Miah (Lane Brothers #2) (74 page)

Dev

I want her.

How, why, when, the answer doesn’t matter. All I know is that with that one look as she’d sashayed up the stairs, after bloody rugby-tackling me out of her way, she’s caught my interest, and now I just…want.

How I’m even supposed to justify that to myself after Grey’s little talk four years ago is beyond me, but I’ll find a way. I always do when it comes to getting what I want.

I’m a self-made billionaire, one of the hottest bachelors of the yea
r
—
and still more to come if I have my way. I know how to handle women and give them what they need while taking what I want.

The only problem that needs resolving now is how to get it and keep Grey a friend, because that is one man I really never want as an enemy. He’s a self-made man himself, just like me, and I’m smart enough to know that those men are never to be tangled with.

I know because I’ve had my share of obstacles and gotten over them one way. Sheer grit and a bloody bulldozer of a personality.

I’ve lain awake half the night. Thinking, plotting, trying to figure a way to get imp without seeming as if I’d purposefully set out to get her, and the only thing I can come up with is that she has to seek me out.

Hard to imagine what with the way she scuttles around and away every time I enter a room, but I think I can accomplish it and stay in the clear.

I just have to seduce her into seducing me. Seems simple enough, but with a woman like imp it’s likely that I’ll have my fair share of problems. She’s green, as these Yanks like to say, and likely doesn’t know flirtation from a bleeding set-down, so I’ll need to do this in a way that will be as subtle as it is obvious.

If I can even get anywhere near her without her big bad brothers swooping up and taking her away. That’s a major problem. How to get time alone with her before they see anything.

“You gonna eat that bacon, or just keep glaring at the poor defenseless pig all morning?”

I snap out of my musings and flip Grey the bird, chomping on the bacon as he leans forward and ducks his head. We’re alone in the kitchen since the only people up at five in the morning are the two of us and the housekeeper.

“So, you spent two hours in the car with Becks yesterday. Did she talk to you about work or anything?” he whispers, glancing at the door to ensure we’re still alone. “She’s been really down lately, and no matter how hard I try she won’t talk to me. Lila knows, but she’s not talking, and—”

“Sorry, mate, the imp drove like a bat out of hell the whole way and rebuffed every attempt at conversation. I should have taken the hint because she played the Spice Girls all the way here just to shut me up.”

I’ll get her back for that. Somehow.

“Dammit! I hate not knowing what’s going on with her. She’s so…”

“Vulnerable?”

“Yeah. And I can’t stand knowing she’s unhappy and alone with it. I got Matt to call her last week, and she told him to fuck off and find a friend if he wanted to share his feelings.”

That makes me laugh, harder than it should, because imp has always been one of those rare, kind souls, the girl who gives her last ten bucks to a homeless person because she can’t not do it.

If she’s cursing her brothers out that can only mean they’re smothering her, something I shouldn’t be surprised at since they’d refused to take her training wheels off till she was eight and took a hammer to the things.

She’s sweet and kind and always there for anyone who needs her, but that woman has a pair of bollocks bigger than her brothers’. Any day of the week.

“Maybe you should give her some space, Grey. The woman is twenty-two years old, not five. If she needs help with something she’ll let you know.”

I say it, but I still have every intention of finding the wanker who’s harassing her and shoving my fist down his throat. Grey doesn’t need to know this, so I keep it to myself and concentrate on my coffee while he broods.

“Maybe…maybe you could get her to talk to you? She’s still got that schoolgirl crush, and…I dunno, maybe if you paid her some attention she’d open up a little,” he mutters, meeting my eyes with a pleading look.

“Whoa. Are you asking me to play on her emotions to ferret out information about her life?”

I already know what he wants to know, but I want to see how far he’s willing to go with this. Plus, I want him to suffer a little for that lecture four years ago. That shite had offended me, even if he’d been spot on about the way I’d looked at imp.

“No. Yes. Look, she already likes you. All I’m saying is spend some time with her and see what happens,” he pleads, giving me a mock pout. “For me?”

Bingo.

“Fine, but I’m not leading her on to get anything out of her. The last thing I want is for imp to get hurt just so you can have what you want,” I warn, hiding a smile beneath my usual scowl.

“Deal. So you ready to spend the next week ‘enjoying’ the wedding games?”

“Jesus. Who decided to take an entire week and turn it into a torture session before you say your vows?” I ask, letting him know exactly how thrilled I am at being subjected to this shit.

I’ve seen the itinerary for the festivities, and I highly doubt I’m going to enjoy treasure hunts and team sports.

“Diane, Lila’s mom. She’s been planning this shindig since my girl got planted in her belly, so it’s not an option. Lila wanted to run off to Vegas but the woman almost had a stroke, so now we’ve just resigned ourselves and let the harridan have at it.”

We talk about the wedding and the convoy it will take to get everyone to the hotel Grey has booked for the two hundred plus guests for the week, and then move on to general things until we hear movement upstairs and the grumble of voices.

Imp is the first one through the door, her arse jiggling seductively behind a pair of Sponge Bob cotton sleep pants. I try not to look too closely at her breasts, because she’s not wearing a bra and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of her big brother and father and get myself beaten to death.

“Hey, scamp, you still a bear in the morning?”

“Shut up, asshole. Let me drink my coffee. I can’t believe you ate breakfast without us, you animals.”

She proceeds to decimate a full breakfast and a chocolate muffin, not even half ashamed that she’s eaten the same amount as a fully grown man.

I like that. A lot.

When she licks a crumb from the cupid’s bow above her lip, her tongue slicking the pink crease, I smile and start putting my plans in place. Two days I give her, and then, ready or not, I’m taking what I want.

Becky

I don’t know what the heck is going on right now, but something is, and it’s making me feel more than a little uncomfortable. Well, okay, not
uncomfortable
but very much confused…and
suspicious
.

Devon’s been glued to my side since I caught him checking out old Sponge Bob and the goofy smile across my ass yesterday morning, not to mention the way he’d almost choked when he’d seen my boobs.

And now he’s elected to be my partner for the games, something I was so totally hoping to avoid, since I’m the clumsiest nut this side of the Mississippi.

“Remember, the aim of the game is to hit the shoe as to—”

“Will you quit it! I’m not dumb, just not coordinated,” I yell, shoving him away.

Half of my problem is that he’s plastered to my back and wreaking havoc on my concentration, and, yeah, the other half is that I’m pretty darned useless at anything that even remotely requires hand-eye coordination.

So sue me.

And why the heck is he getting so competitive about this stuff all of a sudden? Yesterday it was like pulling teeth to get the guy even halfway enthusiastic about it.

“Why do you want to win this so badly?” I ask suspiciously, glad I’m still retaining enough annoyance to speak to him.

I know that once it’s gone I’ll be back to carrots and freaking yams. Story of my freaking life.

He doesn’t answer, but I catch his eye movements and spot a blonde head towering over the other wedding guests. When the guy turns, I almost swallow my tongue and turn my eyes back to a scowling Devon, watching the tick in his jaw increase as he grinds his teeth, never looking away from Dillon.

“What’s he doing here?”

Devon shrugs and turns back, pointing my hand towards my target, his hot breath fanning the fine hairs at my nape.

“The aim of the game is to hit the target,” he murmurs, pressing his front to my back in a way that startles me even as my skin heats and my limbs start trembling. “I like your sleep wear,” he purrs so close to my ear I feel the heat of his lips.

Okay, now I’ll never hit that target.

“Uh…”

“You weren’t wearing any underwear.”

I’m not even looking anymore because my eyes are closed, and I’m pretty sure my lungs are sitting in my uterus, which is throbbing. And begging me to do something.

His hand surrounds mine, helping me aim, twisting my wrists to line up the shot, but all I’m capable of seeing is the way his eyes had looked when he’d seen me.

I imagine that look and so much more, if lightning should strike and I should ever find myself the recipient of more than a lust-filled stare from this man.

“I could see your bum, and I thought…”

I’m not even listening anymore. All I can do is feel, and what I feel makes my breasts throb and a clenching start low in my abdomen.

I’m panting by the time he tells me to throw and so worked up I’m trembling.

“No bra either.”

I let go of the horseshoe, needing to be done so I can turn around and throw him to the ground and have my wicked way with him, when a shriek and yell shatter the bubble, pulling me rudely from fantasies of scorching hot kisses and naked, sweaty skin.

“She’s bleeding! Who threw that shoe?”

Um.

I turn around and see Diane Bing, Lila’s mother, sitting on the grass, a huge lump crowning the left side of her forehead, my misguided missile clutched in a white-knuckled grip as she glares around the hotel’s grassy yard and eyes everyone present.

Oh snap. I just brained the mother of the bride, and I did it in the presence of the man I am gaga for. Shit.

My face is flaming by the time I turn and peep up at him, and I’m so mortified I can barely force myself to look up and meet his eyes.

“Clumsy?”

He laughs and grabs my hand, towing me away from the field and the crowd that’s formed around a now screaming Diane.

“Have to apologize.”

I’m panting, trying to keep up with his long-legged stride and trying to kick him in the shin at the same time as he pulls me back inside and into the elevator, his shoulders shaking he’s laughing so hard.

“That’s not funny!

At least my mind is back, I think morosely, stamping my foot to get his attention. Seriously, I like a guy who finds a woman getting brained by a horseshoe funny?

“Devon!”

“Sorry, imp, sorry,” he gasps, collecting himself with an effort. “I’m just completely taken with the fact that you, you of all people, managed to throw a horseshoe at her head.
Accidentally!
Half the people involved wanted to do that exact thing, and yet you are the lucky bugger who got it right.
Accidentally!
”

I don’t laugh, even though I want to, a lot. Diane has been driving everyone crazy since we got here, forcing pairings and doing another rehearsal dinner—we’ve already had to suffer through the first one—while flitting around and making poor Lila’s life a misery.

“Still. I should go back and apologize.”

“Well, you could, but I reckon they’d be none too pleased that you ran away to begin with,” he crows, pulling out and into the narrow corridor.

He’s still laughing his ass off, and I’m so steamed by his attitude I could scream. I do.

“This is all your fault! You were the one messing around down there, not me. If you’d kept you lips to yourself—”

“Beg pardon, are you blaming me for that malarkey down there? If I recall correctly, you were the one who threw the shoe without looking,” he points out reasonably, unlocking his door and pulling me into the room.

“It’s not my fault! You had your lips on my neck…and, and your hand was…and then you whispered right in….and, and I couldn’t focus on anything. You said I had to throw.”

“No, I said it’s time for you to let go. As in you need to stop being afraid of what your family wants and finally start taking what you want.”

I think about what he said all through lunch and well into the day, after countless games spent avoiding his eyes. Confusion has been my companion, and not because I didn’t understand his subtle insinuation that I’ve been letting my dad’s disapproval color my entire life—I mean, I freaking hate working at that law firm—and rule everything I do.

I even freaking choose the toilet paper I buy according to someone else’s standards, because eventually one of my brothers will be by for their quarterly check-up and I know they only use certain brands.

How pathetic does that make me?

No, what I’m confused about is why Devon suddenly seems more interested in me than he’s been all my life. I’m not dumb, the guy’s throwing out signals obvious enough to land a freaking jet.

I just can’t understand why.

And then it hits me. I’d caught the tail end of Lila’s conversation with him, and she’d definitely let it slip that I still have my V-card—something I have yet to throttle her ass for spilling.

Could Devon Baxter really be one of those assholes who sniffs around a girl because he wants to go where no man has gone before? But no, I’d come on pretty strong the night of Grey and Lila’s engagement party—I’d been bombed off my ass on the tequila Lila hadd been slipping me—but Devon hadn’t batted a lash. Hence my renewed stammering around the guy.

Nothing kills your confidence like the subtle brush off. In his case being totally ignored, as if you don’t exist.

But now, now I think he’s totally flirting with me—okay, so I don’t really know, since I’m not familiar with the phenomenon, but I think—and the thought of Devon wanting more from me than a few days of friendly companionship is so…perfect!

Okay, not perfect, since I suspect he’s going to pull a pump and dump on me; he’s a player, I’m sad to say. But I can work with that if it’s all I’ll be getting.

At least I’ll get my biggest wish since I’d turned sixteen and realized my feelings involved a lot more heat than my girlish mind had thought. I’ve been thinking about him as my V-puncher since then and have only recently, in the last four years, let go of that fantasy.

I’m happy to report that if my spidey senses are in tune, the guy wants to do me, maidenhead or not. I just have to figure out a way to tell him I am so on board with that plan.

Problem is, I am not even slightly knowledgeable about seduction. At all.

“What’s got you so dinky?”

Oh, where to start? By the way, I almost killed your mother with a flying horseshoe and then ran like a yellow-bellied chicken? Maybe not the best idea, since the woman looks like she went a round with Apollo Creed.

“If I tell you something, you have to swear, like, on your ovaries, that you won’t tell another living soul,” I whisper, leaning in to her so no one hears.

Lila gets her serious face and makes a cross over her heart before kissing her fist.

“Okay, so I think Devon may be like, flirting with me? And I’m not very sure about what to do. Is that even possible?”

“Well of course it is, silly! I keep telling you you’re super-hot with that hourglass figure and your big bajongas, but you won’t see it. And yeah, I agree, he seems to be into you. Just look at the way he’s been staring at you all night.”

I manage to restrain myself and keep from staring over at him, because I’m pretty sure my eyes resemble cow eyes at the moment.

“So what should I do? I couldn’t seduce an eighty-year-old on Viagra, and we both know it. God, the last time I tried to talk to a guy he kept asking me if I had something in my eye.”

Yeah, and then I’d gone home and eaten half a gallon of store bought chocolate mousse and a spray can of whipped cream.

“You don’t have to seduce, Becks, you just have to let him know you’re up for it if that’s what he wants.”

“Oookaaay. How. Tell me like you’d explain to a half-deaf foreign national who doesn’t understand a word of English.”

We both crack up at that, because I say it in a voice that leaves no one in doubt that I need her to talk really slowly. By the time she’s done ‘schooling’ me we’re both laughing so hard we don’t notice that the whole table has gone quiet and everyone’s staring at us.

And I’m pretty sure I snorted at some point—okay, all the time I was laughing—while giggling at her theatrical representation of how to go down on a man.

“What has you two laughing so hard?”

“Nothing, Mama.”

I can hardly keep a straight face when Lila shoves her tongue in her cheek and wiggles it around, her green eyes dancing with mischief.

“We were talking about knitting, Mrs S,” she trills. “Remember when she made you that bright orange afghan?”

That takes care of things nicely. Everyone starts laughing about my revenge gifts, and I can breathe again—that is, till I look up and catch Devon staring at me, his lips quirked.

The look is so knowing I blush again, redder than a tomato, but instead of avoiding his gaze and pretending he’s not there, like I do every other time, I keep my eyes trained on his and let him see me.

“Jesus, wait till you’re alone, girlfriend. You’re gonna set my hair on fire.”

Dinner goes quickly after that, and I’m damned grateful, since the looks he’s sending me are just this side on incendiary and I’m pretty sure if they don’t stop my panties are either gonna catch fire or slip straight down, I’m so hot for him.

I make it to my room without mishap and am headed straight for the shower and a clean pair of panties when there’s a knock at the door.

“Swear to God, Lila, if your mother wants me to try that dress on again I’ll—”

My breath stalls in my chest when he smiles and bears me back into the room, his hands enfolding my hips, taking my back to the wall as he kicks the door shut with his foot and pins me beneath his much larger body.

“Say it.”

What? I can hardly think when one of his knees thrusts between my legs and presses up, right where I need him, want him.

“I can’t be the one to make this decision, imp. Say it or I have to leave.”

Oh.

“Can we talk about this?” I ask, feeling a blush cover me when he pulls away and the leg of his pants comes away with a wet spot.

His eyes follow mine, and a growl whispers up his throat.

“We should, but try and make it quick. Please. I can smell you, and it’s making things harder.”

The words set up a fragile jittering down south, but I nod and scuttle past him, sinking into a corner of the sofa and looking up at him, my nerves a frazzled mess.

“I don’t understand what’s going on—”

“You do,” he cuts in, running a hand through his hair, his eyes daring me to argue.

“Yes, and no. I’ve never… You’re looking at me like you want me, and I’m not sure what to do with that. No, let me finish. You know, I heard Lila, and I know that you…but when I say I’ve never, I mean I can’t even flirt with a guy, never have, well, I tried once but I ended up looking like a sick cow. So lay it all out for me. What is it you want from me?”

This is the first time in forever that I’ve said anything halfway intelligible without the help of my temper, but I force the words out because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I won’t ever go into anything without knowing what I need to.

For all I know the guy’s bored and looking at me for some free weekend booty. Not that I’d say no, I mean this is so…but I’d prefer to hear it from his lips before doing anything I can’t back away from.

I see him breathe out, and then he’s on the sofa, his body turned my way, his eyes drilling into mine with so much intensity I swallow and force myself not to retreat.

“I want you. All of you. For whatever time we have left of this week.”

Five days.

“But I won’t sit here and lie to you just to get what I want. I’m not a total wanker. This will be sex. Good sex, but just sex. When the week’s up I will leave and go back to my life.”

Huh.

“So this is what? You wanting to break the barrier and skip away, pretend nothing happened when you come back for visits and anniversaries?” I ask, clarifying it further.

“Exactly. Look, I don’t want to hurt you by giving you false hope, but I have a life to go back to. I have a family who depend on me and no room for anything else.”

I nod, recalling what Grey has told my parents. Devon is one of four boys, the eldest, and has been looking after his three brothers since his parents died in a car crash when he was twenty.

I know he’d struggled to keep them all together while trying to start up his business and keep three rambunctious boys fed and in school. I know that Garret is going off to college and that the younger two—David and Ryan—are seniors in high school, or whatever they call it over there.

“So…”

“I’ll be blunt. I want you. I want to do things to you that your brother will probably kill me for if he ever finds out, things that will probably shock you. I’ll teach you things about your body, about a man’s body, that will bring us both so much pleasure you’ll wonder why you never tried it before. And then we’ll carry on as we have been. Living separate lives.”

“And you won’t ever look at me that way again?”

“No.”

That hurts a little, but I push the feeling aside, wanting to heed his words and just let go, for once in my miserable life. As it is I’m stuck in a job I hate, and I’ll probably sit for the bar and do everything my family expects. This is something I can do for myself and hold close as I live in misery, probably till I marry a guy they approve of and have two point five kids.

I can do this. No, I want to do this, and hold the secret close when I’m alone and wishing for things that I know I can never have.