Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1)

by Kristina Weaver

  Just when I reach that point, the point where my balls go hard and draw up, ready to release, her hand falls away and she turns onto her back, moaning out a husky curse.

  “Ashley?”

  I’m almost positive she’s awake now, so I twist onto my side, ready to kiss her back to life and take what I need.

  “Luc?”

  “I—”

  “Oh my gosh, look at the time! We need to get dressed—Ben’s appointment is in an hour!”

  Then she’s up and out of bed, running to the bathroom and leaving me alone with a boner that’s threatening to restrict all blood flow to what’s left of my fracturing brain.

  ***

  That was close, Ash, too close.

  Another minute of him rubbing me into his hip and I would’ve been ready to do whatever he wanted just to calm the blazing inferno that had ripped through me.

  My plan had almost backfired on me the moment I’d pushed my trembling hand down those rippling abs and felt the heat and hardness I’ve not yet had the chance to fully explore.

  I’d wanted nothing more than to sit up and have my wicked way with him while those icy blue eyes stared up at me with lust and greedy need.

  But that’s not the plan, I mutter to myself, scrubbing my skin so hard it burns.

  The plan is to drive him crazy with lust while making him hunger for the declaration I’d been only too willing to give him without any thought.

  Now he has to earn it.

  Or so The Goldens have told me.

  Finishing my shower quickly, I towel off and run for my closet, doing my best to ignore Lucian and his sprawl against the bed. Seriously, how am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when he’s basically offering his goods up for free?

  “Ashley!”

  “What? We need to get dressed! We have an appointment,” I yell back, pulling on a pair of ratty Levi’s and a thin knit sweater in a slate gray that matches my eyes.

  I’m not dressing like a hoochie today, no matter how much it pisses my girls off. I’m actually more worried about my own control than I am about his at this point, and the more clothes I have on the harder it’ll be for me to just jump him.

  “It’s Saturday, love!”

  Oh, crapsickles!

  Think, Ash. Think.

  If I go back to bed now, I know I’ll cave and be all over that hot mess.

  “Uh, I promised Ben we’d take him to the zoo,” I lie, schooling my features into a blank mask and walking out only to see him lying exactly as he’d been, only this time the sheets are gone and he’s wearing a wicked grim that makes my belly flop in the nicest way.

  “He came in while you were in the shower and told me he’s visiting a friend today, so we’re all alone, love.”

  Shit, I’d forgotten that play date. Oh, crap.

  “Hmm, okay. Then I’ll go get breakfast ready.”

  “Uh, uh-uh love,” he purrs, stretching languidly beneath my drooling stare. “Come back to bed and give us a kiss.”

  Uh…

  “Uh, I wanted to make pancakes and bacon,” I say lamely, giving myself a strong pep talk about self-control and the end reward. “I’m really hungry.”

  That’s what Viv had called it, saying that nothing paid off for staying the course like the prize that is a crumbling man. I highly doubt that their significant others look anything like Lucian, though, so she can just suck it.

  “Me too, love. Me too,” he drawls, licking his bottom lip as his eyes move all over my blushing body. “I’m damn near starving for you.”

  Christ. What The Goldens don’t know won’t hurt them, right?

  With that extremely valid excuse and a million misgivings, I practically dive for the bed and my grinning husband.

  What can I say?

  I’m a sucker for a confident man.

  I’m on top for all of five seconds before he rolls and pins me beneath his weight, his hands ripping at my clothes till I’m naked and pressed against the heat flowing from his skin.

  “You’re a sneaky bloody tease,” he growls, bypassing my mouth to latch onto a straining nipple.

  Pleasure hits me hard when his teeth bite down softly, holding the hardened nub for his rapidly flicking tongue. He repeats the torture on the other side minutes later and grins down at me when his ministrations have me pulling at him impatiently.

  “I thought you were hungry, love,” he teases, chuckling when I growl and lock my ankles at the small of his back, needing him, aching so fiercely between my legs I can’t stand another minute of foreplay.

  “Shut up and do me,” I grunt, smiling when I pull down and feel his intake of breath when his erection meets the wet warmth at the apex of my thighs. “Please.”

  His blue eyes spark down at me, demanding my compliance, so I relax my hold and lie back, waiting, hoping he’ll stop playing and give me what I need.

  “What do you want, little love? Do you want my mouth on yours? No? Then on your breast?”

  “No,” I moan, pushing back up for some much needed friction. “I want you inside me. Please,” I beg, reaching down a hand to stroke his steely flesh in the tight grip he’d been searching for earlier.

  The touch of my hand does what my pleading can’t do, and I watch his control snap before he pushes my hand away and lines himself up to my entrance, circling his hips once, twice, three times before he’s thrusting home and filling me to the brim.

  I feel the pleasure engulf my every cell, starting down to the tips of my curling toes, and moan, sinking my fingernails into his tight ass to pull him closer, deeper.

  “God in heaven, it gets better every time,” he growls, leaning up onto his palms to look down at where we’re joined.

  The sight must do something for him, because he’s thrusting in and out, pounding into me so strongly I arch my back in relief and grab hold of the headboard, reveling in his complete abandon and the sight of his hooded eyes.

  “Luc, Luc, Luc,” I chant, crying out in bliss when he powers deeper and hits me in that place deep inside that’s a one-way ticket straight to a mind-blowing orgasm.

  His next thrust sends me over ,and I climax with a scream, my sex convulsing in waves as he thrusts again, pushing so deep it almost hurts, and lets go, shuddering as the warmth of his seed fills me.

  “Don’t tease me again,” he warns, minutes later, rolling me to face him.

  I nod wordlessly and close my eyes, knowing that no matter how much I know this isn’t healthy, I will never say no again. I want him as much as, if not more than, he wants me.

  Looks like Plan B is a go.

  Chapter Seven

  “You gave it up!” Viv yells before I’ve cleared the threshold of Madge’s, her twinkling eyes accusing me as I shuffle my way to the table and fall down with a plop.

  How they even know this just by looking at me is not worth thinking about, so I just ignore the creepiness of it all and attack the cherry donuts they’ve ordered today, intent on burying my failure beneath a landslide of comfort eating and plain old denial.

  “Crap, you slept with him after one battle. Even I did better than that with Alex,” Nat mutters, shaking her head dolefully.

  “I can’t help it! My husband is hot,” I hiss back. “He moved the sheet away and did this thing with his hips—”

  “Oh, shut up! I do not need to hear this about my brother!” Cammy yells, covering her ears, with a gag for good measure.

  We all break out laughing when she starts humming the theme to Star Wars and pulls a face to let us know how unimpressed she is.

  “Brody?”

  “Yeah. He finally gave in and let me make him dinner, but he chose the movie after, and…well, let’s just say trying to seduce a man while he’s lip synching everything Han Solo says is not as easy as it looks.”

  “Never say!” I choke in mock horror, snorting water through my nose when she flips me the bird and huffs out a sigh.

  “Not even a bloody snog afterward, either. He just got up and pec
ked my cheek before walking out, as if I hadn’t been trying to give him a full body licking. I’m starting to wonder if Brody is even worth all this effort. Seriously, Star Wars?”

  That has us laughing so hard a snooty old lady at the table to the left starts shooting daggers our way—no private room today, thanks to the lunch rush.

  “Don’t give up just yet, English, The Goldens are on it,” Brit trills, giving her the thumbs up. “But that’s for tomorrow. Now tell us, Ash, you little light skirt, what happened to teasing him mercilessly?”

  “I just told you: he got all riled up when I did the morning wood tease, and when I came out of the bathroom he was buck naked and doing things with his hips that, for your information, should be an art form.”

  Goodness, I wasn’t walking right after the first round, and that had only been the beginning. When Lucian Jasper says he’s going all day, he really means all freaking day.

  I’m not complaining, mind you, because after round four he’d been replete enough to let me explore him. One inch at a time.

  I’m now the proud owner of a few sex cards that every woman should have. Namely, oral skills that I do not mind having.

  “We can fix this,” Viv says after our food arrives and we dig in. “It’s just a little hiccup. We just have to rework the plan with the knowledge that Ash is a light skirted whore. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  I gasp and give her the stink eye for that comment.

  “He’s my husband.”

  “No, he’s a mission,” they all say together, high fiving each other to the annoyance of Old Lady Sour Lips and her harrumphing ass. “You’re a wounded soldier on a mission to free innocent hostages from the cold, dark prison that is now your man’s heart. It’s your job to get everyone out alive before the stick up his ass blows everything to hell and back.”

  I can’t even tell you what those words do to my mental imagery. Seriously, I’m gonna see that exploding stick every time I look at him now.

  Or maybe not, seeing as that lazy hip swivel image has been dogging me for two days. Sexy beast.

  “Okay, all right. What’s the battle plan then?” I ask, forking up a bite of mouth-watering salmon.

  “If it in any way involves celibacy and keeping my hands off Lucian, I can tell you all now, that is so not happening. Especially not after that thing he did with his tongue this morning.”

  Oooh, shiver.

  “I think we should use your previously flopped attempt at declaring your love,” Brit says, looking around the table for agreement. “He’s obviously going to expect you to say it soon, since you’re walking around with your mushy heart on your sleeve and dripping blood.”

  “Oh, nice visual,” Cammy croons, clapping excitedly despite my stink eye.

  “I am not.”

  “Are too, sister. I can practically see you bleeding on the inside, you’re so hot to say it. Keep it in, though, because this next part is gonna be oh so fun,” she cackles, making me shiver with dread.

  I don’t tell them that the chances of me ever trying to say those three words again are like zero. Honestly, a snowball will make it through hell before I do that to myself again. Talk about humiliating.

  “Go on then, and blind me with your dastardly plans,” I mutter, glaring at Old Lady Snoot and her narrow eyed squint.

  “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you. Anyway, here’s what I want you to do.”

  They all lean in closer, as if we’re plotting the end of the freaking world or something, so I follow suit and raise a brow, watching a smile spread over her face.

  “You’re gonna be your usual, happy self. Have sex—have lots of sex. In fact, I want you to be the aggressor as often as possible. Jump him any chance you get. Then, when he’s so satisfied with himself, I want you to sit back and enjoy the show.”

  “What show? All I’m hearing is the same old shit I’ve been doing before. Look how far that’s gotten me,” I humph, mashing my lunch into a pulverized lump.

  “Nope. You see, this time you’re not going to give him the look or anything that in any way makes him feel like the invincible conqueror. Just play it cool and calm and let him catch up.”

  Sounds easy enough, since I’d basically cut out my tongue before doing anything that dumb again. Once again I refrain from saying so and focus instead on something I’ve been mulling around for a few days.

  “Do you guys think I can invite my friend Mary along sometime? She’s blonde and really pretty and I don’t think she’s attached. I’d like her to meet you nut jobs.”

  “Sure, we could always use another Golden, since you brunettes have joined the fold. Just don’t expect us to start setting her up on dates or anything. We don’t match make; we facilitate.”

  Facilitate my ass. These women are so devious and naughty I can’t help but wonder what kind of business they’d do if they ever put their minds to selling the goods.

  “Here’s to getting your man and eating him too!” Brit yells, toasting me with her half empty water glass.

  I highly doubt that’ll happen, but I keep my mouth shut and play along. If nothing else, I’m enjoying the hell out of having five lunatics as my best buds as I do my best to just hang on for the ride and pray I don’t come out of this with a banged up heart.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Luc

  Something is most definitely wrong. Very wrong.

  “Is it just me, or is Ash being really weird lately?” Ben whispers to me across the kitchen table as we finish off his homework while my wife skips around the place humming and cooking up a storm.

  It’s not just me then, I think, as the lad leans closer and eyes our girl like she’s a snake about to strike.

  “She baked cookies for my class yesterday and even let me eat some for breakfast. I think she’s losing her marbles.”

  I can’t disagree as she pauses and throws us a bright smile before going back to her potion pot.

  She’s been so sweet and attentive since she went to another lunch with Cammy that I’m frankly afraid of what she’ll do next. I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve actually been hiding in my study most nights just to give my poor dick a break from her insatiable arse.

  I’m exhausted, and annoyed that it can even be so, but I’m a little afraid of what she’ll do next if I don’t get a handle on her and slow her down a bit.

  I can handle her hurt feelings—most days—and even come out of one of her tempers with only a scratch or two. It’s this enigma of cheer and sexual voracity that’s got me running for the hills.

  Her behavior has me and Benjamin walking around on bleeding eggshells whenever she’s in the vicinity, and I actually miss her scathing sarcasm and those death stares she used to direct my way on a regular basis.

  Not to mention the fact that her eyes are suspiciously devoid of anything remotely resembling emotion when she turns that robotic smile my way.

  Dammit, what happened to the adoration I’d seen in her eyes just a week ago? Where are her uncertain looks and that stuttering blush every time I catch her looking my way?

  “What are we gonna do, Luc? I think she’s gone nuts,” Benjamin whispers when Ash places the food on the table with the promise of dessert if we want.

  It’s Wednesday. We only have dessert on Fridays and Sundays.

  “I don’t know, old chap, but we’d bloody well better do something,” I mutter, giving her a strained smile when she comes back to the table and takes her own seat.

  “Ashley?” I begin, gaining a small measure of confidence from Benjamin’s subtle nod. “Are you feeling quite all right, love?”

  She smiles, her eyes distant and calm, and starts eating the Irish stew she’s made.

  “Uh-huh. I’m just fine, Lucian.”

  “Erm…are you sure, love? You seem to be…”

  “You’re being weird, Ash. Like, really weird. Yesterday you said I could swim by myself after snack time. You never let me swim alone. Ever. And you’ve been humming and doing weird stuff that
you called frou…something, I can’t remember what you said, but you laughed your ass—”

  “Language, lad.”

  “Your butt off when Randy did that stuff and called her a loser.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, nodding my head thoughtfully. “And you haven’t once threatened to kill us if we mess with the remote when you’re recording your shows.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you guys,” she says with a shrug, continuing to eat her dinner while we sit and stare. “I just don’t want to moan about everything. At least not things that are minor, anyway. I’ve decided to just chill out and see where things take me, ya know? No harm in keeping things simple.”

  That simple statement sends chills down my spine for some reason. I just don’t know why.

  “Now eat your food and prepare to be super wowed by the brownies I baked earlier.”

  Benjamin and I share another fearful look before we dig in to the scrumptious feast and pretend not to be completely unsettled by the pod person chatting up a storm around us.

  Something is most definitely wrong with my woman; I just can’t quite understand what the hell it is.

  ***

  Ash

  “I can’t go to another bake sale or mommy conference. I swear I’ll start leaking brain fluid if I have to listen to another conversation about the merits of baking powder versus fucking baking soda. Please tell me why you’re trying to torture me,” I whine into the phone as I stand on the steps outside and wave to my two men as they leave for the day.

  My cheeks are so buff from smiling I’m scared to stop in case my whole face falls flat and starts oozing down my neck in a bid for freedom.

  “Because we want to unsettle your man before giving him the double whammy of ‘oh my God, my woman is perfection personified’.”

  “Yeah, he needs to see what the milk makes before he divvies up for the cow.”

  “Why did I agree to a conference call at eight in the morning?” I ask again, letting my shoulders ease the moment the car is out of sight.

  “Because you’re a giver?” Viv asks, chuckling at my disheartened growl. “Okay, okay, stop your belly aching, woman. You can stop the Martha Stewart act now. I bet you’ve got him hopping to keep up with your sudden about face.”