The Wayward Sister (Wayward Sons Book 5)

by Angel Lawson

  He shakes his head. “As long as they don’t hurt you, nothing can come between the three of us.”

  He picks up his chair and moves it next to mine. From there he doesn’t hesitate to kiss me, thank god, because I was terrified he’d never do it again. It’s as good as the first time, and the second, and I have no doubt it will never change. There’s a buzz between us; relief, desire, exhilaration.

  “What does your thirteen-year-old-self say about what’s going on now?” he asks, brushing his nose against mine.

  “That girl would be impressed that a hot guy is kissing her in a bar. Like super-duper impressed.”

  He laughs and wraps his arms around me, and for once, I think the two of us are willing to do something that’s never been easy for either of us: just to be in the moment.

  26

  Smith

  Waking up hard is part of being male. It’s a regular occurrence, something to contend with before starting the day.

  But with Sierra in the bed next to me, “morning wood” takes on a whole new meaning. It’s not just an involuntary reaction. It’s a physical demand, especially when I see her curled up on her side, that little tank stretched tight over her tits, and exposing her belly. I want her, so fucking bad, but I have enough self-control not to throw a leg over her and hump her while she sleeps.

  I grimace, shifting uncomfortably as blood travels to my already erect cock, making it insufferably harder.

  Her eyes flutter, and she wakes.

  “Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “This isn’t the best mattress.”

  “I slept great.” It’s the truth. I’d fought my attraction to her for so long, that coming to terms with it was a relief. After we left the bar, neither of us wanted to say goodnight, so she invited me to her room. The two of us, even snuggling, wasn’t going to happen in my small, single bed. We didn’t do much more than kiss and talk, both of us nodding off around midnight.

  “I did, too.” Her eyes drop to my lips. “Would it be gross for me to kiss you before brushing my teeth?”

  “Nope, not gross at all.”

  I reach for her, throwing an arm over her waist and dragging her across the bed. She laughs, but I cut it off with my mouth, dying to feel her lips against mine. They’re perfect, soft and pink. I’ve dreamed about them—no, fantasized—ever since we kissed that first night. Now that she’s willing to kiss me again, I can’t get enough.

  Thankfully, she responds the same, eagerly. I waste no time coaxing her lips apart and sweeping my tongue inside. Her body presses against mine, those perfect, round breasts, her flat lower belly. My cock feels like it could shatter.

  I pull back.

  “I probably should go…”

  Her gray eyes hold mine while her hand runs down my stomach. “You sure?”

  I tilt my head. “Sierra, willpower is not my strong suit, and you…you strain my self-control. I am barely keeping it together.”

  “Then stop keeping it together.” She lowers her head and kisses my neck, sending chills down my body. “I’m not afraid of you, Smith.”

  I’m afraid of her. Deathly. I know that once I claim her, fully claim her, there will be no going back. I’ll be in this with her and the guys. Something I can accept—something I want. I also know that being with this girl will change me, and I’ve worked so hard the past few years to keep my shit together. If I loosen my grip, will everything fall apart?

  These questions run through my mind as I feel the weight of her hand on my hip, and stare into the deep gray of her eyes. Jesus, her lips. So kissable. Absolutely fuckable. Her body sexy and lithe. The urge to love her, bend her, claim her, is frighteningly strong.

  “Take me,” she says, knowing she’s stoking a fire. “I won’t break.”

  She lowers her hand, grazing it over my painful erection. My reaction is instantaneous.

  I want this girl to be mine.

  We crash into one another; mouths, lips, teeth. Clothing shed, bodies ready. I hiss when her nails scrape down my body, flicking against my nipples. She cries when I spread her legs and suck against her heat. We’re erratic, crazed, consumed.

  I shift an elbow and she yelps, her hair trapped under my weight.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, stroking her hair.

  She shakes her head in forgiveness, climbing on top of my body. I’m not ready and she lands hard on my cock, bending it oddly. I wince.

  “Oh god,” she says, looking between us. “Did I break it?”

  “No,” I grimace. “No. It’s fine. Just…”

  We lean toward one another to kiss and our teeth knock together, rattling and hard.

  “Fuck,” I mutter. Nothing we do is right. Every move, every twist, every touch. We part, both frustrated and breathing hard.

  “It’s like we’re fucking magnets—but not the good kind—the ones that repel against one another.”

  “No,” I say, refusing, abso-fucking-lutely, refusing to believe that. I look at Sierra, tugging the sheet to her chest, covering her fantastic body. Someone needs to take control.

  I’m that someone.

  I touch her chin. “Do you trust me?"

  She nods.

  She’s right, whatever brings us together is strong, but not innately in synch. It’s been that way from the beginning, out on that cold dock. We’re fire and ice, the sun and moon. We need to align, and my cock is like a compass pointing north. I untangle myself from the sheets and stand at the end of the bed. I yank the covering off her body, taking in her perky, fabulous tits, the curve of her hips, landing on the mound between her legs. I hold her eye and in a fast move drag her down to the edge of the bed, flipping her on her stomach. Before I can ask if this is okay, if this is what she wants, she lifts up on two knees, back arched, ass lifted. I lay a hand on her back and stroke the length of her spine.

  “Spread your legs,” I tell her, nudging them at the knee. She does as I ask, looking back. A sexy smile twists at her lips. I lean over her body, both sliding my cock between her thighs and pulling her toward me for a kiss. She exhales a small whimper into my mouth as I slowly begin to move, making my cock slippery and wet, making sure she’s ready.

  With one last kiss, we part, and she falls forward, giving me full access. I glance down, taking in the curve of her ass, using my fingers to spread her apart. I find her entrance and ease inside her warm, tight pussy. I groan once I’m in, hips already moving. I can’t stop myself and she doesn’t make me, instead encouraging me on with breathy moans.

  All the frantic energy from before settles, shifting to a pounding rhythm. Our bodies work in motion, our breathing falling in pace. Coming at the same time is a fantasy, something in movies and romance novels, but I feel the build, the strain in my balls, and the tightening of her pussy as it clamps around me. I hold out. I hold on, fingers digging into her hips, as she cries out and shudders beneath me. I thrust into her, consumed by euphoria, consumed by her. We ride the wave together, until it’s too raw, too good, to go any further.

  Sierra falls forward and rolls on her back, splayed naked and sweaty on the bed. She looks up at me, blissful grin on her mouth. I grab a shirt off the floor and clean up.

  “If I’d known you could do that, I would have pushed this weeks ago.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “If I’d known you’d be willing to do that, I would have bent you over that deck railing on New Year’s Eve.”

  She motions for me to get back into bed. I crawl in next to her, kissing her shoulder, then her neck, then her mouth. Despite the frustration and the fights and the miscommunication, it’s probably better that we had to wait, to get to know one another. If I didn’t know Sierra’s strength, I never would have risked taking her like that. But she’s right. She won’t break and if she ever does, I think, wrapping my arms around her body, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

  The tree is up in the distance, obstructing the path. Even before I saw it, rhythmic thuds bounced off the land
scape, leading me in the right direction. Adrian holds the axe over his head, bringing it down hard, cutting into the dead tree.

  “Hey,” I say, walking up. I rummage through my pack for the extra water they’d radioed for and place them on the ground. “Looks like you’re making progress."

  “A little,” Holden says, kicking the tree. Ants swarm out of a rotting hole. I wrinkle my nose. I’m not a big fan of insects. Adrian takes another swing, dislodging another chunk.

  The two guys fall silent and I glance up. “What?”

  “You’re really not going to tell us what happened with you and Sierra last night?”

  It’s the first time we’ve been together—all in the know. All on the same page. All lovers of the amazing woman that let us into her home.

  “As you know, she ran off and I took off after her. I called Robbie and he asked Katie if she’d heard from her. She had, and I found them down at the lake at a bar.”

  Adrian wipes his forehead. “And?”

  “And I apologized and told her what I wanted.”

  “Which is…” Holden prompts. They know I hate sharing shit like this, but we’ve entered a new territory, and I’m going to have to adapt.

  “Her. I want her, and I’m okay with everything else.”

  Holden smiles and claps me on the back. Adrian smirks. “So, you two…”

  “Yeah, we did.” I fight a smug grin. God, it had been perfect.

  From the looks on their faces, they get this. It’s a strange sort of solidarity, having this understanding with other men. But they aren’t just men—they’re my brothers. We’ve been through a lot of shit together. Good and bad. There’s no reason we can’t take that higher.

  “Should this be weird?” Holden asks, reaching for the axe. “Because it doesn’t feel weird.”

  Adrian runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “It doesn’t, but then again, none of us has ever been conventional.”

  “That’s the damn truth.”

  Holden hefts the axe and takes a swing, ending the conversation. There’s not much else to say. We’ve all fallen for the same girl and instead of fighting it out and destroying our friendship, we’ll share.

  It’s kind of fucking amazing.

  27

  Sierra

  The roller squeaks with each pass, coating the walls in a pale gray. I’ve got the music cranked to level ten, pouring out of the speakers across the room. After cleaning out Adrian’s things, I decided to paint Dexter’s bedroom first. It’s the room that holds the least emotional history for me and seemed like the best place to start. Two hours later, I’m thinking this was really an awful idea.

  Painting is the absolute worst.

  I pull my damp tank away from my body. I opened the windows to ventilate the room and with the sun beating down outside, I’m sticky and hot.

  My phone buzzes midway through the second wall, interrupting my fantasies. I glance down at the screen.

  Adrian: You home?

  I wipe my hands on my overalls.

  Sierra: Yep

  Adrian: Wanna unlock the door?

  Sierra: Did you forget your key?

  Adrian: I was a little distracted this morning.

  Distracted was an understatement. He’d joined me in the shower and by the time he left I was in a complete and utter post-sex fog. By the time we’d both made each other a shuddering mess, my brain as well as my body was made of jelly. I had no problem believing he’d forgotten his key.

  I walk out of the bedroom and down the hall. I catch a glimpse of him out the window in the front door. I smile and lean back against the way, still typing.

  Sierra: I don’t know. I’m a little busy.

  The little dots bubble at the bottom of the screen, telling me he’s replying. My heart flip flops when he replies.

  Adrian: I brought pizza.

  Sierra: Pizza? I’m listening…

  Adrian: Yes, and I know you could use some help painting the room…

  Sierra: You’re offering to help?

  Adrian: Well, Holden is.

  I push off the wall and head to the door, turning the bolt. The two men I’d welcomed in my home, and into my bed, stand outside, holding pizza and beer.

  “You didn’t mention the beer,” I say, taking the box of pizza. The scent hits my nose and my mouth starts to water.

  I put them straight to work; painting, eating pizza, and drinking beer at the same time. Multi-tasking is something I learned at the Wayward Sun.

  With full bellies and the music cranked up, the squeaking rollers and the sound of tape ripping into strips signals our progress. We make our way around the room and I find myself in the corner, can of paint at my feet, walls finished on either side. I look around and see Holden and Adrian, both making their way toward me. Adrian is up on a ladder, reaching over my head to get the final section, just under the trim.

  “Oh shit,” he says, just before a cool drop of paint lands on my forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

  I reach up to catch it before it rolls down my face. Holden lunges toward me, holding a cloth.

  “I’ve got it,” he says, one hand cupping the back of my neck, and wiping off the paint. I hear Adrian come down off the creaky ladder and he stands behind me.

  “Got it?”

  “Yeah,” Holden says, inches away. Close enough for me to smell his warm, soapy scent.

  His eyes flick over my shoulder and then back to mine. He leans in and kisses me. I kiss him back. It’s the first time we’ve done that in front of Adrian.

  I look over and see approval on Adrian’s face.

  Every nerve in my body twinges with anticipation. I’m not sure what’s going on here, if this was planned, or just a coincidence. My body wants to know, as evidenced by my stomach fluttering nervously; a bundle of twitchy, excited, panicked nerves.

  There’s a moment of tension, pulled taut like a tight rope. Holden reaches forward and wipes my forehead again. “I’m going to go clean this up.”

  I exhale as he leaves the room, my eyes glued to his broad shoulders. I haven’t forgotten Adrian is still behind me and when he slips an arm around my waist it’s like my whole body is about to combust.

  “You look like you may have a panic attack,” he says, kissing the shell of my ear.

  “I do?” I ask, knowing it’s the truth. “I know this is what I wanted, both of you, but together…”

  “If it’s too much, we can forget it. Forever. Or put it on pause. H and I talked about it on the drive home, it’s something we’re comfortable with, if you are.”

  “To be honest, I feel like I’m leaving one person out—an important person. If we do this and without a conversation with Smith, is he going to be pissed?”

  “What if I told you we had a conversation with him.”

  My body warms, from the conversation and his closeness. “Did you?”

  “He’s okay with all of this, Sierra, but I think he just wants to take it slower between the two of you, at least right now.”

  I have options, so many of them, and it stabilizes me in a way I never expected. All my urges to run, to build walls, vanish. The more I’m with the guys, the more we push our boundaries, the deeper I get.

  The harder it will be to leave.

  I push up on my toes and kiss him on the mouth, attempting to quell some of the hunger inside of me. He kisses me in return and the wave builds inside of me. I have a strong feeling that the hunger won’t diminish.

  It will only get stronger.

  28

  Holden

  “I’m sorry if I crossed a line,” I tell Adrian, when he comes out to check on me. I’m standing at the work sink in the garage, cleaning brushes. “It was probably too much.”

  “I don’t think so,” he says, handing me two more. This is new for us, too, although we’ve been through a lot together. Enough highs and lows that new experiences and challenges are just a way of life. “I think she’s trying to figure everything out—and giving her options
isn’t a bad thing. We can be good for her, if she wants to take the chance.”

  “What did she say after I left?”

  “Not much,” he admits, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But she did kiss me, which makes me think she’s not scared at all.”

  We finish up and head back in the house. Sierra isn’t in the bedroom, but I hear the sound of the shower running. I raise an eyebrow at Adrian, known his mind is probably traveling the same route as mine. Sierra wet, soapy, and naked. I try to keep my body in check. It isn’t easy.

  “Didn’t she say those boxes need to go to the garage?” Adrian asks, obviously needing as much of a distraction as I do.

  “Yep,” he says and we each load up on boxes and carry them downstairs. When we finish we walk back up and she’s in the living room, clean and smelling like soap, dark hair wet around her shoulders. The sexy overalls are gone, replaced with a black tank and jean shorts. Also sexy.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

  “We’re here to help,” Adrian says, wiping his face with his shirt. “Anything else?”

  She looks between the two of us, her eyes deep in thought, like what she wants—or maybe needs, it's too hard to ask for, it’s behind that wall. The one Adrian has promised to help tear down. But this is a situation where we can’t make the first move—no more than we already have.

  Sierra has to want this. Want us.

  And I’m just waiting for her to ask.

  29

  Sierra

  I’ve been flustered for an hour. Not even the long, cold shower helped.

  Two guys?

  Two at once?

  Even guys this handsome? This amazing? This sweet and kind?

  How does that even work?

  I stand before them, caught between wanting to ask all of those questions, and wanting to just go for it.

  I go for it.

  “How does it work? The hands and mouths and, uh, you know,” heat rolls up my body, settling in my cheeks, “all the parts.”