Dirty Vegas Nights (The Trifecta 2)

“Like I said, I understand being tired. And hearing a screaming kid is one of the worst ways to wake up. Go back to sleep and I’ll bring her in the house.”

I reach out to touch her, but instead let my hand fall on the fence. “Don’t bring her in. She’s having fun.” I glance back at the little girl screaming and running through the water, forgetting all about the meanie. “Now that I know nobody is being murdered I can ignore the screams.”

We stare at each other. I resist the urge to touch her or run my eyes over her incredible body. Hell, I'd give up all the sleep for a month to do it. With a nod, I rap my knuckles on the fence and turn around to go back into the house.

“Making enemies with the new neighbors?” My identical brother, Damien, sits on the couch, cuddling a cup of coffee.

There are three of us, identical triplets.

Yes, you heard that right. Three.

Ben’s the oldest, by only a few minutes, but he sure likes to let us know it every chance he gets.

He just recently got engaged to his fiancée, Clara, and has been staying at her house most nights.

I’m the middle child. Seriously, it’s by minutes so I don’t feel like I have that middle-child syndrome or anything.

And then there's Damien, the youngest of the three.

“I thought someone was hurt. You didn’t hear her screaming?” I grab a bottle of water and refuse to acknowledge the coffee. Caffeine will keep me awake, and that’s the opposite of what I want right now. I’m still convinced I’ll be able to go back to sleep. Maybe even dream of my new sexy neighbor with her fiery eyes.

“I did, but I figured it was the little girl. I saw them moving in yesterday when I ran home to get the design plans.”

“Did you meet her?” I ask. My back teeth push together so hard they almost crack. The idea of Damien flirting with Emma pisses me off.

“No, I was in a hurry. You’re acting weird. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” I finish the bottle, tossing it in the recycling. “I’m going back to bed. I’m fucking sore.”

“Ben will be here in a couple hours to workout,” Damien says before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Wake me up when he gets here.” I head down the hallway.

I crawl into my cold bed before slamming my fist into the pillow, wishing I’d met Emma under different circumstances. Felicity’s screams carry into the room. Emma’s laughter filters in as well. The sound is throaty and sexy, matching everything else about her. My dick strains against my boxer briefs as I recall the way her tank top clung to her body.

Fuck my life.

2

Emma

Felicity screams even louder and I wince at the sound. I wasn’t lying when I told him I work nights too, and waking up to a screaming three-year-old is unpleasant for someone who’s exhausted. Hell, I’m her mother. I can’t imagine a stranger having to hear it.

“So, I guess that’s our new neighbor.” My mom sits next to me, a tiny blush staining her face, making me smile. “He’s quite sexy.”

“Mom.”

“What? Your dad has been dead two years and I’m not blind. Did you see the shoulders on him? They were huge.” She fans herself at the thought of our newest neighbor’s shoulders.

I shake my head, pretending to watch Felicity so I can ignore my mother.

She bumps her foot against my shin, and I roll my eyes. She’s not going to let me get out of this conversation. I can see the determination on her face. “Ok, I noticed he’s handsome.” Her eyebrow rises. “And his shoulders are pretty big although I’ve seen bigger.”

“Sure you have. And those green eyes.” She fans herself harder.

Yes, I noticed those eyes. Those green eyes roaming all over my body. I almost dropped Felicity just from his muscle-melting gaze. My mom isn’t wrong when she comments on his shoulders. He’s ripped, not in a steroid kind of way, but in an, I work out and take care of my body, kind of way. He takes pride in himself, it's obvious.

I mean if he’s going to stare at me, then I’m going to take my turn to look at him.

His brown hair is long enough for him to push his fingers through, or to grab onto while he does wicked things to you. I shake my head hoping my mother doesn’t notice the blush rising to my cheeks. His face is made for the movies, modeling, or dirty erotic dreams. Dreams where you wish you had narcolepsy so you won’t wake up. I hate to admit, I was staring...hard.

Like really hard.

He had no shirt on, and his chest and abs looked as though they were carved from stone. He really was something amazing to look at.