I suck in air as I hit the ten-mile mark on the treadmill. I punish my body as I play over and over what happened with Reese the other night. After I came to my fucking senses, I bolted out of his room like it was on fire.
Stupid. Stupid. Not to mention completely unethical.
I lost my fucking mind.
That’s exactly what I’ll plead when I face the hospital administration. Temporary insanity mixed with sleep deprivation. I can’t be held responsible for my actions. Even though I enjoyed them. Immensely. That’s the worst part. I wanted it to go further. I wanted to straddle him just like an idling street bike.
The only other person I’ve ever had feelings as strong for is Dev.
What a complete fucking mess I am.
My tendons scream and sweat pours down my neck as my feet pound on the revolving belt.
“Morning.” Sam hops on the treadmill next to me, glancing at my display.
“Honey, you’re pushing eleven miles. Are you doing penance for something?”
“Huh?” I break concentration and trip over my feet. Sam acts fast, pulling the emergency shut off before I go down and break my neck.
“Kayla!” She hauls me up and shoves a bottle of water in my face. “What’s going on with you?” Her voice elevates, highly concerned.
“Nothing.” Everything. “I’ve just missed a bunch of workouts and was trying to catch up,” I lie between heaving gulps.
She shoots me a doubtful look.
“I swear,” I huff.
“If you say so.” She turns on her machine once I’m steady and begins a brisk walk. I do the same, but at a much slower pace to cool down. I think I’ve punished my body enough for one day.
One phrase keeps playing through my mind as I walk next to my intuitive aunt. Crystal clear.
“How’s your man dilemma?” she asks casually.
It just got a whole lot more complicated.
“The same,” I fib again.
I haven’t spoken to Dev for a few days, and after the other night with Reese, I would like to avoid any man with the last name Dane. How am I supposed to look Dev in the eye after giving his twin a hand job?
At work, of all places.
“How’s your drug situation?” I redirect the conversation, wanting to talk about anything besides my disastrous love life.
“The same.” She shakes her head frustrated. “There was another OD last night. Fifteen years old.”
“That’s so sad.”
“It’s needless. And doesn’t have to be happening.” She increases the speed of her machine until she’s jogging. Sam and I are one and the same when it comes to dealing with stress. There’s one bona fide way to relieve it. Run it out of you. She taught me that a long time ago when my life hit a monumental rough patch. When I thought I could never come back from the darkness, the black feelings, and the despair. I was a stone’s throw away from being put on medication, but Sam refused to let me become some strung-out, pill popping, anxiety freak. Her words. So every morning she woke me up at the crack of dawn to go running with her. Rain, shine, or snow. I cried for the first few weeks, but she wouldn’t give up on me. She was determined to make me stronger, and she did. Soon, running became my go-to every time those feelings threatened to bring me down. I still battle with anxiety and depression, but a good, long run in the fresh morning air always helps me fight through it. Conquer it. It’s my medicinal marijuana, so to speak.
I hit stop on the treadmill and stretch my legs. I need to retain some energy for work.
Work. Blah. I really don’t want to go. I don’t want to face Reese or Dev. Or be constantly reminded that I’m a complete hypocrite. Not only is Reese a patient, but he’s also a motorcycle racer. Talk about breaking moral code, both personal and professional. He’s the friggin’ alpha and omega of the bike world, and I rode right over the line with him. Actually, it was like the line wasn’t even fucking there. It was just him and me and electricity crackling through the air.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and neck before I step off the machine.
“I’ve got to get to work,” I inform Sam.
“Have a great day,” she pants as she hits her stride, fully engaged in her run.
I shower quickly and head in. I find myself applying extra lip gloss before my shift, and I have to stop and wonder if it’s for Reese, Dev, or myself. I’m turning into a damn ping-pong ball.
I love them; I love them not.
I love them; I love them not.
I shove the pink tube in my pocket and resign just to concentrate on work and not the two undeniably sexy bikers who seem to have taken up permanent residence in my mind.
Not like it would ever come down to it, but what if I was forced to choose? That question has been plaguing me. I can’t stop wondering if Dev kisses like Reese. Is he as aggressive and demanding? As well-endowed?
“Morning.” Dev’s velvety timbre pulls me from my gyrating thoughts.
“Morning.” I try to smile and totally not stare at his enticing mouth. Which I’m failing at miserably, by the way.
“Been dodging me? I haven’t seen you for a few days.” He crowds me in the blind corner of the hallway.
“No.” My focus darts between his eyes and mouth. Stop that! “Just been busy.”
Dev sucks on his bottom lip seductively, and I nearly pass out. He’s fucking with me, and he knows it. Knows I’m crumbling.
“Tonight.” He leans in close to my face. So close, I can feel his warm breath tickle my neck. “You are all mine. No arguments, no excuses. Just you and me in the dark.”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I press my back against the wall and dig my nails into the plaster to keep from pouncing on him. I don’t know what the fuck’s come over me, but I want him. Badly. I want him as much as I want Reese, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.
“Kayla, say yes,” Dev urges. His dark hair is styled back, and he has a hint of a five o’clock shadow. And the way he smells . . . So. Fucking. Good. Just like a man should smell. Don’t ask me to explain it. It’s like some kind of ambrosial aftershave or something.
“Kayla?” He fucks my name with his voice.
“Yes,” I force out, clenching my thighs. I want to slap my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. I just sold my soul to the Dane brothers.
The victory in Dev’s blue eyes is burning so bright, it could block out the sun.
I’m so screwed. So goddamn screwed, and I don’t even care. I’m tired of resisting. Tired of getting off only in my dreams, while my conscious self is continuously deprived.
“I’m going to make sure you scream that word twenty times over tonight.” He skims his nose up my neck until his lips are brushing against my ear. “I hope you’re ready,” he whispers almost tauntingly.
I look up into his alight eyes. “I’m so fucking ready.”
“Damn, baby.” He blows into my ear right before he pushes off the wall, checking the hallway as he adjusts himself. “Let’s go do some work before I say fuck it all and lock us up in the storage closet.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t.”
“Not with you. I have something special planned for you.” The wicked implication laced in his tone actually makes me shiver. I’ve heard things about Dev. Whispers about dominance and submission and kinky inclinations. It makes a woman curious. Dangerously curious.
Dev takes my arm and leads me away, releasing his grasp as we make it closer to the nurses’ station. I know they’re all talking. Gossiping about Dev and me. We’re always a hot topic, especially when we’re seen together. Funny thing is, there was nothing to gossip about up until five minutes ago.
Now me and Reese? That’s a whole other story. One I have to figure out, fast.
“Come with me?” He continues down the hallway toward Reese’s room. No delaying the inevitable.
“Good news, bro,” Dev announces as we walk in. “You’re out of here. I’ve hired a nurse, and a bed is being set up as we speak.”
Reese doesn’t look as happy as I thought he would be.
“What nurse?”
“From an agency. She seems nice.”
“I want Kayla,” he declares. I think I turn white. Dev glances over at me with a questioning look, and all I can do is return the expression.
Fuck.
“Um, that’s not an option. Kayla already has a job.”
Reese pins me with a hard stare. “I’ll pay you double whatever this craphole does. I want you.”
Oh. My. God. This can’t be happening.
“Reese . . .” I stumble over my words.
“Triple.” He ups the ante.
“Ahhh . . .” I’m frozen in place as I glance frantically back and forth between the two ruggedly, white trash beautiful men who are a carbon copy of each other.
“I guess I can rework my schedule temporarily,” I inform them tentatively, before even considering the consequences.
There goes my runaway mouth again. Fuck.
Reese beams. “It’s settled then.”
Dev protests. “Kayla, are you sure about this?”
“I . . .” My eyes continue to dart between them, but I can’t say no. “I’m sure.”
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
Dev crosses his arms, and I find him hard to read. He’s silent for a few beats before he nods in agreement. When he looks at me, the heat that was so unbearably apparent in the hallway has returned full force.
Oh shit. Holy shit. What did I just agree to?
Two Dane men under one roof and my wavering self-control. That’s nothing but a recipe for disaster.
Once some of the logistics are sorted out, I hurry out of the room with Dev hot on my heels.
“Kayla.” He tugs on my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“He’s paying me triple what I make. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because Reese can be a handful.”
I almost keel over. What a choice of words. “Dev, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. I can take care of Reese, too.” I think. I hope.
“What about me?” he asks forcefully, as if he knows whatever was decided in Reese’s hospital room directly affects whatever we agreed to earlier. I sigh deeply.
“I think we need to cool down with the handling now that I’m working directly for your brother.”
“Kayla.” Dev doesn’t like that response one bit.
“Dev.” I put my hands on his toned chest. Jesus. It feels like I’m touching a rock under his scrubs. “Let’s just give it a little time.” I hate to say it as much as he hates to hear it, but now that I’m thinking clearly and not clouded by the pheromones both brothers emit, I know this is the right decision.
Dev works his jaw, clearly perturbed. “Mother. Fucking. Reese.”
With that, he turns and walks away, not giving me another glance.
I exhale a breath and bang my head against the wall.
Motherfucking Reese is right.
After I had run myself into oblivion, I put on my big girl panties and headed to Dev’s, praying they stay put. They seem to have a mind of their own whenever I’m around either brother.
Dev and I worked out a schedule so one of us would be in the house with Reese at all times. For the next few weeks, he’s going to be pretty helpless and will need a lot of assistance. I’ll basically be his bitch. Can’t wait for that. The twisted motherfucker will probably get his jollies off on bossing me around.
Dev’s home surprises me. It’s a well-kept colonial set back in the woods behind a new housing development. The road leading up to it is almost fairy tale like. The sun’s glow illuminating the vibrant, green-leaved trees bowing over the curvy dirt path.
I walk up onto the porch and knock on the door.
“Come in!” someone shouts, so I take a deep breath and walk right over the threshold. As I enter the foyer, Dev comes hurrying down the stairs in his blue scrubs and socks.
“The door’s never locked, Kayla. You don’t have to knock.” He smiles as he makes his way past me. “Follow me. I’ll give you the two cent tour, then I have to jet.”
He picked up a shift at the hospital today, so I understand his hurry.
I follow him into the kitchen. The house is nothing extravagant, and honestly, it could use a woman’s touch. Lots of dark furniture and leather, sparse decoration, and way too many electronics. But the walls are painted a warm shade of beige, and natural light pours in through the morning room off the kitchen.
“Bathroom,” he points at a door we passed in the hallway; “kitchen,” he turns as if to say obviously; “family room,” which is to my right; and, “dining room,” he points to the left, where Reese is brooding in the hospital bed Dev had set up for him.
“How is the patient?” I ask.
Dev rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “A ray of fucking sunshine like always.”
“That good, huh?”
“It’s Sunday.” He sighs.
“So what?” I question.
“Race day.”
“And that means what?”
“It means Reese is reminded he’s here, in hell, instead of where he wants to be.”
“On the track?” I guess.
“Exactly.”
“Which means he’s an extra bright ray of fucking sunshine,” I conclude.
“Bingo.”
“Wonderful.”
“You know I can hear you.” Reese sourly reminds us of his presence.
“Oh, I know.” Dev crosses his arms and leans slightly so he can see Reese through the doorway.
“You have my number if you need anything,” Dev addresses me as he makes his way to the hall closet. He slips on a pair of badass Nike Airs and grabs his motorcycle helmet in record time. It’s a jet-black orb with neon green markings. “Feel free to overuse it. I’ve been told I have exceptional sexting skills.” He smiles cockily.
“I’ll keep that in mind in case I get bored.” I shake my head. Never going to happen. No one with the last name of Dane is invading my bubble.
“Suit yourself. Try not to smother him while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best, but no promises.”
Dev chuckles. “Good thing I live in the middle of nowhere. There are plenty of places to hide the body.”
“Do you think you two are funny?” Reese chimes in.
“Hilarious.” I grin over at him. He shoots me a death glare. Today is going to be so much fun. I wonder where Dev keeps the alcohol.
“Oh!” Dev snaps, making his way into the dining room, and I promptly follow.
“Here.” He pulls out a bottle of prescription pills from his pocket and tosses them at Reese.
“What are those?” I ask.
Both Dev and Reese’s faces go blank. They really are exact replicas. Strong rectangular jaw lines, straight noses, and bright-blue, almond-shaped eyes.
“Extra pain meds.”
“Do you want me to hold onto them? I can monitor how many you take. Do you still have a high level of pain?” I rattle off the routine questions.
Reese shoots me a deadly look. It’s so menacing I actually step back. “I’m a big boy. I can monitor my own fucking meds.”
Whoa. Someone needs a serious attitude adjustment. With a crowbar.
“Reese, behave,” Dev scolds. “Or we really will bury you in the backyard. Kayla is here to help, remember? You demanded her specifically.”
Reese seems to mellow out after Dev’s proclamation.
“I can take my own meds,” he repeats, more amicably.
“Suit yourself,” I sneer.
“Good. Now that we’re all one, big, happy family, I have to get the fuck out of here.” Dev knocks me on the arm. “Good luck.”
With that, he leaves me alone with the shithead speed racer.
Reese and I just stare at each other for a few seconds, each unsure of what to do with the other. I have a few morbid ideas.
I decide to play the nice card. Maybe some TLC will chill him out. You know, kill him with kindness sort of thing.
“Is there anything I can get you to make you more comfortable?” I finally ask, swallowing my damn pride. Why did I agree to this again? Oh yeah. Money. Green makes the world go ‘round.
“A repeat of the other night?” He shifts presumptuously, shimmying his pelvis and draping one arm up over his head. “I’d like your mouth on other parts of me.”
Like fucking hell.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I fume. “I’m not your in-house ho. If you hired me thinking you were going to get a happy fucking ending every day, you are going to be sorely disappointed. What happened the other night . . .” I’m so pissed; I’m at a loss for words.
“Was what?” Reese needles.
“Was temporary insanity.”
“I thoroughly enjoyed insane.”
“It was a one-time deal.” I put my foot down.
“That’s too fucking bad.” He doesn’t sound disappointed at all. I don’t get this man one bit. “But I’ll wear you down, eventually.”
“Not likely.”
“We’ll see.”
I bristle. “Do you need anything or what?”
“Just the remote and a glass of water for now.”
“Fine.”
Dev’s “dining” room looks more like an adult playroom, and not the Fifty Shades kind. It has a flat-screen on the wall, a workout bench and free weights in the corner, an air hockey table, and an Xbox super setup complete with bells and whistles galore. Oh, there is a square glass table against the back wall under the windows, so I guess that could constitute the use of the word dining room. I slap the remote into Reese’s hand and head into the kitchen for his water. I darkly consider grinding up some sleeping pills and drugging him, but my conscience gets the better of me. Damn ethical code.
When I return to the room, the volume on the TV is up so high the surround sound is shaking the window frames. Low engine roars and a European commentator’s voice are filling the air. I hand Reese the glass while mesmerized by all the bright colors flashing across the screen.
“Ever watch a race before?” he asks as he turns the volume down. Thank God.
“Does a street race count?”
Reese scoffs arrogantly. “Grab a chair. We’re about to go fucking fast.” He tries to smile, but I see the anguish hiding behind his eyes. He yearns to be wherever that is.
I pull up one of the black chairs from the table and sit next to him; his gaze is fixated on the television.
“Red, yellow, green,” he says as if he’s counting backward and the herd of riders take off. I watch, unenthused at first, as they speed down a straightaway. But when they come to the first turn, my stomach flutters. The high-speed riders race so closely and so fast it looks like they’re touching. As they come to a particularly sharp turn, the camera angle changes, displaying a line of racers leaning over so unbelievably low, their knees and elbows practically touch the ground.
“Holy shit. How do they not wipe out?”
“Centrifugal force. Push and pull of gravity.” Reese schools me without taking his eyes off the television. He watches the race the same way a cat would watch a reflective object. Lap after lap, my interest increases as the commentator enthusiastically calls the action, describing in rushed detail the movements of the bikers on the track. The scene is a high-powered battle of leather-clad warriors on two wheels creating a domino effect over and over as they round every corner at death-defying speeds.
A rider suddenly loses control of his bike, and I jump as he’s sent skidding across the asphalt and into a cushioned wall. “Holy fuck!”
“He’s fine.” Reese brushes the accident off. “He just went cement surfing.”
“That’s all?” I reply sardonically.
“That’s all,” he returns lightly, still not breaking eye contact with the screen.
By the last lap, my pulse is actually racing as fast as the speedsters. The energy the commentators are emitting is palpable as two men battle it out for first place, bobbing and weaving so closely it looks like their machines are kissing.
“C’mon! C’mon!” Reese yells as the British-sounding announcer bellows ‘the Yamaha pulls ahead.’ In a flash, the brightly-graffitied bikes speed across the finish line, and the checkered flag is waved.
“Yes!” Reese clenches his fist. “Yamaha. Winner.”
I regard him surprised. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you genuinely happy.”
“I’m not really. I’m dying inside. That should have been me, but at least the points stay in-house.”
“Points?” I repeat naïvely.
“Points determine the individual world champion. But the more races that are won by the sponsor’s team, the more publicity, the more money, the better engineers, and racers. Get it?”
“Got it. Winning makes the world go round.”
“In a nutshell.” He sighs.
“You look tired.”
“I guess I am a little.” He frowns.
“It’s normal.” I try to reassure him.
“I hate it. Makes me feel weak. Powerless.”
“It’s temporary.”
Reese doesn’t verbally respond, just pensively laughs to himself.
“Can you make me something to eat, please?” He actually asks nicely. I almost fall over.
“Sure. What would you like?”
“An egg white omelet with mushrooms, peppers, onions, tomatoes, and a quarter cup of cheese.”
“Wow, specific.” I laugh.
“Part of my diet.” He rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes.
“Give me a few.”
His lips curve up. “Thanks.”
Holy crap, Reese Dane using his manners. He needs to watch racing more often.
I make his omelet to the T, right down to the quarter cup of cheddar cheese. I have to admire him; if I were in that hospital bed, I’d be scarfing down Doritos and chocolate cake. Wait, I don’t need to be confined to do that. I do it anyway.
I plate the omelet, then attempt a quick cleanup. Turning to put the eggs away in the fridge, I unexpectedly slam into a rock hard chest. I scream in fright, dropping the eggs all over the floor as the man in front of me cackles like a hyena.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” I put my hand on my chest, recognizing him immediately. He’s one of Reese’s barking friends.
“Kayla?” Reese yells.
“All good, bro. Just me!” the intruder hollers back. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. Just too easy,” he says devilishly. He’s not much taller than I am and has grease smeared all over his young-looking face. “Riley,” he formally introduces himself.
Right. Teardrop.
“Kayla.” I put my hands on my hips and look down at the floor.
“Sorry about that.” He starts to laugh again, as if uncontrollable.
“It’s fine.” I grab the hand towel off the oven handle and drop it over the leaky egg carton. “How did you get in here?”
“I walked through the front door.”
“Right, never locked,” I remind myself as I bend over and wipe up some yolk. Riley saunters into the other room as I trash the towel and grab Reese’s omelet.
“How bad?” I walk in on the middle of their conversation.
“It’s fucked up but fixable.”
“What is?” I hand Reese a fork and the plate.
“His bike.” Riley clues me in. “It’s trashed, but I can fix it. Just needs some new parts. I’ll order them tonight and have them shipped to the shop.”
“Sweet.” Reese takes a bite of the omelet. “If you have any issues, let me know. I’ll make a call.” He speaks with his mouth full. “Blech.” He makes a sour face and spits out a shell.
“Oops. How did that happen?” I react pseudo-sweetly. He glares up at me, but the look in his eyes is more entertained than annoyed. It really was an accident but so satisfying in the moment.
Reese takes another bite, this time unscathed. “This is actually really good once you get past the nails.”
“Glad you approve.” I couldn’t care less if he likes my cooking or not; he’s stuck with it for the next eight weeks.
Riley laughs again, his cackle hitting an all-time high.
“Relax, dude.” Reese chuckles himself, the sounds clearly infectious.
“I can’t help it. I like her.” Riley elbows me.
Glad someone does.
“What’s up with your friend?” I ask as I help Reese to stand. He needs to walk around to keep his muscles warm and avoid bed sores.
“Riley? He’s harmless. He’s been crazy like that ever since I met him.”
“How long have you known each other?” I ease the crutches under his arms and encourage him to move.
“God. Forever. Him and Knight. It’s always been the four of us. The Mad Hatter, Knight Rider, the Phantom, and the Doctor.”
“I take it Dev’s the doctor?”
“Yup. Pretty funny, huh? Never would have thought when we gave him that nickname he’d actually become an M.D.” Reese winces as he hobbles around the room. Judging by his frustrated grunts, it’s clear his recovery isn’t happening as fast as he would like.
“Why do you call him the doctor?” I keep him talking.
Reese chuckles. “When he was ten, a teacher at school caught him with a girl. They were on the auditorium stage behind the curtain. Dev was sliding her underwear down her legs, and when the teacher asked what he thought he was doing, Dev replied, ‘Playing Operation” Reese cracks up. “He’s been the doctor ever since.”
“Fitting. The story and nickname.”
“That was just the first of many doctor stories.”
“Please spare me the recap. I’ve already seen Dev play doctor in more ways than one.”
“Oh yeah?” Reese turns around and begins the trek back to me. “You and Dev ever play doctor and nurse naked?”
“Dear. God. No.”
“Why not? Not into my brother?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like? You had no problems playing nurse with me.”
I sigh, annoyed. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“Never. But really? Why aren’t you into my brother?” he nags.
“I never said I wasn’t into him.”
“So you are into him?” he twists my words.
“Reese? What are you, twelve? Turning everything I say upside down?”
“Sometimes.” He laughs. “I need to entertain myself.”
“At my expense?”
“Yours and Dev’s.”
“You’re an ass.”
“To thine own self be true.”
“Please spare me. If you’re so bored, read a book. Use this time to educate yourself on a new subject. Manners, perhaps? Or maybe even common courtesy.”
“Nah, who needs those?”
“I guess not you when you have the world falling at your feet.”
“Yupppp.” Reese almost goes down, but I grab him just in time. “Damn.” He holds onto me as he tries to collect his bearings.
“What happened?” I guide him over to the bed.
“Just got a shooting pain in my leg all of a sudden. It’s gone now.”
I lay him down and grab him some water.
“Here. Maybe you should eat some more. Keep your strength up.”
“Yeah.” He nods with his eyes closed, the glass in one hand and the other over his heart.
“One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand.” He counts quietly.
“Reese? Are you okay?” I feel his forehead for a fever.
“I’m fine.” He opens his eyes, but his look is vacant. “I think I just need some sleep.”
“Okay. I’ll start dinner. Dev should be home soon anyway.”
“Good idea.” He closes his eyes again and breathes shallowly.
I watch him for a few long seconds. He looks a little pale and weathered all of a sudden.
“Reese—” Just as I touch his shoulder, I hear the roar of an exhaust. I pull my hand back before Dev walks through the door. I meet him in the kitchen.
“How was your day?” he asks as he places his helmet back in the closet and kicks off his shoes. I watch sort of intrigued. For a moment, our interaction feels almost domestic. It’s very strange and surprisingly arousing.
“Eventful,” I inform him.
“Oh yeah?” He saunters over to me, and my insides actually stir.
“I watched my first motorcycle race, met the Mad Hatter formally, and helped Reese nearly avoid falling on his face.”
“That is an eventful day.” Dev is a breath away from me, fiddling with a strand of my hair.
Jesus, these two are going to be the death of me.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, attempting to deter the building tension.
“Oh, I’m starving.” Heat flashes in his eyes.
I walked right into that one.
“You’re home five seconds, and you’re already hitting on me?”
“I can’t help it.” He leans into me. “My bed is just so close. It’s calling to me to drag you into it.”
I step back, desperately trying to suppress my smirk. I do not want to encourage him.
“Down, boy.”
“Oh. You’re sexy as hell when you put me in my place.” He toys with me. Before I have a chance to respond, a groggy Reese is calling for his brother.
Dev nearly flies out of the room.
“Kayla, would you mind starting dinner?” Dev asks, almost in an attempt to keep me out of the room.
“Was just about to.” I peek in to see Dev and Reese speaking quickly and quietly.
Reese glances over at me then leans his head closer to Dev so I can’t see his face. What the fuck is that clandestine conversation about? I suddenly feel like an unwelcomed outsider.
I decide to throw together something for the two of them to eat and then get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough Dane drama for today.
I find some spaghetti in the pantry and a jar of sauce. Perfect. Quick and easy.
Once the water is boiling, I drop in the long sticks and warm the sauce in the microwave. I’m itching to leave, and by the time dinner is done, Dev and Reese have finished talking.
“Dinner is on the stove.” I poke my head into the dining room to find Dev lounging in the chair next to Reese just watching TV. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Hey!” Dev sits up. “Aren’t you going to have dinner with us? You made it. You should at least stay to eat it.”
“I don’t think so.” I retreat into the kitchen to make an escape.
“C’mon, Kayla.” Dev heads me off at the front door. Shit. “Just have some dinner and then you can go. Have you even eaten anything today?”
I think about it, and I haven’t.
I sigh, resigned.
“Go on.” He gestures with his head. “Go sit next to Reese and I’ll serve.”
“I don’t—”
“For God’s sake, Kayla, get your ass in here!” Reese barks.
I peer into the dining room, perturbed. “I can’t be held responsible for my actions if I stay.” I poke Dev in his very hard chest.
“I promise I won’t hold a thing against you.”
“Good.” I stomp back through the house and plop down in the seat next to Reese.
He smiles obnoxiously.
“Please,” I sneer.
“Oh, nasty,” he patronizes me.
“You haven’t even seen nasty.”
“I wish you would show me,” Reese expels under his breath.
I punch him in the leg as Dev walks into the room. He laughs in pain.
“You’re going to pay for that. One way or another.” His eyes flash with something deliciously dark, and my stomach quivers.
Fuck, I hope so. I mean hope not!
Dev pulls the table closer to Reese and me, making quick work of the cutlery and glassware. After that, he materializes with three plates.
“Are you a waiter or something?” I help him with his balancing act.
“Or something. A million years ago. I had to support myself somehow in college.”
He hands Reese a plate then runs into the kitchen one more time. When he returns, he has an opened bottle of red wine. He pulls the cork out with his teeth and pours me a glass, then himself.
“You can’t have any,” he taunts Reese.
“Oh no, say it isn’t so. I can’t have any crappy vino,” he replies dryly, slurping up his spaghetti. “The vinegar would probably burn my taste buds.”
God, what a redneck snob. He is unlike any man I have ever met.
“How have you put up with him your whole life?” I ask Dev, completely serious.
“I have no idea. Luckily, I only had to live with him for eighteen years.”
“That sounds like a prison sentence.” We converse casually.
“It was.”
“You know I’m right here?” Reese reminds us exasperated.
“We know.” Dev smiles, clearly amused.
“Laugh it up now. You two are going to miss me when I’m gone.”
“I highly doubt that. Maybe we should put up a countdown calendar just to show you how much we can’t wait until you leave.” I suck a noodle though my lips, mockingly.
Reese squints at me. “Smartass!” He flings a forkful of spaghetti at me.
I laugh and scream all at the same time. Then I retaliate.
“Look who’s talking? You’re incapable of being nice!”
Spaghetti starts flying back and forth with Dev dying on the sidelines. Loud, deep bellyaching laughter ringing around us.
Reese and I both pause, realizing Dev is still clean as a whistle and then simultaneously turn our attack on him.
The assault turns into an all-out spaghetti three-way.
By the time everything calms down, there are strings of spaghetti in my hair, on the walls, and red sauce smeared all over our clothes. It looks like we barely survived a bloodbath.
I don’t know how or why, but the tension breaks amidst the laughter, and I suddenly find myself bound to these two men in a way I can’t measure. A way that’s not seen but felt.
“You have one . . .” Dev pulls a piece of spaghetti from the collar of my V-neck t-shirt.
“That was my hit,” Reese declares proudly, sucking up some pasta.
Dear God. What have I gotten myself into?
I wipe off the sauce from my chest and change into the shirt Dev lent me. It’s about three sizes too big, but I improvise and tie a knot on the side with the excess material. When I walk out of the bathroom, I come face-to-face with two gorgeous, shirtless twins who are inked all over.
Holy. Fuck.
Dev is moving around the room cleaning up while Reese lounges with his hands behind his head on the bed.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t . . . Too late. My eyes nearly swallow their bodies whole. Both ripped and bulging in all the right places.
I shove down the desire as I’m lashed over and over by dual Apollo’s belts. You know, those V-shaped muscles men have that make women stupid.
Yeah. Right now, I’m a fucking idiot.
“Looks like you’re just about done here.” I grab the empty plates and bring them into the kitchen.
Dev follows with a wad of dirty paper towels. “Looks good.”
“What does?” I drop the dishes into the sink.
“My shirt on you.” He tugs at the knot, running his finger provocatively over the top of my jeans where my skin is exposed.
“You have no shame.”
“No, not when it comes to you.” Dev leans in closer, and my breathing ceases to exist.
Even though his lips only lightly brush mine, they feel like an anchor trapping my wading emotions.
“Dev.” I place my hands on his chest and sink my fingernails into his skin. I’ve never seen him shirtless before. Pantless, yes, but shirtless . . . He’s breathtaking, just like Reese. A sleeve covers his entire right arm, the skin made to look like it’s shredded with writing peeking out underneath. The tattoo reaches all the way up to his neck with another down his side and one over his ribs. Both inscriptions.
“What does this say?” I point to his arm.
He places a palm over his triceps. “Lyrics to my favorite song.”
“Which is?”
“Fuel by Metallica. I went through a bit of a heavy metal phase in high school.”
I’ve never heard it, but I’m making a point to listen to it when I leave.
“What about this one?” I graze his ribs lightly; Dev sucks in his stomach in reaction to my touch.
“It’s Latin,” he informs breathy. “It reads ‘If I can’t move heaven, I will raise hell.’”
“I like it.” I tickle my fingertip over his skin to the Roman numerals running vertically down his side. “And this?”
“It’s the date I officially became a doctor.” He presses my hand over the ink, linking us together. I breathe raggedly, the warmth of his body about to give me heatstroke.
Fuck, he’s so gorgeous and irresistible, especially when he’s this close, tempting me like a goddamn devil.
If Reese wasn’t in the other room, and what happened between us didn’t haunt me, I’d say fuck it all and jump Dev, right here right now.
But I don’t. I gain some composure and back away.
“Kayla,” Dev protests, but I need to stick to my guns.
“I need to go.”
“You need to stay.”
I shake my head. That is the worst possible idea. I know exactly where I’d end up. And I’m just not prepared to go there.
“Tell Reese I’ll see him tomorrow.”
Dev watches reluctantly as I keep backing away, his eyes full of lustful unrest.
I slip out soundlessly, my entire body throbbing.
Once parked in my driveway, I sit in my truck in the dark, and just to torture myself further, I download Fuel by Metallica and listen to each and every energetic word. It’s getting harder and harder to resist him. As the bass pounds through my speakers, I come to the realization that one day very soon, I’m going to fall into the pitch-black ravine that is Devlin Dane and become lost forever.