Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1)

by Kristina Weaver

  I shoot him down not because I’m still angry, because I’m not. Well not much. No, the reason I won’t talk about it is that I am still mortified by the whole event. I mean come on, I’d been eight months pregnant and sprouting troll’s ankles and trying to seduce a guy who’d told me flat out he didn’t want me.

  “Don’t start what?”

  “Don’t start trying to talk about things now. Please. That was all a big mistake and we both know it. Leave me some pride here and just forget it ever happened. Please.” I beg again, meeting his eyes. “You’re not stupid so I know that you figured it out, just…let it go.”

  His chest rises sharply and falls with a sigh that sounds tired and defeated.

  “I can’t. I made a massive mistake that night and I can’t continue without telling you how terribly sorry I am for it. I was angry and hurt and you kept pushing at me till I could hardly breathe. I knew it was a matter of time before my control slipped and I took you. A man can only sleep next to his woman for so long without doing what comes naturally and…I was too angry to admit to myself that I still wanted you.”

  The words hover between us and I stay silent, letting the silence slip into an uncomfortable white noise that makes my ears pop.

  “I knew the moment I walked in the door with that woman that I’d fucked up but by then it was too late to do anything. You came around the corner and I saw you in that dress and I just went mental.”

  I snort again and twist my mouth sardonically.

  “You were cool as a freaking cucumber the whole time that bimbo was crawling all over you, sucking at your jaw and neck.”

  At my jealous tone his mouth twitches and I narrow my eyes dangerously.

  “No imp. I was half crazed with the need to hurt you, to get you away from me and what I was feeling. I practically threw that woman off the minute the door closed and watched you leave from the window in our room. I got her a taxi right after and sent her home, cursing me to hell and back I might add.” He says derisively.

  “I found your letter minutes later and-”

  “Stop. No. Please tell me you didn’t.” I beg, feeling another wave of mortification hit me.

  Of course I know that he must have found the thing, I’d just hoped he’d have gotten rid of it or left it unread. No such luck.

  “I did. It almost killed me but I read it, every word and I realized I’d broken something I should have taken a lot more care of. I went to see you the next day.”

  “And the next and the next. And then you stopped coming or calling.”

  “Because I couldn’t watch you damn near break your neck sneaking out of the house every time I showed up.” He snorts, making me snicker to think of the acrobatics I’d performed.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to laugh it all off and tell him no hard feelings when I see his eyes wing down to my chest and-please no. Oh Lord, please no, I think, even as I feel the hot, moist slide covering my chest.

  Just when I think I can’t get more embarrassed than having to admit to being a needy doofus who can’t take a hint my boobs have to go and explode all over the place.

  And it’s not pretty since Immie hasn’t fed from me all day and I’d only pumped a little this morning before passing out.

  “Oh God, excuse me.” I mutter in a choked whisper, jumping to my feet and bolting for the nursery and the breast pump I should have used to suck them dry.

  I’m in the process of attaching the doodad to the doohickey tube thingy when I’m spun around and hoisted up and into Devon’s chest, his grey eyes a molten silver that’s swirling with lust.

  “Allow me.”

  My back is pressed to my mattress in the blink of an eye and I realize he’s made it to my bedroom and somehow stripped me without me even noticing.

  And then I’m writhing and moaning as his lips attach over my nipple and he starts sucking in a strong motion that wings its way to my sex and starts a deep beat that echoes in my womb.

  “Christ, I’ve been dying to do this since you nursed at the hospital.” He groans, going back to his suckling as I whimper and dig my nails into his scalp to pull him closer.

  When he deems that breast done he switches to the other and sucks at me so hard I tense up and moan when a small climax rips through me, stringing me so tight I feel my thighs shake in protest.

  My sex is pulsing and empty and so wet I feel the evidence of my need gloss over my inner thighs. I would be embarrassed but this is obviously just what Devon’s been waiting for because he rears up suddenly and starts attacking his clothes, chucking them off with a growl before falling back to me and taking my open mouth in a tangle of tongues, wet lips and clashing teeth.

  “Tell me stop.” He grunts, pulling away to look down between my spread legs. “Tell me and I’ll-”

  “No. Please.”

  I’m beyond thought or care right now as I feel his crown slide through my cleft, bouncing off my clit, once, twice before notching at my entrance, sending tingles from my core to the tips of my toes.

  I wiggle closer and try to suck him in, needing him to fill me and take away all the empty spaces he’s left behind.

  I feel him tense and groan before he hooks his hands beneath my thighs and thrust home with a roar that mirrors my yell of relief.

  The rhythm is hard and raw as he pushes in and pulls out, retreating and driving back with a force that rocks the bed and has our skin slapping and sliding.

  It’s wild and uncontrolled and sloppy and I love it because it means we’re too wild to care about technique. I feel him nearing his peak and scream when he angles his hips and hits me so deep it hurts in the best way. His hand lets go of one of my thighs and snakes down, his fingers finding me and stroking in the same desperate rhythm as his hammering hips.

  I climax and scream into his open mouth, my core tensing and clenching hard, the tremors in my womb making my toes curl as the pleasure takes me over and sends me screaming into space.

  The contractions are so strong I feel him stutter and tense, his movement jerky and uncoordinated as he stills above me, thrusts as deep as he can go and comes in a series of teeth clenching spurts that I fell deep inside.

  “Devon-”

  “Please don’t regret this.” Hebegs, cutting me off with a shake of his head and a look that steals my breath.

  We’re both wheezing for breath as he pulls out but stays hovering above me, his eyes locked on mine, his expression open and vulnerable.

  “Please say you want me as much as I want you. Please.”

  I feel tears gather along my lashes at the heart stopping vulnerability reflected there and I smile through a stuttering breath, feeling hopeful and resigned.

  Who am I kidding? I can’t stop loving this man, no matter how much I wanted to or how much he tried to get me to. He’s my one. My only and I’ll walk over hot coals to get to him.

  I’ll even let go of my pride and humiliation to remove that pleading, desperate look from his face.

  “How can I regret that Dev? I love you too much to ever regret giving you what is and always has been yours.” I whisper, bringing up a hand to stroke his face lovingly. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I promise I will never doubt you again.”

  I may have my moments of insecurity and doubt but I will always remember his worth and push away the remaining insecurity I’ve had since my fat, teenage self learned that people are cruel and mean.

  “I love you so much my imp. So so much. And now I will do what I should have done the minute I found you in that chapel in Vegas and thought my world had ended.”

  I giggle when he breathes into my mouth and captures my gaze with his.

  “Rebecca, my imp, my only love. Will you please marry me and give me the paperwork I need to keep you from running off again?”

  I snicker at his words and shake my head once, feeling airy and light and so happy I could burst with it.

  “No?”

  “Nope. I liked it better when I asked you so here goes. Devon, baby
, love of my life, will you please marry me so I can love you for the rest of my life?”

  He grins at me and kisses me softly before pulling away and breathing deeply.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Dev

  “Devon! Hun is upchucking again and Immie is running around without her clothes again!”

  I chuckle at the panicked quality in Davy’s voice and end my conference call with a groan.

  Imp has been so sick for the last week that I wake up early just to be prepared with ginger ale and a slice of dry toast before she wakes and sprints to the loo to hack up her stomach.

  Immie, my little darling has taken to running around in the buff since she started potty training and learned that Davy and Ry go into hysterics when they see her that way.

  Bloody feeble hearted, the lot of them.

  “Immie, my little hoyden, why are you undressed again.” I ask, sweeping her up and taking her to get changed into the purple onesie imp had wrestled her into just moments ago.

  “Mummy say go ir’tay Day and Wy.” She giggles, her big grey eyes filled with mischief and mayhem.

  “Why did mummy tell you to do that?” I ask, making my way to out bedroom and wincing with every choked gargle that echoes through the door.

  “Mummy say Day be baby and Wy need lesson.”

  Since the sight of her mummy being sick upsets the little monster so much I rather think it was imp’s way of getting her out of the room before her morning sickness erupted again but I don’t say anything and instead sit on the bed and entertain the scamp while imp flushes the loo and rinses her mouth.

  “I swear to God, this kid is going for broke in there. And Day and Ry keep getting all persnickety every time I turn green.” She grumps coming over to kiss Immie before falling down beside us and snuggling into my neck.

  “They just hate seeing you suffer imp.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to a whole day of your family? I can call them and cancel and you can take a nap while I keep the little miss here entertained.”

  She shakes her head and yawns and I want nothing more than to ring the whole lot of them and tell them to bugger off. Brand and mama are fine but Logan, Grey, Matt and Jet are all coming too. Along with Lila and the only child I’ve ever met who rivals Immie in mischief; Grey’s son Colt.

  The child is a holy terror and so naughty he makes my little monster look like an angel, something that is no easy feat.

  And then there’s Logan’s wife Arial and their adopted daughter Sky. She’s not bad but once she gets in with Colt and Immie it’s like watching chaos bloom and take hold.

  Jet and Matt are as yet unmarried but the pair of them are like freaking teenagers and their favourite pastime is teasing my imp and driving her starkers, so they’re currently not in my good graces.

  “Imp, you look dreadful and-”

  “Hey, watch it buddy or I’ll desac you and put a crimp in your baby making plans.” She warns, slapping my thigh with more force than she looks capable of, being as green as she is.

  “Desac daddy!”

  “Great. Good work imp. I’m sure your father will love hearing that. Especially when the little baby genius tells him everything word for word.” I grumble, feeling a migraine coming on at the thought of an entire day spent with Brand and her brood of overbearing brothers.

  Immie wiggles to be let down and I give her a pat and a warning when she scampers out, yelling Davy’s name at the top of her lungs.

  He hops to and I hear her giggle when he roars and starts playing with her, leaving me alone to tend to my sick mama bear.

  “Are you really okay?”

  The little brat pokes her head into my shoulder and lets out a breathy sigh before shoving me to my back and straddling me, her luscious curves conforming and flowing over me like a dream.

  “I am now that you’re here.” She breathes, laying her head on my chest and purring when I bring a hand up to stroke at her clammy brow.

  “Know what I keep thinking about?”

  “What?”

  “That damn horse shoe!” she giggles, making me laugh when I remember the look on Diane’s face and the resultant high five I’d seen Lila give her the next morning.

  “Why?”

  “I keep thinking that if I hadn’t clocked poor Di with that thing we wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be as happy as I am.”

  I think on it a second before laughing so hard I have to roll her over onto the mattress or risk tossing her to the floor.

  “That was one damned lucky horse shoe.” I chuckle before kissing the breath out of my lovely wife.

  “You bet your ass it was.”

  “I love you my little imp. Thank you for nearly killing a defenceless woman and giving me the in I’d so desperately needed to get in your pants.”

  She laughs and shakes her head, gazing at me with all the love I could ever have hoped or dreamed of.

  “You’re welcome asshole. Now kiss me and show me how lucky that horse shoe really was.”

  I do. I pour every ounce of my love into that meeting of lips and more, thanking God that my wife is one of the clumsiest, spaciest beings I’d ever met.

  That piece of metal, the piece I’d salvaged after the fact and still have locked in my downstairs safe has given me everything I could have imagined and so much more.

  Maybe I’ll give it to one of the boys one day and it’ll land them their own woman.

  Or maybe not. No telling what type of woman will be off her nut enough to fall for those smooth talking wankers.

  ###

  UNSCRIPTED

  Chapter One

  “So tell me, intern,” Thomas said, leaning forward and locking his piercing, blue eyes on Sasha’s notebook. “What does it say about me in there? That I’m an arse? Oh, sorry, how do you Americans say it? Ass?”

  Sasha pulled the book to her chest. Her mind darted back to her briefing in the boardroom earlier. Kelly, the editor of Atomic Magazine, thought it would be hilarious to send Sasha to interview the notoriously prickly English actor, Thomas Lloyd, because, at only twenty-three years old, she had missed the actor’s heyday and could not, in fact, recall even one of his blockbuster films. “Just read the questions,” Kelly had said. “Everything you say will offend him. Hell, if you asked that man what his favorite ice cream flavor was he’d find a way to be insulted by it.”

  With only a taxi journey in which to prepare, and desperate not to ruin her chance to impress, Sasha had tried to find out about the interviewee from her employer. However, Kelly’s response as she’d bustled her out the door was, “There’s only one thing you need to know about Thomas Lloyd. His ego’s as big as his dick.”

  That was it. No more information.

  Daunted, Sasha had arrived at the interview in the honeymoon suite of Chicago’s Hilton Hotel with little more than a sheet of questions with the word dick scrawled at the top.

  She squirmed in her seat under Thomas Lloyd’s relentless glare. “Something like that.”

  Thomas threw his head back and laughed, shaking his dark, Hollywood-glossy hair. “How refreshing to hear,” he chuckled. Then he regained his composure and fixed his gaze on her again. “Now tell me…”—he paused and read the name tag above her right breast—“…Sasha, where is Alicia? Whenever I’m interviewed by Atomic, she’s usually the one to do it. I’d been looking forward to...seeing her again.” He adjusted his pants as he spoke, revealing a large bulge and confirming, in one motion, the truth of Kelly’s statement.

  “She’s not well,” Sasha said, grimacing as she remembered Alicia’s cascading pink vomit at lunch caused by a dodgy prawn cocktail sandwich.

  “And they sent the intern?” Thomas scoffed. As he spoke, his eyes roved over the electric blue dress she was wearing.

  Sasha felt suddenly very hot. “Yes…I hope that’s okay?”

  He smirked. “Okay?” He muttered under his breath, “It’s a
bloody miracle.”

  Sasha’s heart galloped beneath the thin material. “I’m sorry?”

  The man just smiled slyly and pursed his lips. They were plump, almost perfectly symmetrical. There was a thin layer of stubble surrounding them. Thomas Lloyd was impossibly handsome. Handsome in a way that made Sasha want things she’d never realized she wanted.

  “Don’t you have a question to ask me?” Thomas said playfully, breaking her from her reverie.

  Sasha straightened up in her chair and cleared her throat. “Yes…yes, of course.” She scanned the questions on the page, trying to focus, to clear her fuzzy head. “Your new movie—”

  “Film,” he interrupted. “We call them films in England.”

  Boy, Sasha thought, Kelly was right.

  “Film then,” she said, trying to smile cordially. “It’s a bit of a departure from your usual roles.”

  Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Do you think so, intern?” he said smoothly, folding his arms. “In what way?”

  Heat crept into Sasha’s neck. “Well, I… um…”

  “...haven’t even watched it.” Thomas finished for her.

  Uh-oh.

  Sasha dropped her gaze, too nervous to make eye contact with the English actor. “I was told to do the interview at very short notice and didn’t have as much time to prepare as I would have liked, and—”

  “You don’t know who I am, do you?” Thomas interrupted.

  Sasha picked up on a cruel accusation in his tone. Her gaze travelled up. When she finally made eye contact with Thomas, her breath stuck in her lungs. The look he was giving her was so intense it made bolts of electricity race through her.

  “Well?” he snapped. “You’ve never seen a single film of mine, have you?”

  Sasha’s stomach plummeted. She’d blown it. All those years of hard work to get to this position and it was all going up in smoke. She couldn’t help the tears from creeping up.

  “Well… I…I...”

  Thomas suddenly tipped his head back and moaned. He grasped his knees, making the fabric bunch up. It was such a bizarre thing to do; Sasha snapped her notebook shut immediately and stood so fast her chair almost tipped backwards.