Page 11 of My Ex’s Billionaire Brothers (Forbidden Hearts #5)

HUNTER

I stand under the motel shower, letting the forceful spray of hot water cascade over my shoulders and down my back. I thought cheap motels were notorious for their water pressure, but Delaware continues to defy traditional logic.

Steam curls around me, clouding the plastic curtain. I close my eyes, trying to focus on the steady hiss of water rather than the images that insist on creeping into my mind—images of Anya. Her curves, the slope of her waist, the softness of her lips.

Of course, I fail miserably at banishing those thoughts. Instead, I picture her pressed against the motel kitchenette, arching her back under Gage’s firm hand, or leaning over the rail outside with Theo. I saw them out there last night, thanks to the curtains not being pulled tight.

I would never let her out of my sight if she were mine.

The water drums against my neck, but even that rhythm can’t drown out what I feel. I take a few unsteady breaths, bracing my hands against the tiled wall. My thoughts drift to her bright eyes, her uncertain laugh, the way she bites her lip when she’s nervous.

With a ragged sigh, I let my hand slide down my chest, allowing my imagination to wander. I picture Anya alone with me, the softness of her body, the breathy sounds she might make if I coax every ounce of pleasure from her.

A dollop of conditioner for lube, I let out a low groan, need pulsing through my balls.

Her name forms on my lips in a hushed whisper as I seek release with every stroke.

Desire crackles along my spine, and for a handful of moments, I let myself sink into fantasy—her hair twisted in my hands, her curves pressed against my front, her sweet sighs in my ear.

Heat pulses through me, throbbing down low, sending a jolt of electricity across my nerves until it hits, stealing my breath in ragged pants. I finally shudder, head hanging forward, letting the water sluice away the proof of my need.

Get a grip, Hunter.

Just had one, thanks.

If I were any kind of gentleman, I’d keep my distance until she sought us out for more. But I’m not a gentleman. Never claimed to be.

Eventually, I shut off the faucet and grab a thin motel towel, rubbing it briskly over my skin. All the while, my mind keeps circling back to Calvin, no matter how much I want to cut him from my thoughts.

How the fuck did he reject that delightful creature?

I dress quickly in black boxer briefs and a clean T-shirt.

My reflection in the tiny mirror above the sink glints back at me—my buzzed hair still beaded with droplets, the scars on my knuckles faintly visible.

I let out a slow exhale, remembering the many teenage fights that gave me those scars.

I’ve always protected the people I care about, but I took things too far back then.

And I care about Anya. I might not have Theo’s long-standing crush on her that he tries to hide, but I find myself caring about her more than I should.

It’s funny—he’s usually so determined to stop me and Gage from making asses of ourselves with girls and now he’s the one with his heart in his eyes.

Thinks he’s so suave, but I know him too well for him to hide his crush from me.

The night we met her, he could barely make eye contact with her.

It’s been a struggle for him ever since. Until this road trip.

I am a hundred percent certain that’s why he demanded to do all the driving. It gives him a reason to avoid eye contact. The man has tells.

Gage, on the other hand, keeps putting it out there. If Anya were more experienced, she’d see he’s practically got a cartoon heart floating over his head whenever she’s around. The man is not subtle. He’s still a growly beast of a man, but it was Beauty who tamed the Beast, wasn’t it?

My thoughts circle back to her. Anya has an air about her—vulnerable, but somehow strong.

Shy enough that she blushes at the slightest hint of flirtation, yet she’s teetering on the brink of something wild with us.

What’s that old saying? Not fragile like a flower, but fragile like a bomb. And she’s ready to go off.

It makes me want to wring Calvin’s scrawny neck. That lousy bastard never had any idea what he had in his hands. His loss, our gain.

Temporarily.

By midmorning, we pack up the SUV and head back onto the highway.

We have hours of driving to reach our next stop in North Carolina, a middle-of-nowhere town whose only notable attraction, from what I can tell, is a Waffle House and a motel chain.

I’m in the passenger seat this time, my feet propped on the dashboard while Theo drives.

Gage occupies the back, giving Anya the middle row to herself.

About halfway through the drive, I notice Anya sigh heavily as she stares down at her phone. Her face clouds over, her soft mouth twisting into a frown. Something in me bristles.

“You okay?” I ask, twisting in my seat to look at her.

“Yeah, just…” She grimaces, tapping the screen. “Calvin texted me. He’s mad.”

“Mad about what?” Gage says, leaning forward, resting his arms on the back of her seat.

Anya shrugs, defeat flickering in her eyes.

“He says I ruined the Carver family Fourth of July. Because you three are traveling with me instead of attending the annual family reunion or whatever, and now he has to explain your absence. I don’t get it—there’s never been a Fourth of July reunion in the past few years, so what’s he going on about? ”

That jackass. “Let me see,” I say, holding out my hand. She hesitates briefly, but eventually passes her phone over.

Calvin’s last text reads: Can’t believe you dragged them away. You’ve ruined the family reunion. You should’ve just stayed put. Typical.

I breathe out through my nose, trying to keep my temper in check. “This is nonsense. He’s blaming you for something that’s not even your fault and isn’t a thing we do. Besides, if we wanted to attend, we would have. But we weren’t going to—we already sent our regards. He knows that.”

“Hell, he wasn’t supposed to be going to that thing either,” Theo interjects. “He had already RSVP’d that he was going with you to Castle Beach.”

Anya lets out a sad laugh. “He’s always been like this, twisting things to make me feel guilty.”

I start typing, though Gage gives me a warning look in the rearview mirror, as if to say, Be careful. Not a chance. I tell Calvin he has no right to blame Anya for anything, that we offered to drive her of our own free will, and that it’s none of his business anymore anyway, and hit send.

Only then do I realize it looks like the message is coming from her.

Oh well.

“Hunter—” Anya begins, but I shake my head.

“Trust me.” We wait a few seconds, watching the phone’s screen.

Another text from Calvin pops up: You’re a selfish brat for taking advantage of their generosity. You never knew your place.

I read it aloud, feeling my blood pressure spike. So I reply, You’re a limp-dicked loser who never made me come . My thumbs hit send with a flourish.

Then…silence. No bubbles, no follow-up message. I hope that means he’ll slink away, at least for now.

Anya stares at her phone, lips parted. “Wow,” she murmurs. “Um…accurate, but still. Wow.”

“He needed to be put in his place.”

She nods slightly. “I just hate how he keeps twisting everything like I’m the bad guy in this.”

Theo’s voice floats from the driver’s seat, steady and calm. “You’re free of him now. He can’t control you anymore.”

I glance down at her phone as a social media notification pops up—Calvin’s name again. I click it before she can see, preparing for more venom. It’s not venom. It’s worse.

A photo: Calvin, arms around Brenna. And this isn’t some innocent picture. His hand is clearly on her ass. And they’re in heavy winter coats, standing on snow.

He’s been banging his political consultant for months and decided to post the evidence to hurt Anya .

Not on my watch.

I tap into Anya’s settings, blocking Calvin’s socials without a second thought. The last thing she needs is to see that cruel photo.

With that done, I hand the phone back to her. “No more of his bullshit. Texting him will only upset you. Let him stew in his own pettiness.”

She tucks the phone into her purse. “Thank you, Hunter.”

“Happy to help.”

Our day on the road blurs by in a haze of highway scenery and tension-laden silence whenever Anya’s phone buzzes.

But Calvin never texts again, and eventually, we find ourselves pulling into a small motel in rural North Carolina.

It’s late evening, the sun dipping behind the trees, painting the sky a dusky purple.

“Got a single suite, big enough for all of us,” Theo announces, stepping out of the SUV with the reservation info on his phone. “Apparently, it’s their only vacant room. Seems we’re not the only travelers caught by the holiday rush. Two queen beds and a couch.”

Anya looks uncertain, so I say it outright. “I’ll take the couch if no one objects.”

She gives me that shy smile of hers. “Thank you.”

I’d rather share a bed with her, but I’ll take what I can get, and tonight, it’s best if we don’t push her. After a quick dinner at a local diner—cheap fried chicken and biscuits my trainer would forbid—we return to the motel suite.

Anya hovers near the kitchenette counter, fiddling with the edge of her sweater. Gage and Theo turn the lights low and pull the curtains. I catch her eye and stride over, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Everything okay?”

She nods, lips parted. “Yes. Just a lot of emotions. I keep waiting to feel bad about the breakup. But the more I’m away from him, the more that relationship feels like a bad dream.”

“Good. You deserve to be happy.”

As if on cue, Gage steps behind her, gently brushing her hair aside. “Do you think you’re ready for more?”

Anya’s breath quickens. “I think so,” she whispers, turning to face us. Theo approaches from the side, and the three of us surround her in a loose formation. She looks from one of us to the next, a hint of apprehension in her gaze.

We guide her gently to the edge of the nearest bed.

She sits down, her heart hammering so hard I can see the pulse in her throat.

I crouch by her feet, running my hands up her calves, feeling the soft cling of her leggings and the tremble in her muscles.

Gage tucks in behind her on the bed, palms on her shoulders, while Theo lingers on her other side, ready to step in if she needs anything.

I stroke upward until I reach her thighs, my thumbs pressing lightly into her flesh. She’s wearing a simple T-shirt and leggings, but she looks exquisite. “God, you’re so gorgeous,” I murmur, leaning forward for a gentle kiss. She flushes but relaxes a bit, letting me explore her curves.

Gage massages her shoulders, whispering something low in her ear about how good she smells, how sweet she tastes. A shaky breath escapes her lips. Theo clasps her hand, thumbs caressing her knuckles. She lets out a quiet moan when my palms travel higher, just shy of where she craves it most.

“You okay?” I ask, voice hushed. She nods fiercely, eyes fluttering shut.

We continue with slow, gentle exploration of her body. She allows Gage’s big hands to cup her waist and skim beneath her shirt a few inches, stroking the warm skin at her sides. She lets Theo tug her hand to his mouth, and he presses soft kisses to her wrist.

Meanwhile, I edge forward, pressing light kisses to her knees, her thighs, wishing I could devour every inch of her. This is how she should be worshipped, with adoration and lust in equal measure. This is what she deserves.

Eventually, I coax her to lean back so Gage can wrap an arm around her shoulders.

Theo guides her to tilt her hips, giving me access to rub slow, lazy circles right where she needs it.

The sound of her breathy whimpers sets fire to my veins, but I focus on her face, making sure it never crosses the line into panic.

Her thighs quake as the pleasure builds, and every shake is a compliment.

This is how I want her. Cradled by us, cared for by us.

As her wetness seeps through the black fabric, her lips pepper curses between her moans.

I long for a taste, but not yet. She’s barely ready for this.

If I steal a taste now, I could ruin this forever.

I refuse to let that happen.

Her hips jerk but she braces, gripping Theo’s hand as hard as she’s fisting the sheets in the other hand. Pink spreads over her cheeks, making her somehow even more lovely. Those pretty blue eyes flutter back as her body goes tight.

Gage quietly growls, “That’s it, pet. Come for us.”

When her body tenses and her breath catches, she lets out a little cry, her head tipping back against his chest. We ease her through it, letting her ride that crest of pleasure until she comes down, trembling and gasping for air, eyes brimming with tears of sheer sensation.

“Are you okay?” Theo asks gently, brushing a kiss to her sweaty brow.

She nods, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed. “Yes…that was…incredible.”

I stroke my palms over her thighs in comforting passes, feeling pride swell in my chest. She deserves to feel this good every day. Then a flicker of uncertainty crosses her face.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” I murmur, half-afraid I’ve spooked her.

She swallows. “Nothing. It’s just that…this is a lot.”

Theo nods, smoothing a hand over her hair. “We understand. We’ll follow your lead.”

Gage echoes the sentiment, pulling her into a gentle hug. She melts into him, her body still trembling from aftershocks. Eventually, we tuck her into one of the queen beds, while we arrange ourselves among the other bed and the pull-out couch. She seems content, a shy smile lingering on her lips.

But as the lights go out, my mind refuses to quiet. I lie on the couch in the dark, arms crossed behind my head, listening to the faint hum of the motel’s air conditioner. If I think about it logically, I’d tell myself she isn’t truly “mine” or “ours.”

Anya belongs to herself, and we’re only here to help her discover who she really wants to be. As much as I want her, I want that for her more. She’s never had the chance to know herself, and she should get that. Everybody should.

She doesn’t need us telling her who she is, either.

I close my eyes, forcing my breathing to steady. The last memory that flits through my thoughts is the look in her eyes as she comes undone under our hands. It’s a glimpse of something fragile yet powerful—something I want to nurture.

This is temporary. I knew it was from the start. And if my chest caves in a little at the thought of her leaving someday, well, that’s a problem for another time.