Page 21 of My Ex’s Billionaire Brothers (Forbidden Hearts #5)

THEO

The cabin has settled into that mellow post-brunch hush—a clinking of dishes in the sink, the snap of a fresh log in the fireplace, a lingering sweetness of strawberry jam in the air.

Hunter requested a brother conference, and I promised him we would discuss whatever notion is occupying his irrepressible mind.

Yet the moment Anya excuses herself for a shower, my thoughts drift like a sailing yacht that has lost its course.

Must right the ship. First order of business—confirm the car’s status. I step onto the porch for better reception and a breath of fresh air to clear my head. The mechanic informs me the SUV will be ready soon, but that’s the least of my worries.

When I return, my brothers understand when I ask them to take a woodland hike for an hour.

I need time alone with Anya, or I’ll never think clearly again.

The door closes, their footfalls fading down the porch steps.

I collect myself—straighten my shirt, brush invisible lint from my trousers—then pad down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Steam curls from beneath the door. I tap lightly.

“Just a minute!” her muffled voice calls. After a soft rustle, the door opens. Anya stands wrapped in a fluffy towel, damp hair cascading over her shoulders. Her skin glows rosy from the heat.

“Oh—sorry, Theo.” She tugs the towel tighter. “Did you need in?”

Time stalls. Droplets trailing down her collarbone. Lashes clumped from water. The hint of curves I’ve memorized yet desire anew.

I draw a steadying breath. “Gage and Hunter are on a brief hike. We have privacy.”

A curious light flickers in her blue eyes. Her slight smile tells me she’s not opposed to the idea. “Privacy?” she repeats, stepping back so I can enter. Her smile grows. Facetiously, she asks, “What for?”

I shut the door behind me, and the bathroom fills with moist cedar scent. “I’ve been…overburdened with responsibility,” I confess, reaching to brush a lock of hair from her cheek. “Vehicle repairs, itinerary changes, family politics. Yet my predominant thought is you.”

Her breath hitches. “Theo…”

“We promised to teach you,” I continue, fingertips sliding along the slope of her shoulder where towel meets skin. “Not merely physical techniques—which I relish, undoubtedly—but deeper assurances. That you are safe. Allowed to want. You can tell me anything, Anya. I’ll never judge you.”

The towel flutters slightly in her grip. “I know that,” she whispers, throat bobbing. “But sometimes I get in my head about…things. It’s like I can’t focus on what’s happening. There’s too much noise in my mind, if that makes sense.”

“Tell me about the noise in your head.”

Her fingers tighten on the towel edge as her throat bobs in a gulp. “I’m scared Calvin will appear at Castle Beach and make a scene. That my parents will hear awful rumors. That I’ll disappoint you three?—”

“You cannot disappoint us, so let that worry go,” I interject.

She exhales shakily. “I fear this won’t last. That I’ll lose the security I feel with you.”

A pang slices through me. “Whatever happens, in this, you are not alone.”

Her eyes glimmer. “Do you mean it?”

If only she knew. How much I’m holding back, how much I believe my brothers are, as well.

I give her a mere nod—I do not trust my voice.

Not in this moment. I tug the towel loose.

It pools at her feet, exposing flushed skin.

I swallow hard to clear my throat. It’s gone thick at the sight of her. “May I?”

She nods, trust shining in her gaze. I walk her to the shower and strip away my clothes. The water is warm, but nothing compared to her lips on mine. It’s like flying, or a drug of some kind.

I had honestly thought we would talk, or something more innocent, but there is nothing innocent in my mind when Anya is naked. Naked and wet? Nothing left in my head but the purest filth.

I reach between her thighs, finding her slick already. “Were you having naughty thoughts in the shower, doll?”

Her breasts heave with her breath. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

But she quickly shakes her head, turning somehow redder in her cheeks.

I slow my hand, which makes her whimper for more. “Tell me, or this stops.”

Her voice is rough. “Thinking about last night.”

A prideful smirk takes my face. “The three of us?—”

“ You .”

What is bigger than pride? I’m unaware, but whatever it is, I can’t help but feel it. “Me?”

“Last night…it was amazing. But I was thinking about your face when you first…entered me.”

My face? “What about it?”

She hooks her hand around the back of my neck, yanking me to her mouth for a brutal kiss. It’s a heady thing, passion given form. She breaks the kiss, lightly panting. “I’ve never seen a man look so lost and found at the same time as when we started last night.”

That’s it. That’s it, exactly. A precise description of how I felt last night. I don’t know how she sees me so clearly, and it’s dangerous.

And I don’t give a fuck. Her plush curves feel like home.

I lift her thigh to spread her open and arch myself into her heat, plunging as deeply as I can. Her groans echo on the tile, filling my head. Mine, as well. I can’t hold back how good this feels. Vaguely, I wonder if I’m making the same face as last night, because again, I am lost and I am found.

I pick her up by her legs, keeping her back against the wall. She has no choice but to cling to my shoulders for balance. Breathlessly, she gasps, “I’m too heavy?—”

I kiss her to shut her up. I’ll be damned if I let her finish that ridiculous sentence.

Deep thrusts send her up the wall, and her eyes roll back and her breaths grow ragged, as if she’s already close to something big.

I’m too in the moment to feel her pulse on me until she takes a rich, gasping breath, and then I feel it.

I feel all of it. There’s that pride again, swelling in me. “Already at your body’s mercy, aren’t you?”

All I get is an answering whimper and half a nod. She’s lost too, but this time, to the pleasure of my work. She grips the top of my shoulders, her nails planting in my skin. She works her jaw, as though trying to speak, but her body won’t let her. Another strangled gasp, and then, “Down!”

I’m tempted to keep her off her feet and make her come like this, but there’s panic in her tone, so I gentle her down and pull out. She damn near collapses against me, panting hard. I hold her to keep her on her feet. “What’s wrong?”

Her head lobs against my shoulder, her gasps cool against my chest. The words come out with gaps between them. “Gonna come too hard…like that. Didn’t…want to…hurt you.”

This will not do. She lacks faith in me, and I try not to take that personally, but it’s no easy task. The truth is, we don’t know each other well enough for this to be an insult, but it stings all the same.

I press a kiss to the top of her head, then reach out for a towel and dry her off. Slowly. Methodically. Silently. And then I dry myself as well. No words yet. She needs time to think, and speaking will only muddy that up.

“Are…are you mad?”

“No, doll, not in the least. I wished to give you a moment of silence to clear your head. But there are better ways to accomplish this task. Come with me.” I hold out my hand.

She takes it. We head into the larger of the two bedrooms where she slept with Gage last night. I would have been more jealous of him winning that coin toss, save for the fact that he needs a larger bed than either me or Hunter.

But I missed sleeping next to Anya. I’ve had it only once, and I want it again. The comfort of her body next to mine, the rhythm of her breaths as she sleeps. Her scent all night long.

I’ll have to settle for the forty minutes I have left.

“Lie in the center of the bed. Face down.”

She blinks at me before following the order, her wet hair draped over her right shoulder as she pulls up the blanket over herself. She turns her head to the left to ask, “Like this?”

“Almost.” I peel the blanket back, revealing all that perfect skin. Her breathing hitches—must be the cold air on her warm skin again. It’s by design. A touch of discomfort will keep her in the moment.

I sit next to her on the bed and run my fingers over that round ass of hers. Lightly, at first. But soon, I can’t help myself. I knead the flesh until she’s practically purring for me.

And then, I swat her there.

She braces, a short breath sticking in her lungs. “What was that for?”

“Fun.” Her skin goes slightly pink, nothing too devastating. “I like seeing my handprint on you. It suits you. That first night when I spanked you, you practically ran away.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Hardly.” I swat her again, relishing the way her ass jiggles. Mesmerizing. But this isn’t the time for that. I clear my throat. “I know your body enjoys it, but do you?”

She takes a beat. “Yes.”

“Do you object to me spanking you now?”

There’s something off about her quietness. She’s preternaturally still, and I cannot assess whether it’s because she’s scared or into it.

And then, her voice ghosts the word, “No.”

“Good.” I lay down three more smacks, light, airy things. Not enough to truly hurt, but enough to hold her attention. And make her squirm against the bed.

“Spread your legs for me, doll.”

Her thighs open up, giving me a lovely view. She’s glistening. “I feel a little exposed?—”

“Precisely. You are exposed for my pleasure. Raise your hips for me.” When she does, I tuck a pillow beneath her. The new angle makes her even more vulnerable to me, displaying her pussy, her ass, taking a bit more control out of her hands. “Good girl. Now, stay still until I say otherwise.”

If she were a regular submissive, I’d have her bound and gagged by now. We held her down last night, nothing too serious. But she is new to this sort of play, and I can’t rush that aspect of things, no matter how much I’d love to see her bound up in shiny pink rope and a ball gag.