Miah (Lane Brothers #2) (79 page)

Dev

I want to howl in frustration, break something, tear something, someone apart with my hands. I want to drop to my knees and rip my hair out. I want…I want imp.

That’s all. But I can’t have her, not yet and the thought, the need for her is so intense I can hardly breathe for it.

“Cheer up old man, she’ll come ‘round.”

“Yeah, but if she don’t you can always do what dad did to mum and carry her off till she admits she wants you.” Garret says seriously and I smile for the first time since she ran and left me with three very obnoxious gits.

I smile because the story of how dad got mum is no lie. He’d seen her, wanted her and determined to have her. When she’d run, as most women are won’t to do when they’re the target of a very serious, commitment minded bloke, dad had snatched her and holed up with her in a hotel room till she’d admitted to loving him back.

I don’t tend to think about what they did in that room since they’re my parents but the possibilities, yeah, I really like having an option when it comes to my imp.

“Or I could just go and blab to her mum and have this sorted by nightfall.”

That earns me three stinking looks and a bread roll to the head from Ryan.

“Yeah, nothing makes a bird hot like having you tattle on her to her mum” Davy says, rolling his eyes. “Nah mate, just use what little charm ya have on her. Hell, that will never work. Tell us what you did and we’ll come up with a full-”

“I’m not helping him with shite if he’s only doing this to get his hands on the babe. She’s a good lass that one.”

I nod and toss the roll back at Ry.

“I want her, a lot. I want to love her too, but…I’m not there. Yet.”

I have never been dishonest with them, never, so I figure telling them the truth now will either have them against me or working that much harder to help me. I’m hoping they go with the latter since four Baxter men should just about do the trick in charming my imp’s socks off.

“Right then. Davy lad, you go ring the lass up and get her over here while Garret and I do this tosser a favour by teaching him how to talk to a girl. Bleeding older generation has no clue.”

I spend the next hour listening to and taking insult after insult as the bastards rib the hell out of me and teach me exactly the opposite of what I would ever consider doing with a mature woman.

“No. Imp is a woman not some teenage girl looking for a hook up with the Rugby team,
she’s a woman
and, and-”

“And women are simple, wonderful creatures Dev. All it takes to make one happy is honesty, fidelity and love. That’s it.” Ryan murmurs softly, his eyes locked on some unseen point. “Dad told me that the year I cried because Annie Roland dumped me. I’d texted another girl and she found out and dumped me. When I whined about it he said ‘women are gifts lad. You cherish what you have and show them honesty, respect and love and they’ll give you everything in return’.”

The silence that follows is profound, filled with emotions and the memory of the man who’d taught us all to be men. Good men.

“He was a good father, he raised good men.”

“He raised one good man and laid the ground work mate. You raised three good men and don’t ever forget it. Now listen, you have one shot here and while we love you I agree with Gar; don’t go after Becky just because of what you want, you have to promise that you’re taking her because you’ll give her what a real man can.”

That’s the real question then isn’t it, will I love imp? I can honestly say I will give it everything within me to trust enough to give her love but I can’t promise it, not even to myself.

But if there’s one thing I know it’s that my brethren will not allow me to hurt a woman they consider theirs. There is where the loyalty ends. Baxter men defend the weaker sex. Always. So I have to be somewhat creative in the way I answer lest they go nuclear and threaten me with bodily harm.

Seems that one irate snarl from imp has stolen their hearts and they’re as caught in her spell as I am. Bleeding ninnies.

But that gets me thinking. What do I want? How-no, I know things, like the fact that I obsess about the way she smells and spent two months searching for that scent only to realize that it’s not from a bottle but something innately her.

I think about her constantly, the smell and feel of her silky hair as it had cascaded over my chest and then down my body as she licked from my mouth all the way to my hips and beyond. The smooth satiny glide of her skin against mine. Her breasts, those pillowy, glorious cushions crowned by succulent pink nipples. Her lips when I lose control of myself and devour her mouth. That dark, wet place between her thighs that only I have known.

And this is it, the moment where I realize one startling truth. I belong to Rebecca Slade. I am and will forevermore be hers, completely. Love, that will likely, hopefully please God, follow. But it’s trivial at his point because even if she never sees it I am totally hers.

Shit.

“Imp is mine. I need her.”

And that’s all it takes for my three little guardians to accept my troth and go full throttle to win our girl.

***

Becky

“Oh come on. Just come over and hear us out. You’ve got our little DNA match floating in your lady bag hun.”

I laugh because seriously only a man would call my uterus a lady bag and then only a man with that weird London accent can make it sound that dirty.

His words aren’t as refined or smarmy as Devon’s, more a mix of snob and back alley guttersnipe and I freaking love it.

I do not however love the way he’s currently guilt tripping me into going over and doing an official meet and greet. According to Davy and the other brothers ‘just because you don’t want to see the old wanker doesn’t mean we all need to suffer’.

“Davy, I really don’t think-”

“Good because thinking’s obvi not your strong suit right now hun. Get your lovely, have I told you how lovely your arse is hun? No, well it bloody well is. All round and-”

“David! Focus.” I snarl through a laugh, choking when ginger ale shoots through my nose and dribbles onto Dillon’s pristine white carpet.

A beleaguered sigh reaches my ears and I roll my eyes to the ceiling, resting my head back on the sofa in defeat.

The truth is I really want to go over there and see Devon, I mean so badly that when Davy had first invited me over I’d been unlocking the front door and grabbing my keys before I realized what I was doing.

Now I’m just being silly, trying to resist temptation and convince myself that I don’t want to see him.

“Alright hun, no more arse comments. Swear. Come over. Please. If you don’t want to talk to the blighter just ignore him, half the time we do anyway. We ordered Italian and got that new 007 flick so it’s not as if you have to even look at him if you don’t feel like it.” He pleads.

“Fine, but you’d better have ginger ale and something chocolate or I’m out.”

Thirty or so minutes later I find myself standing on the porch of a truly magnificent house. I’m no architect or anything so I can’t say what style the place is or any of that bookie shit but it’s huge, has one of those porches with a swing and sports black shutters to go with the white exterior.

And now I know I am crazy nervous,because since when do I give a shit about the small details. Heck, my parents have a house larger than this. Only difference is this one is exactly what I’d wanted since I was thirteen and was still telling my Barbies about my dream house and wedding.

Don’t judge me for playing with the Barbies at thirteen; I was plump and friendless-besides Lila-so I took love where I could get it.

Heck, Ken doll taught me to kiss.

Just when I work up enough energy to bolt to my car in one leap the door opens and I am well and truly caught.

“You’re here.”

“Oh green beans.”

That grin has the power to undo me and build me back up in one go and I find myself holding my breath and looking at him, drinking him in with my eyes. I want so much in that moment that I can’t explain it all but I know one thing; the man is pure carnal heat and I want nothing more than to fall on him and break Ken’s plastic heart.

“Imp I-”

“Move loser, she’s here to visit the wolf pack.” I hear before a ball of energy shoves my wet dream aside and pulls me into the house.

I look around and gasp, feeling my stomach drop in a way I have only experienced once before; the night I propositioned Devon and he turned me down.

Everything is exactly as I wanted it. In my girlish dreams I’d told Ken to buy me a house that was pretty but homey with a sweeping staircase and muted yellow walls so that they look gold in the sunlight.

I’d also told the poor man that I want a big picture of a seahorse hanging over the stairs and baby pink chairs in the hall. It’s all here, everything, down to the ugly ass white and purple checked rug beneath the table.

It’s hideous, really hideous; something that only my girlish imagination would have conjured and I love it so much I actually have to bite my lips to stop a laughing cry.

“Christ, we told you it looked horrid. Don’t pay any mind to this shit hun, we’ll have it out soon. Apparently this one.” He snarls, twitching a thumb at his brother. “Can’t decorate to save his bloody life.”

We all laughed at that but deep down inside I feel unsure, like I’m walking on shaky ground as the three ‘lads’ show me around and give me the grand tour.

Devon follows behind, hands in his pockets and stares at me the entire time, his eyes a hot brand he doesn’t bother to hide. When we get upstairs and Davy points me in one direction while they hop back downstairs to check on dinner I know that something is off.

But who cares?

Seriously, I love this place. It’s a hodgepodge of colours and styles, sort of like the sets of Nanny McPhee. Everywhere I walk, everywhere I look is something different.

I explore to my heart’s content, giggling when I get to a room that’s decorated in lilac and white striped wall paper, honey coloured hardwood floors and robin’s egg blue accessories. Every thing’s bright and out of tune and just-

“This is the master bed and bath.”

I turn quickly and gape when Devon saunters into the room and stops about three feet away, his expression inscrutable as he looks between me and the wonderful disaster that is the colour scheme.

“Nice.”

It’s all I can say when he prowls by me and flicks at the bedspread, his grey eyes peeking lazily at me through his lashes.

“Haven’t slept in here as yet.”

This is so awkward, so, so awkward as he keeps his eyes on mine and runs a hand over the mattress, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. He looks up at me from beneath his lashes and releases his lip with a pop, his eyes telling me everything he isn’t saying.

My nipples bead and poke at the soft cotton of my shirt and my breaths come in shallow pants when he drags a finger over the fabric and closes his eyes, groaning long and low.

“I thought of nothing but getting you naked and sliding you between these sheets. Do you remember that morning imp? You woke me with your mouth on mine and your hand squeezing my dick.”

Yes, yes I do. I remember waking to the sensation of his skin stuck to mine where we were joined, chest to hip, his sweat blending with mine. I remember the smell of sex and the even better smell of his skin where my nose borrowed into his neck.

I’d woken sore and sated and so curious I’d been unable to stop my hands from roaming his body in my quest to learn the feel of him. He’d slept as I ran my fingers from the nubs of his flat nipples, down over his hard abdomen to that place I’d felt deep inside me the night before.

I’ve read books and Googled a lot of things but nothing could have prepared me for the sight and feel of his erection were it lay hard and imposing, the crown just kissing his navel.

I’d been curious and terrified as I ran gentle fingers over the smooth skin, my touch light as I explored him from base to tip and back again, enthralled by the heat and satiny texture.

My innocence, or maybe just plain ignorance hadn’t registered that my explorations had become somewhat more than innocent curiosity till I’d found my mouth on his and become aware of my hand-

“Stop.” I say quietly, taking deep breaths to still my racing heart and breath. “I-I’m not here for you.”

A lie but something I have to say to restore my equilibrium.

Devon is an effortless flirt, something I have only now come to realize, months after doing one of the stupidest things ever. I fell for his innocent kindness which I now recognize as having been his spider drawing my fly into his web.

There had never been an option for me, not once that whole week when he’d changed his tune and drawn me in. I hadn’t stood a chance against his methods and had foolishly believed that our night together was my choice, an illusion he’d given me to make him feel better about taking without giving, while I felt powerful in my own sexuality.

And here he is, doing it again, luring me in with his heated eyes and hot words.

“Imp.”

“No. I know what you want and while I swore I would hear you out that doesn’t mean I have to let you use your, your
methods
on me. I don’t
want
to marry you and spend the rest of my life as the consolation prize. I’m worth more than that. So you can choose. We can be friends and maybe we can come to an agreement about living arrangements or I can leave and we’ll agree about visitation later.” I say clearly, stepping back from his advance.

My words stop him cold and I fancy I can actually see his mind working when he realizes what I’ve said.

Yeah, after seeing this house, a long ago childhood fantasy come to life I am well aware of the effort he’s making to give me what he thinks I want and therein lies the problem; he doesn’t know, has no clue but he’s doing what Devon does, going full steam ahead to get his hands on me.

Thrilling, but nowhere near my goals.

I really want this to work, really I do. Nothing would make me happier than living in this doll house and getting to know not just the guys but Devon too, but I’m gonna need more than a stumbling declaration of ‘I want to love you’ to make things worth working for.

“You’re here to negotiate?” he asks and I almost laugh when his eyes take on a calculating light.

Smug fool.

“Yes and no. I will move in here with you and give you two months, only, to see where things go. If at the end of those two months you and I aren’t working out I’ll go home and we can talk about visitation when the time comes. That’s all I’m willing to give right now and it’s a lot more than you deserve after the shit you pulled at the hotel. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.”

Too quick Baxter I think, smirking and holding his eyes.

“Separate bedrooms.”

I walk out and bounce downstairs into the kitchen before he can say another word or ask hard questions that I am in no way ready to answer. This is a last surge effort to get my life in order but if it doesn’t work, which I honestly don’t think it will, I have a backup planning ready and waiting for the moment Devon drops the ball.

“Oy get your hands off the food Garret! Ladies first. You’re a right pig you are!”

I spend the night watching the three guys fight and squabble over everything from food, to the movie and even who gets to sit with me on the sofa.

In the end its Devon who takes up the other half of the space, his glower and outright threats convincing the others of the danger of coming anywhere near me.

“Stay.” They all say later when the credits start rolling and I stand to stretch, looking around for my ballet flats and car keys. “We’ll make up the guestroom.”

“Too late to drive now.”

“I’ll make breakfast and-”

“Slow down guys! Okay, listen up. Your brother and I have a lot to discuss before anything is resolved and I really don’t feel com-”

“Settled then. Davy go fix the spare bed, imp and I will be up later after we’ve spoken. Garret you’re on breakfast duty tomorrow. Ryan go pull her car in please.”

I could protest this take charge attitude and probably get my way but the truth is I feel strangely reluctant to leave these guys and a lot more comfortable knowing that I can sleep peacefully with four men watching over me and keeping me safe.

And then there’s the ever-present gooey inside that keeps telling me to give in and let Devon take charge and have me. The truth is I want to stay and be his. I want to belong to this family who doesn’t judge or demand and looks at me as if I hang the stars.

“So, talk.”

I scrunch my face at him as the boys run to do his bidding and look around the room, narrowing my eyes at the gross orange doily hanging off the back of one of the sofas.

“Imp.”

“Devon. Look, here’s the deal. Me’n Dill are tight and short of miracles happening the guy is willing to give a relationship with me his all. Hell, he’s willing to put a ring on it and make it stick. But I promised myself that I would do the right thing and by that I mean I’m willing to give you a chance to prove you’re not as much an asshole as I thought.”

I hold up a hand when he opens his mouth and take a deep breath, going all in, well for me right now anyway, before my natural reticence stops me from taking a leap.

“I’ll move in, eh eh eh, hear me out before you start doing a victory dance. I’ll move in and we can be friends, but I am not in a million years getting anywhere near your bed. That ship has well and truly sailed and sunk somewhere off the Bearing Sea. It’s gone but for the sake of my sanity and because I just truly adore your brothers I’m willing to give this co-parenting thing a go. Deal?”