December (The Oliver Brothers Book 1)

by Watson, Q. M.

  He slightly shakes his head and smothers a smile, and then he looks up to the heavens and mumbles something too low for me to hear under his breath. We climb in bed together. Moving closer, I press every inch of my naked flesh to his side and suggestively rub against him.

  Danny acts oblivious to this and reaches for a novel on his bedside table. He opens the book, flipping through the pages until he comes to a yellow sticky note. I mentally make note to get him nice bookmarks for Christmas.

  He circles an arm around my waist, his fingertips lightly running up and down the line of my spine. A fierce shiver courses through me. He holds me still, absorbing every tremble until I settle.

  “What are you reading?” I ask, snuggling my head closer on his bare chest. He flashes me the cover, and I laugh. It’s a self-help book about patience. “Why are you reading a book about patience?”

  “Because,” he begins without a trace of irony or humor, “I need all the patience I can get when it comes to you.”

  My laughter dies. “I guess it is working. You aren’t overly aggressive or territorial when it comes to me. You give me space, and I love that about you. But there are times when I wonder why.”

  “My goal isn’t to smother you with overbearing demands,” he says softly into my hair, holding me tighter. “I give you space to grow, to learn, to make mistakes, to live. You have no need to worry yourself with any doubt about how I feel about you. I love you, December. I’ve been in love with you since you were a child, since the very day I saw you.”

  My heart races in my chest. I’m more than sure he can feel it. “Since I was a child?”

  “Yes,” he confesses quietly. “Since I saw you, since you were fourteen. I’ve waited this long to be with you because I love you. I can wait a while longer until you’re ready. My lioness runs off to play, but she always returns home to her king.”

  “Danny—”

  “Though, I could cuff you to the bed and piss around your ankles if you want me to be more territorial for you.”

  “That’s my kind of foreplay. Don’t tease me unless you please me afterward,” I whisper provocatively.

  He gives me a squeeze, happily laughing. “I’ll make sure to remember that.” I shift against him, wanting to gain some kind of friction to ease the ache between my legs. Danny holds me tightly to him until I stop moving. He presses a kiss to my forehead and another kiss to my lips when I expectantly lift my mouth toward his, begging. “Go to sleep, December.”

  “Okay.”

  His fingers glide up and down my spine as he reads. I stare at the book pages, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeats, and start to drift into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE PAST

  Danny, age twenty-five

  December, age fifteen

  Today is the last night of December. It’s also Danny’s twenty-fifth birthday. Mom and Papa Pete rented out the entire Huntersville cabin resort. It is a luxury resort with ten large cabins. I love the cabins because they’re enclosed by the wilderness and wild pines. The air is always cleaner up here, the scent of fresh pine and water all around. It even seems the twinkling stars glow brighter in the night sky.

  I stare at my girly white dress, my stomach filled with insane fluttering butterflies. It should be a crime for all this lace and tulle to be in one place.

  Danny squeezes my hand in his. My eyes drift up to him, and I can’t stop smiling. He’s absurdly handsome, unbelievably handsome, and freaking huge. Danny seems to have the power to eclipse the sun when he towers over me. He wears a simple white suit. His irises are glowing embers in his head. We’re walking down the hill to meet everyone at the lake. That’s where we’ll have the ceremony. We follow the path of flickering paper lanterns spiraling down on either side of the walkway.

  “I love you and everything about today,” I tell him in a quiet squeal.

  “I feel the same way, December.”

  “Do you think we’re supposed to be together? I mean, our names start with the letter d and we were both born in December. That has to mean something.”

  “It means it is destiny,” he says with a low rumble of his voice. Danny’s voice has always sounded like gentle thunder.

  “We’re so getting married.” I smooth my face into indifferent casualness before asking my next question, because it’s a big question and I don’t want him to shy away from me right now. Danny usually withdraws from me when I show too much interest in him or when I become too excited. I’m far from indifferent or causal. I’m ecstatic, festering with excitement. But I play it cool.

  “Do you want kids?”

  He glances at me warily like he’s concerned where this question is going. “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  Danny ponders over my question briefly. His expression is very thoughtful. “How many do you want?”

  I’m a little breathless at first. He wants to know how many kids I want. It’s like getting sucker punched in the gut. I force my face to remain emotionless, but inside, I’m screaming with joy.

  “Two. Maybe. I’ve never thought about it much. I kind of go with the flow, you know.”

  He strokes his strong chin. His beauty mark catches my attention again. I want to kiss it. I want to kiss him. I wonder what his lips feel like against mine.

  “Two sounds kind of perfect.”

  “Hey,” I whisper, bringing us to a stop.

  He looks at me, slightly confused.

  “Is that a bird?” I ask, pointing toward the night sky. His eyes are facing heavenward, and my heart is pounding from the thought of what I’m about to do. “Danny, it’s not a bird.” He tilts his head, lowering his eyelids to me. “It’s you.”

  I lean up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.

  Fireworks. Colorful, vivid fireworks warm my soul. My eyes are wide open, but I am blinded. One touch of Danny’s lips was all it took to die of fire and be reborn of water. His lips are the only relief I ever need. The only relief I want. He lets me kiss him for one perfect second. God, his lips are soft. I take advantage and lick his closed lips. He growls, and then he shoves me away from him. I stumble backward a bit, but Danny manages to hold my hand and balance me. He does not let me go. He gives me a narrowed glare but grins.

  “No, bad little kitty.”

  “Thought you wanted a birthday kiss,” I say, shrugging like I couldn’t care less.

  He taps his pointer finger against my nose in a playful but chastising manner.

  “You are trouble.”

  I bite his finger.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE PRESENT

  Josh glares at me through narrowed eyes as he downs another shot of tequila. Jesus Christ, this man can hold a grudge. He hasn’t said anything to me since I tried to be the best wingman ever, and that was three days ago. Mia told me they didn’t do much after they finished their cocoa. She said he called her a taxi and that was the end of it. There was no flirting. Nothing.

  Summoning much patience, I cross his front room and sit next to him on the couch. His frustration is a physical presence. It’s smothering me, threatening to choke me to death. He needs to be eased. I hate that I cause him pain. We have to hash this out. It’ll be better for the both of us.

  “Spit it out, Josh.”

  His stormy eyes hit me with the force of a Category Five hurricane. I try hard not to flinch, and fail.

  “Where did you go Saturday?”

  “I went to Danny’s.”

  He pours himself another shot, sloshing liquid over the sides as he overfills it. His gaze is focused on his task.

  “Did you fuck him? Suck his cock?”

  My smile is pretty, aimed to harm. “Would you like me to say yes?”

  He stares at me as he downs the shot, slamming the glass on the table. “This is a fucking game for you, isn’t it?”

  A nerve under my right eyebrow twitches. “Would you like me to say yes?” My voice is deceptively calm and highly patronizin
g.

  He laughs mirthlessly, his eyes glinting darkly with sadistic desire. With a swift knock of his hand, he sends the shot glass into the wall. It bursts into a shower of shards on impact. The broken glass shimmers under the dim light. The glossy shards are now a pool of broken dreams and resentment.

  “Are you done?” I ask without a trace of concern in my tone.

  He tosses the bottle of tequila next.

  Crash.

  The glass explodes into a million pieces, scattering wet shards everywhere.

  Josh flips over the table afterward.

  I remain sitting, breathing evenly.

  On the outside, I’m distantly cool, cruelly unbothered.

  But inside, inside I’m just as broken as the pool of shards that bleed out on the floor.

  His eyes are red, brimmed with tears that kill me. He wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “You don’t care about me.”

  “Stop.” I pull his arm free from his face. I force him to embrace me. “I love you, Josh. I’m sorry.” I kiss his cheek, his chin, his pretty lashes, his entire face. “Hold me, Josh. I’m sorry.” He refuses at first. I push even more into him, whispering how much I love him into his ear. I’ve gone through this with Josh before, many times. He needs someone to intervene between him and his monster. I am that person. I am the reason why he drowns himself in misery. I am determined to be the one to save him as well. I will be his salvation, even if that means sacrificing myself in the process. He’s saved my life before, and now it’s time I return the favor.

  “I’m hurting, Josh. You’re not the only one. Hold me. Please.”

  He makes a wounded noise low in his throat, shoving me away. I desperately cling to him, pressing apologetic kisses to his neck and shoulders.

  “Don’t push me. Josh, I need you.”

  The same hands that shove me hug me, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. He holds me tightly, his strong arms squeezing me against him.

  “You need me?”

  “Yes. So much.”

  “I don’t make you sick to your stomach?”

  “No,” I whisper, stroking his soft hair. “You could never make me sick to my stomach.”

  “You love me?”

  I nod silently against him.

  His hands close impossibly tight around my waist. “Tell me. I need to hear you say it.”

  “I love you, Josh.”

  He leans back to look into my eyes. He grins a little. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should,” I mumble, my voice failing me.

  “I do believe you love me, or did love me. You don’t love me anymore.”

  “Stop saying that. I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  He looks at me for a moment and then rubs his eyes. “I need to lie down.” He clasps one of my hands, yanking me in the direction of his bedroom. I halt suddenly, not wanting to cross the lake of shards.

  He glances back at me questioningly.

  “There is glass on the floor, Josh.”

  He stares at my bare feet and then at the carpet sprinkled with broken glass that looks like crystal. He shrugs, sweeping me into his arms. Josh throws me over his shoulder. He carries me to his bedroom. The shards of glass eat at his feet. He leaves bloody footprints with each step he takes.

  “No. Josh, your feet,” I shout in horror.

  “I don’t feel a thing,” he assures me. His hold around me tightens securely when I begin to squirm on his shoulder. “Stop moving. I don’t want to drop you. I don’t want you hurt.”

  I snort out a laugh that brings tears to my eyes. Oh, the irony. He doesn’t want me hurt, but with each step he takes, Josh hurts. With each step he takes, Josh bleeds, and that hurts me.

  He pulls the sheets back for us. Josh embraces me firmly when we lie face-to-face with each other. His warm body is pressed to mine. His breathing is finally even and steady. Most of his rage has leaked out, but it’s still there. I see it in his retinas, tainting everything we worked hard for.

  Water-blue eyes stare back at me, reflecting every emotion under the sun, reflecting everything I feel. How can someone you love with every facet of your being be the very reason for your despair?

  “I’m only acting up because it’s hard for you to ignore,” he whispers, tracing languid circles on the skin of my back, under my shirt.

  “I know. I wish you didn’t. I could never ignore you, Josh. There are better ways of getting my attention. I don’t want this for you.” I have to pause and swallow hard, or else I’m going to cry. And I don’t want to cry. “I don’t want this for us.”

  He grins like I’ve said the silliest thing and shakes his head. “Tell me. Is he everything you want in a man?”

  “Josh, please don’t ask questions like that.”

  “No. Tell me, December,” he whispers, lightly grazing his fingertips up and down the line of my spine. I try hard not to shiver.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.” I laugh, but tears are leaking down my face.

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “The truth is . . . I’ve loved Danny since I was a child, Josh. The truth is I saw Danny in his military fatigues when I was fourteen, and I felt a sense of relief. I felt a sense of relief because I knew that man could somehow save me, help me. I knew Danny was the other half of me when I laid eyes on him. The truth is I knew.”

  Josh wipes at my wet eyes. “You knew?”

  “Yeah.” My laugh is shaky. “I knew, and then you came.”

  He laughs somberly. “And you cracked my head open against the window.”

  “It isn’t like you didn’t deserve it,” I mumble, reaching up into his mass of thick golden waves. I run my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

  “I guess you’re right. The only thing I could think about was making you cry when I first saw you. You were with Danny. I obviously thought you two were already together, and then I thought, what the fuck. Danny is bold, bringing his new young girl into my sister’s place of business. I thought, I’m going to let this girl know how much of a fraud Danny is because his truck was in our lot last night.” He pauses and laughs again. “But you made me cry. Then I thought, I’m going to love this girl.”

  I hide my smile in the curve of his neck, my fingers sifting through silky strands.

  Josh laughs, the gleeful tone vibrating through his body and into mine. “You want to know something? I’ve always thought you were mine. When Riley tried to touch you . . .” His hands ball into hard fists before he has to force himself to loosen his fingers. Josh continues to draw silhouettes on the skin of my back. “After the sleepover happened, I’ve always thought of you as mine. I thought of you as somewhere between a little sister that needed my protection and the wild girl of my dreams. So when that happened, it killed me that I didn’t fulfill my promise to you that night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He looks into my eyes solemnly, saddened by something. His expression is deadly serious like his gaze. “I promised no one would touch you, December. I promised that and failed. I failed you. I lost track of you. Jessica was distracting me. I keep asking myself what if I was a second late. He would’ve taken something from you that you would have a difficult time getting back.”

  “What would he have taken from me?” I ask only out of curiosity.

  “Your power, December,” he says too quietly. “He would have taken your power. He would have taken the power to be who you’re meant to be, who you are today. You would be a different December if he had taken that from you.”

  “I know,” I whisper, barely audible, shuddering from the sheer terror of what could have happened. “You stopped it, though.”

  “Thank God.”

  “I do.”

  “You mean so much to me, maybe too much to me,” he confesses. “I love you, December. I tell you to remind you, to remind myself. I love you.”

  “I love you, Josh. I love you from the world and back. You know that, right?”<
br />
  He nods. “I do. I know you love me.” Josh laughs joyously. “December loves me. Go figure.”

  “Shut up.” I laugh, kissing his shoulder.

  “You shut up,” he teases back, pinching my nose closed so I can only breathe out my mouth. When I open my lips, he shoves his tongue in, and I bite him before I lose all my sense. “Ow.” He blinks at me, and I laugh. His eyes darken with mischief. He pins my arms down at my sides and sinks his teeth into the side of my neck.

  “Josh.” I squeal between laughter. “You can’t bite me.”

  “You bit me. It’s only fair I retaliate. I have to protect myself, December.”

  I twist one of his nipples as hard as I can.

  “Fuck. Don’t do that. I’m getting hard,” he says breathlessly, tugging my merciless hand from his nipple. He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm.

  “We belong together.”

  “I’m glad you’ve recognized where you belong.” His tone is playful, but his words hold more significance.

  We cuddle closer together. His arms are around me, and my arms are through his, hugging him. We hold each other, limbs entwined. He did not lie. Josh’s hard erection is pushed against my belly. I can’t stop squirming. I can feel the heat of him and how incredibly hard he is.

  His fingers tighten on my sides. “Stop moving, or I’m going to use my hard dick and poke you with it.”

  “How did you know I love a man with a filthy mouth?” I ask, laughing in his neck. “Talk dirty to me.”

  “I want to use my cock and smack you with it.”

  I try to stifle my snort, but I burst into laughter. “Did you just admit you want to smack me with your cock?”

  He closes his eyes and laughs. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  “Why?”

  Josh shrugs. He seems worn out. “You have a nice face, a lovely face, a beautiful face and a brash mouth, a sharp and vulgar mouth that cuts through everything. I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind slapping a lovely, beautiful face such as yours with my cock. That’s all.” He laughs tiredly. “Don’t read too much into this. I’m drunk and tired and drunk.”