by D. A. Young
Except, Holt was a fraud.
He was harboring secrets that could forever alter his band of brothers if revealed.
One was a sworn oath to secrecy for his family’s sake. Only one member knew about it and he’d proven to be a worthy confidant. The other was expressly prohibited, taboo, and had everything to do with the mischievous, poised beauty in front of him. She’d turned Holt’s world completely upside down without uttering a single word, at the tender age of sixteen, stupefying him.
Kat was and always had been simply his best friends’ sister.
Until suddenly, she wasn’t.
***
It was rare for them to be all back at home with Jack headquartered in New York, Darby in Nashville or on the road with hockey, and Casey away at college. Guy had returned to The Row after graduating college, and Holt had arrived back in town earlier that morning from Germany, where he’d earned his Master Carpenter’s degree and spent a little time in Europe. They’d all decided to get together at the lake like the good old days.
One minute, life was good, and Holt and his homies were floating lazily in inner tubes. The cool water glided around his ankles and hands, as Holt pondered if he should accept Dixie Gervais’, a former classmate’s, offer for dinner and a movie that night at her house. The air was buzzing with conversation, laughter, and music from the crowded dock, the aromatic scent of grilling hotdogs and hamburgers drifting out to him.
In the next instance, Holt was sporting a beast of an erection—for Katerina Romankov, of all people, who appeared on the dock wearing the hell out of her simple coral bathing suit. Another former classmate, Mitch Jacobs who’d been floating not too far from them, made the mistake of whistling his appreciation. Casey flipped out of his tube and swam over to Jacobs. He planted his fist into his face, knocking Mitch out of his tube while Jack and Darby stormed the shore like soldiers at Normandy. Beet-red with embarrassment, Kat huffed and puffed when Jack re-covered her nubile form and shoved her at Darby. She screamed bloody murder when her second oldest brother tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and marched toward his pickup truck. Laughing his ass off at the Sullivan brothers’ antics, Guy went to pull Casey off Mitch while a tongue-tied, dumbfounded Holt could only slink off his tube and remain waist-deep in the water until his visceral reaction went away.
***
Before that day, Holt had only seen Kat as a cute kid and treated her with brotherly affection. All of his feelings changed as he zoomed in on her newly bloomed curves, endless legs, and fresh-faced beauty. His impure thoughts were wrong and freaked him out, burning him with guilt and shame. Holt was hardly able to look the Sullivans in the eye as impure, lurid thoughts ran rampant about their precious little sister.
He would never have acted on them, but from that point on, Holt deliberately went out of his way to avoid being around Kat. Unable to go back to platonically viewing her as a kid sister, he built an impenetrable fortress between them. Regrettably, in a town the size of Whiskey Row, there was only so much avoidance he could get away with. Yet Holt remained committed to that goal. He cut back on socializing by avoiding events that he knew Kat would attend and instead threw himself into planning Americana Traditions with Guy and Jack. That lasted until she was twenty and showed up at their launch party. He’d stayed on the opposite side of the room the entire night, intentionally keeping distance between them. And then Alexei approached him and his parents with Katerina in tow.
She’d exchanged pleasantries with his parents while peeking at him nervously. Kat had done something magical with her pretty eyes. They were all smoky and twinkling at him, pulling Holt helplessly under like a current. Her lips were glossed in a bronze hue, and the way she nervously licked them broke Holt’s concentration, thus making him susceptible to her ambush. She flung herself at him and he had no choice but to catch her. Otherwise, she’d have fallen flat on her face, and his mama would have tanned his big ass on the spot for his lack of manners.
“Congratulations to you guys! I’m so proud of you!”
Kat's lips had grazed his cheek, and her breath fanned over his ear, tickling it. Holt barely heard her as he thrust her away from him, but not before absorbing the heat from her delectable body. With a muttered “thanks”, he hauled ass out of there before she could detect his raging reaction to her. And just like that, Holt was back on his carousel of misery. Filled with sexual tension, he’d driven Betsy Reevis home that night. They’d gone at it until her fucking bedsprings and headboard broke.
He’d broken the cardinal rule regarding falling for a best friend’s little sister. Forbidden fruit, Kat expended Holt’s mind. She was the haunting weaver of every dream he’d experienced, erotic and innocent since that fateful day. Yet, like the moon and stars, she remained beautifully unobtainable. Over the years, the agony of not pursuing Kat and coveting her from a distance weighed torturously on Holt’s soul. It was a physical ache that festered, and she alone was the remedy. As there was no honor in betraying the trust of his brothers, he’d sought relief elsewhere and his replacements always paled drastically in comparison to Kat. They were casualties of the burden and self-loathing he carried for harboring feelings for Little Romankov.
Except, when he looked at her and saw the curiosity swirling in her wide, thickly lashed, molasses irises, Holt’s feelings didn’t feel dirty. They felt perfectly right. Those bewitching, guileless orbs of Kat’s sucker-punched him–Every. Single. Fucking. Time she trained them directly on Holt, entangling him like a Kudzu vine. With a blink, she could level him. Those eyes evoked crazy impulses, filling his mind with endless possibilities of what could be between them.
Russet curls danced around Kat’s heart-shaped face when she shook her head, pearly-white teeth sinking into her bottom lip, tugging on it uncertainly and tempting Holt further. That sumptuous mouth was always tilted upward in a saucy, genuine smile. It practically rendered him stupid whenever it graced Kat’s face, shooting his libido to hell in a handbasket. He was dying to find out what she tasted like. All over. Combined with her infectious laugh that titillated Holt’s senses, smoky voice, and adorable dimples, it was no wonder that he was a fucking goner.
Every smile and laugh she gave chipped away at the wall he’d built between them until there was nothing left. Kat owned his heart–lock, stock, and barrel–and there wasn’t a damn thing Holt could do about it. Her body was another matter entirely. She looked like an angel, but Kat’s body was made for sinning and begging to be corrupted. It made Holt want to take debauchery to a straight-up guttural level of nasty.
Kat had a plethora of curves that no boy or man in Whiskey Row dared to look twice at or comment on if they wished to keep their eyes and tongues intact. Holt had fantasized about her until his dick felt raw from incessant masturbating. His eyes fell below her neck, mapping the plethora of curvy indentations her body offered. Kat’s plump breasts were mounds of sweet confections he wanted to bury his face in. Flared hips that begged to be guided by Holt’s callused hands and a curvy ass that had been paraded in front of him for years. It was commanding to be spanked and fucked as thoroughly as her sweet little pussy.
Holt was jarred from his lascivious thoughts when she urged, “Tell me about Sweden! I’ve always wanted to visit. What’s it like? I’ve never heard you talk about your home country.”
He could have been from Hades and Kat would have said the same damn thing to keep him talking. She didn’t want their conversation to end. This was the most Holt had spoken to her since she was a teenager.
Adrenaline flooded Holt’s veins as he examined her artless expression. His resistance was deteriorating. He needed to rein himself in and walk away. That’s what a decent, honorable friend would do. Except, fuck, if he wasn’t exhausted from trying to resist Kat’s alluring concoction of sweet-sexy innocence. She tilted her head to the side, exposing the elegant curve of her neck, and regarded Holt inquisitively, lashes fluttering like raven’s wings. Images of him gripping her nape, burying h
is face in the crook of her neck while mercilessly fucking Kat’s weeping pussy with her legs wrapped tightly around his neck imploded Holt’s brain. Images of providing her with sublime ecstasy while breaking her apart.
The small bag of chips he held twisted and crunched until only dust held by crumpled plastic remained in Holt’s fist. His personal battle was lost; consequences be damned. If there were going to be any regrets, he would make sure they were well-earned.
As his penetrating sea irises eye-fucked the hell out of her, Holt leaned down until their lips were practically touching. Wisps of her sweet breath fanned his face like a caress, making his aching shaft twitch as lust, uncurbed and molten, fried every one of his nerve endings. He shifted closer, trying to alleviate the strain in his crotch. Her eyes fell below his belt then flew upward to meet his again. Cheeks drenched in cherry-red, Kat swallowed imperceptibly. Were dick implants an actual thing? That couldn’t possibly be all-natural. Holt relished watching understanding dawn first in her amplified orbs, followed immediately by intrigue and longing.
“I can show you better than I can tell you. All you have to do is say the word.”
Holt’s answer emerged gritty, so full of sinful intent that it robbed Kat of speech. His words stripped away her defenses, leaving her vibrating with need as they seeped into her skin. This was too intense. She wanted to look away but knew she’d rather die than miss a moment with him. Kat had craved fireworks and instead got a whole damn inferno in the form of Holton Brammer. Her legs involuntarily crossed to quell the spasms in her core as desire coalesced in her belly, aiming spears of lust directly to her clit. The man’s invitation tempted her as much as he did. He was well-traveled, and she wanted to see Europe through his eyes and discover everything about Holt.
Kat was as curious about his mind as she was his skills as a lover. What made him tick? His favorite foods? What did he do in his spare time? Did he prefer reading to watching television? Distance from her family would give them an even playing field for her to discover the answers to her infinite questions. How level could it be, though? Holt had more testosterone in his pinky than the average man had in his entire body. Did she have the emotional capacity to withstand it? Kat was a novice when it came to navigating these unchartered waters. It would be like diving straight into the ocean instead of wading in the shallow end of the pool.
“The world is your oyster, Little Romankov. Never be afraid to go after what you want. It’s a lesson that I’ve had to learn the hard way. One I’ve regretted every moment that I didn’t pursue what set my soul on fire.”
Holt forced himself to walk away while he still held on to a single shred of sanity.
A mystified Kat was left standing far beyond her comfort zone, trying to decipher the sudden, irrepressible tug of insane attraction between them. Intently watching his smooth, assured gait and the way Holt’s perfect ass filled out his jeans, Kat almost missed her conscience’s teeth-sucking, persistent whisper.
Biiitch! Don’t act like you don’t know what this is!
Elation and apprehension warred within from the newfound knowledge. Her heart was fucking cartwheeling while her stomach plummeted down a rabbit hole. But more importantly, it lined up perfectly with Kat’s intuition, forcing her to seek an answer for the question on her heart.
Was her brothers’ best friend the right man?
Chapter Four
Winter 2016
Whiskey Row, TN
I really can't stay
Baby, it's cold outside
I've got to go away
Snow fell steadily outside, thickening over the already covered ground and trees, creating a veritable winter wonderland. Inside the Romankov estate, guests - business associates, friends, and family - were warm and cozy as they socialized and noshed, drinking merrily while festive music played in the background, enhancing the holiday ambience. They were completely unaware that their normally attentive host and hostess had abandoned them for more intimate activities.
“Am I crushing you, my love?”
The concerned inquiry was a whispered feather against Vivienne’s ear. She smiled dreamily as Alexei nipped her earlobe and traced the delicate shell with his tongue.
“Mmm, wasn’t that your plan, Lex?” Her nails scored through his disheveled locks. “Don’t act like bossing me around isn’t your favorite thing to do, husband!” she accused. “You forget how long we’ve known each other. We both know that you live unconditionally to try and dominate me.”
Alexei’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as he drew back to peer down at his beloved wife lying across the tufted leather sofa. Honeyed skin glowing with happiness and the aftermath of their lovemaking, Vivienne was a sated goddess with her black curls fanned out underneath her. She looped her arms around his neck and gazed up at him adoringly, eyes overflowing with tenderness.
Vivi looked exactly as she should as Alexei’s better half— a content and thoroughly treasured woman. She was his fucking world and her love humbled him as nothing else could. Alexei had killed for Vivienne and would readily do so again, in the span of a heartbeat, to keep her safe. His throat clogged with emotion, thinking of how close a call it’d been with her and Stuart Royce. Still overwhelmed by the terror he’d experienced, Alexei swiftly lowered his head, lest his wife see the sheen of tears in his eyes.
My mother will start to worry
Beautiful, what's your hurry
My father will be pacing the floor
“As usual, you’ve got it all wrong, my sweet Vivi.”
Lips trailing along her jawline, he followed the graceful lines of Vivienne’s neck and clavicles before lowering his head further. Capturing a dusky aureole between his lips, a feral growl tore through Alexei. Jesus, he loved her body’s honest response to him. The way her nipple pebbled as his tongue curled around it. Gently, he bit down on the silken bud and was rewarded with her throaty cry. It was a symphony to Alexei’s ears as Vivienne arched into him, seeking more of his skilled mouth’s attention.
“There is no try in dominating you,” he patiently explained. “I simply do. As I am about to demonstrate to you once more, wife. Now, shh! Your undivided attention is required for the task at hand.”
Vivienne’s giggle ended in a helpless whimper as Alexei devoted his attention to both of her breasts, lavishing them with his lips, tongue, and teeth, creating an unbearably sweet friction in her pussy. He positioned himself at her welcoming portal once more. Her Russian was about to put it on her, and Vivienne had absolutely no objections. The sharp contrast of her soft curves to his hard planes became nonexistent as their bodies meshed together flawlessly. How she loved this man! Alexei was her strength, her rock, and she would follow him barefoot to the ends of the Earth, then hell and back, should he ever try to leave her.
The last month of investigating and locating her blackmailer and then the danger she’d been put in as he closed in on Vivienne had put a horrendous strain on their marriage. The guilt that Alexei tortured himself with from now knowing he was the catalyst for all the hurt and anguish his wife, her deceased best friend, Moira Sullivan, and their children, had suffered because of him had added even more turbulence to their already rocky union. Fearing Vivi might leave him forever was the reason Alexei swept her away to his study, which resulted in their current impromptu lovemaking session.
However, that was all behind them now.
Stuart Royce and his brother Bradan were dead. Alexei had seen to it that they endured as much pain and suffering as they’d caused him and his loved ones. Washington was still buzzing with the congressman’s unexpected fiery death, late one evening on the BW Parkway. The roads were icy, and the lone witness on the scene, a Mr. Tucker Rydell, informed state troopers that a dark, unidentifiable, late-model sedan hit the congressman’s BMW, careening it off the road. Immediately, the driver fled the scene while Royce’s automobile rolled over, catching fire instantly with Royce trapped inside. He was burned beyond recognition and barely identifiable
by his dental records.
The coroner, Dr. Jethro Lambert, declared that it was the congressman. He was also the one to provide the body of a ‘John Doe’ to replace Royce in the vehicle. In exchange, his mortgage, bills, and kids’ college tuitions were paid off. Magnus took care of sweeping Royce’s correspondence and erasing all evidence of his relationship to Bradan and James “The Gent” Mulroney, their biological father. His stepfather, relieved to finally be rid of the blackmailing asshole, insisted on burying Royce ASAP. No formal tributes were arranged.
Husband and wife were back together for good.
“I love how easily you take the bait, babe,” Vivienne purred, undulating her hips, and tempting her husband further.
She was saturated and “fiending” for more of him. Her breath suspended as the broad crown of Alexei’s shaft was suctioned into her welcoming channel.
“Christ, Vivi!” He threw his head back, eyes slamming shut as Vivienne’s muscles tightened around him hungrily. Aside from her love, his wife’s pussy was the second most extraordinary feeling in the universe. Vivienne reached up to kiss his exposed, corded tendons, her tongue lapping sensuously at each one.
“And I love how easily you take my cock, Mrs. Romankov,” Alexei arrogantly informed her, opening his eyes slowly. He captured her lips in a fiercely possessive kiss as he drove her back down and surged into her. Triumphantly, Alexei swallowed her keen of ecstasy as he did indeed dominate her wholly, readily giving up his soul once more in the perfection of his wife.
***
Afterward, they laughed and teased each other, racing to dress and rejoin their company.
“Lex, we’ll have the rest of the night when everyone leaves,” Vivienne feebly protested. Despite objecting, she angled her neck for more of his kisses while he zipped up the back of her dress. “If you don’t stop, we’ll never leave this room.”