Room One

“He’s your stepbrother. That earns him top billing. In this case. We respect that.”

I cock my head to the side. Oh really? Okay. I can play this game too. “You weren’t saying that when you had your mouth full of my girl-cum.” I cast my eyes downward. “And the fact you’re straining the zipper of your pants speaks volumes, don’t you think?”

Ryder holds a hand up. “He says walk, we walk, but if we had a choice, my hart, we’d take you and keep you as our queen. But...”

My heart broke. “But what?” This ought to be good.

“But you’re not old enough to know what you want, much less handle what we would want from you. In that he’s right. We broke a promise amongst ourselves. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“I’m twenty fucking years old. When will everyone stop telling me what I want and let me decide that for myself? And if you think sharing me is dark...oh, boy. I’ll let you all in on a little secret.” I step up to Ryder and shove a finger into his chest. “This isn’t the first time…”

“First time for what?”

Atlas’ fingers wrap around my upper arm, and he spins me around, nailing me with a hard look filled with blazing rage.

“Finish that sentence, little butterfly,” he all but growls. “How fucking adventurous have you been while off at college, Kandy? How many boys have touched you? But I warn you. Be very careful of your answer.”

His massive chest heaves. What a brute. He might as well be beating his chest.

I offer a smile filled with venom. “Why? Is the big bad SEAL going to hunt down every man I’ve slept with?”

I shouldn’t but I can’t help but egg the jackass on. He deserves every bit of it and then some.

Darkness passes over Brogan’s expression, and I reach for him. Instead of stepping away like I expect, he takes my hand, slips it into his for a moment before breaking all contact.

“If you care for me, for us, walk away. Don’t make us do it. We can only handle so much shit in our lives before we break.”

“But I want this. What’s so wrong with wanting me?” Pieces of my soul crack as Atlas stares down at me. I can’t help but feel desperate and want to cling to him. Beg for a chance to prove I can be the woman they need.

“If you care for us, walk.” He repeats softly and cradles my face in his palms. For a minute I think he’s going to kiss me, but he dashes that hope away when he drops his hands and takes a noticeable step toward the exit. Self-disgust wars with anger as he stares down at me. He and Brogan are by the sliding door as if putting distance between us speaks volumes. And it does.

Ryder holds out a moment, obviously torn between following his friends and staying with me. But the bond between blood brothers is strong and he leans in, presses a kiss to my cheek before joining the other side.

“Never return here. Don’t tempt us to this degree again. If you do, you won’t like the results. Go live your life. Be normal. We’re nothing you need. Trust me. I’m not so fucked in the head yet to let shit between us happen again.”

My hands are in fists at my side and tears well against my lashes, but I refuse to let them fall. “It already has,” I whisper, gutted to the core.

“Kissing doesn’t mean shit, Kandy. It doesn’t matter if you burn with the same fucked up need as we do. It’s ruining us from the inside out. We crave you so badly. But this can’t happen. Never again. Do you hear me? What happened this evening means nothing.”

Those tears burning the rims of my eyes finally fall. “It did to me.”

“We leave in the morning. You’ll never have to see us again. Brogan. Ryder. Let’s go.”

“Atlas. Don’t do this.” I whisper their names. Hunger, and the same aching need I feel deep inside stares back at me. They feel for me, but something more than our familial ties keeps Atlas and his friends at arm’s length.

“Is there someone else? Another woman? Women?”

Atlas barks a humorless laugh that could freeze hell over twice. Ryder is at his side and he shoves his hands into his jean pockets. His eyes meet mine. “How could there ever be anyone else when you are all we want?”

With that, neither of the three men look back at me as they step through the sliding door and silently close it behind them.

Dread, embarrassment, and self-loathing take the front seat to my emotions. How could they say something like that and just walk? Make me feel like I belong in heaven and then shove me into hell?

I grip my hair and wrap it in a fast bun, shove my feet into my slip-ons and storm back to my car. I can barely see the ground beneath my feet through the tears.

I fumble for the handle of my door and swing it open.

“Kandy.”

I freeze. Oh shit! Cold dread works down my spine. I turn on my heel at the sound of the sharp voice to find familiar blue eyes locked on mine. Perfectly painted red lips are pulled into a fierce thin line and I’m hit with a wave of contempt.

“What are you doing here?”

I sense the men coming up behind me.

Fuck. Could this day get any worse?

My mom takes in my ruined lipstick, mussed hair, and wrinkled clothes. Joe, my stepdad, stands behind my mom, his expression tight and controlled.

Raging storm clouds roam over her expression and I know a fierce tongue lashing is about to rent the air. “What did you do to my daughter, Atlas?” Disgust colors her words and I almost feel bad for the instant accusations, but you know what, the jerk deserves a little verbal beat down.

“You’re thirty-one and she’s barely twenty. And she’s your damn sister! Nothing about this is right. Don’t you dare touch her again. None of you. What kind of games are you playing?” She’s across the gravel lot and poking my stepbrother in the chest.

“Mom,” I start, but rage-filled eyes turn on me.

“He’s your brother for heaven’s sake.”

I was still in so much shock I didn’t see the hand coming up until it cracked across my face.

Atlas is beside me pulling me behind him before I get out the first gasp of surprise.

“Out of respect for my elders I won’t lay a hand on you. This time. Touch her again and you and I will have a problem.”

“Son,” Joe drawls in his heavy Texan accent and I can feel the powers between son and father shift from firm land to quicksand.

Ryder and Brogan come to stand beside me as a silent force of strength. The hand across my cheek did a good job of jolting me out of my shocked state.

“Enough,” I say and move to my car. “Sorry to disgust you, Mom. It’s a good thing I’m leaving. I’m taking that job offer in New York.” I turn to Atlas. “I guess you’re getting your wish after all. I’m leaving Texas and this small fucking lakeside, backward-thinking town. Don’t expect me to ever come back.”

Atlas, Brogan, and Ryder all turn rigid. Those stone faces of theirs turning about as expressive as mud bricks.

“Kandy, damn it. We talked about this. You’re coming to work for me.” Mom grabs my arm hard, and I turn back to her, jerking myself free.

“No, Mom. That’s your dream. Not mine. I have no desire to be some politician wannabe in the middle of nowhere. Have at it. But I’m out. And Atlas is my stepbrother. Not my brother. What do you think I am? Some pervert? Don’t try to make me feel guilty for something that’s not true. You married his dad, and I inherited a family member that’s not blood by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Don’t you preach to me. I brought you into this world. I’d like to think I know a thing or two about the birds and the bees. What’s acceptable and what’s not.”

Saying my mother is straightlaced is an understatement. The tall, lithe woman with strawberry blonde hair and perfectly manicured nails makes a nun on her knees lost in prayer look like she’s doing the devil’s bidding. Hand to God.

I let out a ragged sigh. “I’m tired of how hard you judge me for my feelings.”

“Let’s take a minute.” Joe. Poor guy. He’s always trying to play the referee in a game I no longer want to play.

I turn at the sound of a raspy voice aged by cigars and bourbon. “Joe.” I offer a tight smile. My stepfather nods and rolls up beside my mom with an easy gait of a man full of confidence. Decades of work under the Texan sun have weathered the creases around his eyes to make him appear beyond his fifty-eight years. I often wonder if his son, Atlas—and the topic of our heated discussion—will take after his father as the years spill by. Handsome. Rough around the edges and muscles well-formed from a life-long career in construction work.