Beast Brothers

Cody’s watching me. I’ve had the feeling, the last few moments, that he and Brock were having one of their silent conversations. I don’t know why I felt that, exactly; it was like the air around us got a different energy to it. It’s very strange, to think I might have become that attuned to them.

Whatever they were communicating — if they were — his face is serious now. “Hey, babe,” he says quietly.

“Hey.” My voice is very soft, and I hope they can’t hear the emotion behind it. But the twins are far too perceptive.

Behind me, Brock goes up on an elbow and brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek. “You all right, sweetheart?”

The endearment almost undoes me. I blink my eyes against the tears that suddenly threaten. “I’m fine,” I say, and my voice sounds almost normal except that I’m hoarse from screaming. “Maybe a little thirsty.”

I manage a smile, and thank goodness they both take their cue. “We’ll get you some water,” Cody says. He kisses me softly and slowly withdraws. Brock does the same thing, following his brother into the bathroom.

I’ve never felt so empty.

They’re back far too soon for me to rein in my emotions or work out an excuse to leave. “You want anything besides water?” Brock says, and I shake my head. The twins exchange one of their looks. “We’ll talk when we get back,” he says, and then they’re gone, heading for the kitchen.

I slide off the high bed as soon as they’re out of sight, wincing a bit at the soreness between my legs. I almost collapse to the floor, my legs are so shaky. Moving as quickly as I can, I find my clothes and pull them on.

Tiptoeing down the hall, I hear low voices in the kitchen. I know they’re talking about me even though I can’t hear the words. My purse is near the door, where I dropped it when we got started. I yank my phone out and text Tara.

I need you to think of some urgent reason for me to leave. Text it to me, wait 30 seconds, then call. Hurry.

Handling things this way makes me feel terrible, but what else can I do? I hear water running in the kitchen. They’ll be out here any moment.

My phone beeps. Tara, dependable as ever, doesn’t ask any questions, just sends me an angst-filled message about her little sister Kendra being in the hospital and they’re not sure what’s wrong and she’s so sorry to intrude but she’s freaking out and can I please come? It’s so convincing, I have a moment’s panic that maybe it’s true.

I look up at the sound of footsteps. The brothers are back from the kitchen, carrying large glasses of water. They didn’t bother with clothes, and I’m momentarily distracted by their beauty. They take in my fully-dressed state and their jaws tighten.

“I’m so sorry,” I say before they can speak. “It’s Tara—” my phone rings on cue, and I answer it. She turns in an Oscar-worthy performance on the other end, and I don’t even have to pretend to put worry in my voice.

“I’ll be right there,” I promise her before I end the call, then turn to face two very unhappy brothers. “I’m so sorry,” I say again. “It’s Tara. Her sister was taken to the hospital.”

I feel so guilty about lying to them like this. I only hope they’ll never find out.

“Which hospital is it?” Brock says. “We’ll take you.”

“Zoe’s already on the way,” I say hastily. And she is; Tara worked that into her side of the call. She lives closer to the twins than Tara does, and she’s not afraid to drive like a crazy woman. “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

There’s a pause, and then Cody comes to me. Something in his eyes makes me uncomfortable, but I’m not sure what it is. All he does, though, is hand me a glass of water and say, “Drink.”

More guilt. “Thank you,” I whisper, and because I really am thirsty, I focus on drinking the whole glass. No one speaks, and the silence is not an easy one.

By the time I finish it, my phone beeps again. There’s a message from Zoe that says only, I’m downstairs. I hand my glass back to Cody. “Thanks,” I say. “I better get going.”

I’d hoped they’d say something, anything to make this easier, but they’re still quiet, their faces almost grim. My stomach ties itself in knots as I pick up my purse, slide my phone inside, and cross to the door. Just as I get it open, Cody says, “Megan.”

I turn back. There’s the same look in his eyes that I saw when he gave me the water. And then he says, “You were already dressed when she messaged you.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. Damn it, do they have to be so smart? “I have to go,” I manage to say, turning away again. “I’ll call you.”

I have no intention of calling them. I hope it’s the last lie I’ll ever have to tell them.

I half expect them to come after me while I wait for the elevator, but they don’t. I don’t allow myself to look back when I leave the building; I just get into Zoe’s car, which is waiting right outside the entrance.

“Go,” I tell her, and she drives away. I wonder if the brothers are watching me. The passenger seat presses uncomfortably against my tender flesh, a reminder of what I’ve just walked away from.

“Megan—” Zoe starts.

“Not yet. I’ll tell you both when we get there.”

She shoots me a swift, worried glance. “Tell me one thing. Do we need the cops?”

“No,” I say quickly. “No, it’s not like that.”

“All right. Tara’s waiting at my place; I told her to bring the margarita mix, and girl, you are going to spill it all.”

I can’t argue with her. I’m barely holding it together. She drives on through the gathering dusk, and I try not to think about the pain in my chest.

Electric Blue

Megan

It’s Tuesday before I stop being sore. And every time I feel the ache between my legs, there’s a corresponding throb in my heart.

I knew I’d miss Brock and Cody, but it already hurts more than I expected.

The experience they gave me was amazing, but it was so much more than physical pleasure. I felt cherished and protected and … loved.

But I know it’s not really love, no matter how it felt. I know they’re just extremely good at pleasing women. And I also know my heart will hurt even worse if I spend any more time alone with them.

Besides, it could never work. The world would never accept a relationship like ours, especially not with the twins being in the public eye the way they are — never mind my father’s reaction if he found out. It’s for the best, even though right now it feels anything but.

I meet Tara and Zoe for lunch again, this time at a Greek restaurant we all like. Even though I have savings, they insist on buying, telling me to keep my money for when I move into my own place. They do their best to cheer me up without mentioning the brothers, and by the end of our meal they’ve got me laughing. I’m so thankful for them.

When I get back to my dad’s house, there’s a shiny electric-blue Mustang sitting in the driveway and a car parked at the curb. A man wearing a windbreaker with the name of a local Ford dealership on it gets out of the car. “Megan Turner?”

I stare at the car, then at him. “Uh, yes?” I finally remember to say.

He holds out a set of keys. “Congratulations on your new car.”

I take a step away, and his brow wrinkles in confusion. “That isn’t my car,” I say.

“Yes, it is.” He holds up the packet in his other hand. “Title and registration are in your name. The plates will be arriving from the DMV.”

>

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding.” There’s a burning in my chest that makes it hard to speak.

I know who’s responsible. My dad loves me, but he wouldn’t go out and buy me a new car without talking to me, let alone a top-of-the-line Mustang. The twins have done this.

Part of me wonders if they buy cars for every woman they sleep with. Is this just standard operating procedure for them? How do they think I’m going to explain this car to my father?

“I’m sorry,” I tell the Ford guy again. “I’ll have to ask you to return the car to the dealership.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t do that. This is a completed transaction. The car is yours.”

My temper spikes. Ignoring dealer guy, who’s looking at me quizzically, I pull out my phone. Both guys texted me yesterday, and I responded but kept things light. Cody asked me rather pointedly how Tara’s sister was, and I winced as I answered that she was okay now.

Today, my phone has been conspicuously silent and now I know why; they’ve been out buying me a freaking car. Pulling up Brock’s number, I stab the call button.

When he answers, I don’t beat around the bush. “Are you and Cody responsible for the Mustang?”

Fortunately, he doesn’t try to deny it, and my tone lets him know I’m not calling to say thank you. “Babe, you need a car. Don’t be stubborn.”

I ignore how sexy his voice sounds, so deep and masculine. I grit my teeth and continue, “I can’t accept it. I need you to take it back.”

“Not happening,” is his immediate response. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll still give you a ride anytime you want.”

I’m temporarily distracted by memories of our taxi ride, but I push those thoughts aside and fire back at him. “How am I supposed to explain to my father where it came from?”