Page 6 of Brothers' Brat
CHAPTER 5
HUDSON
The snow muffles our steps as we trudge up to the cabin. "Looks like it's just Dad," I mutter, scanning the expansive driveway with only a lone black F-150 that must still be warm because the snow is melting as soon as it lands on the shiny exterior. It's Christmas Eve, so the driveway should be lined with cars. Our extended family should have been here earlier in the day, long before the flakes started to fall.
"Maybe they couldn't make it through the blizzard." Hayden's voice is flat and he might as well have used air quotes. I'm too annoyed and frustrated to argue with him about how bad the roads were or weren't.
"Or maybe they didn't want to deal with you two," Leila quips, her sass cutting through the heavy silence. She's defrosted since the car ride, her cheeks flushed from the heat or maybe it's an after-effect of how far my cock was shoved down her pretty little throat. My dick jumps at the memory. That's the thing about our sister, nothing is ever enough. I'm ready for round two.
My brother's hand closes around Leila's throat, quick and commanding. She gasps, a sound caught between surprise and something darker. My own hands betray me, moving to her, skimming over fabric until they find the soft give of her skin beneath. Her breath hitches as I cover her, a possessive caress that both calms and claims. Hayden glares at her but doesn't utter a word.
"Behave," I whisper against her ear, my fingers meticulous as I button her blazer to cover her torn blouse. "Dad doesn't need to see this… unless you want to be punished in front of him." Her muscles relax under Hayden's grip and my touch, showing us her submission without a fight. We're tiring her out, and I have mixed feelings about that, and I don't have time to explore them.
"That's what I thought," I say, pressing a kiss to her slender neck and breathing in her sweet scent deeply. God, she's intoxicating. Addicting. No matter how much of herself she gives us, it'll never be enough.
When we finally step inside the cabin, heat hits us in the face. The door thuds closed behind us, and despite the empty cabin, it's decked out for the holiday with garland and lights strewn all around the expansive wood beams.
"Cozy," Hayden remarks dryly, his voice bouncing off the wooden walls. "Dad must have had his flavor of the week decorate just for us." I don't respond, but Hayden and I are on the same train of thought. The fact that the three of us are here alone has nothing to do with the weather. This meeting was by the grand design of Royce Hillcrest, who, to be fair, told Hayden and me that if we didn't get things sorted with Leila, he would intervene.
My eyes scan the cabin, and I can hear the flickering flames from the wood stove. It roars with life, crackling and popping. Hayden ducks through the doorway that leads to the kitchen, trying to see if Dad is anywhere to be found.
"Seems like Dad's made himself comfortable," I say, keeping my tone even, but I look over at Hayden, trying to decide if we need to get back in the Jeep and head back to school. Dad's tired of our bullshit with Leila, and I don't know what he has planned, and at this point, it's a fifty-fifty shot if I'm going to like it.
Leila is keyed into what we're thinking because her sudden silence is a stark difference from what she was like back at school. Our sister's eyes dart around the room, perhaps looking for an escape route. I wouldn't be surprised if we end up having to chase her through the fucking forest in a snowstorm to round out the evening. I see her bite her bottom lip before she quickly recovers, masking her emotions.
I reach down, my fingers finding hers, intertwining with a deliberate gentleness. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and absolutely incredulous, as if she's questioning my intentions.
All I can do is squeeze her hand, and her fingers involuntarily flex as if she wants to hold onto me too. That passes quickly, and she tries to shake my hand away. I squeeze harder, narrowing my eyes as I look down at her. I want this. I need this right now.
"Really, Hudson?" There’s a tinge of defiance in her whisper, and something about that makes me feel better about how I've treated her tonight.
I frown, squeezing her hand and then letting my thumb run over the ridges of her knuckles. "Just let me," I whisper. My touch isn't meant to be possessive, not this time. It's a plea, silently asking her for something deeper.
"Is this part of your game? Trying to get me to drop my guard?" Her voice quivers, betraying her bravado.
"Leila, you know it's not just a game," I say, my words barely audible above the crackling fire. My heart hammers against my chest, but I keep my outward composure solid. I know Hayden needs her the way I do, but I'm not sure how he'd feel about what I'm doing right now. We don't show Leila gentleness, at least not in front of each other, but right now, this is what I need from her.
"Could've fooled me," she shoots back, but there's no real fight in her voice, just resignation.
"Listen—" My throat tightens around the word, my anger at her defiance warring with the hunger that pulses through me every time I'm near her. She starts to speak again, but I cut her off. "Shh." I press my finger to her lips, silencing her protests. Every cell in my body screams for contact from her. I want to lose myself in her right now even if she doesn't believe it's genuine. The more she fights me, the more I rage, so I'm trying to keep both of us calm. The more worked up I get, the quicker Hayden will join in. "Let's just wait for Dad," I say, my voice low, hoping she hears the layers beneath the words, the need that goes beyond what she thinks this is.
"Fine," she concedes, her gaze dropping to where our hands are joined. Her fingers relax, fitting against mine like missing puzzle pieces.
"Thank you," I breathe the words, more to myself than to her. For a brief moment, the craving subsides, replaced with the comfort of my sister's touch. But it's fleeting because deep down, I know the truth. Leila may never love me, may never love Hayden, the way we need. And that realization is a sharp cut to the heart.
"He's in the living room, and he looks fucking pissed," Hayden says gruffly, walking back into the room. I don't miss the way his eyes shoot to Leila's hand in mine. I'm not sure what I expect. Jealousy? The only thing I see in his eyes is desire, and though he's never told me as much, I know he likes watching me with our sister.
Silently, we move into the living room, and Leila tries to pull away from me when we see our father standing rigid by the window, a glass of dark liquid in his hand. He'll turn around and greet us when he's good and ready, and I can only imagine how bad he's going to chew our asses out. I frown down at my sister, the gesture tugging at something hollow inside me. My thumb traces circles on her hand, soothing both her and the beast within me that craves her in every way imaginable.
"Stop looking at me like that," I tell her, anger simmering below the surface. It's a battle to keep my tone even, to not let her see how deeply she affects me.
"Like what?" Her voice is softer now, less certain.
"Like I'm just your tormentor." The admission burns in my chest, and I suppose it's a confession of sorts. I want her in ways that can't be sated by force or fear, and unfortunately for the three of us, those are the only tactics Hayden and I know.
"Isn't that what you are?" She doesn't pull away, but her words sting like a slap.
"Sometimes…" My grip tightens before I force myself to ease up. "But not always."