The Bayshore Rivals: The Entier Series

by Cassandra Hallman

  Cringing, I mumble, “Sorry you were kind of left out…”

  “Don’t be,” he interrupts. “One, I deserved it. Two, I didn’t share with them the first time I had you. Three, this is all about you… and you sounded like you had a good time, a great time, and to me, that’s all that matters.”

  “You kids want pancakes?” Oliver questions from the stove.

  “Yeah, I’m starving,” Sullivan answers. Just then, my stomach growls so loud that I know he can hear it, and with a chuckle, he adds, “Harlow is too.”

  A few minutes later, Banks comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed for the day, and we all sit down at the table to eat together.

  “So, what are we going to do now?” I ask as I spear a piece of pancake with my fork. “Are we just going to hide out here or can we go back to classes today?”

  “We need to figure out who is trying to hurt you first,” Oliver mumbles while shoving a piece of pancake past his lips.

  “We are not going to figure that out here, though, are we? Plus, what if the burner was an actual accident? Freak accidents happen all the time,” I reply, grabbing my glass of milk.

  “And you being pushed off the boat? And hit by a car? And drugged at a party? All of that coincidence? Each of them a freak accident?” Sullivan points out, and I can’t argue with that. One of those I could consider being an accident, but all of them, yeah, no. Which means I need to come to terms with the fact that someone is trying to kill me.

  “We’ve already caught Shelby in one lie, maybe she had something to do with it?” Banks suggests.

  “I don’t know…” I think back on all the time I’ve spent with her in the last few weeks. There’s never been anything off about her. She seems like a great friend, my parents seem to love her, and there were pictures of us in my room, pictures in which I looked very happy.

  “Why would my best friend want me dead?”

  “I’m not sure,” Banks answers. “I really don’t know why anybody would want you dead.”

  “You hated me at one point, so what’s to say that other people don’t?” At the mention of our past, Banks’ face tightens, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

  “I don’t think our hate was ever fully deserved, not for you, anyways. I think your dad is mostly to blame… actually all of our parents. Before your accident, we always went off what our parents told us about your family, but after we hired our own private investigator, we found out that even though your father seemed to be the main instigator, our father wasn’t as squeaky clean as he made himself out to be.”

  “Do you know why our parents have had this feud for so long?” From what I can gather so far, our families rivalry started years ago over some business. They blamed each other for trying to destroy the other’s business, sabotaging property deals, and taking away high-profile customers. It sounded horrible for everyone involved.

  “Here is the thing…” Oliver places another pancake on Banks’ plate. “We always thought this was about business, that’s what our dad told us. When we had the private investigator look into your father, he dug some stuff up about his past… about both of our fathers’ pasts.” He gets a plate for himself and takes a seat, and I’m sitting there waiting with bated breath for him to finish his statement.

  “What did he find?” I ask, trying not to sound overly eager.

  Sullivan answers my question as Oliver starts to devour his pancakes. “Apparently our dads have known each other for much longer than they like to talk about. In fact, they grew up together and believe it or not, they even used to be friends.”

  “Friends?” The way I heard my mom talking about the Bishops makes it hard to believe that there was ever anything besides hate between those two, but it makes sense. To hate someone, they have to have wronged you in a way that cuts deeper than the surface.

  Tucking my hands under my chin, I ask, “What happened? What made them become enemies?”

  “That, we don’t know.” Oliver answers this time, “But we’re going to find out. We’re done being our parents’ puppets, and we’re done letting your parents control you.”

  Control me? Had my father asked me to plant those drugs on Sullivan? Was he using me, or did I make the choice to do it on my own? Looking at the big picture now, yes, but before I don’t know. I know my father is having an affair with someone, but does that mean he lied to me about everything else… or wants me dead? I can’t possibly think my own father would want me dead, but I don’t know what’s true and what’s a lie anymore. Even the few memories that have returned to me are blurred… like they’ve been run through a blender.

  “I’m sorry about all the stuff that happened between our families. I don’t know if I apologized before, but…” My voice trails off as I get lost inside my own head.

  “No apologizing. We’ve all done things we regret doing, things that were done for someone else. We aren’t those people anymore.” Sullivan soothes, and I want to lean into him, let him hold me in his arms but instead, I extend my hand out to him. He takes it, rubbing his thumb over the top of it, slowly soothing the ache in my chest.

  “I wish I could remember everything. If I could then maybe I would be able to help more.”

  Banks shakes his head, “It would be nice for you to remember, but you remembering wouldn’t change anything, I don’t think. You didn’t see who pushed you off the boat, and I doubt you would be able to recall who hit you with the car.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just feel so useless,” I mumble.

  “It’s okay, the memories will come back eventually, or maybe they won’t. Either way, we will make new ones to replace the ones you lost,” Oliver says, his sculpted lips turning up into a dazzling smile.

  “So, what now?” I ask.

  “The same private investigator we hired back then is looking into the incident at school. Let’s wait it out here for two days, and if he can’t find anything, we’ll go from there. No matter what, our biggest priority is making sure that you’re protected.”

  When I wake up the next day, everyone else is already up, so I take my time crawling out of bed. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon permeates the air, and my stomach, of course, has to growl to let me know that it approves.

  “Look who’s finally awake?” Oliver teases, as he busy’s himself in the kitchen. My eyes catch on Banks who is sitting at the dining room table, his eyes glued to his cell phone. Sullivan isn’t anywhere in sight, so I assume he’s in the bathroom or maybe even outside.

  As if he knew that I was thinking about him, the bathroom door opens, and Sullivan appears. I try to avert my gaze, but what’s the point? Instead, I let myself drink him in, my eyes roaming over his freshly showered, and sculpted body. Damn. I nearly swallow my tongue, the same tongue I would like to use to lick the remaining droplets of water off his skin. Jesus, I need to stop thinking with my vagina. But it’s so damn hard when besides the thin towel hanging low on his hips, he is entirely naked.

  Must look away. When my cheeks start to burn, I avert my gaze to his face.

  His hair is wet, making the russet brown color look almost black, which draws out the ocean blue of his eyes, making them appear brighter. Knowing damn well I’m checking him out he gives me a cheeky grin.

  “See something you like?” He wiggles his thick brows, and I swear my face turns fifty shades of red. I shouldn’t be shy about this, about them, but for some reason, I still am. I mean, I’ve slept with each of them, so I have no reason to turn all red-faced over simply checking them out, but I can’t stop myself.

  Banks looks up from his phone, “Sullivan, stop trying to seduce Harlow, and put some damn clothes on. No one wants to see your pecker, including her.”

  “Are you sure? It looks like Harlow wants to see my pecker, maybe even touch it.”

  Lord, please save me.

  “What do you think, Miss. Lockwood? Would you like to touch it?” Sullivan chuckles.

  Shaking my head in emba
rrassment, I move to get up and go into the bathroom when a memory pops into my head.

  “Harlow, this is not up for negotiation. You’re a Lockwood, and you’re to protect this family, its name and business. If that means doing some things to people that deserve it, then so be it.”

  That’s the thing. I don’t care if they’re guilty or innocent anymore. I’m tired of being a Lockwood, tired of doing my father’s bidding.

  “I’m done. I’m not going to be your puppet anymore. Find someone else,” I speak through my teeth, shoving out of the chair to leave his office. I want to be my own person, and I cannot do that while being stuck underneath my father’s thumb.

  “It’s not like the Bishops are innocent, Harlow. They brought this on themselves.”

  Anger simmers in my veins, nearly reaching boiling point, “Sullivan didn’t bring this on himself. You made me plant those drugs! You made me ruin his life. I never should’ve listened to you. If this is what being a Lockwood means, then I don’t want to be part of this family anymore!”

  A look of shock overtakes his features, “You don’t mean that.”

  Curling my lip, I let every ounce of rage I’m feeling coat my words, “I do. I’m done. I want out. If you don’t let me go, then I’ll find another way. One way or another, this charade is over.” I don’t bother to look at him as I walk out of his office. I’ve made my choice because in my eyes while the Bishops aren’t innocent, neither is my father.

  I blink the memory away. My father did make me do it. It wasn’t my own choice, and that thought soothes me more than I thought it would. I didn’t realize how much not knowing was weighing on me. I thought I was a terrible person. Maybe I wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Sullivan’s voice is coated with concern, his teasing tone gone. “I was just joking… I’ll put some clothes on.”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “What’s wrong?” Oliver drops what he is doing in the kitchen and walks over to the bed. He cups my cheek and examines my face as if he’s going to find some underlying ailment. “You look pale.”

  “I just remembered something… a fight with my father. It must have been before I came here. I told him I was done. I didn’t want to be a Lockwood anymore.” The room goes silent around me, all three brothers staring at me. A sick feeling settling in my insides. “You don’t think it’s… He's my father, he wouldn’t want me dead?” I ask, looking up into Oliver’s concerned eyes.

  “I don’t know. Nothing and no one is off the table at this point.” I nod in agreement. I guess he is right, even though my gut tells me otherwise… it couldn’t have been my own father. This is a slippery slope we’re walking, and if his hate runs as deep for the Bishops as I feel it does, then it very well could have been him.

  “I also remembered something else, that my father was the one who made me plant the drugs on you, Sullivan.”

  “We figured that already,” Sullivan says, as if doing what I did, didn’t ruin every aspect of his life. From the way Matt made it sound, he had it all, and then I came along ripping all of it right out from underneath his feet.

  “Well, you might have. I kind of thought I was a bitch before my accident, and I even thought that it might have been my idea to destroy your life. So it’s nice to know that at least it wasn’t my idea. I wasn’t the one who wanted to do this to you. I was merely a pawn, fed lies and told to do things in honor of the Lockwood name.”

  “Whatever we did in the past, is in the past now. Don’t blame yourself for anything. I forgave you a long time ago, and I’m just glad you forgave me in return,” he says, taking my hand, and just like that, I feel much better. Yes, we both made mistakes, but everybody does, some just bigger than others.

  On day three of our cabin getaway, I start to get antsy. We all decided that we would wait until the end of the day to see if the private investigator could find something. If he came up empty, then we would be going back to Bayshore tonight. The hours drag on, and Banks continues to check his phone to see if anything turns up.

  “I’m going for a run,” Oliver announces, getting up and walking over to his duffel bag. He rifles through it and pulls out a pair of worn Nikes. He puts them on and starts for the door, pausing briefly with his hand on the knob. “I shouldn’t be gone long, so if I’m not back in an hour, call out a search party.” He grins and slips out the door, closing it softly behind him, leaving Banks, Sullivan, and I alone together.

  I look between them, and they’re both looking at me with a heat in their eyes that I know fairly well now. It has been three days since I had sex with Oliver and Banks, and since that day, it has been harder and harder to push away my wants and needs for all three of them. I want them all together, but I’m not sure I could handle that just yet.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” A cold one.

  “Okay, you want me to join?” Sullivan wiggles his eyebrows back and forth, the grin he’s giving me goes straight to my core. I bite my bottom lip to stifle my moan. If I said yes then that would leave Banks all alone out here, and I couldn’t do that to him.

  Standing, I roll my bottom lip between my teeth and stare down at him batting my eyelashes seductively, “What if I did? Would you come?”

  “Oh… I would more than come. I’d come, and then you would too.” He winks, but I don’t miss the way his gaze darkens at my words.

  “If you’re bringing him into the shower then I’m coming too,” Banks informs us, also giving me a panty-melting smile, which is fine since I’m not wearing any. I only had one pair, and after washing them once, I decided just to wear my shorts.

  Sullivan and Banks exchange a look, their smiles widening as if they had come up with some secret plan that I knew nothing about. Standing up, they stalk toward me while I walk backward. I’m not afraid of them, if anything, it’s quite the opposite. I’m excited, my blood humming, my entire body electrified waiting for one of them to make a move, to put their hands on me.

  “Since the other night, I’ve wondered what you would look like with my cock in your mouth.” Banks licks his lips, and I can’t pull my eyes away from the motion of his pink tongue as it sweeps across his bottom lip. All I can think about is that tongue, against my skin, flicking against my clit until I explode.

  “And all I could think about was how jealous I was that my brothers got to have a taste of you, but I didn’t,” Sullivan smirks, his hand moving to the front of his loose-fitting gym shorts. “My cock’s been hard for days replaying that night in my head over and over again. The way you fell apart as they brought you to orgasm again and again. Your gasps and pants. The sweet sounds you made will forever be embedded in my mind.”

  I nearly gasp when the back of my knees make contact with the bed, and thankfully so, because they’re wobbling so badly, I’m sure I’ll fall over any second. I watch as Sullivan prowls toward me from the front, while Banks comes at me from the side. Such a predator.

  They both reach the bed at the same time, Sullivan reaching for my shirt, relieving me of the fabric without a word.

  In seconds, I’m naked, and I’m not even sure how it happened so fast. All I know is that the cool air feels nice against my heated skin. I fall back upon the soft comforter, as the two guys look down at me with feral gazes; like I’m a lone doe wandering the woods and they’re two wolves who haven’t had a meal in weeks.

  “It’s your turn,” I say cheekily, looking over their still clothed bodies. Banks moves first, pulling off his shirt with ease, and tossing it to the floor beside him. Then he pulls down his shorts, his massive erection springing free.

  Holy shit, that was inside me?

  I didn’t have a chance to look at it before, with it being dark and all, so now I’m staring at it like it’s a gold bar that someone’s placed in front of me. It’s thick and veiny, the mushroom-shaped head looking soft, and I wonder what it would feel like against my lips.

  My core clenches at the mere thought. I want him desperately. I’m
so enamored by it; I barely notice Sullivan stripping out of his clothes. Banks curls his fingers around the thick shaft, giving it one hard stroke. My nipples pebble, hardening instantly, and I can feel a gush of moisture between my folds. This is so erotic. Me, them, naked. Me watching him with his hand wrapped around his cock. It’s the icing on a three-tier triple chocolate cake, and I’m the one holding the fork.

  “You want this?” Banks questions, his voice low, and thick. Touching something deep inside me. Nodding my head eagerly, I bite into my bottom lip when he asks me the next question, “Where do you want it?”

  Answering him without a breath of hesitation, I say, “In my mouth.”

  Banks grins, and my attention is dragged away from him when my eyes catch on Sullivan, who is also standing before me, naked as the day he was born. His body is magnificent, and my mouth pops open as my eyes move over each perfectly sculpted muscle. Shoulders that are built and look as if they’re made to hold the world, washboard abs, that make me want to lick between each divot.

  I want to kiss and touch him. My entire body is aching for these two men. Leaning forward, Sullivan grasps my chin with two fingers and pulls me toward him. His lips land against mine, the kiss is fire and teeth and all-consuming passion. The sheets rustle beside me, and I feel Banks moving closer to me.

  His fingers ghost against my shoulder as he brushes the silky blonde strands away. “One day, I will fuck you so hard you’ll feel me in every cell of your body for the rest of your life.”

  What a bold statement. I want to tell him, but all that comes out is a throaty moan that’s muffled by Sullivan’s lips as he nips at my bottom lip, his teeth raking over the tender flesh. Banks peppers the side of my throat and shoulder with hot kisses, sucking on the skin harshly before lapping away the pain with his tongue.

  “Get on all fours for me, baby,” Sullivan murmurs, his chest rising and falling rapidly. It takes me a moment to start moving, my head still in the clouds, but once I reach the hands and knees position, I’m back. Panting loudly, I realize that my arousal is dripping embarrassingly down my thighs.