he cautions me when I start the engine and it revs and rumbles like a lion. “This isn’t like the cars you learned to drive in. It’s powerful.”
I ignore his warning and hit the gas. The car shoots off and I squeal. Frightened, I hit the brakes so fast we both lurch forward.
Kholton stares me down. “What did I say? Take it easy. Get used to it first.”
“Okay, okay,” I say meekly.
I move off again, and he reaches over to rest a hand on my thigh. He doesn’t speak, but whenever I start to lose control, he squeezes my thigh and I pullback.
I manage to get us to our destination without killing anyone.
“This is what you think I need?” His laugh is hearty when he climbs out of the car. “A theme park?”
“Yep.”
Kholton is a kid at heart. I don’t know if it’s because he wasn’t allowed to be a kid growing up, but he gets excited over things men his age shouldn’t be excited about. All his favorite television programs air on either Disney XD, Nickelodeon, or Cartoon Network. He binge-reads comics during my tests and looks forward to costume parties.
This is definitely what he needs to clear his mind right now. “I was going to take you to Disneyland, but the drive is too long and the lines there will be even longer.”
He hooks a finger into the waistband of my shorts and tugs me to him.
I lock my arms around his neck.
He palms my ass.
I breathe him in.
He breathes me in.
“So,” I whisper against his lips. “What ride do you want to get on first?”
Twenty-Five - Serena
“You could be twins.”
I am the most alive I have ever been.
Kholton is fresh air in my lungs. He’s an explosion of colors and abstract sun-flares. I don’t want him but I need him. I don’t need him but I want him.
Each time I laugh, I fall. Each time he smiles, I fall. I want to shroud myself in him and never leave. I want to nestle my head under his chin and let him hold me forever.
It is a dangerous thing I’m doing. Falling for him. Watching his hunger for me grow.
I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
“Feel my heart,” he says to me at the top of the Ferris wheel. Except he doesn’t put my hand over his heart, he puts it over his dick, and it’s indeed pounding. “Feel it? That’s for you.”
“You’re dripping,” he tells me as we’re walking away from the ice-cream bar with oversized cones piled high with varying flavors. “Want me to lick it up for you?”
On the pier, he hoists me up on the railing and makes me hold my arms out a la Titanic.
“Hail, the Red Witch!” he shouts. And then he tickles me and catches me when I fall back in fits of giggles.
From a whack-a-mole stand, he wins me one of the biggest, ugliest alien stuffed animals I’ve ever seen.
“Huh,” he says, holding the stuffed animal next to my face. “You could be twins.”
I fight him.
At the gum-ball machine, he spends over fifty dollars’ worth of coins, determined to get the ring.
When he finally wins it, he drops to his knees in front of me. “I know we’ve just met, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. You’re the one, baby. Marry me.”
As I bounce on my toes and squeal, ready to say yes, he shushes me and cocks his ear to the ugly stuffed animal I’m hugging to my chest.
“What’s that?” he says to the object. “Yes?”
Then he springs up and grabs the stuffed animal from me, hugs it to him, and spins around with glee. “She said yes, everybody!” he shouts, kissing the hideous thing all over. “She said yes!”
Onlookers snicker, while I bury my face in my hands, mortified.
We scream at the top of our lungs during a scary, twisty roller coaster ride and then we laugh hard afterward.
While laughing, I fart on accident.
He laughs hard at me.
He feels me up all day long. Gropes me in front of little old ladies, teenagers, toddlers in strollers, and scowling moms.
I brought him here because I thought he needed this. But it turns out I am the one who needed it. I’ve never laughed so hard or wide or deep, never felt so wild, such fearless peace.
It’s not even over yet, but already, today is one of my favorite days.
Twenty - Six - Serena
“Not with you.”
Two hours and twelve minutes.
That’s how long they’ve been upstairs. It’s lost on me what they could be discussing, and I’m not allowed in, which I understand. But I miss Kholton, as loony as that sounds. I mean, he’s literally right upstairs.
I got sick at the amusement park earlier—no doubt from all the crap we ate—so he took me to Brock’s house and fed me Lemon Ginger tea, rubbed me down, and kissed me all over until I fell asleep.
At sundown, I woke up to an absent Kholton and present Brock, cooking chicken soup for me. Although, I refused, he forced me to drink it before I was allowed to leave.
Annoyingly bossy, that one. But I did feel better afterward.
I trekked the ten blocks home, feet kicking in the sand, heart light and happy.
“I’m still skeptical about that boy,” my father said when I got home. “But I’m willing to tolerate anyone who makes you glow like this.”
I lay my head to his chest, as I am wont to do, and he hugs me tight to him. Daddy’s girl.
We ordered dinner and ate on the upper balcony.
Kholton came over at nine. An hour late.
Though miffed and unimpressed with his tardiness, my father held his word and invited him up to the deck, then booted me downstairs.
Since then, I’ve been down here waiting on a brick of impatience.
Max strolls through the house every ten minutes, making sure I see him. I ignore him. He’s on edge because Kholton is here and it’s no secret by now that he’s more than a tutor. But screw him, he had his chance and he blew it.
Imagine Dragons spills through my speakers at a low volume while I curl up on the recliner and catch up on my reading. June, Gemini, and Alaric. What an effed-up trio. But damn if this storm chaser story isn’t one of the best damn books I’ve ever read.
My phone pings.
I snatch it up and scan the screen with eager anticipation as has become a habit since I met Kholton
, but then I remember he’s upstairs. In my house. Talking to my father. And this morning he was inside me.
My stomach flips and dances. He’s with me. I have him.
The text is from my bestest.
Alaric: So? Are you gonna tell me what the D is like or nah?
Serena: Lol. I’m literally reading a book called Touched right now with a character who has your name.
Alaric: He betta be hot or I’ll hunt down and bludgeon the author for giving some ugly dickhead my name.
Serena: Yeah, he’s hot. So much he’s sandwiched by two sisters. How’s Dave…and Kacey?
Alaric: Noooooo. Don’t try to deflect. Tell me about the ‘tutor’. Is he good in bed?
Serena: Who said we did anything to begin with?
Alaric: His Instagram? Yours, too.
Serena: ?????
Alaric: He posted a pic of you in bed. Can’t see your face, but I know it’s you. Don’t try to deny it. Deets. Now!
Mind tangled, I close out of the chat with Alaric and hop onto Instagram. I check my page first. There’s a post from a few hours ago. A post I didn’t make.
It’s a selfie of us that Kholton snapped at the amusement park, a Ferris wheel looming in the background. We’re pressed together, and I’m holding a pink cotton-candy in one hand, the other hooked around his neck. My face is tilted up at him, my grin so wide my cheeks hurt. The image is cropped so only the bottom half of his face is showing, lips full and red, jaw squared with dark scruff.
The caption reads…
Exclusively his.
#ridehimlikeaTiltAWhirl #hemakesmesmilesohard
What the flipping heck?
When did he post this? How?
I go to his profile, and sure enough, there’s a picture of me in his bed at Brock’s place. Posted this morning.
I’m curled up on my side and my hair is a wild mess, all about my face and the white pillows, hiding my identity.
My entire back, on the other hand, is exposed, with a slight glimpse of side-boob, the white sheets draped at my waist. It’s wild and messy and not at all supposed to look sexy, but he’s used some sort of filter that makes it almost boudoir.