by Jess Bentley
I turn around to face my brother.
Clay glares at me. “The fuck you think you’re doing?”
“None of your business,” I say, violence raging inside of me at the interruption. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hit my brother as badly as I do right now.
Clay stalks forward, glare moving back and forth between me and Jessa. “The fuck this isn’t my business.”
“You very clearly did not stake your claim here, brother,” I say.
Every word is like a dart at my brother, and Clay flinches. “So you swoop in the second you have a chance—”
“Again, how’s that your fucking business?”
“It’s my business because—”
“Shut up!” Jessa cuts in, stepping between us. She holds her hands out as if to block us from coming to blows. Hell, maybe she’s right to react that way. My hand is a fist at my side and I’d like nothing more than to slam it into my brother’s face at the moment. I’m beyond fucking frustrated, and I know without a doubt that if Clay hadn’t walked through that door, I’d be inside Jessa right now.
“Jessa—” Clay starts. But he doesn’t get far.
“I’m no one’s fucking property,” Jessa says. “I’m free and clear here, and if I want to sleep with Trey, I will.” She directs the last part at Clay, but before I can feel too confident she turns on me, too. “But that doesn’t mean I belong to you, either. I can sleep with either one of you, both of you if I fucking feel like it. Or neither one of you. And it’s nobody’s damn business but my own.” She throws her arms up in frustration. “Good fucking night to you both.”
Chapter 11
Jessa
“Are you all right?” a voice asks from the shadows as I slam the billiard door room behind me.
I jump a little, even though I recognize the voice, and I turn to give whatever Hollister brother dares to talk to me right now a piece of my mind.
Dark, steady eyes meet mine from behind stylish glasses.
Joshua. Duh. Both of the Hollisters I’m actually mad at are stuck behind the door I just slammed.
He had absolutely nothing to do with the drama that just took place, and yet, I’m still tempted to yell at the poor man. It’s stupid. But part of me is annoyed with him too. Probably because I find myself just as attracted to the quieter Hollister brother as I am to the other two.
“Where did you come from?” I ask, ignoring his question. I’m so very far from okay, but he’s hardly someone I should be confiding in about my situation
Joshua stretches his shoulders and then clasps his hands behind his head. “Same place I reckon Clay came from—bed.”
Crap. Had Trey and I been loud enough to wake everyone else up? Or had Clay been listening for me to go upstairs or something? Thank God there were only the brothers to really wake up in case we’d been loud. BethAnn’s room is on the other side of the house, and all the ranch hands live out in the bunkhouse.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I say closing my eyes to massage my temples. A headache is in my future if I continue spending time with the Hollister brothers. I’m sorry I woke Clay up, too. But for very different reasons. But if Clay hadn’t come, would Joshua have interrupted us? Or would he have observed from the shadows?
Might he have joined in?
My eyes snap open, and I meet Joshua’s dark gaze. For half a second, it feels like he can read my thoughts. Like he can see the terribly dirty things that pop in my head every time a Hollister brother is around. I shake off the feeling mentally. Of course, he can’t read my thoughts.
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Joshua says, taking a step toward me. “It was quite the show.”
My breath catches my throat, and my stomach tightens. “You saw?”
Another step and he closes the distance between us. And he is suddenly in my personal bubble. Only inches away. Close enough to smell the slight hint of cologne he carries. Close enough to feel the heat of his body.
Close enough to touch.
And holy cow, do I want to touch him. Need fills me after the near-finish with Trey, and I’d love nothing more than to have this beautiful cowboy step in and fulfill it. How crazy does that make me? That I want, more than anything, for this man to step in and finish what his brother started? Pretty crazy, probably. But I’m finding I just don’t care. I feel how I feel, wrong or right.
Passion fills his gaze as he stares down at me. Anticipation, too. Is he waiting for me to kiss him? Is he waiting for me to run?
My foot slides back, and before I know it I’m walking back down the hallway toward the kitchen. A low laugh follows me, but Joshua doesn’t.
I feel like I’m burning up as I emerge into the kitchen, and for half a second I think I can smell smoke coming off of my skin. Then it hits me, I’m not burning.
But something certainly is.
“Oh crap,” I say, rushing farther into the kitchen. The casserole. Trey had put it in before we... Well before. How the heck long has it been in the oven?
I’m not only here to screw up the Hollister’s relationship to one another. I’m here to burn their damn house down.
But someone has beat me to it, a man stands in front of the oven and with quick precision, he has gloves donned, oven emptied, and is headed out a side door with the now too crispy casserole. He disappears into the night for a long moment, and then he returns, pulling the gloves off his hands as he walks back into the kitchen.
“I leave for a while and they try to burn the place down,” he says, mouth quirking into a grin.
The world spins, and I grip the granite countertop edge like the lifeline it is. The man closes the distance between us quickly, and he takes hold of my upper arms. His grip is strong, and he smells amazing. I look up into his dark eyes, and the world spins faster.
“Why don’t we sit down a minute?” the man says, half carrying me to one of the barstools.
“Who are you?” The words escape my lips before I can take them back. But I have to know.
If my rudeness bothers him, he doesn’t let it show. He smiles—no, smirks—at me. “I’m Tyler Hollister. And who might you be?”
“I’m just—” But before I can say anything else, the ruckus from the billiards room spills into the kitchen. All three Hollister brothers tumble in, rightfully looking for the fire.
Their eyes lock on the Hollister I just met. Clay’s face explodes into a huge grin, and Joshua manages a grudging smile. Trey crosses his arms over his chest, and stares at the stranger without expression.
“Tyler!” Clay says. “About time you drag your ass in here. How —” Clay’s gaze suddenly flashes to me. To Tyler—whoever he is—and his hand is still on my upper arm.
“Are you okay, Jessa?” Trey asks, stepping forward as well.
Joshua, ever the silent brother, walks around the island to stand to my left while Tyler remains of my right.
“I’m fine,” I reassure the brothers, but all of them so close, so big. And four of them... Claustrophobia makes me want to run.
“She looked a little shaky on her feet,” Tyler says. “Whoever this lovely woman is.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Here I am on the verge of a panic attack and the man is flirting with me.
I point at Tyler and glare at the other men. “Another brother?”
Clay is still staring at Tyler’s hand on my arm. But it’s Trey who speaks. “Tyler, meet Jessa. Jessa, this is our younger brother Tyler. He kinda comes and goes as he pleases.”
I look Tyler up and down, still far too aware of his hand on my arm. Younger? He didn’t look much different than the other brothers, and he almost—almost—could have passed for a twin of one of the other three. But seeing Clay and Trey and Joshua side by side... No, this man didn’t make them quadruplets.
He confirms that when he says, “I’m younger, but only by two years. I’m still a growing boy.” He winks at me.
I hear Clay groan with annoyance and see Trey shaking his head out of the co
rner of my eye. And I swear that behind me Joshua snickers softly.
“Nice to meet you, but I’m going to bed,” I announce, turning on the barstools and gently pulling away from Joshua and Tyler. I shuffle carefully to where the kitchen transitions, and then I turn around to look at the brothers. My breath catches.
God, but they are beautiful. Four tall, muscular men with gazes that make me finally understand the term “bedroom eyes.” Four sets of bedroom eyes are now locked firmly on me. The room practically vibrates with hunger.
And no small part of it is coming from me.
“Goodnight,” I say. As I turn toward the stairs, I hear a chorus of goodnights behind me. But I don’t look back again. I’m too sure I’ll succumb to the temptation, that I’ll ask them to come to bed with me. To ask all of them to come to bed with me.
And what the hell would that make me?
I swear the testosterone from the kitchen follows me as I shut my bedroom door and then lean against it. The cool wood feels good against my too-hot forehead.
Good God. What did myself into, coming here?
How can I be so attracted to four different men? One of whom I’ve known for all of five minutes? Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones?
I sigh, frustrated. Then I head for the shower. I’m tempted to try a cold one and see if that helps my heated libido. But I’m not brave enough to endure the cold water. Not tonight.
So I step into the nice, warm shower. The water slides down my skin, doing nothing to quell my desire.
I could almost understand myself if I were only attracted to the triplets. Heck, they did all look alike. At least, until you notice the details in how they hold themselves, how they act. But throw in Tyler as well, and I struggle to find a good excuse for my feelings.
Why the hell did he have to come home tonight?
I scrub my hair furiously and try to let the fruity smell of the shampoo relax me. But it doesn’t work, and I step out of the shower onto the bathmat just as frustrated as when I went in.
I’m pregnant with Clay’s baby. He should be the man that I want—the only man I want. If I’m going to explore being with any of the Hollister brothers, it should be Clay. And only Clay.
I dry off, and wrap my hair and the big, fluffy towel. I brush my teeth and finish getting ready for bed but decide against putting on pajamas. It’s hot, and it’s not like anyone’s going to just walk into my room. The Hollister brothers are, in a lot of ways, sin in skin. But they are also gentlemen.
At least, the three I know pretty well are. But I can’t imagine the fourth brother has fallen that far from the family tree.
I slide between the sheets and take another deep breath. How have things gotten so twisted up in my head? In my heart? I can admit to myself, in the dark and in my own mind, that I want all four of those men. And I didn’t want them only on some kind of weird, rotating basis. The idea of all four of them touching me, kissing me. It is almost more than I can stand.
I slide my hands under the sheet, and massage my breasts. How would it feel if it were Clay and Trey’s hands instead of mine?
I cup my breasts and pinch my nipples, then massage myself. But in my head, the two brothers are on either side of me in the bed. Both of them giving their full attention to one of my breasts. Their hands massaging, their tongues teasing, their lips suckling.
I slip a hand down between my legs. God, we aren’t even in the room with me and I’m already so wet. And I imagine a third Hollister brother, Joshua. His intense gaze locking on me as he kisses and licks my sex. Would he be as deliberate, as methodical in his actions as he is and everything else he does? I moan at the thought. I start to rub my clit, slowly at first, wanting to make this last. I can almost hear the brothers in my head murmuring. Encouraging me to let go. Encouraging each other to make the whole thing more pleasurable than I can even imagine.
And then the fourth brother pops in my head. I don’t know him at all, but that touch of mystery only adds to my excitement. He wouldn’t be gentle, nor would he be content to wait to take his pleasure until after I’m done. He would take exactly what he wants.
Tyler would be kissing me at first. Wetting my lips and pleasuring my mouth. And then he’d kneel over me, while the other brothers continue to work my body, he’d be pushing his cock between my lips. He’d say nasty things, dirty things, while he slides his cock over my tongue to touch the back of my throat.
I touch myself more furiously, and squeeze my breast with my other hand. I’d be close, so close. But Tyler wouldn’t hold back. Even as an orgasm rolls over me, he’d keep forcing his cock down my throat. Until he finally reaches release, and shoots his sticky white cum into my mouth and throat. And then he’d tell me to swallow it.
And then Clay would be next, settling between my legs. Pushing his cock into my pliant, needy body. Another brother—Trey, takes Tyler’s place at my mouth. Barely giving me enough time to catch my breath before slipping his dick between my lips. They turn me onto my side, and then Joshua—seemingly quiet Joshua—would slip behind me. He plays with my ass, pushing a long, thick finger inside, and then—
The orgasm crashes into me, drawing a startled moan from my lips. My whole body shakes with pleasure, even as my pussy closes around nothing but air.
I take a long, haggard breath. And I can feel my face heat in the dark. An amazing fantasy, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.
But what was I thinking?
I shake my head in roll over to my side. It’s a nice fantasy, but there is no way it will ever come true.
I wake late in the morning, after tossing and turning most of the night. Sunlight streams through my curtains, and I blink against the light. For the first time in a very long time, my morning sickness doesn’t seem to be waiting for me the instant I’m awake. Thank God for small favors.
The temptation to hide out in my room is strong, but I can’t do that. For one, I’m never going to finish the story I’m here to write if I don’t do a couple more interviews. For another, I can’t let myself be that much of a chicken.
And… I have to eat breakfast. I know from experience that skipping meals brings the morning sickness on, and worse, makes me faint. I’m not allowed to faint in front of these men. Not again. Besides, skipping meals can’t be good for the baby. I might be lost as to what I’m going to do when he or she gets here, but I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he or she is safe and healthy.
I throw on my freshly washed jeans and a T-shirt and pull back on my slightly muddy sneakers. That’s one thing I’m really starting to like about the country—casual is so much more comfortable than dressing up.
I walk down the stairs slowly and try to gather my continually scattering thoughts. Is this already what they call pregnancy brain, or is this Hollister brain?
Truth is, I probably have enough material to write several features on the Hollister boys. But I’m not ready to leave yet. And really, I can’t leave yet. Not until I tell Clay.
I throw a few pieces of fruit on my plate, still slightly queasy from my bout with morning sickness first thing this morning. I’ve missed all the hands again, but BethAnn smiles at me and tells me good morning. She’s busy with the cleanup, so I do my best to stay out of her way and not distract her.
I’m just finishing my fruit when Tyler walks in. He bends to give BethAnn a kiss on the cheek, then turns to flash me a grin. “Good morning, tiny writer.”
“I’m not tiny,” I bristle. “It’s not my fault you and your brothers are overgrown. Must be something in the water here.” Something that grows the men big and sexy as hell.
He fills a big glass with orange juice. “We’re just the perfect size.”
I snort. “Flirt.”
He turns and winks at me. “You might say that.” Then he downs the orange juice. Somehow, he manages to do so without losing any of his sensual allure. When he’s finished, he asks, “So what are your plans for the day?”
Finish writing my story. Avoid
the Hollisters at all costs. Figure out how to tell Clay I’m pregnant. I swallow a hysterical laugh and manage not to sound crazy when I reply. “Going to work on my story, I suppose.”
“Why don’t you spend the morning with me?”
I choke on the swig of coffee I’ve just taken, and Tyler rushes to my side, smacking me on the back.
“Are you okay?” he asks when I finally stop coughing into my napkin.
“Peachy,” I half-say, half-cough. I take another drink to calm my irritated throat. “Spend the morning with you, huh?”
He grins at me. “Sure. Unless you’re scared?”
“Scared of what? You?” I scoff, but secretly I kind of am. Not of the man himself, but of how these brothers seem to make me feel without even trying.
We step out into the sunlight and I glance at Tyler. He looks like his brothers, but there are subtle differences. His hair is a shade darker, barely brown instead of black, and he is maybe half an inch shorter than the triplets.
“Where are we going?” I ask, but I don’t really care much. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m happy to be outside. Even accompanied by one of the brothers, my head feels clearer than it has in a while.
“I thought we’d take a walk.” He gestures for me to go ahead, and we stroll toward the corral. “Chat a bit, maybe.”
“About my story?”
“If you’re lucky.”
I can’t help smiling. The man has a certain roguish charm which is proving nearly impossible to resist. And for the next hour, we wander around the property, staying somewhat close to the house. Tyler is just as charming as I suspected. And even chatting about silly things, he is easy to talk to.
“I still remember,” he says as we come back around a small, open pasture near the barn where a few horses chomp on grass lazily, “the first time I jumped on a horse my dad told me not to.”
I lean against the fence, and he does the same. Our arms are only inches apart. “Didn’t go like you planned?”