Page 36

THIRTY-SIX

Kinsley

That man looks like he wants to eat you alive, and I bet all the money in my bank account, his partners feel the same way.

Why does she have to say shit like that to me? I’m young, impressionable, and now I can’t get it out of my brain. It’s burrowed itself so deep in my psyche, there is no way I can forget that look on Maverick’s face when he walked out of that conference room this afternoon.

He did look hungry. And not for chocolate chunk cookies.

I need to try out my new clit thumping toy, fall into a dreamless sleep, and hope I can forget all about the last few days when I wake up in the morning.

It’s not going to happen, but it’s a good thought.

Ugh.

And for good measure I let out an actual groan and drop my head on my very fancy new/borrowed kitchen table. A table that is another direct reminder of my three bosses. You know, along with this whole freaking apartment. The apartment I have a love-hate relationship with because it’s fantastic, but it’s not something I earned on my own. It’s a pity apartment, and there’s nothing I hate more than people feeling sorry for me.

Well, maybe my ex Brian, who has still yet to respond about his guitar. The very one sitting in my living room.

Again. Ugh.

Are you trying to give yourself a concussion? Colin shuts his folder, evidently done with his math homework, and leans back in his chair. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and I guess he doesn’t. Ever since we’ve moved into this apartment, he’s been all smiles. Which is why I’ve agreed to stay until he’s fully recovered.

What are we eating for dinner?

I grit my teeth and glance into my new chef’s kitchen. It’s certainly big enough to cook in, but there’s one teeny tiny problem. That’s my last room to unpack, and I’ve been feeling extra lazy today. In my defense, work was a lot. “Chinese? Tacos?”

He shrugs, zero excitement on his face for any of those options, so I pull up a food app and am about to give a few more options when there’s a knock at the front door.

“Are you expecting company?” I sign with my words, glancing at Colin, brows raised.

He rolls his eyes and gives me a look that says, are you kidding me?

I don’t even know where we live.

Fair. I barely know where we live.

But then his eyes light up, and he takes off toward the door, signing one word. Brantley.

Dammit. Isn’t it bad enough that I had to see him all day at the office? Did I really piss off the fates? Was I a terrible person in a past life? Failed to recycle? Accidentally kicked a dog? No, that doesn’t sound like me.

When they helped unload our stuff yesterday and disappeared, I thought we had come to some sort of arrangement. One where they left me the heck alone outside the office. I guess that’s too good to be true. Let’s hope if this is Brantley, he left his merry men—aka his brother and lawyer bestie—at home.

Colin whips open the door and I lean over, trying to sneak a peek, but nearly topple out of my chair. Nope, scratch that. The chair slips out from under me, and I’m pitched on the floor. My skirt flies up, my legs are caught in the chair legs, and I think I might die on the spot.

I twist, kick a little bit, but instead of unwrapping myself from the wood, one of my legs is now stuck in the arm hole.

“Fuck.”

“Is that my little firecracker laying on the floor?” Maverick stops beside me, a huge shit-eating grin on his face as he looks down at me. “What are you doing down there, darling? It’s a little late for naptime.”

I cross my arms and try to look casual despite laying sideways on the floor, completely tangled in a chair, but then realize half my ass is hanging out so I quickly pull down my skirt. “Just hanging out.”

No pun intended.

“Do you need some…help?” This one from Wyatt who has now joined Maverick and is standing above my head.

Oh, perfect, here comes Brantley and Colin to join the party. The two of them on Maverick’s other side, arms loosely folded across their chests, heads tilted to the right, and raised brows. Looks like Colin has been adopted into the twin gang.

Why are you on the floor?

“I wanted to check out the underside of this table and just what I thought, good craftsmanship. It’s a nice study piece of furniture.”

I know I’m full of shit. They all know I’m full of shit. But instead of laughing at me, Brantley simply sighs, pulls my legs free, grabs the arms of the chair, and lifts both me and it entirely off the floor. He’s helping, the gesture is innocent enough, but the way his arms bulge in his faded t-shirt should be considered illegal.

In fact, I don’t even register the moment the chair is upright and back on the floor. I’m way too busy getting a lady boner for my boss’s arms.

Yep.

Those bad boys are going to be fueling my clit-thumping fantasies tonight.

He’s also wearing jeans again—all of them are—and we all know how that melts my brain.

“You got a little bit of drool right there, baby girl.” Wyatt reaches out and rubs his thumb along my bottom lip, or at least he tries before I slap his hand away.

“There is not. And don’t call me that.”

Maverick clears his throat and holds up two bags—no idea how I missed those. Right, I was ogling biceps. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if a small fire started in the apartment or Wyatt spontaneously broke into the chicken dance. “I brought BBQ.”

Colin takes one look at the bags, his face lighting up, and takes them in the living room. My bosses follow, and I let out a sigh. I guess we’re eating dinner together. I might as well accept defeat. So I head to the kitchen to get drinks.

I’m digging a Coke out of the fridge, putting it and the bottles of water on the counter when the air shifts behind me. The heavy weight of someone’s gaze settles on my back, and I find myself blushing which is ridiculous. It could be Colin coming out to help.

But as I whirl around, breath trapped in my throat, I’m captured in Brantley’s darkened emerald gaze.

My heart hammers in my chest, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, and I need space. He’s still several feet away, but it’s too close. I stumble back against the counter, gripping it for dear life, needing the cool granite to ground me, to keep me sane.

He cocks his head to the side and takes a step toward me. And then another.

Something flashes across his face, something dark, and there’s something in the way he walks that makes me think of a predator stalking his prey. He looks like he’s on the verge of losing control, and I want to be the one to send him plummeting over the edge.

I tighten my fingers on the counter, the stone digging into my fingers. He stops right in front of me, his chest nearly brushing mine. I should look away, break this connection between us, but I can’t. I’m completely frozen; well, except for the tremble working its way through my body.

He leans toward me, a riot of emotions crossing his face. He wants this, me, but he doesn’t want to.

His gaze flicks to my lips. He raises his hand but hesitates, his fingers inches from me. He blows out a breath, closes his eyes for a few seconds, and then tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. His touch is light as his fingers flutter down my neck, his thumb running along my hammering pulse.

I want—no, I need him to kiss me. I need it more than the oxygen filling my lungs.

I tip my head back, my lashes closing, ready for what’s inevitable.

Only it never comes.

A hum of displeasure is the only warning I get before Brantley steps back, grabs a few bottles of water, and leaves.

It takes a minute for my heart rate to return to normal, for the daze to clear from my head. He wanted to kiss me, I’m sure of it, but then his words echo through my brain.

It’s going to be because you beg me for it.

And I’m not ready to beg, so I pull up my metaphorical big girl pants and make my way into the living room.

Maverick and Colin have taken up residence in the loveseat, and the only vacant spot is on the couch.

In between Brantley and Wyatt.

I can do this, right? I can be a grown up. I can sit between my two gorgeous twin bosses, no problem. It’s no big deal.

Except, it is. One of them almost kissed me a minute ago, and I’m going to have a panic attack the second I sit down.

Keep it together, Kins. You’ve got this. It’s just dinner. A completely innocent dinner.

It would be great if I believed a word of it, but I don’t because apparently I’m a terrible liar. And despite the fact I keep telling myself my night with them was a one time only opportunity, I want more.

Which is silly.

I can’t lust after my bosses, and I sure as heck can’t risk my job. Oh, and let’s not forget that I just got epically dumped not that long ago. Sure, I’m not heartbroken or anything, but the man’s guitar is six feet from me. You can’t move on when you still have your ex’s stuff, right? Isn’t there some kind of rule about that?

Wyatt glances back at me and pats the cushion next to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I saved you a seat.”

Of course he did.

We all fill up our plates, and Brantley turns on Thor: Ragnarok after a brief conversation with Colin, making sure the subtitles are turned on.

It’s a simple gesture but one that has my breath catching in my throat. Most people don’t even think about it; they just let the movie play until we ask for the subtitles to be turned on. No one asks. No one double checks. But Brantley just did it.

Dang it. Now I really wish he had kissed me in the kitchen.

Do you like your nuts? Wyatt signs, and I nearly choke on my BBQ chicken. One, because that seems like a rather personal question and two, when the hell did he have time to learn ASL?

Colin’s eyes widen as he looks down at himself then back at Wyatt. Nuts?

Brantley’s shoulders shake with laughter, but he doesn’t say a word to clarify.

“Did you mean to ask Colin if he likes his nuts?” I ask, my voice cautious.

Wyatt sputters, almost immediately waving his hands in front of him. “No. Food. Do you like the food?”

Colin immediately laughs, showing him the correct motion for food and nods.

“So glad my dick brother jumped in to help,” Wyatt mutters, settling back against the couch, shooting a glare over my head toward said brother.

Brantley ignores him, signing to Colin. My brother is a moron, but he tries.

I can see that. Colin laughs again, his full attention going to the TV. This is one of his favorite Marvel movies, and there’s no way he’s going to try to converse with us when it’s on. The guys seem to be equally hypnotized, their focus trained on the movie instead of me. I’ve never been so thankful for Thor, and that’s saying something. I mean, have you seen the guy?

My body sags, and I blow out a breath, adjust on the cushion and let myself relax back against the couch.

This isn’t as bad as I thought.

Everything is totally fine.

Or, at least, it was until we finish eating and Wyatt spreads out his legs, pressing one of them against mine. Brantley follows suit, his leg plastered to my other side, and not to be outdone, casually stretches his arm along the back of the couch. I’m pinned in. I can’t move. Heck, I can barely breathe.

There’s no way I can pay attention to the movie now. Not when I am so hyperaware of every part of them that’s touching me. Every shift, every stretch, every single microscopic movement has my insides fluttering, and that space between my thighs throbs.

Losing my virginity didn’t help. I know what it feels like to have their hands on me, their bodies hovering over mine, their cocks pushing into my core.

I know, and no matter how hard I tried today to forget all about it, I can’t.

Now, I need to know if being with Brantley would be any different. Would he share with them? Would his touch be gentle? Hard? Demanding?

What would it be like having both brothers taking me at the same time?

I’m lost, spiraling in all these thoughts until Brantley’s hand brushes along my shoulder. His touch is tentative at first, light. One stroke. And then another.

Holy Jesus, he’s touching me again.

I’m frozen, rooted to the spot, electricity humming under my skin, running through my body and lighting me up like a Christmas tree.

His fingers fan out, stroking along my neck, his touch feathering down my spine.

I’m so focused, so lost, I don’t notice Wyatt’s hand moving until it brushes along mine and rests on my thigh, just above my knee. The heat from his palm sears through me like a brand. I’m on fire; my entire body is about to explode.

And then Brantley, not so innocent Brantley, shifts. It’s a move that looks so casual, but after he crosses his leg over the other, his hand comes down on my other thigh.

My body is tingling, a sensation that started in my stomach as little flutters and moved to my clit. I’m a throbbing, desperate mess from this simple touch.

I thought I was strong. I thought I’d be able to resist these men, but I’ve never been so wrong in my life.