Gravity (Wilde Boys Book 1)

by Sara Cate

  Yeah, too bad she failed, and her sister died anyway—in our fucking helicopter with my brother in the pilot seat.

  That night at her apartment fucking shook me and not because I slept with her—or because I broke an eighteen month dry spell—but because the way things went down that night was different. It was like I tapped into some deep, hidden urge, and I had to fight with how much I wanted to control her.

  Clenching my jaw, I think about her tiny frame, whimpering underneath me. Tied up in my bed. Her gentle throat in my hands. Begging me to stop.

  What the fuck.

  I don’t do that shit. I’m not that guy. But it seems since my brother flew into the side of a mountain I can’t seem to get back to normal. Shit just keeps popping up, like suddenly wanting to choke out his girlfriend’s twin while I’m fucking her.

  Tipping back my beer, I say a silent toast to my dead brother.

  Thanks, Pres.

  The hot shower stream feels better than I want it to. I’m only doing this because there’s a mystery woman coming to the house, not because my dad told me to.

  I’m not trying to get my hopes up here since there’s always a chance it will be some chick for my dad. Once upon a time, I knew he was swimming in pussy, but I’d be surprised if he’s even seen one in the last two years.

  There’s absolutely no reason for me to think it’s Zara, although I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I grab my cold beer off the shower shelf and take a long pull off the bottle, the cold liquid running down my throat while the hot water scorches me from the outside. This wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Getting so drunk you drown in the bathtub.

  Putting the bottle back on the shelf, I soap up my hair and body and think about her again in that thong and her perfectly round ass cheeks on my lap. I should have let her dance longer instead of fucking her so fast. Why couldn’t I just enjoy the moment? Her dim bedroom, that loud ass music, the smell of her perfume, and that silky soft skin against my body.

  Fuck, I want to see her again. Grabbing my dick in my hand, I start to pump. Anytime it comes to life is a miracle these days, and the vision of the girl who was almost my sister-in-law once seems to work like a charm. It’s almost like the fact that I’m not attracted to her does it more than if I was.

  All I have to do is think about her bent over in front of me, her bare hips in my hands, and I can feel my balls tighten. Then, I hear her call my name, not in pleasure but as a cry, and I’m done. My grunt is louder than I expected it to be, and I hope he fucking hears it.

  As I shut off the water, I grab my beer and finish it off. Tossing the empty bottle in the trash can, it rattles against the others I dropped there. I stumble slightly and have to grab the shower glass to steady myself. Suddenly, I hear footsteps outside my door. A sweet voice echoes down the hallway, someone new.

  Quickly, I wrap the towel around my waist and head out to see who our new guest is. Whoever it is, they must be getting a tour of the grounds. There’s no other reason to be in my wing of the house.

  Stepping out into the hallway, I see her turn just before she disappears around the corner. Jet black hair nearly stops my heart, and I can’t help myself from running down the hall to confirm what I just saw.

  She spins to face me as I reach the turn. Her emerald green eyes stop me in my tracks. I stand there wide-eyed for a moment, and she hesitates before she gathers up the nerve to speak.

  “Hi, Nash,” she says quietly.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, and even I can hear the slur to my speech.

  “Nash Wilde,” Astrid says, scolding me. “That’s not how we speak to our guests.”

  “He really convinced you to come, didn’t he?” I watch as she bites her bottom lip with her perfectly white teeth, the top two with the slightest gap that I never realized could be so fucking sexy. “He thinks you’re going to fix shit around here, you know that?”

  I don’t know why I’m giving her such a hard time. She probably came here for a free vacation, not knowing what a shit storm she was walking into. It’s not her fault my dad is an asshole.

  “I’m just here to get away for awhile, Nash.” There’s something in the way she straightens her shoulders as she says it makes me believe her. At least part of it was true, even if she’s leaving out the bit about him convincing her to come.

  I don’t know how to respond to her, so I lift my still wet arm and tug softly on a long section of her hair that hangs over her right eye. She seems to shudder as I curl it behind her ear.

  I’m not going to tell her everything yet, about what he did and why she should never fucking trust him. Chances are he’ll be gone all the time anyway.

  “Don’t get too comfortable, Zara. This place might be beautiful, but it’s a fucking prison, and everyone who lives here is miserable.”

  With that, I turn and head back to the bathroom. Before I shut myself in, I hear her voice carry down the hallway.

  “Good,” she says. “Then, I’ll fit right in.”

  5

  I remember my first tour of Del Rey four years ago. It’s a twelve square mile island off the coast of the Carolinas, and most of it is hilly sand dunes and rocky marshes. But right along the southern edge is the house. There are five buildings, the main house, guest house, pool house, garage, and hangar a little farther away. Even though I’ve seen most of it, Astrid is insistent on giving me a tour. Maybe she wanted me to run into Nash again, but she probably should have known I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything after we passed his hallway and he came running out dripping all over the carpet wearing only a towel.

  Suddenly, I feel the pressure of what I’m here to accomplish. I have to tame Nash Wilde, and that seems like the most impossible thing I’ve ever been asked to do.

  “The guest house is right out this door,” she says as we continue down the hallway past where Nash ambushed me. It’s a short breezeway to the tiny one room casita. It’s the same place I stayed when I was out here before, like a one bedroom apartment with easy access to the landing strip out back. And Nash’s room.

  Once we enter, I’m flooded with memories. Emma and I sat on that very couch and gossiped about her crazy rich boyfriend on my first night here. I stared out of that giant picture window and watched their helicopter take off the day they never returned.

  Astrid stops talking as I zone out, and I feel her arm on my shoulder a moment later.

  “You okay, sweetie?”

  I swallow down the pins and needles gathering in my throat. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “I’ll let you rest then,” she says as she crosses the space toward the door. “You have my number if you need anything. Just shoot me a text.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her before she disappears and the door shuts behind her.

  My suitcases are already open and waiting on two luggage racks in the bedroom. I guess I’ll have to unpack at some point since I’ll be here for three months. But right now, I’m exhausted. A moment ago, I was excited and full of energy, but grief is tiring. All I want to do now is sleep.

  As I crawl into the giant, king-sized bed with its million thread count sheets, I start to feel homesick immediately. Emma’s absence has never been more painful. I’m at Del Rey without her, and it feels wrong.

  I don’t want to cry. I just want to sleep.

  In my dreams, I am falling. Careening toward the earth at full speed, waiting for the impact that never comes. Maybe my body wants me to feel what Emma felt when that helicopter crashed against the side of the mountain. Being her twin sister, my brain won’t let me sleep without feeling what she felt. I was a part of her, so if she crashed against that mountain, then in some way, I did too.

  It feels like hours pass before my dreams finally drop me back into the bed, and I wake with a start. The room is dim, but not dark. It’s probably around four or five in the afternoon.

  As my mind starts to clear, and I wake fully, I feel the presence of someone else in the room. Glanci
ng up, I nearly scream when my eyes find Nash, slumped in the chair in the corner, watching me with his hooded gaze and heavy breathing.

  “Jesus, Nash. Fuck off.”

  “Did I scare you?” he asks.

  “Yes. How long have you been sitting there?”

  He sits up, propping his elbows on his knees and glaring at me like I’m the target of his interrogation. “How much is he paying you?”

  I scoff, glaring at him, but his gaze is so fierce, and it’s not moving from my face.

  “One million.”

  He turns up his nose, scrunching his brow together in disgust. “Oh, come on. You’re worth more than that.”

  I roll my eyes at him.

  “So what’s the plan? You’re going to get me to fall in love with you? Convince me to forgive my dad and go back to being his perfect, happy son?” There’s a darkness in his tone that sends chills up my spine.

  “Who the fuck am I to convince you to be happy? I’m just here for the money, Nash.”

  It’s half-true. I’d really like to make it past Christmas and get as much out of this arrangement as possible, but I’m also not going to stress over it too much. If Nash wants to drink his life away, I’m not going to stop him.

  “Good,” he answers, his voice low. I watch as his eyes cascade down from my face to my legs, and it lights up every nerve in my body. It’s quiet for a moment, and I start to fidget under his gaze like it’s fire.

  “What’s on your mind?” I ask. I’m honestly terrified of what’s lurking behind those eyes. I never saw Nash as the kind of guy with dark intentions before, but now I’m starting to wonder what the fuck I got myself into.

  You’re not getting paid to sleep with him, I remind myself.

  “Just thinking about the last time I saw you,” he answers.

  “That was a one-time thing, Nash. You caught me at a weak moment, but it never should have happened.” The slow, eerie smile that creeps across his face makes my stomach turn. “What?” I bark.

  “Nothing,” he says, composing himself. “I just think it’s a good idea if you refuse me. I kind of like it.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “That is a good question.”

  The air between us is so tense, it could suffocate me, so I stand from the bed and start to move toward the door. He blocks me from my exit, his build so much bigger than mine, and I can’t even see around him as he does it.

  “You know what’s funny?” he asks. I smell the alcohol on his breath and the weed on his clothes.

  “What?” I ask, trying to tip-toe toward the door. He stops me with a hand around my waist and pulls me against him. I try to squirm away, but he only holds me tighter, pinching the skin of my back. With my hands against his chest, I’m no match for his strength.

  I feel like clay in his hands, too easy to mold and control. He brings his lips down to my ear, but keeps his voice and normal volume as he says, “It’s ironic that you’re here to make me better when the things I want to do to you are the worst things I’ve ever wanted to do.”

  I don’t feel him let me go or register as he walks out of the guest house. I’m swaying where I stand, drunk on his presence, his words echoing in my ears.

  This is going to be harder than I thought.

  After taking a moment to compose myself, I head toward the main house for dinner. Rather than pass Nash’s hallway and risk another run in that’ll have me needing to change my panties again, I walk across the yard to the entrance from the helipad. I keep my eyes on the door instead of looking at the small helicopter parked out there.

  When I enter the house, the aroma of garlic and oregano hits my nose. I can’t even remember the last home-cooked meal I’ve eaten, and my stomach starts to rumble in excitement.

  “Have a good rest?” Astrid asks as I lean against the bar, admiring the spread of food. There’s a little pep in her step, and I think maybe having me around has put her in a good mood. I can’t imagine there are a lot of guests here anymore. It’s like I walked into a haunted house where no one here is actually alive anymore. I’m somehow supposed to bring them all back to life by myself.

  I spot movement across the kitchen, which is open to the front of the house. I remember Alistair’s bedroom and office being down that hallway—a section of the house that wasn’t on the tour. Alistair walks out as if he’s also being summoned by the siren song of marinara sauce.

  Our eyes meet for a moment, this being the first time I’ve seen him since I arrived at the house.

  “That smells delicious, Astrid,” he says to the woman before walking to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of Evian. “I hope you’re settling in well in the guest house.”

  When he looks at me, I almost feel as if I'm shrinking in his gaze. The last time I saw him, he could have fit my entire outfit in his pocket. He was also extremely rude and harsh over the phone, so to hear him being so casual is almost an offense.

  “Yes, thank you.” I don’t quite know how forward I’m supposed to be. He’s probably wondering if I’ve even seen Nash yet.

  “Nash gave her a good scare already,” the housekeeper tells him. Alistair’s eyes meet mine with intensity.

  “What did he do?”

  “Ambushed her in nothing but his towel straight out of the shower,” she answers.

  “Woke me up from my nap too,” I add, playing with my hair, then realizing I don’t want to look too anxious, so I drop it.

  “Hmm.” His brow curves upward, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

  “We just talked for a few minutes, that’s all.”

  Alistair’s gaze shifts to the hallway where Nash’s room is. “Astrid, set the table for three tonight. I’d like to eat in the dining room.”

  I watch as a smile spreads across her face. “Yes, sir.”

  “Zara, go tell him he’ll be eating dinner in here tonight. I expect he might actually listen to you.”

  My head snaps up to meet his gaze. I hate being bossed around, and I want to argue, but then I remember the contract I signed. I guess I’m an employee here now, and this is my first test. Get Nash to eat dinner with us. It seems like a lot for my first day, but I’m nothing if not stubbornly ambitious.

  “Sure,” I reply, then I saunter toward the hallway. My jaw clenched, I realize I just signed on for three months of taking orders from one Wilde while being pushed around by the other.

  Stupid, stupid, Zara.

  The hallway leads to a den with floor to ceiling windows that look out over the pool and backyard. I spot my guesthouse in the distance, and a bedroom door to my right that I know is his. It’s cracked, and I peek into a large bedroom. I hear the TV playing and spot legs crossed on the bed as I press myself in.

  “You should really knock next time,” he says as my eyes travel up his body from his jeans to his bare chest. He’s reclined on the bed, leaning against the headboard with one arm behind him and the other on his phone. I recognize Game of Thrones playing on the television, but Nash doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to it.

  “Oh, like you did when you watched me napping?” I retort.

  He smiles at me. “This is my house though.”

  I simply roll my eyes at him as I enter his space. It smells like cologne with a hint of pot in here. There are no other chairs, so I shove his feet to the side and sit on his bed.

  He raises an eyebrow at me as I recline on my hands, staring at him. “What did he send you in here for?”

  “To get you to come eat dinner with us.” I figure honesty is going to work in my favor here. I have to make Nash believe he and I are on the same team. Us against Alistair.

  Nash lets out a deep chuckle, setting his phone on the side table. “What do I get if I do it?” His eyes travel down my body with a mischievous smirk.

  “Dinner.”

  His smile widens, creating dimples in his cheeks I suspect haven’t seen the light of day in a long time.

  “Are appetizers on the menu?” One
of his legs moves to my front, essentially boxing me in, and I have to force my face from portraying the excitement settling.

  “You don’t get rewarded until you behave,” I reply.

  His smile vanishes, and he moves so fast I can hardly move to stop him. He wrestles me to my back, his legs straddling my body and his hands planted on either side of my head.

  I shriek his name, but he doesn’t react.

  “How about a kiss in exchange for one family dinner?”

  “One kiss?”

  I catch him staring at my lips as he answers. “For now.”

  I swallow, hoping he doesn’t see how much he unravels me. “Fine.”

  My heart flutters in my chest as he lowers himself to his elbows and rests his heavy body on mine. One leg shifts to rest between my thighs, and I gasp. With my lips parted, he attacks my mouth with his.

  It’s a fierce kiss, his tongue invading as if he’s devouring me, tasting me from the inside. As he pulls away, his teeth capture my bottom lip, biting a little too hard. I let out a squeal, which he answers by crushing it even harder. When he lets me go, his tongue caresses the place where his teeth marked me.

  Nash is not gentle. Even his soft kisses hurt. His touch burns like fire, but the more I fight him, the faster I melt.

  As he starts to pull away, I suddenly become desperate for more. The curiosity is unbearable, and I have to know every angle of his kiss. Jumping to meet his lips, I fuse our mouths, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck. A heavy groan rattles his chest, and I feel it deep in my bones.

  Letting his weight settle a little heavier, I feel his arousal grinding against my hips. I’m not sure what game I’m playing here, but I know it’s a dangerous one. We will never make it to dinner if we don’t stop now. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll make it to Christmas at this rate.