Too Strong: Hayes Brothers Book 4

MY PHONE PINGS when I get into my car outside college. Cody and Colt left a moment ago, but I’m still digging through my jam-packed trunk, looking for my jacket.

It’s too chilly today. December’s barely started, and already no longer t-shirt-only weather.

I finally find it, rolled into a ball under a case of beer at the very back of the trunk. It looks like something a dog chewed up and spat out, creased in every direction.

It’s too cold to care.

I slam the trunk, not wanting to stare at the mess there any longer. I should probably clean it out one day before rats start nesting in the bags of Halloween decorations. Well, not decorations, mostly trash—cobwebs, paper bats, lanterns… even a few destroyed cardboard tombstones.

I jump behind the wheel and open the Hayes brothers’ group chat, surprised I’m the first to see Theo’s message. Everyone else must be either working or driving.

Theo: Water broke. Pick up Ares. Talk later.

His messages are usually the longest, but given the circumstances, I’m not surprised he kept the word count to a minimum. I bet he’s having a coronary, fussing around Thalia, and panicking they won’t reach the hospital on time.

Me: Deep breaths, bro. You’ve got this. Keep us posted. I’m on my way to grab Ares.

Another message arrives as I’m about to lock the screen.

Logan: Breathe with her. DON’T FAINT, and remember she’s the one in pain, so don’t be a fucking pussy.

Nico: Call me if you need a punching bag, errand boy, or anything else.

Theo’s not reading this, probably halfway to the hospital by now, talking Thalia through her contractions. I tuck my phone away, ignoring the new messages, and dial Vee’s number as I pull out of the parking space.

“Hey,” she whispers, “I’m still at work. Can I call you back?”

“I’ll make it quick. I’m picking you up after your shift, and we’re going to the beach. You got a jacket with you, or should I grab you a hoodie? It’s cold today.”

“Yes, I have a jacket.”

“Good. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

She whispers “Bye,” then cuts the call at the same time I hear an overdoor bell sound in the background.

Ten minutes later, Ares almost tackles me to the ground as I enter Theo and Thalia’s house. He’s whining, jumping, trying to lick my face off, clearly confused about what’s happening.

The house looks mostly intact, but it’s lucky I came. Soup simmers on a low heat, the air tinged with the mouth-watering smell of manestra: a tomato and orzo soup. Probably my favorite Greek dish from everything Thalia makes.

Looks like she was making dinner when labor started.

A puddle on the kitchen floor proves me correct. She spilled water or tea, I tell myself, mopping it up. I turn the hob off, put ingredients for what looks like a roast back in the fridge, and load the dishwasher. Once nothing seems out of place, I open the cabinet where they store Ares’s food.

“Wow, your mommy was ultra-prepared for this, wasn’t she?” I pat Ares on the head, rummaging through an overnight bag she prepared with essentials.

After triple-checking the house is locked, I let Ares take the back seat in my car, and forty minutes later, he’s lying beside Vee on the beach, ears perked, clever eyes watching the waves frothing at the shore.

The sun hid behind a thick, gray blanket of clouds while I waited for the barista to finish our coffee order, and the temperature dropped another few degrees.

“I think it’ll rain,” Vee says, enfolding herself tightly in her jacket when I sit down, handing her a steaming cup of caramel latte. “We should get going.”

“Afraid of a little rain?” I ask, watching the waves loom higher and stronger. “I’ve not kissed you in the rain yet.”

She hides her smile behind the takeout cup. “So romantic.”

“I watched The Notebook.”

It was fucking dreadful.

Mainly because I watched it with my brothers. Their commentary could rival the best stand-up comedians. Sounds fun, right? It usually is, but when their pokes and prods are aimed at me, they get annoying after an hour or so.

I’m not a movie person by default. I prefer spending my time with people or getting shit done, but Vee mentioned it’s her favorite movie, so I sat through two hours of wet Ryan Gosling.

“Well, it’s officially raining,” she says, holding her hand out to catch the spaced-out drops falling from the unbroken, steely clouds. “Kiss me and let’s go.”

I set my coffee aside, drilling the bottom of the cup into the sand, then lean over Vee, covering her small frame with mine. Shielding her eyes from the rain that starts falling heavier, she beams, perfectly relaxed.

Crawling a little higher to stop the rain hitting her face, I watch those gorgeous pale gray eyes look up at me with so much trust… so much wonder. She’s finally beginning to feel everything I feel.

And I feel unhealthy, sick, red-flag things. It wasn’t as prominent before, but my obsession grows tenfold every day. Each tiny detail I discover about her adds a layer of possessiveness to my territorial mind.

The cupid bow of her full lips is my favorite part of her body. Or maybe those silver eyes. Or the tiny freckles dotting her nose. Smooth, soap-scented skin…

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, her voice barely audible and almost swallowed by the downpour soaking my jeans right through.

“I can’t get enough,” I say, sealing her lips.

A rush of endorphins ignites my mind right on cue. Slowly, I lick along the seam of her mouth, loving how it parts for me, her hot tongue tangling with mine.

And that little whimpering, moaning sound escaping her… the best in the world.

I move one hand to her jaw, steering her face to sink deeper and draw another sweet little mewl.

She pushes her hands under my clothes, scraping long nails along my ribs and shoulder blades, putting enough pressure to let me know she wants me closer.

Wet sand mats her hair, dancing around us under the attack of heavy raindrops. We should get going. The downpour won’t ease off anytime soon, and I don’t want Vivienne to catch a cold.

Maybe a small one. A slight fever, stuffed nose, and scratchy throat. Enough that she’ll stay in my bed, curling into my chest for a few days.

“We should go,” I whisper, nudging her nose with mine. As tempting as having her body warming me all night sounds, she wouldn’t stay. “C’mon, baby, you’re cold.”

Her hands slide under my clothes to my shoulders, dragging me back down. “Just one more.” She lifts her head off the sand high enough to reach my lips.

I lose it on the fucking spot. Knowing she wants me as much as I want her has my cock almost splitting my zipper and my heart squeezing like a sponge.

Have I mentioned I’m fucking obsessed with this girl? Falling hard, fast… I don’t want to stop.

I want everything she can give me. Everything my brothers have with their girls, and so much more. Her hand in mine, her body tight against mine at night. Morning kisses and cuddles on the couch. I want the light. The love…

And all the depraved things infecting my mind.

I want her tied to my bed, begging for my touch. I want her panting my name while blood rushes to her face from my fingers around her delicate throat, driving her pleasure sky high as they constrict her breath. I want her ass in my lap, my hand streaking down over again until she’s so wet she’s dripping onto the floor.

I want to fucking own her.

In and out.

Day and night.

And I want her to own me.

She already does, but she has no idea how much power she holds. How quickly she could ruin me.

I kiss her forehead first, letting my warm lips dawdle on her cool skin, every ounce of emotion compressed into that innocent kiss.

Then, I slide my jacket off and pull it over my head, creating a small tent as I weasel between her legs, pressing into her hard. I’m rewarded with a strained moan. Her hips arch against me, eyes fall shut, and she throws her head back, exposing her neck in silent invitation.

I accept. I kiss, bite, and suck a spot above her pulse the way she loves until she whimpers.

Her body’s a pool of knowledge.

She might whisper her thoughts, but her pleasure, likes, and dislikes scream through her gestures. I kiss a special button in the crook of her neck and rise on my elbows, watching the magic happen.

Her nipples harden, peeking through the fabric of her bralette and t-shirt. When I first found this special button, I thought she didn’t wear a bra. She does, just not a standard one. More like a short, tiny top that keeps those beautiful boobs in place.

It does nothing to hide her arousal, though. Nothing in the way of her nipples rising in two candy-hard points.

“So fucking beautiful,” I say, watching her lips fall apart as I press my hips forward.

Not to let her feel how much I want her. That’s a given. I do it because her body cries for it. It’s in her every touch, every moan, every pirouette of her hips.

She’s in the moment, not overthinking, guided by need, and that’s how I want her always.

“Someone could see,” she says, eyes blinking up at me. “We’re in public.”

Someone could see, but her tiny smile playing tells me she likes that thrill. We’re cloaked under my jacket, the makeshift tent giving us a false sense of privacy because we can’t see anything but each other.

We’re shielded, as if in bed under the comforter, getting hot and bothered like we’re sixteen, experimenting for the first time.

Instead, we’re on the beach. Exposed. In clear view from the pier and the coffee shop nearby. Anyone paying attention, anyone wandering past, would immediately know we’re basically fucking with our clothes on.

“Then push me off you.” I lower myself back on her, chest to chest.

I skitter my lips to her ear, my warm breath raising goosebumps in its wake. We’re moving. Slowly building the moment, getting lost in each other, heating up from the inside out even though our clothes are soaked.

“Do you want me to stop, baby?”

“No, no, don’t stop.”

I grip her knee, moving her leg high enough that she hooks it over my ass. “Dirty little thing.” I lick her earlobe. “You want me to make you come right here for everyone to see, don’t you?”

And I will.

Fuck, I will.

The sky cracks above us. An almighty roar of thunder explodes with the force of an H-bomb, sounding like a fighter jet crashed into the pier.

The wind howls in our ears as the storm ferments over Newport Beach, gaining strength by the second, air thick with saltwater and ozone. We’re in for a fucking hurricane, I can already tell.

Time to go.

Ares yelps, his big claws digging into my jeans, not far off ripping the fabric as he paws my thigh.

I can’t see the lightning bolt tearing through the clouds, but a bright-white strobe breaches the makeshift tent like a camera flash, and in an instant, Vee’s frozen in place.

Motionless.

Pale.

Silently hysterical.

Her lips part like she’s screaming, but no sounds escape. Gorgeous, wide eyes brim with tears, a helpless look contorting her features. Long nails pierce the skin of my back, and her body trembles beneath me…