When my head drops back in response, he retraces the path with his mouth, laying kisses from my neck, up to my cheek, and then over to my impatient mouth. Kissing him featured heavily in the movies my mind played for me over the past few days, and nothing about the real-life experience disappoints.
His hand slides around to my back and pulls me closer to him, caressing me as his lips tell me how much he wants me. I sense heat all around me and break the kiss for a moment to find that Bronson and Lincoln have moved in.
Hands are suddenly everywhere, and I melt to their touch; any resolve I had is long gone. They grip my ass, tug my hair, trace my curves, and I’m utterly powerless to resist.
“Come to our place tonight,” Bronson says as he cups my jaw and turns my face to his.
I know I shouldn’t, and a few of my brain cells are trying to warn me not to, but my circuits are overloaded with sensation and need. When I nod, he kisses me —the kind of kiss that promises so much more.
He tucks my hand in his and leads me to the door.
“I need to get my things,” I tell him.
“I’ll meet you at the door with our truck,” he says. The rest of the men are filing out of the office behind us.
“I have my car,” I say. “I’ll follow you.”
“We’ll ride with you,” Lennox says, gesturing to his twin.
I shake my head. “I’ll follow you.” As I refuse their company, I wonder if I’m giving myself an opportunity to change my mind during the drive. After we pull out of the lot, I do consider texting my regrets and heading home, but my hormones seem to be in control.
I tell myself that tonight will get these irrational urges for the Stone brothers out of my system, and out of theirs.
The tail lights on their truck lead me to a street sparsely populated with large, oceanfront beach houses. There are rental homes all over Four Points. Some residents leave the island entirely during the summer season and rent their home to vacationers. Not as many rental properties are available during the off-season, and I’ll bet the men paid handsomely for a temporary home in such a prime location.
The sound of the ocean is the first thing I notice when I step out of my car. It seems to be lulling me into following the men, not that I need any additional encouragement.
Lennox takes my hand as we walk toward the house, and I feel another on the small of my back as we climb the stairs to the elevated entrance.
I grew up seeing beautiful beach houses like this on the island, but in all my years here, I’ve never been inside one. My childhood home is a traditional single-story structure, and I doubt there would even be an ocean view from its roof.
The Stone brothers’ rental is very modern inside, decorated in muted blues and grays, with oversized furniture that suits the scale of the large house.
“Nice place,” I say, once we’re in the middle of the living room.
“We like it,” Lennox says.
“Too bad it’s not for sale,” Lincoln adds.
“We may have a home built if we can’t find anything we like,” Barrett says.
“The four of you will live together?”
“We always have,” Bronson says.
“Doesn’t that make things complicated when one of you is in a relationship with someone?” I ask.
“That hasn’t been a problem,” he says simply.
I’m left wondering if they don’t do relationships, or if they share women like they seem to want to do with me.
Without asking first, Lennox brings me a glass of white wine.
“Thanks. How did you know what I like?” I take a sip; it’s dry and smooth.
He shrugs. “Lucky guess. And I remember you talking about it when we were kids.”
I laugh. “I had no idea what I was talking about then. I could’ve ended up hating it.”
“Do you?”
“No, I like it a lot,” I say with another laugh before taking a bigger swallow.
Through the wall of windows that face the ocean, moonlight illuminates a wide strip of water from the horizon line to the beach, as the rest of the view fades to black at the edges. “When did you all get so rich?” I ask as I peer outside.
“Money goes a lot farther here than it does in New York,” Bronson says.
“I imagine it does, but that doesn’t explain being able to buy a bar and have a house built without blinking an eye.”
“Our business has done well,” Barrett says, “and Lincoln is a talented investor, so we’ve been able to multiply our profits.”
I nod my head, as if profits and investments are something I have experience with.
“We’d like to buy a house for our mom, too, if she’s open to moving,” Lincoln says.