HUGE F BUDDIES: A STEPBROTHER REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE (HUGE Series)

I’m about as dressed up as I ever get. I packed my little black dress and silver heels just in case this town had a nightlife. I hope I haven’t overdone it, but I’d rather go overdressed than under. Life’s short, I’ve learned that enough in my few years, and it’s there to be seized by the throat. Making an impression is part of that. I fluff my curls in the mirror and press my lips together to spread my lipstick.

Time to get my game face on.

I’ve never been anywhere with such a large group of boys and no girls. At college, Maisie or one of my other friends is always around for nights like this. We sip cocktails, and indulge in blatant people-watching, always heading to the bathroom in a pack. Tonight I’m going to be surrounded by guys who I don’t even know that well. I’m definitely going to need to drink for confidence, but not too much. Making a fool of myself so early in the summer isn’t an option. I don’t want anything getting back to Steve, either. This is about letting my hair down just enough to have some fun.

I hear the boys thudding their way down the stairs. Now I know they’re ready, I guess it’s time to stop the preening and get on with the night.

I grab my purse and my worn, vintage denim jacket and make my way down. The boys are by the front door, tying shoelaces and gathering keys and wallets.

As I come into view, their chatter stops, and all eyes move to me. I’ve never felt more watched in my life.

‘Sorry for keeping you waiting,’ I say.

Jefferson clears his throat, and I’m expecting some kind of comeback, but then Steve appears behind them.

‘Well, don’t you look beautiful,’ he says. ‘Boys, you’d better keep an eye on my daughter tonight. That Red Devil place has a reputation. You make sure she gets home in one piece.’

‘We will, sir,’ Anderson says. ‘She’s in safe hands.’

Jefferson clears his throat again, and when I glance at him, his eyes are on my cleavage. Does he remember my hardened nipples from the pool? His hands flex, and I’m definitely not thinking that they’re safe. He looks dangerous. Those hands look strong enough to grip and hurt, just the way I like it.

‘I know how to look after myself,’ I say brightly. ‘But I’m sure these boys will do a fine job too.’

‘Well, have a good time,’ Steve says. He pulls out his wallet and hands me a wad of bills, which I don’t take.

‘Thanks, but you don’t need to worry about that. I have money.’

‘You’re a student,’ Steve says. ‘And I want you to have it. Enjoy some drinks on me.’

He doesn’t say that it’s the least he can do, bearing in mind he’s missed spoiling me my whole childhood, but it’s there, behind the brightness.

‘Ready?’ Brayson asks us all.

There’s a round of “yeah,” and he opens the front door.

‘Have a great night,’ Steve says. I totter down the driveway to a different vehicle. Carson is driving this time, and I find myself in the middle of Brayson and Jefferson again. Steve waits in the doorway, watching as we pull away.

‘So, are you meeting friends tonight?’ I ask. ‘Do I need to be ready to remember a bunch of names?’

‘There’ll be people there,’ Brayson says. ‘Don’t worry about the names. After a few of those Red Devil cocktails all the girls drink, you won’t remember a thing.’

‘Who says I drink cocktails? Maybe I’ll be drinking beer.’

Jefferson snorts. ‘I’d bet on beer.’

‘Ah…you don’t think I’m a girlie girl?’

‘There is no doubt you’re a girl,’ Carson says, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. ‘That outfit is something else.’

‘Why, thank you,’ I say.

‘We’ll need to watch you like a hawk,’ Jefferson mutters. ‘The Red Devil is a meat market. You’re gonna have guys all over you dressed like that.’

‘I told you I can look after myself.’

‘Fine. Have it your way.’ Jefferson stares out of the window at the passing traffic, and I remember his tattoo. He’s carrying around something dark inside him for sure. Is it something to do with his dad as Brayson hinted, and where are the scars across his chest from?

So many questions, and no way to find out the answers without seeming overly interested or upsetting him.

It doesn’t take long for us to reach the Red Devil and I shimmy out of the car, trying not to reveal any more leg than I actually have to. I straighten my dress and follow the guys to the door of a very busy looking bar. There are groups of people standing outside to smoke, and two large doormen standing either side of the entrance.

‘Five,’ Carson says to the left security guard. He nods, obviously not one for conversation, and Carson pushes the door open. The noise from inside is pounding; dance music spills into the dark night, and my heart accelerates to match its beat. It’s more like a club. I’m surprised when Jefferson waits for me to go in first. After what he said in the car, I was expecting him to completely ignore me, not behave like a gentleman.

‘You have to have a Red Devil,’ Anderson shouts to be heard over the music. ‘It’s really good.’

I shrug. ‘Okay. Sounds great.’

We all make our way to the bar, and Anderson manages to wave over a bartender. ‘Four beers and one Red Devil.’ The barman scans our group and finds me amongst my other three stepbrothers.

‘There’s the devil,’ he says with a grin. He’s cute, with floppy blond hair and perfect teeth. I fluff my hair and wink, and I see Jefferson grumble next to me. The barman sets about making my cocktail and then grabs four bottles from the fridge behind.

Anderson pays and hands me my drink with a wink first before passing the bottles to his brothers. ‘What do you think?’ he asks as I take my first sip. Oh my goodness, it really is good. I can definitely see what all the fuss is about.

‘Nice!’

‘A cocktail girl after all,’ Jefferson says. ‘She’s full of surprises.’

I suck down the entire contents of my glass in one go, giving him the side-eye. ‘Who’s for another?’

The boys have barely started their drinks, but I move to the bar. ‘Same again,’ I say to the barman who is called Brad, according a nametag pinned to his black shirt. There’s a Red Devil on the pocket, cheesy but fun.

‘Wow. Go easy,’ Brad laughs as I drink down my second cocktail at the bar, filled with the urge to goad Jefferson as much as I can.

‘Another,’ I say.

‘Sara…’ Brayson takes my elbow and turns me to him ‘…don’t you think you should slow down a little?’

‘I know my limits,’ I say. Who do these guys think they are, my father? Even my father’s never been around to set limits like my stepbrothers are trying to.

‘These cocktails are strong,’ he warns. ‘They don’t water down the liquor here. It’s all genuine.’

I start to feel what he’s saying as alcohol from the two cocktails starts to enter my bloodstream in a rush. Woooo. That’s good. ‘I’ll have one more, and that’s it. Then we’re dancing.’

Brad brings me another drink, and I sip this one a little slower, looking around the bar to get my bearings. It has a good-sized dancefloor and plenty of high tables for groups to gather. The DJ in the corner is playing some tunes!

‘The music’s really good,’ I say.

Anderson nods. ‘He’s called Cole…or Mr. OMG.. He used to go to our college. He’s graduated, but he still does some DJing now and then, just to keep his hand in.’

‘Lucky us.’ I finish the last of my third Red Devil, and three is definitely a charm. My head swims in that way that feels amazing. It’s a buzz. I feel loose and light and ready for anything. ‘Come on.’ I grab Anderson’s hand and tug him toward the dance floor. He’s laughing, still clutching his second beer. The dance floor is full of drunken college students having a great time. The atmosphere is electric, or maybe it’s just because I’m so loaded. The colored lights pulse in the darkness in time with the beat of the music, and I put my hands in the air and start to move.

I’ve been told that I’m a good dancer. I never had any lessons, but I guess some things come naturally. I’ve always felt music deep in my bones, maybe because Grandpa Jackson had been there playing a soundtrack to my early childhood. I expected the other boys to follow, but when I look around, they’re still by the bar, watching us with interest.

Anderson is a good dancer. He moves like he feels the beat in his bones too and smiles at me, his eyes reflecting a rainbow of sparkling colors. In his white fitted shirt, his broad shoulders and strong biceps are magnified. I feel small next to him, despite the ridiculous height of my heels.

The hem of my dress rides up my thighs, but I don’t pull it down. I feel wanton and ripe, free, and bright. The devil in those cocktails feeds the devil inside me. The girl who spent too long not getting anything she wanted. The girl who decided that life’s too short not to take what she can when she can. To seize everything that she craves by the throat.

I move closer to Anderson, resting my hand on his shoulder. He looks down at me, the warmth of his eyes soft and gooey like a brownie. I want to touch the scruff of his beard, run my hands through his messy light-brown hair, taste his lips that he folds in to moisten as though he can hear my thoughts loud and clear. His hands go to my waist, and we move in perfect synchronicity, oblivious to the world around us. At least I am. Anderson’s eyes are on me, questioning. I blink, looking to the side, not wanting him to read anything other than what I’m projecting on the outside. My other hand hooks around his neck as though it has a mind of its own. It’d be so easy to draw him closer, to press myself against his strong body and kiss those soft lips. It’d be so easy to forget everything else that’s going on in my life. This summer and what it means. My future and where it’s going to take me. At the start of the semester, I’m going to be rudderless again, drifting on the tide. No place to call home. No ties to bind me and keep me safe.

I move my hips and throw my head back, my dark curls spilling over my back, my eyes to the flashing sky.

I’m trapped between what I want to do and what I should do, and it’s not a place I like to be. For the past year, I’ve done everything I’ve wanted. I’ve slept with the guys who set my world on fire. I’ve drunk until my head was spinning, and so was my reality. I’ve indulged in buying the things that I never thought I’d have—treated myself to manicures and pedicures like a Kardashian on heat.

Now what I want is what Maisie has. Enough men to light me on fire but keep me close to the ground.

My stepbrothers should be family, but I’ve never seen it that way. I remember all the things I said to Maisie; that stepbrothers aren’t really related. They aren’t blood relatives. There’s nothing wrong with being together. The trouble is that this feels different now it’s me…now it’s my family. Steve isn’t my dad in the traditional sense. He was there at my conception but not for my raising. The strings joining us are thin and fragile. Easily broken, and my stepbrothers are intertwined with it all.

But my body is empty, and it aches to be filled. Everything about me aches.

I glance to where the rest of my stepbrothers were standing, but they’re not there anymore. The alcohol that had made me feel loose and light now makes me wobbly and uncertain. Panic rises inside me at what I’m thinking and what I could do. I pull back from Anderson, taking a step away. Turning, my bleary eyes finding the sign for the bathroom. I stumble forward, needing to splash some water on my neck and cool down. I need to get my head clear and my emotions under control.

‘Sara,’ Anderson calls after me. I know he’s following me through the crowd because he’s a good guy with a good heart and he promised Steve he’d look after me. I don’t let him catch up, though. I totter on my ridiculous heels and make it through the swinging door of the bathroom before he can reach me.

It’s busy inside, a line forming for the stalls, but all I need is the basin. The water is perfectly cool on my skin. I look at myself in the mirror, and my eyes are wild, hair crazy, skin glowing. I look more alive than I have in months and more terrified too.

Sometimes we can see our mistakes speeding toward us, but even though we have time to duck out of the way, to change our path, we don’t. Sometimes mistakes taste too sweet, the call of what is wrong louder than all that is right.

‘That dress is gorgeous,’ the girl next to me at the washstand says.

I force a smile to my face. ‘Thanks.’

‘No wonder that gorgeous guy out there is so besotted with you. I saw you guys dancing. That is some serious chemistry.’

I shake my head. ‘He’s my stepbrother. We were just dancing.’

‘Stepbrother…that’s seriously sexy.’

I force a laugh. ‘I guess it’s a bit of a cliché.’

‘There’s a whole genre of romance novels dedicated to that cliché…I have more than one on my Kindle.’ She shakes her wet hands in the sink and strokes over her straight blonde hair, pouting her lips and fishing for a lipstick in her purse. ‘You should go for it, you know. Chemistry like that isn’t something you come across every day.’

‘He’s…’ I was going to say he’s not my type, but that would be a blatant lie. Anderson is so good-looking that his handsomeness could shatter glass. ‘He’s…just a friend.’

‘Then you won’t mind me trying to get his number? I’ve seen him around at Lawson, and I’ve never had the right opportunity to talk to him.’

‘Sure,’ I say, shrugging even as my gut clenches with jealousy. I don’t want this girl anywhere near Anderson or any of my stepbrothers. For all I know, they could all be flirting with girls right now while I’m hiding in the ladies’ room having an argument with myself.

She smiles so brightly that I want to stab her in the eye. ‘Okay, great. See you out there.’

She leaves, and I inhale a deep breath, my head still swimming. Then I follow, glancing around for a familiar face. The bar is even more packed now than it was when we arrived, and people are drunker and rowdier. A group of men passes, jostling each other. A bottle of beer falls to the ground and sprays across my legs and feet.

‘Shit,’ I gasp, rubbing my hand over my skin to clear it away.

‘Hey baby,’ one of them says, coming up behind me while I’m bent over, putting his hands on my hips and rubbing his crotch against my ass. ‘You like it like this?’

I straighten up and whip around, my instinct to slap him surging up inside me. ‘Hey,’ a voice says, grabbing my hand before it raises. I whip around, about to unleash on whoever it is, finding Jefferson next to me, looming with his hugeness, his frowning face as intimidating as hell. ‘Is there a problem here?’ he asks gruffly.

The guy backs up, his hands raised in surrender. ‘No problem. Just having a bit of fun.’

‘Yeah, well, have your fun somewhere else. She’s with me.’

‘Yeah. Sure…sorry, man.’

The group stumbles away, laughing loudly, bumping into a group of unsuspecting girls who are probably about to have to deal with the same lewd shit.

‘Thanks,’ I say softly, not pulling my hand away from Jefferson’s grasp. He looks down at me, his gray eyes searching mine.

‘Are you okay? Did he hurt you?’

I shake my head. ‘I’m fine.’

Jefferson is still holding my hand, and he doesn’t seem to want to let it go. ‘Why are you by yourself. Where’s Anderson?’

I tell him that I went to the ladies’ room, and Anderson must have been searching for the rest of them.

Someone walking behind me nudges me with their shoulder, and I’m jostled closer, my breasts pressing against Jefferson’s chest momentarily. His hand grips mine more firmly, so I don’t fall. I’m close enough to smell his cologne, and it’s intoxicatingly fresh like summer rain in an alpine forest. My woozy head breathes him in without shame. I can’t look away. It’s as though he’s hypnotized me and made me weak. All the resolve I had in the bathroom slides away. I lick my lips, and he watches. Jefferson’s lips part, and he draws in a quick breath, his chest expanding.

What would it be like to kiss this man, who believes that there is no hope so deeply he inscribed it on his body forever? This man who uses his tongue like a dagger but steps in without thinking to protect me. Would he be mean in his passion, using harsh fingers to control me? Would his kiss be as overwhelming as I think it would be?

I don’t think it’s me who kisses him first, but I can’t be sure. My mind is foggy and overwhelmed with thoughts, but when his lips meet mine, there is nothing but sharp clarity.

He tastes of danger, of sin, and of wickedness. I’m on my tiptoes, leaning into him, my hand still gripped in his massive palm. His tongue is in my mouth, sliding, sliding, his other hand at my nape grasping a handful of my hair roughly, using the control he talked about in the car.

If we were alone, he’d be inside me in a minute. There’d be no preliminaries, no foreplay to slick his way. There would be no need because I’m already wet as a river; the slip of material between my legs no match for my arousal. He’d fuck me against a wall, one hand gripping my wrists above my head, the other holding one leg behind the knee, opening my thighs wide enough to take him.

Oh God, it’d be good. Raw and painful and perfect. He’d own me, and I’d let him.

But we’re not alone, and as fast as the kiss starts, it ends. He drops my hand like I’ve scalded him, stepping backward, the air suddenly between us feeling cold and empty.

Jefferson looks at me like he doesn’t understand what just happened. Doesn’t know who’s to blame. Doesn’t know what to do.

I touch my bruised lips because I feel like I want to trap his kiss there to save it so that I can remember it when I’m alone in bed later tonight, and he steps back again.

He looks like he wants to say sorry, but it wouldn’t be sorry to me. It’d be sorry to Steve. Sorry to the man who raised him and who made him and his brothers promise to take care of me.

This is not what taking care looks like.

‘Jefferson,’ I say softly, but it’s not audible over the pounding music. His eyes aren’t on me anymore, though. They’re wide and fixed on something behind me.

I whip around, finding Brayson, Anderson, and Carson standing there. Their brows are furrowed, and I know immediately that they saw what happened.

‘Sara…’ Anderson reaches out his hand and cups my upper arm. ‘Are you okay?’

I blink, unsure why he’s asking, and then I realize that what they think they saw was Jefferson taking advantage of me. They weren’t there to feel the electric pull between us or the violent need that rose inside me before our lips even touched.

‘Yes,’ I say quickly before anything else happens here. I don’t want Jefferson to be under attack for something that was both our faults. ‘I’m fine…I’m great. Can we just dance?’

I grab Anderson’s hand as I did before, but this time I take Carson’s too. I don’t have enough hands for all the brothers, but I nod my head in the direction of the dance floor, hoping that the rest will follow. We need to have some fun tonight. We need to forget everything that has happened and paper over the mistakes with more alcohol and dancing.

By the time we’re in the middle of the dancefloor, I realize that Brayson has stayed behind with this twin. Anderson and Carson exchange looks as I start dancing, half my attention on smiling and encouraging them to let themselves go, the other half on watching as Brayson has a heated exchange with his brother.

Shit. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I’d never want to come between brothers. It’s what Maisie had worried about too.

‘This place is amazing,’ I say with as much brightness as I can muster.

‘Jefferson shouldn’t have done that,’ Anderson says.

‘Jefferson didn’t do anything that I didn’t want him to do,’ I say firmly. Anderson’s eyes widen, and he glances at Carson over my shoulders. ‘Look, we’re all drunk and just having a good time. You don’t need to make a big deal about it. Brayson shouldn’t be waving his arms around like that at Jefferson like he’s some kind of predator. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.’ I put my hand on Anderson’s shoulder. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of fun between consenting adults.’

‘Hey,’ a voice says next to me. I turn to find the blonde girl from the bathroom. I pull my hand away from Anderson like I’ve been caught with it in the cookie jar.

‘Hey,’ I say, knowing exactly why she’s here.

‘Wanna dance?’ she asks Anderson.

His eyebrows raise, and he glances at me as though he has no idea what to do next. I nod, and he shrugs, and before my heart can even register the jealousy I’m feeling, he bends down to chat with the girl.

I turn to Carson, who doesn’t hide the confusion on his face. This night is just getting more and more out of control. ‘You okay, Sara?’ he asks as I turn to dance with him and avoid looking at what is happening with Anderson.

I nod. ‘Let’s just dance,’ I say. ‘Let’s just dance.’

And we do. Carson moves just like his twin, which shouldn’t be a surprise. They’re built the same from their bones outward. A different haircut and life’s scars don’t change that fact. His eyes carry the same warmth as his twin’s, leaving behind that same safe feeling.

My stepbrothers are all big and strong and should be intimidating. They’re still effectively strangers too. But I don’t feel any uncertainty when I’m with them, and it’s unusual. I don’t trust easily. I don’t bond easily, so why are things so different with them?

Carson is careful not to come too close. I guess what happened with Jefferson now means I’m being held firmly at arm’s length, and I don’t like it. I turn toward Brayson and Jefferson again and find Jefferson storming away from his brother, back toward the bar and the exit. He can’t be leaving. Not over this. It’s not right.

I stumble away from Carson, cutting through the thronging dancing bodies that keep blocking my path. I’m behind Jefferson but not by much. As he reaches the exit, I’m only a few steps back. I call his name, but the music is too loud, and he’s through and in the parking lot before I can catch up. I burst through the doors, looking left and right, people everywhere. Jefferson is almost to the truck, and this time, when I call his name, he hears me and turns.

‘Wait up,’ I say.

‘Go back inside.’ His face is hard, his gray eyes fierce. He blames me. Of course he does.

‘I’m not going back without you,’ I say.

‘And I’m not going back. I don’t need any of this bullshit.’

I’m closer now. Close enough to see his jaw tick with anger. Close enough to see the pent-up rage in his body. His hands clench into fists, his frustration boiling. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he takes hold of my upper arm, the same fierce grip that he held me with inside the club evident.

‘It doesn’t matter…what happened doesn’t matter. I wanted it,’ I say.

His eyes scan my face, his chest rising and falling with deep fast breaths. He’s coiled as tightly as I’ve ever seen a person, and I know deep in my heart this isn’t just about me. It isn’t just about this crazy push and pull that there is between us. There’s so much more buried deep inside Jefferson that rises up and causes him to lose control.

‘Wanted it…?’ he says, but he doesn’t let go.

‘Yeah. We can…’

That’s the last thing I say before Jefferson’s mouth claims mine, his hands holding onto me so tightly that it feels as though he’s drowning.

And everything spins out of control.