If You Could Only Feel (Buchanan Brothers Series Book 3)

by M. E. Clayton

  Being the oldest and having to live with our father’s abuse the longest, Mason was a bit of a psychopath. He was unfeeling and did not connect well with others. Mason was cold, hard and calculating. He didn’t suffer fools easily, and since he couldn’t really identify with feelings, he was as brutal and as cutthroat as they came.

  He was also a fucking genius.

  Mase had a photographic memory, and he had the ability to multi-task anything thrown his way. There was no limit to how many balls he could juggle in the air and he could control each of those balls with absolute certainty. And he had always been the dutiful son and carefully followed the path our father had created for us, but when my father tried to come between him and his wife, Shane, when they were dating in college, Mason had gone toe to toe with our father and came out the winner.

  Now, four years later, he was head of Buchanan Industries and he was still willing, able and eager to slay any of Shane’s dragons. No one loved their wife the way Mason loved Shane.

  No one.

  Then there was my second oldest brother, Aiden. We all looked similar, but Aiden shared mine and Michael’s green eyes, where Mason’s eyes were grey. But, other than that, we were all obviously Buchanans, through and through.

  Now, Aiden was head of finance at BI. The man had a mind like a computer. He could do math in his head and he could calculate numbers, odds, situational outcomes and strategize like nobody’s business. He was a good guy, and even though he had been subjected to the ways of our father and the invisibility of our mother, he hadn’t turned out to be quite the sociopath Mason had. He was an all-around good man with good intentions. And, while Aiden had shown no signs of insanity, he did always have a weakness for the ladies. Aiden’s biggest appreciation in life was for the female species. He thought women were the most miraculous beings on earth and I didn’t necessarily disagree.

  Growing up, our father had warned us against the evils of gold-digging whores and drummed into us how any woman would be happy to land a Buchanan. He frightened the living shit out of us with horrid tales of what can become of you if you let a woman lure you into her clutches. It wasn’t until we were teens in high school that we realized how full of shit he was. Oh, we still knew to protect ourselves against the fairer sex, but we weren’t warding off females with cloves of garlic and Holy Water anymore.

  But once Aiden graduated from Blaineview and went to work for BI, the first week there, he met Denise, and every other woman on the planet cease to exist to him. He straight up railroaded her and went after her with all the force of a goddamn freight train. And, even though, Aiden still has a soft spot for women in general, his wife is his biggest treasure and he’s not shy about letting everyone know it.

  That left me and Michael. I was older than Mike by three minutes and my father never let him forget it. For some reason, my father loved to abuse Michael more than the rest of us, and even though we all did what we could to protect him, once Mason and Aiden left for college, our father had more freedom to beat, berate and bully.

  Michael and I were identical in every way. The only way you could tell us apart is if you paid attention to Michael’s skin. He had small scars decorating his body randomly from some of the more severe beatings he received from dear old Dad. The quickest and easiest way to tell us apart was the faint slash scarred underneath his right eye. Even our tattoos matched.

  Now, while I considered myself pretty laid back, Michael could be funny, charming and calming when he wanted to be. He had always been able to keep a level head about him and remain calm when all hell was breaking loose. He was perfect for his role overseeing the Human Resources division of BI.

  The only strike against my favorite brother was that, while it didn’t happen often, Michael’s temper was violently out of control when he snapped. It was both terrifying and a beautiful sight to see. There were many times we thought he would actually kill our father when he lost control of those carefully construction binds that held him in place. While Mason was a psychopath in a carefully planned murder kind of way, Michael was all fire and brimstone and would burn a city to the ground in his rage.

  He was also a virgin by choice. Michael confided in me once that he was afraid he’d never find a woman who would accept everything he brought to the table, and I didn’t blame him. Whoever ends up with Michael will have to be stronger than he is in order to help keep his demons at bay.

  As for me, I could get a good read on people. I could tell you, within five minutes of meeting someone, if they were full of shit or not. That’s why I was overseeing the marketing and client division of BI. I was good with people and what made them tick. If I had a downside, I’d have to agree with Mason, in that it was my loyalty. If a person had that, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them.

  Including burying a body.

  I guess that’s why I was so bothered by Justice’s text. It was completely out of character for her and it made me wonder what she had going on that she wasn’t telling me. I let my fingers fly across my phone.

  The city?

  Her reply had me squeezing the phone so hard, it’s a wonder it didn’t crack.

  Girls night out. Dancing, drinking & being 22 

  I didn’t text her back because I was trying to work out an explanation for the heat coursing through my body. I was also already making plans in my head to be in her apartment when she got home tonight. I had a key and I’ll be goddamn if I wasn’t going to be there to make sure she came home alone.

  Chapter 3

  Justice~

  Gabriel had never responded to my text about girls’ night out and I was sadly disappointed. He obviously didn’t care that I was going out clubbing in the city, but then, Gabriel could have any woman he wanted…why would he care what I was doing?

  I felt Beatrice’s body weight behind her shoulder nudge. “Goodness gracious, Just,” she said over the music. “You are all Grumpy Gertrude tonight.”

  I turned my head and cocked it to the side, eyeballing her. “Is that even a thing?” I asked. “I mean, I know Negative Nancy and Debbie Downer, but Grumpy Gertrude? I think you just made her up.”

  She smiled her perfect Colgate smile. “I had to invent something,” she explained. “You’re not a negative person and if you were a downer, you’d have stayed home. So, Grumpy Gertrude had to come to life.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It could have been her ridiculous reasoning or the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream, but her nonsense made me laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

  Her shoulders popped up really quickly, and she gave me a sheepish grin. “Maybe,” she conceded. “But don’t judge me just yet. It’s amazing the level of ridiculousness I’m capable of when I’m drinking.” Beatrice raised her glass, and I raised mine so she could clink glasses in a toast to her claim.

  We were sitting at the bar, and we were lucky to be doing that much. When we had arrived, Midtown had already been packed with drinking dancing bodies, but we were able to snag these seats when two girls were heading out and did us a solid.

  Midtown was the newest downtown club and I could see why. This was my first time here, even though Beatrice’s invited me a million times over the years, and I was actually enjoying the atmosphere of the place. I was kind of bummed that it took me so long to accept her invitation.

  Beatrice Easton and I met when Dr. Daughtry had sent me to a medical supply store to buy some supplies directly when we had run out of inventory. Beatrice worked at Medical & More as a salesperson, but she really knew her shit and was a fountain of information and helpful tips.

  We had become fast friends, and except for Gabriel, she knew everything about me, and I considered her my best friend, even if I wasn’t hers. Beatrice was friendly and outgoing, so she never had a shortage of friends she could hang out with.

  “So, what’s the game plan?” she asked.

  I cocked my head again. “Game plan for what?”

  Beatrice rolled her eyes. “To get rid
of your virginity, you dork,” she stated as a matter of fact. Unfortunately for me, I had chosen that moment to take a sip of my drink and I started choking on it.

  Beatrice started pounding me in the middle of my back, trying to help. But she wasn’t. She really wasn’t. Once I got myself under control, I turned to her and yelped, “What do you mean, get rid of my virginity?”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Come on, Justice,” she whined. “I’ve known you for four years and I have never seen you with a guy or have heard you talk about a guy.” It’s true. “I just figured you were painfully shy or something and you were scared of boys.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “How do you know I’m not secretly in love with you and just waiting for the day you realized it and we can go on and live happily ever after?” I teased.

  Beatrice laughed. “Because I notice all the times your eyes gloss over, and you drool whenever we’re watching The Kingsmen and Eggsy’s in a scene.”

  Hmmmm…she had a point. Too bad I was pretty much telling her the truth if you just switched her name out for Gabriel’s.

  I’m not sure when Gabriel Buchanan first took notice of me, but the first time he spoke to me was in our sophomore year of high school when we had been paired up in an American History project. Sure, I had seen him around and he was even in a couple of my classes, but I’d never spoken to him before. I hadn’t spoken to any of the Buchanan brothers.

  The first time Gabriel and I met up in the library to do research for our project, he had sat across from me and I’ll never forget the jolt of electricity that sparked throughout my body, rendering me stupid when that spark hit my brain.

  Gabriel had sat down, looked over at me, and giving me his undivided attention, smiled at me and I was done for. I sat there staring at him like a complete idiot until he snapped me out of my trance by asking me how I wanted to go about gathering the research.

  Here’s the thing. Gabriel Buchanan (like all the Buchanan brothers) is gorgeous beyond what should be legally allowed. Gabriel was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome, except he was way beyond handsome.

  Even as a sophomore in high school, Gabriel had already reached a height of a little over six-feet. He had a head full of the signature Buchanan black hair that begged to have a hand run through it. He had matching arched brows that sat over a pair of mind-numbing green eyes. His older brother Aiden had them too, whereas the oldest, Mason, had grey eyes.

  Gabriel had a straight, Romanesque nose, strong cheekbones, lips full and soft with a cut jawline that was always clean shaven, and Michael had been the same. The Buchanan Twins really were identical with their…everything.

  Well, maybe not everything.

  While I did eventually find out that beneath Gabriel’s Henley shirts, designer jeans and million-dollar sneakers was a body worth salivating, I can’t speak on what Michael Buchanan looks like naked. But if he looks anything like Gabriel, then God help us all.

  The first time I interacted with the both of them at the same time, I was literally stunned speechless. My mind would not stop spinning with the vision of both of them standing in front of me, talking and smiling.

  Oh, did I mention they had dimples? Because they fucking did.

  An identical pair of deep, indented crescents that rendered you dim-witted with their power. I actually had to ask them to repeat what they were saying because I kept getting lost in the greenness of their eyes and the all-around beauty of their faces.

  Over the years, Gabriel’s physique hadn’t changed much. He still had broad shoulders, big, strong arms, cut pecs, a six-pack I loved running my tongue over, an Adonis belt and sturdy, muscular legs and I knew he kept in shape by working out five times a week or so. The only thing real changes were the ink on his skin. He liked tattoos, and they looked delicious on his body.

  Ugh, his body…

  I wish I could tell Beatrice the truth. There were so many times I longed to unburden myself with this unrequited love I had for Gabriel, but I had my pride. If I was going to be Gabriel’s dirty little secret, then by God, he would be mine, too.

  So, since I couldn’t tell her the truth…“Well, I’ll have you know, there was a whole 18 years of living before I met you, girly,” I teased. “Just because I’ve been focusing on my job these past few years doesn’t mean I don’t know the feeling of a man.”

  Her nose scrunched up. “The feeling of a man? Who the hell talks like that?”

  I puffed out another laugh when I answered, “Someone who’s obviously had too much to drink.”

  “We’re not even close enough to being cut off yet,” she disagreed. “Too much to drink status comes with glassy eyes, peeing too much, dancing to any song that comes on, and if God is being merciful tonight, our skirts up around our waists while we’re getting pounded into oblivion.” She sighed. “Ah, the dream.”

  I wanted to caution her against getting pounded into oblivion by a man she just met, but I couldn’t. Being pounded into oblivion by a stranger sounded like music to my ears right now.

  So, instead of lecturing on all things pink and pure, I said, “Don’t forget the condoms. If we’re going to be whores, we’re going to be responsible, safe whores, you got me?”

  Beatrice smirked. “But of course, Mom.”

  I looked out over the crowd, taking in how everyone was having a good time and appearing to be carefree and loving life and I wanted that to be me.

  I wanted to be happy. I wanted to enjoy being 22 years old. I wanted to enjoy it being single or enjoy it being in a relationship. I didn’t want to settle for confusion, depression and limbo status. And as much as I loved Gabriel, the situation I’ve found myself in with him wasn’t enough anymore.

  My love for Gabriel was real, and I knew there might be a chance that I’d always have this little piece of sorrow hovering in the corners of my heart from not being with him, but I had to try.

  I had to test the waters. I’ve never been with another guy, and maybe given the chance, I could find something deeper and meaningful with someone willing to try with me.

  Someone who thought I was worth the effort.

  I glanced out back towards the sea of bodies that seemed to be having a good time and I made up my mind. “Let’s get glassy eyed, pee when need be, dance like fools and find us some guys to pound us into oblivion,” I battle cried.

  Beatrice’s grin took over her entire face. “Let’s do it!”

  Chapter 4

  Gabriel~

  It was past two in the morning when I saw a car pull up to the curb in front of Justice’s apartment building. I’d been standing by the window for over half an hour eyeballing every pair of headlights that cut through the night.

  I waited as long as my sanity would allow me and I had texted her around 11pm, about three hours after I’d let myself into her apartment and gotten comfortable.

  It felt weird being in her apartment without her. Whenever Justice and I were together, we were together. Except for occasional runs to the store or me showing up before she got off work, we spent every second together when I was in town.

  This experience of having to wait on her, while she was out living it up in the city, was not a good feeling. And the feeling got worse as I watched her half-ass stumble out of a car, wave goodbye to somebody and make her way up the walkway smiling.

  She was fucking smiling and I hope to God it was because she was drunk as shit and not…anything else.

  I let the curtain fall back into place, and crossing my arms over my chest, I watched the front door, waiting for her to open the door. Nerves danced in the pit of my stomach with every passing second.

  Justice and I became friends when we were 15 years old and were paired up for a classroom assignment, and we became much more a year later when we were 16. We had been each other’s first in damn near everything and we’d been giving into that connection ever since. But, in all that time, we’ve never had a falling out. Not even one argument, and I had a feeling, this first one, w
as going to be a doozy.

  Because there was no doubt in my mind that there would be a fight.

  I heard the doorknob jingle and the telltale signs of locks opening. The lamp in the living room was on, so she was going to know instantly that I was here. Or that someone was in her apartment.

  And I was right. The second she passed the threshold, she gasped. Her head darted around, and her eyes widened when she noticed me standing by the window. My eyes raked over her body, and if I hadn’t been pissed before, I sure the fuck was now.

  Her mermaid dyed hair was falling in waves down her back, shining like a goddamn waterfall. Her face was flushed, and her eye makeup was a little worn, but it didn’t take away from the features that made up her beautiful face.

  Justice’s hair was naturally blonde, but she always kept it dyed in an array of brilliant colors. It worked for her personality and her slim stature. She had long, thin brows that worked with her pale eyelashes to showcase a stunning pair of bright blue eyes. Her skin was smooth and flawless. Her nose was perfectly straight and centered on her face. Her cheeks were high and always rosy. And she had a pair of lips that made the best of men wonder about them.

  I was 6’1”, so her 5’5” height made her feel perfect in my arms. And over the years, my hands, lips, tongue and cock have memorized the slope of her shoulders, the femininity of her arms, the gracefulness of her neck, the pleasure of her perfect hand-sized breast, the softness of her tapered waist, the lushness of her flared out hips, the strength of her toned, lean legs and every hidden secret she’s ever shared with me.

  And now she was standing before me, hair down her back, eyes made up to mesmerize and an outfit designed to seduce.

  Her black top was a barely-there tank top and pushed her tits up, showing off more cleavage than anyone should be allowed to see. She paired it was a scrap of material that I imagined was supposed to be a fucking skirt of some kind, but instead, it just wrapped around her hips, barely covering her ass. Her legs were bare, but her feet were encased in a pair of classic black, fuck-me heels that added another four inches to her height.