Seven Brothers and a Virgin Page 2

  At least I’d found the courage to tell them what I need. The words had been rattling around my brain since my father told me I was to marry his business partner, Lou, a man almost three times my age, but I hadn’t been certain I would be able to get the words out.

  I’d left home after I told Daddy there was no way I was marrying Lou or any other man not of my choosing. I said I was going to my best friend’s house, but I had no idea where I would really go until I remembered overhearing my father complain about the Maddox brothers and their ranch.

  He hates the place and fumes about it all the time, but one time Lou interrupted Daddy’s rant to point out that the ranch might be a thorn in their side, but he’d heard it was a hell of a place if a man wanted to meet his mistress in private. And he’d heard whispers that some of the brothers weren’t opposed to adding a little spice to things themselves. The boys were known for their discretion above all.

  That discretion, and the fact that it will be the last place Daddy might look for me, made up my mind. I’m not at all sure I’ll win the final battle of wills with my father—he has a way of getting what he wants in the end—but I am going to choose the man I give my virginity to. It sure as hell won’t be a man my father commands me to marry to cement a business partnership. So I headed to the ranch needing a place to hide out while I figure out my next move…and hoping to find a man I want to be my first.

  But only a mile or so from my destination, I’d swerved to avoid a fallen tree branch and blown out a tire. I’d been forced to walk the rest of the way here.

  I’d found the place, knocked on the door, and then there he was. The sexiest, most virile man I’ve ever come into contact with. Just the sight of him, all hard, unrelenting angles and raw sensuality, sent warmth blooming low in my belly, despite the chilly rain that soaked me head to toe. Something about the way he looked at me gave me courage to tell him why I came despite the fact that he obviously wants me gone.

  Hell. No. I’ve come too far for that.

  “Come again?” the gentlest of the three men crowding the entryway asks.

  I clear my throat, more confident now. “I want one of you to take my virginity.” I look at the first man’s face, all red and thunder. “Please.”

  “Holy fuck,” I hear one of the guys say from somewhere beyond the arched doorway.

  “I’m your guy,” another of them says, trying to shoulder his way through the mass of hard male bodies.

  He’s gorgeous and looks about my age. I smile, and his eyes light up.

  One of the other men slaps a hand on his bare chest to hold him back. “Slow your roll, Memphis.”

  “Come on, Reed. I mean look at her. She’s a goddess. A wet, half-drowned goddess, but still. Those tits—”

  “I have eyes,” Reed interrupts.

  He’s staring at me, too, and I suddenly realize the rain has rendered my thin top almost transparent. And now that I’m standing in the cool, air-conditioned house, sopping wet, my pointed nipples are on full display.

  I feel my face burn pink and wrap the raincoat around me, crossing my arms.

  The first man snorts. “She’s a child. Nobody here is fucking her. Not tonight. Not ever. She’s leaving. That’s final.” He crosses his arms over his chest, daring one of the others to argue with his decision.

  He’s hot as hell, but infuriating, thinking he can just boss everybody around. I am so done with that.

  “Okay, so that’s a no,” I say sweetly, turning my back on the asshole. Fury emboldens me. “What’s your name?” I ask the younger, shirtless man. “Memphis, was it?”

  He shoves Reed’s hand off his chest and steps forward, looking like an eager puppy. He seems sweet. Fun. Like he’d make this whole horrible ordeal a little less horrible. I stick out my hand. “I’m Amelie.”

  “I said no,” the asshole behind me growls.

  He grabs my elbow and ushers me into the living room adjacent to the entryway and practically shoves me onto the couch.

  “Hey!” Memphis protests, trailing after us.

  The other men follow.

  “Vance,” one of them says. “Let’s just calm down a minute and talk about this, okay?”

  “Back off, Jesse,” Vance snaps.

  I shake free of his grasp and stand.

  “We can’t send her back out in this weather,” Reed says.

  “And she wants to be here,” Memphis pipes up. “Probably heard about my huge dick and sick bedroom skills from all her friends and—”

  “Shut up, Memphis,” the other three men say in unison, as if they’ve done it a thousand times.

  I can’t help but laugh. Despite all the bad shit in my life, Memphis makes me smile. I like him instantly.

  He grins in reply until a man who looks just like him, only wearing a shirt, shoves him playfully. “Maybe she’s confused. She’s got the wrong twin.”

  He meets my eyes and smiles. “Greyson. The better-hung half.”

  “He lies. All the time. Don’t believe a word he says.” Memphis punches his twin in the arm. “I’m the one you want.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have to choose,” Greyson says, looking sideways at Memphis.

  Memphis cocks his brow and looks at me, his startling blue eyes going dark. “What would you think about a twofer, sweet thing?” He folds his arms across his chest, showing off his pretty impressive biceps. “You can settle the hung question for yourself.”

  “Shut up, Memphis!” the chorus sounds again.

  “Okay,” Jesse says. “Everybody just back off for a minute. Give Amelie some space.” He sits down on the couch and beckons me to sit, too. There’s something calm and comforting about Jesse that makes me relax a little. I have a hunch that with all the testosterone raging under this roof, it’s not the first time he’s been the voice of reason. He has that peacemaker vibe about him.

  “Reed,” he says. “Get Amelie some dry clothes and a towel.”

  Reed nods and disappears up the stairs.

  “Memphis, Greyson—make Amelie some tea. She’s freezing.”

  “A shot or two of whiskey will do the trick,” Greyson says.

  Memphis’s hand strays to his fly. “I have a trick right here. Works every time.”

  Jesse just stares at them.

  “Come on,” Greyson says to Memphis, rolling his eyes. “Tea.”

  Jesse turns back to me. “Give me your wet coat.”

  I shrug out of the rain slicker, and Jesse hands it over the back of the couch to Vance, who has been silently glaring at the whole room.

  Two other men settle into worn, comfortable chairs across from the couch. They haven’t entered the fray and seem more inclined to sit back and watch rather than fight it out. One of them has a sketch pad on his lap and smiles at me.

  “I’m Tanner,” he says. “This is Jackson. Maybe it’ll help calm Vance down if you explain why you want one of us to take your virginity.”

  I take a deep breath, a little uncomfortable with so many attractive men focused solely on me. I mean, before tonight, I’d hardly been allowed to be in a room alone with a man.

  “My father wants me to marry a man almost three times my age. A business associate.”

  “Another billionaire?” Vance asks. Like a man’s bank account is the only thing I care about.

  Jesse throws him a look. Then turns back to me, waiting for me to continue.

  “My father is very protective of me,” I start. “My life had been ordered in a way that he thinks is best. But this, arranging my marriage, and all that marriage will entail, without even asking me, is going too far. When I argued my point, he wouldn’t even listen. He says I’m his daughter and I’m to do what he says. End of story.”

  Jackson looks like he might punch something. “He can’t order you to marry someone, to share the fucker’s bed, like you’re a piece of property.”

  I nod. “I can’t do it. Daddy might tell me where to go and what to wear, but I am going to be the one to decide for myself who
I’m going to marry. And my first time is not going to be an old man who smells like Poligrip and talks to me like I’m too stupid to understand anything but designer labels.”

  “So you want your first time to be with one of us,” Tanner says.

  I bite my lip, sure now that I’ve made the right decision in coming here. All the guys are so kind. All except one. And naturally, that’s the man who affects me the most. I turn and meet his gaze. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather wait for someone…special?” Jesse asks. “You’re young. You have time to find a boyfriend, fall in love…”

  “Here you go,” Reed says gruffly, a towel and some clean clothes in his arms. “My T-shirt is going to be huge on you, but it’ll work.”

  “Thank you,” I say, meaning it. With the exception of Vance, all the guys have been so sweet to me. I shake my head and look at Jesse. “I have no time. A few days, maybe, before Daddy realizes I’m not where I said I’d be and starts looking for me. I need this now.”

  “I can see why you ran,” Vance says, shifting. His voice has lost some of its edge. “But you’re making a mistake. This isn’t some kind of stud farm. Not to mention your father would string us all up by the balls if he found you here.”

  Dread snakes through me. If I’m forced to leave, I don’t know what I’ll do. “I didn’t mean to imply you were running some sort of brothel.” I can feel my face burn at the image of women flocking to the brothers’ ranch looking for sex. Not really all that hard to believe, looking at the display of sexy men gathered around me. “But I’ve heard rumors…and I just thought you might be able to help me.”

  Vance shakes his head. “We can give you a ride back into town, but that’s all.”

  “Quit being a dick, Vance,” Reed says.

  Jackson rolls his eyes. “It’s late,” he says. “We have an extra room. Let her stay the night and we’ll figure things out in the morning.”

  Vance huffs but doesn’t argue.

  “What do you say, Amelie?” Tanner asks, setting his sketch pad aside. “How about we sleep on this? See how things look to you in the morning.”

  I hadn’t thought past escaping a forced marriage and ridding myself of my virginity. And if I’m honest, I feel safe here, for tonight, at least.

  “That would be great,” I say, some of the tension leaving my tight shoulders. “Thanks.”

  The twins reappear with a sloppy, tepid mug of hot chocolate—they didn’t know how to make tea and seemed to have a little trouble with the microwave—and Jesse shows me upstairs to a small, tidy extra bedroom.

  He wishes me good night, and over the protests of Memphis and Greyson, shuts my door, leaving me alone.

  The storm has moved off, but the occasional lightning flash in the distance makes strange shadows dance across this strange room. I wonder if Daddy realizes I’m not at my friend’s house yet.

  I set the hot chocolate aside and strip out of my wet clothes. Slipping into Reed’s T-shirt, I see he’s right. It’s huge on me, hitting me midthigh. But it’s soft and dry and smells amazing, like clean, crisp laundry soap with a hint of something more masculine.

  I sit on the side of the bed and listen to the low hum of conversation downstairs. Daddy’s house is always filled with hushed whispers and strained silence. It’s quiet. Dead. The ranch is alive with big personalities. Even the house seems to have an energy to it with its groans, creaky floorboards, and rattling windowpanes. It makes me feel less alone somehow.

  Finally, I hear the guys troop up the stairs, heading for their own beds. Then the house settles peacefully into the night, the only sounds the soft patter of rain on the roof, the wind in the tree branches, and a light tinkle of wind chimes somewhere in the yard.

  I climb into bed and pull the covers up, but I can’t sleep. My head is spinning with worry. That’s new. Everything has always been figured out for me, planned. All I have to do is be. Kind of like a house pet, I suppose.

  I just can’t do that anymore. Daddy’s insistence that I marry a man I don’t want is a wake-up call. I’m done with living my life according to someone else’s definition. Even if it’s my father. Even if he cuts me off. Even if the Maddox brothers send me packing. I will find a way to break free and claim the life I want for myself.

  I stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours. If I were at home, I’d grab a book and read for a while. I could use a glass of water, too.

  I don’t have a robe, but it’s got to be at least 2:00 a.m., and I’m sure the guys are all in their beds. I open the bedroom door and peer down the hallway each direction, then tiptoe down the stairs and back into the entryway. The dining room had branched off one side of the entry foyer so I head that way, assuming correctly the kitchen was beyond that. The light over the sink is on, providing enough illumination for me to deposit my hot chocolate mug and get a glass of water.

  I creep across the kitchen to a closed door that’s marked PRIVATE. Was this the office or something? Maybe there will be something to read or a TV to help me sleep. I feel a little bad for snooping, but I open the door and cross the threshold anyway.

  The faint glow from the kitchen suggests outlines of furniture, but I can’t see much beyond the doorway. I flip the light switch by the door, and recessed lighting illuminates the beginning of a large, library-type den, leaving the rest in shadow.

  Deep burgundy carpet covers the floor in a high pile that is heaven on my bare feet. A large chaise and a group of plush chairs facing it are arranged to one side. There are a couple of tall wingback chairs at the far end of the room in front of what looks like a large fireplace. Built-in bookshelves line one wall.

  Just what I’m looking for.

  Rows and rows of books line the shelves. There are books on cattle and horses, which I would expect on a ranch, but there are also thick volumes on history, art, and geology. Novels, too. Thrillers dominate, but there are mysteries, Westerns, and even a few romance novels sprinkled in. Books about accounting, business, and marketing take up one whole section. Knickknacks and framed pictures of the Maddox boys at various ages are scattered throughout. I’m surprised at the number of books and intrigued by the pictures. I pick one up, smiling at the little boy I’m pretty sure is Vance. He’s holding a black-and-white puppy, a couple of smaller boys gathered around.

  I smile, setting it down, then pick up a small oval river rock. There’s a wobbly red heart painted on it with the word “Mom” in black Sharpie beneath. I smile, turning it over to find “Love, Vance” scrawled on the back.

  I smile, thinking of my own mother. I never knew her, and I can’t help but wonder how my life would have been different if she’d been around. Would she have tempered some of my father’s harshness? Would she have tried to make me marry a man I didn’t love?

  “I was five when I made her that.”

  The voice startles me, and I spin to see Vance lounging in one of the wingbacks set back in the shadows, nursing a glass of whiskey, watching me examine his things. My face burns red at being caught snooping.

  “I was just looking for something to read.”

  He rises from his chair. His dark hair is wild, like he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly. His eyes are at half mast, heavy-lidded and sensual. The shirt that had been buttoned up earlier is completely open now and hanging from his body, exposing a tanned, broad chest sprinkled with a light dusting of hair. He closes the few paces between us, and I back against the shelf, my breath becoming shallow. His overwhelming masculinity is foreign to me and so intoxicating. This man affects me in ways I don’t understand and never thought possible.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” He sets his glass on a shelf behind me and leans in.

  He’s so close I can hardly breathe. But I want this moment to go on. I hold out the rock. “You were five when you made this?”

  He doesn’t look at me, just stares at the rock. “Yeah. Mother’s Day. Can’t believe she kept it all those years.” />
  He takes it and sets it back on the shelf almost reverently.

  “What happened to her?”

  “Car accident,” he says flatly.

  “And your dad?” I know both parents are gone. I’d heard Daddy talk about getting control of the ranch since the “stubborn old fool” was gone innumerable times over the past few years. I just don’t know the circumstances.

  “Car accident,” he repeats in the same flat voice.

  “The same—”

  “Yeah.”

  My heart breaks for this man. To lose a parent at a young age is terrible. To lose both is, well, unbearable. And his brothers were even younger.

  I touch his arm. “I lost my mom, too,” I say. “I was six months old. I’ve only ever seen pictures of her. But I still feel like something’s missing, you know?”

  He looks at me then, and for a moment the wall is down. There’s pain there. Deep pain I can see he doesn’t share with anyone. It hits me in the chest, and all I want to do is hug this big, hard man close. Even after he made it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me, I want to be his soft place to land, if only for a moment. There’s a connection between us.

  He brushes my cheek with the back of his knuckles, his eyes still soft. He’s a million miles away. “So young.”

  “Not that young,” I challenge, leaning in.

  “You’re almost a decade my junior. Close to the twins’ age.” His mouth tightens, and the shades draw over his eyes, leaving them once again inscrutable. “Too young for me. And too damn innocent.” He jerks his hand back, as if my skin burns him. But he doesn’t move away. His eyes roam my face, like he’s memorizing my features.

  I do the same.

  I can see the grain of his night beard shadowing his jaw. For the first time, I notice the faint crinkles around his deep-set blue eyes. See the spiky lashes that frame them. I smell the whiskey on him, tangy but not unpleasant. Then there’s the musky scent of man. Leather, sweat, a hint of something exotic. I have the sudden urge to bury my face in his shirt and breathe deeply.