Gold Mine

by Warren, Skye

  I take a swig of water. “If your goal is to prove I’m like our father, fuck you.”

  “Hell,” Elijah says, taking off his shirt. He’s clearly just getting started. “I thought you might want to blow off some steam. Especially after what happened in the orchard.”

  Josh perks up. “What happened in the orchard?”

  “Nothing,” I growl.

  Elijah smirks. “Your brother caught me in a sensitive position.”

  “So?”

  “So, he thought I was forcing Holly to suck my cock.”

  Josh was lying down on the grass, taking a breather after our last round. He sits up now and whistles. “What the fuck? And neither of you bothered to tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now.” Elijah points at me. “Now fucking fight.”

  “Not if you’re just going to stand there and let me beat you. Fight back.”

  He grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  This time, when I throw a punch, he blocks it and spins around, aiming for my kidneys—a serious shot. I manage to twist but take the impact to my stomach. I jump back to catch my breath, hands up in case he attacks. “I thought you were forcing her because you had her pinned to the ground. And because you called her a whore.”

  “Kinky,” Josh says.

  “Kinky is handcuffs and a safe word. Not what I saw.”

  “You shouldn’t have seen anything.” Elijah throws a roundhouse kick, and I block it, but I’m less prepared for his followup sweep. I jump, and retaliate with a one-two punch that lands on his shoulder. He strikes with a backhand. “It was a private fucking moment.”

  “Next time close a door, then. Don’t fuck out in the open if you want privacy.”

  “The point is that you don’t have to assume the worst.”

  I run a hand over my face, dropping my guard for a second. “I’m sorry.”

  Elijah snarls. “I don’t want an apology. I want to know why you thought I was like our father. You think I slap her around, too? You think I throw her into a goddamn well and make her beg for fresh water? You think I laugh when she drinks the rotten sewage and then vomits?”

  We only have a few rules to our sparring sessions. No grabbing, no biting. I slam myself into him, my shoulder to his stomach, and he grunts in pain. We tumble to the ground, and I pin him down with my weight alone. “You want to know the truth? I think you’re walking a fine fucking line. And I think you like it that way. Maybe you wanted me to see you in that orchard. Maybe you want me to put a gun to your head and pull the trigger.”

  With a hard twist, Elijah flips back onto his feet and slams me down on my stomach. I spring up before he can pin me down. He has more strength, but I’m more agile. And both of us have stamina to make this a fight to the death.

  Josh shoulders his way between us. Both of us back up. It’s never happened before. We practice daily to stay sharp. No one’s ever had to break up a fight.

  I’m breathing hard. Elijah is, too. Only vaguely I’m aware of the ache on my shoulder and my side from where he nailed me. He coughs, probably because I blasted him in the stomach.

  Josh points at Elijah. “You. If you want a bullet in the brain, then fucking do it. Don’t make Liam do your dirty work for you.” Then he points at me. “And you. The worst part wasn’t our father telling us we had the devil inside. The worst part is that you believed him.”

  My throat feels tight, and I stalk away and stalk right back. “I don’t believe him.”

  “Part of you does. The same part that made you fight your attraction to Samantha.”

  I make a sound of possession. “I fought my attraction to Samantha because she was my ward. I was supposed to take care of her, not lust after her.”

  Josh rolls his eyes, which makes me want to rush him, too. “We have more important things to do than fight each other. For example, what about the lieutenant colonel?”

  Suspicion makes my eyes narrow. “What about him?”

  “Apparently he’s in the country.”

  Elijah sighs and grabs a towel. “Apparently there’s a bounty on Holly’s head.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I know.”

  “There’s only so far we can go to protect her if he tries to use his position.”

  Elijah narrows his eyes. “I’m not letting him take her.”

  “I’m not suggesting we let him take her, either. I’m suggesting we tread carefully here. The last thing we need is an international incident.” The fact is fighting the lieutenant colonel is extremely uncertain territory. The wrong move could be an act of war. I’ve seen too much bad shit working in the shadow ops to have much country loyalty left, but that’s going far, even for me. My business is back in the States. The love of my life is back in the States.

  “Tread carefully,” Elijah says, his voice flat.

  I love my brother. I would sacrifice anything for him, including my own life.

  But I won’t sacrifice Samantha Brooks—not her safety or financial security or even her ability to travel internationally to perform the violin.

  I glance at Josh because I need his help with this. He’s a little bit closer to Elijah as the middle brother. And he’s a natural peacemaker, whereas I’m a controlling bastard.

  “Tread carefully,” Josh says, his tone easy. “As in we cover our tracks.”

  Elijah gives a curt nod. “I’ll confront him. And there won’t be any link back to you.”

  I shake my head. “That’s not the point. You confront him, and you come back alive. Otherwise I’ll have to explain to Holly that you got beat by a middle-aged man with a fake tan.”

  That makes him snort, which is a good thing. We’re back on neutral territory. “Got it.”

  “And take Josh with you.”

  Elijah raises an eyebrow. “You really think he’s going to best me?”

  “I think the man is wily and untrustworthy and corrupt in the extreme. There’s no telling what lengths he’ll go to in order to get what he wants.”

  “Have we actually discussed why he wants Holly?” Josh asks.

  “Because she’s the key to controlling Elijah.”

  “I don’t know why he thinks that,” Elijah mutters. “Or why he wants me so badly. I’m just a soldier. He has plenty of those.”

  “You’re one of the best,” I admit. “In-fucking-valuable.”

  Josh nods. “And anyone with eyes can see that you’re head over heels for Ms. Holland Frank. That makes her a target, while you’re busy getting kinky.”

  “All right,” Elijah says, gesturing toward the clearing where we sparred. “Your turn.”

  The thing about Josh is that he’s a trash talker. “Liam may be too pussy to beat your ass, but I’m not. Step up, little brother. Let’s get this party started.”

  I settle back on the bench to watch the match.

  Josh has a deceptively languid fighting style. It looks as if he’s only half paying attention, as if he’s barely even trying, but he can drop someone twice his weight that way.

  Elijah has a more direct fighting style, but damn if it isn’t effective. The ache in my shoulder can attest to that. Not many men can get a direct hit in with me.

  This lieutenant colonel is going to be a problem.

  Elijah may not understand it, but I do. There are plenty of soldiers out there. It’s harder to find someone smart who can think on his feet. Someone strategic. Someone with the brains to back up the brawn. He had the best soldier in his arsenal, and he wants him back.

  The question is how far he’ll go to get him.

  Using Holly as a pawn is a risk.

  That implies a certain level of desperation. And desperation is danger in a man like that. Elijah will confront the lieutenant colonel, but I doubt that will be the end of it. Josh will provide backup and make sure Elijah doesn’t strangle the man.

  The last thing we need is to be the subject of an international manhunt.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Elijah

&n
bsp; I’m in the shower when I hear someone behind me.

  Steam clouds the glass, but I recognize the figure on the other side. Short stature, a wild mane of honey-colored hair. In some ways she looks ordinary. That doesn’t explain the instant pounding in my chest. The anticipation in my hard cock.

  I open the door, revealing my naked body, the water streaming down. Her brown eyes are hungry as she takes me in. And then shocked.

  “You’re hurt.”

  I give a short laugh. “This is nothing.”

  She reaches into the spray, touching her forefinger to the corner of my mouth. “It’s not nothing. You’re bleeding. Did Liam do this to you?”

  “I asked him to.”

  She shakes her head, not quite understanding.

  That’s fine, because I don’t understand it either. I only know that I wanted Liam to do it. I wanted him to punish me for walking too damn close to the line. What I did to Holly was wrong, depraved. He was right to stop me.

  “What are we going to do about the bounty on my head?”

  “I’m going to see the lieutenant colonel.”

  “You’re trying to protect me again.”

  “The same way you do for London.”

  That makes her smile, though it’s a sad one. “Do you think it’s kindness that makes us want to protect people? Or is it arrogance, thinking we can handle what they can’t?”

  “I don’t know.” I put my head against her forehead. “You’re the one who’s good with words. The only thing I know is that I’m made for pain.”

  “Made for pain?” She brushes a hand against the bruise on my stomach.

  “Let me take your pain, sweetheart.” It’s the only thing I can give you. I don’t have it in me to love her, to promise some long-term commitment.

  I don’t have anything to give her but the shelter of my body.

  I expect her to reject the offer, to insist that she’s strong enough to carry her own pain. It’s a sign of how tired she must be, how scared, that she nods, her gaze never leaving mine.

  She reaches for the hem of her shirt, and my blood pumps faster. Then it’s off her body, revealing the gentle bounce of her breasts. She goes to her skirt next, pushing down the white flowy fabric. She’s a feast for my eyes. Narrow waist, wide hips. Shapely legs.

  And the beautiful thatch of brown hair at her core that calls to me.

  She steps inside, and water droplets land on her breasts, her stomach. They catch on her eyelashes. Her hand reaches for me, but I turn her around. I want this to last, and if she touches me, I’ll spurt against her smooth body in a matter of minutes.

  I cradle her head in my hands, and the trust she gives me is immediate, reclining back, letting me move her under the hot spray until her hair is soaked through. I should probably have something fancy in here with rosemary and lemon, instead of this plain shampoo. I pour a generous amount on my palm and smooth it across her hair, a dark brown now that it’s wet. Then I work my hands into the thick locks, gentle so I don’t pull, thorough so the foam works through. She moans as my hands work over her scalp, and I spend more time massaging her.

  Then I rinse her hair, slowly, carefully, until it looks like silk again.

  When I turn her back around, her lids are low. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her, which feels inadequate. I don’t know the right words for this ache in my chest. Beautiful only means her face and her body. Beauty means what’s on the surface, when it’s her whole self that radiates with comfort, with love. With a sense that I’ve found home.

  Her lips curve in a small, sensual smile. This is the confident Holly. The one who never worries if men prefer her sister, the one who ignores the critics and the naysayers. This one knows her power. She’s fully herself. And I’m almost dropped to my knees in awe.

  The baser instincts win out.

  My cock aches with the urge to be inside her. Warm velvet. Slick friction.

  She drops to her knees, and the sight of water trailing down her breasts makes me weak. “I want to finish what I started,” she says, her eyes a thousand feet deep. A well that I can fall into and never come out. “No interruptions this time.”

  It’s with regret that I remember kneeling over, fucking her pretty face. It’s with regret and a deep vein of lust. “You don’t have to do that, Holly. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  “Let me show you what I want,” she says, taking my cock in her fist. She’s still a little untried despite her bravado, her hand clumsy around my slick cock, uncertain and too gentle. Then she kisses the tip, and my eyes roll back in my head. God, it’s good.

  “Fuck,” I say, unable to stop the words tumbling out of my mouth, the degradation I seem determined to heap upon her. “My cock filling your mouth, your lips stretched around me. That’s what I want to see. Take it deeper, sweetheart. Faster now.”

  Her eyes go wide, but she tries so hard. She tries so hard, and that turns me on even as it makes me want to push her further. How far will I take this game?

  When does it cross the line?

  My hands come to rest on her head. “Stay still now. Let me fuck your face.”

  She pauses, clearly uncertain. Then she nods.

  “Good girl,” I say, my voice hoarse, and I’m already thrusting inside. Already pushing my cock into the warm well of her mouth, already lost to the insanity of desire.

  I bump against the back of her throat, and she gags.

  Fuck, but the sound of that turns me on. A normal man shouldn’t want to debase a woman he cares about. A normal man doesn’t need to get inside her throat more than he needs to breathe.

  “I’m gonna go deep, okay? You can take it, can’t you?”

  She doesn’t quite answer this time, but I push inside anyway. Past the pressure fighting me, past the entrance of her throat, until she’s gripping me like a sweet vise.

  I hold there for one second, two, three, while tears leak down her cheeks.

  When I pull out she gasps, sucking in air around my cock.

  “You’re such a good girl. Such a brave girl,” I tell her, petting her hair. “I know it’s scary when I put my cock all the way down your throat, but you’re so strong for me.”

  She coughs, spraying water against my stomach, and I want more of that. I want her gagging and choking on my dick. What’s wrong with me that I want that?

  So I drag her to standing and lean her against the wall. She’s still panting, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as I kneel between her legs. I want her broken for me in every single way. I want her wet and sloppy and clenching hard because I made her come. I want the taste of her pussy ingrained so deep in my mind I remember it even when I’m asleep.

  I hook one of her legs over my shoulder and rest her weight on me, so she won’t fall. Then I lean into her sex. That’s the only word for it. I lean. I press my face against her damp curls. I breathe in deep that beautiful feminine musk.

  When I finally lick her pussy, I moan at the flavor. A few laps at her clit, and she’s rocking her hips, trying to get more contact, humping my face. Every kind of debasement turns me on, including this one. She begs me with her whimpers and her cries.

  Seconds from coming, on the edge of the abyss.

  I pull away.

  She keens a sound that makes my dick twitch. Perfect. She’s perfect.

  “Don’t stop,” she pants, but I have this perverse desire to make this last forever, as if I can stave off tomorrow with pure sex. No danger, no separation, nothing but this.

  I shut off the water, and the room becomes suddenly silent without the rush of the shower. There’s only the sound of our breathing and the faint droplets of water that fall from our skin. I lead her into the bedroom, one that’s similar to hers but on the third floor. Directly above her, in fact. I’ve stroked my cock in this bed, imagining her below me.

  We’re still wet, still slick when I toss her onto the bed. She half gasps at the coldness of the air, half laughs as she rolls away.
I grab her ankle to catch her but the water makes me lose my grip, and she squirms away. So I tackle her with my whole body, using my weight to catch her against the mattress, to subdue her. Her smile fades, and she looks up at me.

  Her hand touches my lip again, and I become aware of the throbbing. I hadn’t even felt the pain when I’d been fucking her pussy with my tongue.

  A notch forms between her eyes. “Why would your brothers hurt you?”

  “It was nothing. We were practicing sparring. I should have blocked it.”

  “You blame yourself?”

  “Maybe I wanted to feel pain.” To feel something, anything.

  Confusion mars her pretty face. She doesn’t understand.

  Of course she doesn’t. For all the ways that we are alike, for all the beautiful darkness inside her, she had a good childhood. She feels things deeply—love, concern, even betrayal. It’s why she rebels so hard against the control I try to place on her.

  I find myself telling her things I’ve never told another living being, even as my cock nudges against her opening. There are two kinds of intimacy happening right now. “When Liam left, Josh and I stayed there. When Josh left, they assume I stayed there, too.”

  Her brown eyes widen. “You didn’t?”

  I push myself all the way inside her sweet pussy, and the clench almost kills me. It’s what makes it possible for me to continue. It’s like she’s connected into the place deep inside me, the one with all the secrets and all the fear. “Good old Dad liked to kick us around, but when Josh left, he went a little crazy. He just kept going, without anyone to stop him, and I thought…” I pull out and fuck back into her cunt. “I thought he was going to kill me that night.”

  She bucks her hips, trying to dislodge me, trying to stop the sex. It feels wrong, talking about my shitshow of a family while I fuck her. I know it feels wrong, but that’s why it works for me. My wires are all crossed inside. Maybe one too many blows to the head.

  “Didn’t even make it to the hospital. Just dragged myself to the woods behind our house. Slept there for a couple nights until I could make myself stand, and I left.”

  Tears are streaming down her face, and it makes me hard. It makes me hard just like when I fucked her face and choked her little throat. “Elijah.”