Page 27 of Craving Consequences

LACHLAN

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I used to think I was a good person, a decent man. That delusion vanished the second I face-dived between my son’s girlfriend’s legs and she came all across my tongue.

I can’t even wrap my head around the thought process I had the night before.

The entire event is the murky blur of a really fantastic dream I know I shouldn’t have had but can’t let go.

It’s made worse with the knowledge that Van had been there, too.

He took his turn with her sweet pussy with my cum still warm inside her.

I still don’t know how to feel about that.

I’m trying to justify it as a rash decision in the moment.

It happens. I think. I’ve never shared a woman with another man before.

Never been in this situation, not even with Van and I’ve known the guy my entire life.

We’ve never even liked the same woman. Yet Everly seems to be the one we both can’t let go.

I try not to look at her during the drive to the storage. I focus on the damn road, but every shift, every bump of her shoulder against mine, has my nerves on edge.

I steal a peek in Van’s direction, curious to see his thoughts, his discomfort.

Anything to soothe my guilt, but the asshole sits quietly watching the road pass with one meaty paw closed possessively around Everly’s tiny fingers.

His thumb moves lazily across her delicate knuckles like they’ve been doing this their entire lives.

There isn’t a shred of uncertainty in the man.

If anything, this is the calmest I’ve seen him in months.

As if just holding her hand has somehow conquered whatever demon had been plaguing him.

It makes me think of our conversation the previous night.

Me asking about the woman he had his eyes on and him saying she had a boyfriend.

I’m not a rocket scientist but I can do basic math.

Even if I were dense, his confession in the soft veil of night against Everly’s sweet lips was a whole indication that he — like me — is hopelessly in love with her.

But he’s being unrealistic. Shortsighted. This can never go anywhere. Stolen kisses behind closed doors. Sneaking in and out like thieves. Everly deserves better than to be our dirty secret.

When I make a too-sharp turn, sending her knocking into Van’s side, Everly tips her face to his and he meets her gaze with one of his own. Just like that, they’re locked. His fingers skim through her hair, and she’s practically nestled into his chest.

I hate it.

I should hate it. I should tell him to knock it off.

He’s on thin ice, and with his behemoth size, he’s going straight through.

Does he even know what he’s doing? The chaos this would cause if our children, if Jefferson, caught wind of how badly we want the tiny creature between us. How is he not thinking with his head?

Well, he is. Just the wrong head.

And I can’t blame him. If Everly was wedged into my chest, peering up at me with those big, doe eyes, I’d stand no fucking chance either.

While the two are distracted staring into the other’s soul, my traitorous gaze slips to the soft curve of her thighs exposed beneath the short hem of her pretty dress.

They’d been so soft quivering on either side of my face. Like butter beneath the hold of my fingers gripping her open. The way they tensed right before she came on my face.

I shift, biting back my groan as the head of my swelling cock cuts up the teeth of my zipper.

I make the mistake of glancing over and catch Van watching me from over Everly’s head.

His pale eyes are knowing, and I have to keep from flipping him off when the corner of his mouth quirks up on one side.

Asshole.

Safekeep Storage, a sprawling compound painted a pumpkin orange with trims of gray, sits tucked far out of sight and out of mind from the people of Jefferson.

It extends down a dirt road fully enclosed by looming pine trees and endless silence.

It’s a great place to avoid people and maybe hide a body or two .

“I promise I won’t be long,” Everly rushes out as we spot the structure.

“Take as long as you need.” I tell her, maneuvering the truck through the iron gates. “Which way, sweetheart?”

She gives me directions through the maze of metal doors until we reach one of the larger units towards the back.

She rifles in her purse while I park just outside the grated door.

Her quiet muttering has me glancing over to watch her.

To study her doing something so basic, yet somehow impossibly adorable.

“I know I tossed them in here,” she grumbles, dragging out her phone, a novel with little colored tabs sticking out of the pages, a fistful of keys that aren’t the ones she needs, and a crumpled packet of chips that has my eyebrows lifting.

I ignore the half-eaten baggie to take the dictionary sized tome and flip it over. I get as far as I didn’t set out to fall obsessively in love with my fake stepdad ... or his twin brother, when it’s snatched out of my fingers and hastily shoved back into the bag.

“That’s not mine,” she blurts, cheeks as red as the morning sun on a hot July. “I’m holding it for a friend.”

The outright lie is so horrible, even she looks momentarily horrified by her response.

I roll my tongue over my teeth. “Which friend in Jefferson is reading such a dirty, smutty book, Everly?”

“I’m not telling. It’s private,” she quips haughtily .

But now I am curious, especially by the way she’s anxiously avoiding all eye contact. There is no way I’m letting this go.

“Since it’s not yours, I think we should be allowed a peek,” I prod and have to bite the inside of my lip when she snaps the zipper into place like I might try to dive in after it.

“I don’t think we have time for that,” she retorts a bit too sharply.

“I’m not busy today. Are you?” I ask the man watching her with his own amusement.

“Nope.” He lightly pokes Everly’s side, making her squeak and jump. “I think you should pick one of those colorful tabs and read it to us.”

Everly’s eyes widen. “Out loud?”

“Why not?” He plucks a lock of hair off her shoulder and gives it a light tug. “Are you reading inappropriate things, Everly?”

“What if I am?” she blurts and juts her little chin up at us all defiant and adorable. “I’m an adult and I can read what I want.”

“We’re not saying you can’t. We want you to read it to us.”

I roll my tongue over my teeth when her flush deepens, and she glowers between us. “You want me to read you a smut book? ”

“Just the parts you highlighted,” Van says. “I want to know what made them so special.”

It’s sheer defiance when she looks both of us in the eye and states boldly, “I don’t think either of you are ready to hear all the dirty things they do to her.” Not waiting for either of us to comment, she holds up the twin set of keys dangling from her fingers. “Found them.”

She’s definitely right.

I’m not ready to hear the extent of the things they do to her. The two men. The brothers.

Yet I can’t stop thinking about it.

What do they do to her? What do they make her do? How dark and depraved is this book? Because I did not forget her asking us to use her like a toy because she read it in a book?

“I have even more questions,” Van reaches up and lightly sweeps a coil of glossy auburn hair off her rosy cheeks. “But we’ll let it go for now.”

Without another word, the man yanks open his door and hops out into the scorching sun. The heat rolls into the cabin with the breach, absorbing every drop of air.

I’m not a heat person. I need a crack in the window no matter the season. Ashley hated it, especially in the winter. But I can’t stand the clammy feel of my skin in the morning after sweating all night. Even during the day while at the construction site, sweating pisses me off .

Still, I jerk open my door and push myself out.

With only the keys tinkling softly in her slim fingers, Everly, followed by Van, hurries to the bay door.

The angry ball of fire clinging to a powder blue sky catches in her wave of curls, setting off the gold and crimson highlights tangled through the strands.

The coils glisten like light across a pond.

It tempts me to sink my fingers into all that glossy weight and drag her into my chest.

Instead, I stand next to my best friend and watch Everly bend at the waist. Watch the dangerous hike of her skirt lift up the backs of her thighs.

The dress isn’t something I’ve ever seen her in, or anything like it.

In the two years she’s been officially in my life, she’d been clad in neat, professional attire I attributed to her job at the mayor’s office.

Like this, with her hair in loose curls and her pretty, white dress, she seems so incredibly young.

Much too young for two old fucks to be ogling her.

The lock at the bottom of the sliding door clicks open with the twist of her wrist. I reach her before she can yank the door up and do it for her.

I don’t know what kind of chaos I’d been expecting of a storage unit packed full of memories, but that’s not what I get.

The inside is immaculate. Wooden shelves are built along the three walls and lined with neatly labeled boxes, crates and plastic containers. If that isn’t wild enough, each section is separated by season and holiday .

“Your parents have a storage unit just for decorations?” Van asks, staring into the dusty space from her other side.

“No, this one is decorations.” Everly takes a step back to gesture at the two other doors on either side. She points to the left. “Clothes.” The right. “Furniture.”

“No wonder your mom said not to keep it all at the house,” Van chimes.

Everly chuckles and steps into the tidy space. “Dad was a very organized hoarder. I think knowing he had the thing even if he never used it was a key need for him. Drove Mom nuts. I don’t think she ever knew about the other storages. I think she only knew about the one.”