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CHAPTER THREE

MIRA

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Both men are in the living room when I tiptoe to the top of the stairs.

I’m not trying to be sneaky, but the place is so still, so eerily silent. Every creak of the floorboards ignites that quiet like a bomb. I’m not used to it. I don’t think I like it.

But I find the boys standing on opposite ends of the room. Both with their arms folded. Two hostile bulls glowering across the distance. Our luggage sits at Daniel’s feet, forgotten. Christian is dressed in black jeans and a faded rock band t-shirt I can’t make out.

“You’re not leaving me alone to deal with this shit,” Daniel’s saying. “I like being here about as much as you do, but I’m not paying the taxes and whatever else left behind on this place.”

“So, you want to fix the place up, because that’s what it’ll take to sell it?”

“How much work?” he mutters.

“It’s a fucking lot, okay? Christ! The whole fucking place needs to get torn down and burned and that’s the fastest way. Otherwise, the structure beams need to be looked at. Half the panels outside the house have rotted through. The porch? The roof? Total redo. Plus, the foundation under the house has an honest to God tree growing out of the fucking concrete. It’s one broken lightbulb shy of being condemned.”

Daniel’s chest lifts in a deep, bracing inhale as he takes that all in.

“What’s our time frame?”

“To repair everything and sell? A year if we get a good crew. Waste of money if you ask me. Sell it as is and eat the cost. Better yet, burn it down.”

Daniel shakes his head. “This place was Mom’s pride and joy. She’s probably turned over in her grave seeing what Dad did to it.”

The sneer curling back Christian’s lips over his teeth is nothing if not hostile. It drips hate. It’s vile malice in true form.

“Mom’s dead. She doesn’t give a shit about this place anymore or what that bastard did to it. Stop worrying about her and think about your own problems.”

Daniel frowns the same time I do. “What are you talking about?”

One fully tattooed arm swings up and sweeps towards the place I’m standing. For a panicked second, I think he’d seen me, but he never glances my way.

“You brought her?” My breath catches in my throat at the sheer indignation leaving the bottom of his chest. “What were you thinking?”

I’m expecting Daniel to be as confused as I am, to tell his brother, of course, I brought her. Why wouldn’t I?

But he drops his gaze. His chin hits his chest, weighed down by guilt as he rubs a hand over his jaw.

“I couldn’t leave her alone.”

The implications of his statement hits me in the gut. It hangs in the silence that follows as it becomes painfully evident what he thinks of me. The mortification has my eyes burning as I bite back the urge to run and hide ... like the child he apparently thinks I am because I’m clearly too helpless and stupid to be on my own a few days.

“Are you serious?” Christian arches an eyebrow and studies his brother’s face. “That’s your excuse?”

A large palm scrubs over Daniel’s tired face. “It’s not an excuse. I don’t like knowing she’s alone and I’m too far if she needs me.” He lets his arm drop to his side. “And I didn’t want to be here without her.”

As quickly as the tides of my anger and hurt had risen, it recedes back into the vast ocean of my emotions. I drown in the syrupy goo left behind by the sweet confession.

“Well, that was a stupid move,” Christian props his hip against the armrest of the sofa and folds his arms. “She doesn’t belong here, Danny. You should have left her at home.”

It’s hard to fathom the thought process behind Christian’s cruel words when I hadn’t done anything wrong. I can only guess it’s because I’d been right in my assumption earlier in the truck and Christian hates me, while simultaneously being wrong that he felt something when our hands touched. Unless he’s a really great actor and I fooled myself.

“I’ll keep her safe,” Daniel says with a tightness of someone not exactly believing their own lie.

“By yourself?”

Daniel’s head jerks up, his eyes dark with frustration fixed on his brother. “I’ll handle it.”

The other man is not convinced, but he lets the matter of my existence slide momentarily to return to the issue at hand.

“He’s emptied the rooms.” Christian pushes to his feet to mirror Daniel’s posture with his tatted arms crossed and one leg extended. “All of Mom’s shit. Yours. Mine. Probably set it all on fire. Only kept his useless junk.”

“Did you want something from here?” Daniel mutters. “A souvenir?”

A muscle coils in Christian’s jaw, a knot as hostile as the fury behind his eyes. “Fuck you, Daniel.”

Unfazed, Daniel shrugs. “Then let it go. We’re only here to get an idea of the damage. If we can wrap it up by the end of the weekend, great. Otherwise, we’re not here to skip down memory lane. As for Mira, she’s my responsibility. I’ll keep her safe.”

I remember his comment about staying close and felt a shudder of unease slip down my spine. How dangerous was this place? Were there that many bears?

Or mountain lions.

I haven’t had a chance to properly examine the row of pictures lining the wall up the stairs and down the hall. I know my new bedroom had several pinned up that I pulled off and gently set aside.

They creeped me out.

Each one had — I’m assuming — Ryan MacAllister in them, posing with, on, holding, standing on something. He just seems to be everywhere. Like the whole house was converted into a museum in his honor.

But the ones in the bedroom were body size. Full portraits of him standing wide on a rock in front of a roaring waterfall clad in jeans and a flannel pullover. Him holding a giant, gold trophy, sweaty and grinning wide at the camera. The one that made me cringe the hardest was the one of him standing with a rifle over one shoulder, dressed in camo, pressing a muddy boot into the neck of a mountain lion. Two smaller bundles of fur tucked almost protectively under their mother. All their rich, golden coats splattered with blood.

That one I turned right around to face the wall.

Daniel rarely, if ever, brought up his dad. Seeing Ryan’s life splayed through the years via photos, I’m beginning to think he was a dick. Arrogant. Self-righteous. There’s a cocky twist in his face that gives my stomach the heaves.

Daniel and Christian have his face, I will admit that. That sexy, rugged jawline and sharp cheekbone. They have his broad, lumberjack build with the wide chest and long, toned legs. They have the same warm, golden eyes, but Ryan’s is ... cruel. Evil.

Ridiculous, I know. The man is dead. I shouldn’t be thinking so horribly of him, but his house of memories is making it very hard.

I definitely didn’t hesitate stripping the bedding and replacing it with a fresh set from the hallway closet.

No offense to Ryan MacAllister, but I don’t know if they were changed after the last time he slept in there, but I’m not sleeping in his juices.

Besides, Daniel said the nurse stopped coming after Ryan died so odds are they were the same sheets Ryan used last.

“So, why haven’t you fucked her yet?”

The question is so out of left field, so offensive and rude that I’m not quick enough to stifle my choked gasp. The idiot sound detonated the silence the bomb had created and both heads pivoted up in my direction simultaneously, capturing me in the golden pools of tempting honey.

I should probably say something. Act outraged at the very most, but I’m staring down at the pair with a hand over my mouth and my eyes wide.

Christian smirks like my shock amuses him. He digs long, ring studded fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and rocks back on the heels of his boots. His sly gaze sweeps over to his brother who has yet to move.

Unlike Christian, Daniel’s not amused. His lips are pulled tight in disapproval as he stares up at me like this is somehow my fault.

“I didn’t...” I began only to fall short because I don’t know what I didn’t.

I didn’t start it?

I didn’t eavesdrop?

I’m honestly more interested in his answer because his brother apparently also thinks he should have fucked me by now.

Daniel exhales the growl in his chest and turns to his brother. I think for a panicked second, he’s going to hit Christian, but he mutters, “We’re going into town for supper.”

That wipes the smirk as effectively as any smack.

“Which town?”

Daniel’s impatience peaks. “Stop acting like an asshole. You know which town.”

“No, I don’t because the one I’m thinking—”

“Mira needs to eat and it’s too late to drive to Mayfield.” He pauses to calm himself down before continuing, “It might not be full. It’s been seventeen years, maybe no one will...” he cuts himself off and I know it’s because of me. Because he doesn’t want me to know.

“Drive the four hours,” Christian shoots back, pivoting on his heels and stomping to the burnt orange armchair. He drops into it, momentarily vanishing with the cloud of dust that erupts up around him. “It’s a bad fucking idea, Danny.”

Daniel says nothing as he gathers up the bags and stalks up the stairs. I scoot back even though there’s plenty of space for him. He doesn’t say anything moving past me towards the bedrooms.

I linger a moment and glance back at the other man below staring furiously at the empty hearth. His long fingers drum on the worn, velvet armrests.

Identical.

But worlds different. Their similarities stop at their faces and the differences captivated me.

Of course, I know twins are their own individual people. Sharing a womb doesn’t mean they are the same, but I have never been so attracted to two people at the same time. Brothers. Not because they share the same face, which bonus, but because the rough, grungy look is fucking hot. The rock star. Dangerous and untamed. He could easily throw me around. Something I feel Daniel would resist. He’d be gentle and patient, which I want too.

Maybe at the same time — tossed on the bed. Clothes torn off. Forced onto my belly between Daniel’s widespread thighs. Made to suck him while his brother moves behind me and...

I clearly have problems, but holy hell.

I must have been staring too long because those rolling, sandy hills lift and pivot straight in my direction.

Already on the verge of my own fantasies, caught in the crisp visual of him sliding that cock I’d nearly seen earlier into my eager body, I waver when he curls those beautiful lips into that sly little smirk. I shiver when he lifts a hand and crooks his finger for me to come to him. To slide into his lap where his free hand pats his thigh.

God.

Fuck.

“Does Daddy’s little girl need to cum?” he taunts and my face floods with the same rush of heat as the one soaking my panties.

The sheer audacity has my nipples hardening with a desperate need to get stroked by fingers marked with ink and topped with chunky, silver rings. I want them to drag the straps of my tank down to palm my breasts and let me feel the cool metal on my skin.

“You have to come here first,” he says like he can read my twisted thoughts.

Kalen and I had sex. I thought it was pretty frequent. I used to try and spice things up, try new positions, get him to be more assertive, but missionary was his tried and true. Everything else was confusing and tedious. He thought I was trying to make him feel bad because he had a hard time making me cum with zero foreplay, some spit in his palm and penetration.

Daniel and Christian would know exactly what to do. I have no doubt in my mind as I watch the slow rub of his palm drifting up and down his hard thigh. They would be thorough and demanding, and rough. They’d manhandle me and make me sore.

But that’s just a fantasy.

That’s all it will ever be because shit didn’t happen like that in real life. I would be betraying Daniel by fucking his brother. Any chance I could possibly have with him would be done and nothing is ever worth losing Daniel over, especially a tall, dark, rougher version of him.

Without a word, I turn on my heel and hurry to find my man.

I don’t have to go far. He’s in the first door on the left. His back is to me, and I take a few minutes to study the movements of his body as he unpacks folded piles of tops from his duffle. Each bundle is placed on a bare, stiff mattress.

The entire room is empty. Bland. Stripped of every individuality. The single, twin bed matches the hard, oak dresser shoved behind the door and the nightstands. Otherwise, not a spec else. It’s nothing but a room with no soul.

I cross the four steps between us and slip my arms around his middle. His movement stills under my hold. The muscles of his abdomen expand, lifting his arched back into the cheek I rest between his shoulders.

“You okay?”

Daniel sighs and straightens. “He’s just so difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur into the warm skin radiating through the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

He shakes his head. “None of it is new conversation. I just hoped he would ... I don’t know.” He twists his head over his shoulder to peer down at me. “You okay?”

I nod. “I think this is one of those things you need a sibling to understand, but I also think it’s been a long day so we’re all tired. Maybe you’ll both be at a better place in the morning.”

Daniel turns in my arms and pulls me flush into his chest. His face burrows into the side of my neck and I wonder if he can feel the jump in my pulse when his lips brush the vein.

“Fuck, baby, how did I get so lucky with you?”

I love when he calls me baby. It’s not often enough, but it makes my toes curl inside my sneakers and drives the butterflies in my belly crazy. Instead, all I can do is slide my arms around his shoulders. My toes are arched for better leverage as I hold him tight.

This man has no idea the lengths I would go to for him. He has no idea that I’m the lucky one.

Instead, I draw back enough to grin up into his beautiful face. “Obviously, you must have saved a lot of kittens from burning buildings in the past.”

Daniel’s deep laugh sends a heady ripple down my spine. It makes my head swim deliciously as I peer up at him with what I’m sure is my entire heart in my eyes.

God, I love this man.

“Sure seems that way.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I left your bags in your room if you want to unpack. I’ll hurry up here and we can get supper.”

I release him and circle to the opposite end of the bed. I claim an empty spot and watch him.

Neither of us brought very much. I think we both assumed we would only be a few days, a week or two at most. Judging from Christian’s observations of the house, my guess is that that might not be the case anymore.

“What do you want to do with the house?” I ask him softly, gathering up his pillow and hugging it to my chest.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “We can’t stay a year. It’s not practical. We have our whole lives there.”

“Would we have to stay? We could hire a crew and have them take care of everything.”

He gathers up a stack of pants and moves to the dresser. They’re laid out neatly inside by color which always amuses me.

“I thought about that, but I don’t like the idea of leaving a bunch of strangers alone in Mom’s house while I’m hours away.”

I don’t blame him; I didn’t trust anyone with Dad’s things after he passed. Even a lot of Mom’s things are still at the apartment because I can’t bring myself to go through them yet.

I curl up on my side with the pillow hugged to my chest with a partial corner under my cheek. “Maybe just sell it as is.”

“Maybe,” he says, but I can hear the uncertainty in his tone.

“Keep it,” I murmur around a yawn. I nuzzle my face into the pillow and temporarily shut my eyes. “You can restore it slowly.”

“I don’t think Christian wants that. I’m not sure I do either. This place has a lot of bad memories.”

I force my eyelids open and peer at him. “What happened?”

But he’s watching me, his head cocked to one side as he traces my face with a tiny smile on his. “Tired?”

I shake my head and make myself a liar when I yawn again. “Just waiting for you.” My lashes slip once and I quickly catch them. “You mentioned food.” Another thought popped into my head. “Why is going into town a bad idea?”

His hesitation has me squinting one eye open. His head is down, expression pensive.

“Chris and I didn’t leave on the best terms. No one in Jefferson is going to be happy to see us. Unfortunately, it’s the only town for four hours so we have no choice if we need groceries or supplies.”

I frown. “What happened?”

He scoops up an arm load of t-shirts and heads to the dresser. “It’s a long story.”

“Did you murder someone?”

I see his hands pause mid tuck. “It’s a long story,” he repeats.

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” I grumble around a yawn. “Maybe no one will remember. It’s been like twenty years.”

“Seventeen, and Jefferson’s memory is long.”

I hum contemplatively. “Fuck’em then. Whatever it is.”

He chuckles quietly but doesn’t say another word as he finishes organizing his dresser. I stubbornly keep my eyes open and on him, but the long drive is messing with my willpower now that I’m on a bed.

“Mi?”

The muffled whisper of my name penetrates the heavy fog weighing down my limbs. I’m vaguely aware of warm fingers brushing my cheek, stroking my hair.

“Mi?” the voice says again.

“Hm?” I grumble.

Strong, sturdy arms slip under me and I’m pulled away from my cozy spot. I come awake just in time to find myself settled against Daniel’s broad chest.

“I’m awake,” I croak into the side of his neck, my arms around his shoulders.

“I know, baby.”

I nuzzle closer and feel his arms tighten as he carries me.

“Why are we leaving?”

“Because I can’t be trusted with you in my bed.”

I feel myself frown at the ridiculous statement. “We’ve shared a bed lots of times.”

“It’s different.”

I vaguely give that some thought and conclude it’s because of Christian. Maybe Daniel doesn’t want his brother to think anything is happening between us. I try to understand, but it annoys me.

“I want to stay with you.”

His warm lips brush my temple. “I’m just down the hall.”

Cool sheets come up around me as I’m placed on my bed. Daniel releases me to reach for my feet. My socks and sneakers are removed and set aside. He drags the sheets over my legs as I drop my hands to the snaps on my shorts; the denim is not at all comfortable to sleep in and since that seems to be the new plan, I’m not keeping them on.

Daniel freezes.

His warm, golden eyes track the motions of my hands, follow it like a wolf caught in the scent of fresh blood. They fix on my working fingers popping the button through the loop and I’m suddenly wide awake. My body hums with awareness as I pull the soft fabric apart for him.

A muscle coils in his jaw as the elastic of my pink panties come into view. They’re not fancy or cute. Basic cotton, but the way his nostrils flare, the way his fingers tighten in the sheets, they could have been the sexiest things he’s ever seen.

Emboldened, I tuck my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and drag them over my hips, arching my back, getting them to my thighs ... baring myself for him, exposing my mound barely covered and wet.

“Mi...”

The material is at my knees.

I have never changed in front of him. He’s never seen me in my underwear alone. Not even a swimsuit. But the way he licks his lips, eyes pinned to my crotch, it’s all I want to wear for him.

“Help?” I whisper, letting my hands fall away, letting him pull my shorts the rest of the way.

He doesn’t move for two heartbeats, but it feels like a million as I lie in his parent’s bed with my pants at my knees, my pussy lips perfectly outlined under the fabric of my panties and the only thing covering my breasts is a tank top that has bunched just beneath the mounds.

I wish I could say this is the tensest moment we’ve ever shared, but I’ve been in his lap in nothing but a t-shirt and panties, his cock a hot bulge pressed into my hip, our lips inches apart. I’ve woken up after a fitful night full of nightmares to him molded down my back, his big hand cupped over my breast, his erection wedged in the crack of my ass.

Nothing ever happened.

Daniel always comes to his senses.

Even now as he fists the denim, the war behind his hungry eyes is unmistakable as he peels them off me and chucks it towards the foot of the bed. I let my thighs slip open so he can see the damp stain he — and his brother —have created and I know he sees it when he sucks in a loud breath.

Touch me, I beg silently.

But Daniel is the epitome of control.

I know he won’t even before he jerks back. The sheets are yanked around me and he’s practically racing to the door.

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