Gibson Boys Box Set

by Locke, Adriana

  His shirt comes over his head, and all the fun, the teasing, and the games we were playing have been left in the other room. Gentle touches and soft kisses replace the laughter as his hands cover my bare back for the first time.

  The reserve that usually constrains my physical interactions with him doesn’t exist between us now. Everything he’s done is to show me how he cares and that I’m safe with him. So I begin to unbuckle his belt while he reaches around to unfasten my bra.

  When his jeans come down and my bra comes off, we don’t hide from the sunlight streaming in through the window. We take our time to appreciate each other.

  I’ve never felt more beautiful than I do under his gaze, a smile that’s genuine and kind, and hands that touch to explore, not rushing to the next step.

  I watch with rapt attention as his Adam’s apple bobs with a heavy swallow. His eyes cast down, and when he looks up, I see a struggle in his eyes. “I did this wrong, Dylan.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I should have taken the time to kiss you more.”

  “We kissed in the kitchen, Peck. Checked that box,” I say, bringing a finger down and then back up in a check mark motion in the air.

  He grins. “But not like I wanted to.”

  “Then kiss me now.”

  Strong hands take hold of my face with such care that I cover his hands with mine, feeling weak in the knees. I close my eyes just as our lips press together for the first time in a caress. Our tongues meet, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, never wanting this moment to end.

  When it does, I’m left breathless and sit on the edge of the bed before lying down. “Are you going to leave me waiting? Again?”

  “No ma’am, I’m not.” His pulls his boxers down, and every thought I ever had about him below the waist were wrong. He’s better.

  He catches me staring.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “You know how to build a guy’s ego.”

  “Judging by what I see, you have every right to be downright arrogant.”

  When he laughs, I smile with him. Whatever this is between us is nice. Hovering over me, he leans down and kisses me again. “So do you. You’re gorgeous and so fucking sexy.”

  Since my panties were left on the kitchen floor, there’s nothing between us.

  He shifts his weight so the head of his cock presses against my opening. I gasp at the contact despite expecting it. Despite wanting it.

  His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. I reach up and place my palm on the side of his neck. His heartbeat pounds against my hand, and I feel mine amp up to match.

  “Peck …” I whisper.

  Our gazes lock, the heat between us sizzling. I try to look away but can’t. He holds me in place with nothing but a look as he moves his hips.

  Inch by inch, he fills me.

  “Oh, my gosh,” I pant.

  “Open for me, baby.” It’s a command, there’s no doubt about it, but it’s said with such a sweetness that I think I might fall apart already.

  My knees fall farther to the sides. He slides inside me, fulling seating himself inside my body.

  “Damn it,” I whimper.

  He closes his eyes and doesn’t move. The vein in his neck throbs in a look so sexy that I shudder.

  His head dips, his mouth covering mine. I press my hands to his chest and then run them up to his shoulders. The muscles flex as he moves, rocking himself into me.

  The blanket is soft against my back, his arms hard on either side of me. It’s an overwhelming contrast of sensations. I gasp for air but am cut off by his kisses.

  Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back into the mattress. He doesn’t relent, covering me with kisses, licks, and nibbles across my mouth, jaw, and neck.

  I’ve never felt this treasured, this desired, by anyone in my entire life.

  “Peck,” I pant, holding his face in my hands.

  “Yes, beautiful?”

  I grin, bringing his lips back to mine.

  “You feel so good,” he whispers, dragging his hands up my arms when I raise them above my head and loop my fingers around the rails of the headboard.

  “You feel amazing,” I say.

  He pulls out, taunting my clit, before dipping inside me again.

  “Do that a couple more times,” I groan, pleasure ripping through my body, “and I’ll come.”

  “I’m having to think about fishing so I don’t lose it right now,” he says with a chuckle.

  I clench my muscles. He feels it because his eyes widen.

  “You do that a couple more times, and this is over,” he warns.

  I lock my legs around him. Digging my heels into the small of his back, I look him right in the eyes and clench again.

  “Dylan …”

  He slides in and out, hitting the spot that brings me closer and closer to an orgasm.

  “Right … there,” I say.

  It feels so good it almost hurts.

  “Look at me,” he says. “I want to watch you come.”

  I do. And when I do, that’s it. It’s all it takes.

  I clench again, a mass of colors tangling through my vision as I melt around him.

  His name screams from my lips as a rush of fire floods my veins. He presses harder, faster, driving me into the mattress as he finds his end.

  “Fuck,” he groans. He stills inside me.

  I watch him fall apart. His eyes squeezed closed, his jaw tightened, his biceps strained as he gloriously hits his climax.

  The ringing of a bell accompanies our victory lap.

  Wait …

  He pushes up and looks me in the eyes. “Do you smell smoke?”

  I sit up.

  “The steaks!” He runs out of the room, and I hear the back door slam against the stopper. “Fuck,” echoes from outside.

  I hurry into the kitchen. The smoke from the grill has filled the house. I rush over to shut the door but stop when Peck comes inside with the steaks stiff between the tongs … naked.

  “Oh, my gosh,” I say, wiping back tears from my laughter. “Now that’s a sight to see.”

  He drops the charred meat on the cutting board. “So much for impressing you with a nice meal.”

  His disappointment isn’t just seen in his expression, but defeat drops his shoulders. I stop laughing but continue to smile.

  “Everything is fine.” I lean against his back, resting my cheek to him. “You wanted to impress me?”

  “Yeah, but I screwed it up.”

  “You sure did.” I slip around him, coming between him and the steaks. “In the best of ways.” With wide eyes and a big sassy grin, I ask, “Want to go screw up again?” I reach up and rub his shoulders. “I was thinking we could try your bed this time.”

  When his hands grab my hips, I know I’ve got him just where I want him. “How do you feel about the shower?”

  I tug him toward his room. “Better get me dirty first.”

  “We’ll be getting dirty all right.” Lifting me, he puts me over his shoulder and smacks my ass. “I wasn’t hungry for food anyway.”

  “What are you hungry for then?”

  “I’m famished. For you.”

  Twenty-One

  Peck

  “Peck Ward, you have some explaining to do.” Nana brandishes a wooden spoon my way. “Why wasn’t your butt in a church pew this morning, young man?”

  “Let me get in the house first. Geez,” I say, closing the door behind me.

  Machlan and Lance stand at the island, clearly enjoying their position as the good grandsons. That doesn’t happen often with either of them.

  “Oh, leave him alone,” Lance says, popping a cashew in his mouth. “I think he was getting a little last night.”

  “Hey, Lance. Shut the fuck up,” I say.

  “Really with that language on the Sabbath?” Nana asks.

  “Sorry.”

  Lance laughs. “Getting laid brings out the feistiness in ya. I like it.”
<
br />   “She’d make you feisty too,” Machlan teases. “Peck’s got himself a hottie.”

  “And it’s not Molly. Hey, that rhymed,” Lance says.

  I have a half a notion to turn around and walk out. I’ve got enough shit on my mind besides listening to these two idiots tease me all day.

  Was I getting a little, as Lance so eloquently put it? Yes. Does Molly need to be included in this conversation? No. And is any of this their business? Absolutely not.

  But they’re … them, so they’ll make it their business.

  Assholes.

  Nana turns back to the stove. “Well, if Peck was entertaining a lady last night”—she pauses and looks at Lance as if to make a point—“and that lady was Dylan, then he gets a pass.”

  “I never got a pass,” Lance points out.

  “Because you would’ve needed a pass every other week,” Nana tells him. “Peck is a good boy. He shows up for Jesus every week without fail.” She sets the spoon down and looks at me. “So were you with Dylan last night?”

  Machlan and Lance burst into laughter as my jaw drops. I stare at my little grandma as she waits patiently for me to tell her who I was sleeping with.

  “Nana … no,” I say. My response only makes my cousins laugh louder. “We really don’t need to discuss this.”

  “I don’t want to discuss it. I know the mechanics of having sex, Peck,” she says.

  I think Machlan is going to piss himself.

  “All I’m asking is if you were having sex with Dylan,” she says calmly.

  My hands go in the air as I walk in a circle. “I have no idea what happened to this family. It’s like y’all went off and lost your damn minds.”

  “Couple of ’em in here didn’t have any minds to start with,” Walker says, shutting the door behind him. He looks around the room. “What are we laughing about?”

  Lance points at Nana. “She just told Peck she wants to know who he was fucki—screwing last night.”

  Nana’s hands go on her hips. “I did no such thing. Not with those words, anyway.”

  “I can tell you that,” Walker says, knocking me off-balance with his shoulder as he walks by. “He’s been worthless since she got to town.”

  “Fucker,” I say, ignoring Nana’s gasp. “I have not.”

  He picks up a handful of cashews and pops them in his mouth. He’s completely nonplussed.

  “I hate you all,” I tell them. “Except you, Nana. I love you.”

  She raises a brow and goes back to the stove. The oven door is opened, and the smell of cornbread fills the kitchen.

  I take a seat next to Lance. He and Machlan argue about lottery odds while Walker kisses Nana on the cheek.

  “I was going to fry some potatoes too, but I’m just too tired,” she says. “Cooking takes a toll on me these days.”

  “We keep telling you to stop it,” Machlan says. “Let the girls cook for you.”

  “Or for us,” Lance says.

  Nana shoves that idea away with the back of her hand. “Don’t be silly. I just need to go a little slower than before. I’ll get my strength back up. I just need some time.”

  “Sienna would’ve been here to help, but she had to fly to Los Angeles yesterday over some contract for her company. She got a deal to design for a place that does evening gowns or something.”

  “Yeah,” Lance says. “Mariah would’ve been here too but volunteered to make a bunch of cakes and stuff for the nursing home in town. They were having some birthday month party thing,” he says, unsure. “She got Hadley to help her.

  Walker looks at me. “Where’s Dylan?”

  “You too?” I ask, raising a brow.

  He grins.

  “Look, you guys. Dylan and I are just …”

  My voice trails off because I don’t know what we’re doing now. I suppose the accurate term would be sleeping together, but that doesn’t feel quite right. That feels … careless. Replaceable. Those aren’t two words I care to place on whatever last night was.

  It was a good night of fucking. I know that. I’ll probably go home today, and she’ll act like nothing happened. But as I lay there in the early morning hours with her wrapped around me, her hair in my face and arms tucked around me, it felt like something happened beyond a few amazing orgasms.

  It felt like … I wanted to do it again. Not just the fucking, but the rest of it too. And that’s worrisome.

  “You and Dylan are engaging in adult activity.” Lance grins. “See, Nana? I said that in a clean, politically correct way.”

  “Good boy,” she says.

  “Right,” I say, uncomfortable with that description too. “But it’s not like you should expect her here on Sunday afternoons or give her hell when you see her. Okay?”

  Machlan plucks out a couple of cashews. “We’d never do such a thing.”

  “Right,” I say again as the door behind me opens again.

  We all look to see Vincent and Sawyer walk in.

  My nephew is a miniature version of his father. He has dark blond hair, crystal-clear blue eyes, and a hefty dose of freckles across the bridge of his nose like Vincent and I used to have when we were younger.

  “Hey, Uncle P,” he says, leaning against me as I pull him into a one-armed hug.

  “Hey, buddy.”

  I look down at him and smile.

  I’ve never really understood the feeling I get when I’m around Sawyer. I don’t get to spend enough time with him to know his favorite foods or colors or what he likes to do besides fish. But I do know that if the kid called me at two in the morning for anything, I’d be there. I know I wouldn’t question his bail money if he grows up and does something harebrained like his dad and I did, and if anything ever happened to my brother, I’d take this kid in a heartbeat.

  A fuzzy feeling fills my chest as I think for a split second what it might be like to have a Sawyer of my own. To have children and a wife that the rest of my family could ask about and want to see. To have a little blond-headed, maybe green-eyed kid running around, asking me to go fishing too.

  I shake my head.

  Too fast. Way too fast, Peck.

  Nana dabs her eyes with the towel on her shoulder.

  “Knock that shit off,” Walker says, pulling her into his side.

  “I’m just so happy,” she says. “There are no words to explain the love you have for your grandchildren. I loved your father,” she says, looking up at Walker, “and your mother,” she says, looking at Vincent and me. “But you kids are just something special.”

  “Well, we think you’re something special,” Sawyer says.

  I pat his back. He looks up at me and smiles.

  “You wanna tell her?” Vincent looks down at his son.

  Sawyer stands tall. “Nana, guess what?”

  “I don’t know. What?”

  “Dad and I were talking today. And we made a decision.” He rubs his bottom lip with the side of his finger, a habit of his father’s.

  Vincent watches Sawyer proudly. I see why. This little dude has the confidence of a kid twice his age, and he’s definitely got Vincent’s swagger.

  Vincent is definitely fucked.

  “Well,” Machlan prods. “What’s happening?”

  “We figure maybe we’ll stick around.” Sawyer looks at his dad and smiles. “We kind of like it here.”

  Nana’s eyes fill with tears again. Her arms spread open. “Come here and give your great nana a hug.”

  Sawyer struts across the kitchen and falls into her arms. She kisses his head, wiping her eyes with her towel.

  “Yeah,” Vincent says. “I figure I’ve done a thorough search of the counties down there for a stepmom for Sawyer. I need some new options.”

  Nana fires him a look. “Don’t talk that way in front of him.”

  “Why?” Sawyer looks up at her. “I need a stepmom. The right stepmom,” he insists. “This kid I go to school with—his name is Pete. Well, Pete’s dad got remarried in a hurry, and his stepm
om is a nightmare. So if Dad needs to take his time in picking one, I’m okay with that.”

  Nana looks relieved. “That’s right, sweetheart. Your dad is just being cautious.”

  Sawyer walks toward me with a mischievous look on his face. “I’m not dumb,” he whispers when he gets to me.

  “You little shit,” I whisper back.

  He laughs. “Can I go outside and check out the treehouse before we eat?”

  Walker nods. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

  “But dinner is ready,” Nana says.

  Machlan walks around the island. He motions for me to get up. I head that way, rolling up my shirtsleeves.

  “Peck and I will help you fry some potatoes,” Machlan says.

  “You boys don’t have to do that.”

  “Nah, we do,” I say.

  “You boys are too good to me.” She reaches up and kisses my cheek. “But I do wish you had brought Dylan.”

  “Nana …”

  She swipes her towel at me. “She’s a nice girl. And it’s clear she’s smitten with you.”

  “Oh, she is not.”

  My stomach clenches. I open the refrigerator and pretend to look for something just so my cousins don’t see my face.

  Dylan isn’t smitten with me. Is she? What does smitten even mean, anyway?

  Her face pops up in my memories—her head thrown back, mouth forming a sexy little ‘o’ as she dropped all her reservations and gave herself to me.

  As if she can read my mind, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and look at the screen.

  Dylan:I’m heading out with Navie for a while today. I made some lunch. Leftovers in fridge if you want some although I’m sure you won’t want any given you’re at Nana’s. Say hi from me.

  I close the door and look up at my family. They’re laughing as Machlan peels a bag of potatoes and Vincent tells Lance about some encounter he had with a woman on a boat. Walker sips a glass of tea, leaning against the cabinets, taking it all in. The only thing missing from this scene is Dylan.

  I wish she were here.

  He catches my eye. The joking from earlier has subsided and in its place is a knowing look. It wasn’t that long ago that Walker was in my place and trying to decide how to deal with things with Sienna. I wasn’t sure he’d figure it out. But he did.