“Storm,” I demand, but he’s already turned around.
Rebel snags his jeans. He shoves one powerful leg after the other into the pants and drags the material over his biteable ass. Bending down he claims a kiss that makes seductive promises.
I grab a fistful of his shirt when he starts to straighten. “Ready for what?”
“Hollywood,” Owen interrupts impatiently.
“Owen.” I glare at his back. “Ready for what?”
“A little bonding excursion,” he says.
“The last time you took my man on a bonding excursion he nearly drowned in the pit, so forgive me for not trusting you with him.”
“He’ll be fine,” Owen says.
“I’m going to need more than that,” I say. “Promise me you’ll bring him back to me safe and sound, no, in the same state that you took him in.”
“This is how your brothers finally accept me,” Rebel says. “Don’t worry. I’ll be safe.”
“Owen,” I insist.
“I promise, little. Nothing will happen to your man.”
“Go back to the house. Get some sleep.” Rebel lifts my chin and sneaks another kiss. “When I get back, I’m going to curl around you so tight.”
“You better.” I uncurl my fingers from his shirt before I address my brothers. “God help you all if you don’t bring him back in one piece.”
“We promise.” Owen shows me both his hands then glares at Storm. “She won’t believe you until you show her yours too.”
Storm lifts his hands and wiggles his fingers. “See? Nothing crossed this time.”
The four of them leave and I get up and get dressed. Something about the way my brothers are acting is rubbing me the wrong way.
I mull this over as I head back to the barn to check on the party and the bride-to-be.
I’m still on edge from running into Kurt and Travis earlier and that’s making me hypervigilant. There’s also the fact that it’s never nothing when it comes to my brothers. But they seem to have come to some kind of understanding with Rebel, so I’m staying out of it.
I have my own trouble to get into.
I hate that I let Kurt and Travis get to me earlier. I hate that I’ve always felt like there’s nothing I can do. But not anymore.
They’re the assholes. Someone needs to teach those boys a lesson.
34
Ivy
Rogue sits with his legs spread, and me on his lap. Both arms around my waist, he holds me close while Lincoln shows off on the bull. He’s six foot three of solid muscle in nothing but a pair of washed-out denim jeans and hooded eyes.
“He’s good.” The way he pushes his shoulders back and squeezes the bull with his thighs, it’s obviously not his first try.
“He had to learn for that cowboy movie he did.” Rogue adjusts his position under me when I wiggle. Balancing me sideways on one leg, he stretches out the other in front of mine. “I don’t think he needed to strip, though.”
“It’s only his shirt.” Who cares what Lincoln Landry looks like? The sexy man I’m looking at is the one who gives me butterflies. And tingles.
“Enjoying the party, baby?” He wraps his hand around my nape and applies the sweetest pressure. The knots dissolves with small circular motions.
Tonight was meant for relaxing and spending time with the people we love, and after how busy we’ve been these past few weeks, it does feel wonderful to unwind before we get into hardcore wedding mode tomorrow. “So much.”
