Chapter 39
We stepped through the front door, and I resisted the urge to groan at the relief at being home.
“I want to have the world’s longest shower then fall into bed. Like, I’m talking about Guiness World record levels of bathing, with all the expensive soaps and shampoos I can find.”
Dacre walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his lips at my ear. “I can think of so many more ways we could break records that don’t involve showers.”
I quirked a brow, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Oh yeah? I might like to see that.”
Sharing everything I had on the plane had left me feeling lighter than I had in months. They hadn’t judged me or shamed me for the decisions I’d made. Instead, they’d offered me support and pledged to be there for me, no matter what my father did.
After years of feeling alone, I finally had a place I belonged. And it was in the arms of my three stepbrothers.
“I want in on this record-breaking sex marathon,” Presley said, standing in front of me. “That’s what we’re talking about, right? A sex fest?”
I rolled my eyes, fighting my smile. “Nuance really isn’t your thing, is it, Pres?”
He reached for me, a hand snaking over my hip, moving in close until I was trapped in a Dacre and Presley sandwich. “You’re my thing, that’s all that matters.”
I smoothed my hands over his hard pecs. “You’re real smooth, Romeo.”
He ducked his head, lips brushing my ear. “Let me show you how smooth I can be.”
Staring up at him, I bit my lip and his eyes zeroed in on it.
“Hate to interrupt,” Sinclair said from where he was leaning against the sideboard with his arms crossed. An envelope dangled from his fingertips and my stomach twisted at the sight of it.
He must have read the panic on my face. “It’s a note from Byron telling us to take care of Dempsey while they’re off on their honeymoon.”
My gaze slid to each of my stepbrothers. “Does that mean we have this giant house all to ourselves for you to take care of me in?”
Dacre grinned against my cheek, lips brushing my skin in a tantalizingly quick kiss. “What do you want to do first?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Skinny dipping.”
Presley let out a full-bodied laugh and I swooned at the sound. I loved his laugh.
“That can be arranged,” Dacre murmured against me. “Want help getting undressed?”
His hand trailed along the waistband of my borrowed sweatpants and his own borrowed boxers, fingers dipping beneath them.
I bit my bottom lip and nodded, Presley’s gaze following the trail of Dacre’s fingers. God, he was obsessed with watching me get off. Almost as obsessed with getting me off himself.
My gaze cut to Sinclair, who was frowning from his position across the room, but his eyes were locked on Dacre’s fingers too.
Just as he slipped between my folds, his touch torturously close to being exactly where I wanted it, the doorbell chimed through the house, stilling each of us.
Dacre withdrew his hand, and my teeth clenched in frustration.
Stomping over to the heavy ornate front door, I hauled it open, staring at the guy on the other side.
He was a little older than me, maybe twenty-four at the most. Tall, with dark hair and tanned skin, his body packed with muscle that he wore like a warning. But it was his eyes that scared me. Dark brown pools that promised sinister things.
A shiver ran through me as his gaze raked over me from my feet back up to my face.
“Can we help you?” Dacre said, coming to stand at my back.
Presley and Sinclair flanked him behind us.
The guy smiled like a psycho, those brown eyes trained on me like he’d won a prize he didn’t know he’d been playing for.
“I’m here for Dempsey.”
Silence hung in the air.
No.
There was no way my father was coming for me again so soon. Unless he’d managed to pull some serious strings, Al and his other men were likely still in custody with the Parisian police.
Presley took a protective step in front of me, partially blocking me from view.
“If you work for her father, you can turn around and get the fuck out of here, because she’s not going anywhere with you. I think we made that pretty fucking clear with his men currently sitting in an international jail cell.”
The stranger glanced at Presley for half a second, his eyes instantly returning to me.
He assessed me with a hard intensity that surpassed Sinclair. “She’ll be going with me.”
Fear flooded my veins, along with a jolt of defiance. “What the hell makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?”
He smirked like he had a secret.
My heart rate ratcheted up several notches when he leaned towards me. I swallowed hard, waiting for his words and knowing I was going to hate every last one.
“You’ll come with me.” His gaze locked with mine. “Because you’re my wife.”