The Sterling Boys (13 page)

He doesn't have condoms? Dane Sterling, the man with a reputation as expansive as Tag Masters, doesn't have condoms? So this is hell.

"Why?" I ask, coming off accusatory.

He frowns as he looks down at me, and opens his mouth to speak. After a few seconds he closes it and shrugs.

I'm naked, he's in just his boxers, and we're on a bed. There's no turning back. It's not like I can get pregnant—really don't need to think about that right now because I might cry, and that would kill this mood completely.

If this were anyone else, I'd refuse to do this without a condom. But it's Dane. Despite his reputation, I know damn well he's not going to do anything that could put me in jeopardy. If there was a risk of him having something, we wouldn't have even made it this far.

"I'm... on birth control," I say, ignoring the sting of the truth, and making a calculated maneuver to hide my eyes in an effort to conceal my telltale sign of lying. "Is there any other reason you need a—"

My words are cut off when his lips crush mine and deliver a bruising, hungry kiss. Apparently I just said the magic words.

He rustles between my legs, never breaking our kiss, as he removes his boxers. Without any warning, he thrusts inside me. All it takes is one, gloriously rough stroke, and he's buried deep, making that mortifying moan escape me again.

I'll be embarrassed about my inability to show composure some other time. Right now, Dane Sterling is inside me, stretching me, and making me feel as though my world is perfect in this moment.

"I forgot how fucking incredible you feel," he murmurs against my neck, keeping his body still inside me as though he's afraid to move.

I arch my hips, and though it shouldn't be physically possible, he goes deeper, touching a place deep inside me that stirs a belly-clenching reaction. Oh damn. Dane Sterling really doesn't have a fault.

He mutters something about not going to be able to last long, but no words really capture my attention right now. Especially when he starts his rhythmic, rocking motion. Each thrust seems to get even deeper as he pulls back and surges forth. And every time he does it, my girly cries get louder.

I've lost control of my body, my sounds, my volume... everything. I'm his to do with as he pleases, because I truly belong to him.

He tugs my hair, making my head fall back so that he has the perfect angle to kiss me, while his body continues to rule mine, offering nothing but ecstasy. Kissing becomes impossible when my breaths evolve to be erratic and harsh, so I break it off, reveling in his touch as my body writhes beneath him.

The tightening inside me is almost painful in the best possible way. A myriad of emotions and sensations pass through me at once, driving me into the land of divinity as my release comes out epically.

Stars. There really are fucking stars. And the explosions behind my eyelids are announced by my completely foreign scream—a sound I didn't even know I was capable of.

Dane thrusts inside me hard one last time, stilling himself within me as a grunt slides through his lips, followed by a breath of reverence. When he drops to my body, his breaths coat my ear with the sound of hard labor. I'm torn between laughing and crying. Neither are appropriate, but I choose laughter.

He raises up as the bubbling sound slithers free, and he tilts his head, looking a little wounded.

"I really don't know how I did anything funny just then."

That only makes me laugh harder as I wrap my arms around him. So sad. I'm too young to be so crazy.

"You didn't do anything funny," I say through the delirious chuckles.

"I can tell," he mumbles dryly, acting offended.

His brow scrunches in confusion as he adjusts his weight, moving off me just barely, but still keeping me beneath him. My uncontrollable laughter continues, confusing him more.

I honestly think that thread of sanity has just snapped.

"That was... um... wow," I finally say, still giggling a little. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

His smile forms, and he shakes his head while pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You realize this means you're mine. You just sealed the deal."

I'm his. This is surreal.

"And you're mine," I murmur with my goofy grin still spreading, pulling him back down by the neck.

Even though we try to kiss, our stupid smiles make it impossible. Dane Sterling is mine.

DANE

Waking up with Rain's naked body wrapped around me has always been a fantasy of mine. This morning, it's real.

Her blonde hair is splayed across my chest, arm, and pillow, and she's wound around me as tightly as she can get. I'm almost positive this stupid grin of mine is never going anywhere.

She mumbles something in her sleep about children, and then she whimpers, but she breathes me in and settles back into me peacefully almost just as quickly. Her lips look so soft in the mornings, and I happen to know they're just as soft as they look. I could have spent the night pretending we were teenagers.

There's always today.

That thought makes my ridiculous grin grow even bigger.

A scraping sound draws my attention to the door, and the trail of debris we left behind last night springs to mind. I need to get it cleaned up before Rain wakes up and cuts her foot on something.

Why am I still smiling? It's official. I have perma-grin.

Carefully and quietly, I disentangle myself from the girl I've loved since I was thirteen. She's mine. Finally, after the hell I've gone through for the past six years, she's mine.

I kiss her softly on the lips, keeping it light enough not to disturb her, and I'm rewarded by a smile she doesn't even know she's giving me. I just watch her while pulling on a pair of shorts, praying this isn't some elaborate dream.

Without letting the door make a sound, I slip out and head down the hall. The sound of glass scraping against the tile becomes more distinct as I near the kitchen, and I see a wave of platinum blonde hair as Tria sweeps the floor.

"I'll get that," I say while cautiously watching my steps.

She squeals and jerks around, shocked by my presence. This is my house, so why she's so surprised I'm here is beyond me.

"Sorry," I murmur, my brow cocked in amusement.

She covers her chest with her hand while taking a deep breath.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" she asks, her eyes moving down the hallway, probably searching for Rain.

"Nah. I always wake up early."

Messing with my coffeemaker is always a task, but this morning, coffee is already brewing.

"D'you crash here last night?" I ask, grabbing three cups from the cabinet.

"Um... yeah. Sorry. I sort of couldn't drive. Rye offered to take me home, but given how... well, I didn't want to risk doing something stupid, so he put me to bed in here instead."

I laugh lightly while shaking my head. "Rye wouldn't have messed with you if you were that bad off. He's decent enough. He just looks rough around the edges."

She shifts her weight uncomfortably, and then she bends to sweep some of the glass into the dustpan. As she dumps it into the trashcan, she meets my eyes again.

"Is Rain going to be upset that I stayed? I... it's pathetic, but I was actually hoping to talk to her. I... There's something I need to tell her about... something she needs to know about... Never mind. It's... just forget it."

I frown while she turns her back to me and puts the broom and dustpan against the wall.

"What's going on?"

She doesn't look at me or acknowledge that I've asked anything. After a breath, she turns back with a forced smile on her lips.

"It's nothing, Dane. I'm sorry. I shouldn't even be here. We weren't ever really friends. The point was to try and mend things between the two of you, and things seem to be going great. I'm happy about that. Really, I am."

The sadness in her eyes doesn't match her words. I believe she's happy about Rain and me, but there's something wrong.

"Tria." Rain's voice surprises us both.

I turn to see the girl of my dreams wearing nothing but my T-shirt, and I have to shift to make room for the growth in my shorts. She very slowly makes her way farther from me, but I don't want that to happen.

Without any reservations, I make my way to her and lean down, pressing my lips to hers and catching her off guard. She doesn't fight me, and she melts in my arms. Rain is mine, and it's official.

"I should go. Thanks for letting me crash," Tria says softly in an effort to retreat.

She tries to escape as Rain walks toward the coffee. I promised to help Tria mend fences with her sister, and I actually want to do that. I've just been distracted with my own Rain issues.

"Hey, do you think you could come to dinner Friday?" I ask.

She looks from me to Rain's back several times, but Rain doesn't turn around. I can see the defeat in Tria's eyes, and I know she's about to decline, but her phone buzzes in her hand, pausing her answer. Her eyes get wide, and the sound from a video message echoes through the house.

Someone's yelling, but it's all muffled and distorted. Tria is pale, shaking her head as she looks up to Rain. Blonde-haired sisters stare at each other, one looking confused and the other seeming sick.

"Mom's throwing Dad out," Tria says at last. "We should probably—"

"I'll drive you both over there," I interrupt, inwardly cursing Edward.

That son of a bitch has done something terrible to make Eleanor mad enough to kick him out. I should kill him for his timing.

RAIN

Living in denial is apparently not working out for my stepmother right now, considering the quiet, impassive, reserved woman is making the biggest, craziest, wildest scene this part of Sterling Shore has ever seen. In nothing but a pink silk gown and a matching robe, Eleanor is wreaking havoc like the Tasmanian devil.

It'd be comical, if it wasn't my family. Being that it is, well, it's just a little embarrassing.

When Tria got the video message from one of our neighbors, I hurriedly dressed and we raced over here. I'm not even wearing a bra right now, since Dane really did rip it off me. It wasn't salvageable. Tria and I are standing out here in the dresses we wore last night, looking as though we are taking a walk of shame, but that's the least of our concerns. The main focus points are the two lunatics we're related to.

Edward is pleading with Eleanor to stop, but every time she gets her hands on something, she sends it flying toward his head. Reality TV would kill for this show.

Dane is doing his damnedest not to laugh, but every so often a snicker sneaks free. Usually it's when my bastard father catches a well-deserved shot to his head. Eleanor has impressive aim.

"Eleanor, please, honey, don't!" he yells, but she does.

She smashes the window of his BMW with a cast iron skillet on her third swing. That's one severely pissed woman. I've researched bashing windows—for my books, of course—and it's not easy. My hands took a harsher beating than the actual windows because every tool I had vibrated viciously in my grip after each unsuccessful strike.

But Eleanor... that woman is a badass on a mission.

Tria's face is barely showing through the cracks of her fingers as she shields her embarrassment with her hands. I'm sure this is less entertaining to her. Personally, I hope Eleanor beats the hell out of the bastard.

He's cheated on her with every woman that would give him the slightest bit of attention, so I have no idea why she's just now losing it. I would have chopped his balls off the first time I caught him bed hopping.

"Call me
honey
again, Edward. I dare you," Eleanor hisses.

My respect level for her just shot through the roof. Please, God, let her scalp the prick.

"Should we attempt to break them up?" Tria asks timidly, nervously glancing around at all the ritzy neighbors who aren't even bothering to hide their amusement.

People are actually sitting on their front porches, casually sipping their morning coffee and watching as though this is a paid-for event. They'll be jealous of my backstage passes.

"Probably," I mutter dryly.

Neither of us move. Instead, we watch Eleanor storm into the house as Edward mourns his bashed-to-hell BMW. He had that custom made last year. I don't see what's so special about it, but guys and cars have always confounded me.

"You don't have to stick around for this," I grumble, glancing up at Dane apologetically.

Eleanor comes running back out with a stack of dishes in her hands. Like Frisbees, those suckers go flying across the yard, aimed straight at Edward. Dane's laughter roars out as Edward is forced to duck and dodge, but he doesn't escape three of them. One slaps him in the knee, which causes a stumble that leads to him falling and stilling long enough for Eleanor to hit him with two more. One actually catches him in the face, busting his nose and causing a gushing flow of red.

"Baby, you couldn't drag me away from this," Dane says with his entertained grin.

I stifle a smile as Tria snorts out a laugh. Why is she finding humor in this? She adores Edward. After all, she's
Daddy's girl.

This is the worst possible time for this.

I finally get Dane. I had an entire speech planned for this morning.

Step one was to ask him about that damn letter. I want to know why he never came for me, or even mentioned it. And was last night real? Are we really a couple, or was he drunk enough to play with my heart?

Instead of having the answers I need, I've got a bleeding father on the front lawn of a twelve-thousand square-foot home; a stepmother who has lost the path to sanity; and a sister who was comfortable enough to spend the night at Dane's.
That's
another thing we'll be discussing.

If he's serious about us being together, Tria has to go. If he was drunk and didn't mean any of that... I'll be borrowing some of those plates from Eleanor.

"I can't believe no one has called the cops," Tria groans.

People have been waiting on this for years. They wouldn't dare deny Eleanor this moment of madness. She deserves to beat the unholy hell out of the douche.

Edward cries out when he catches another shot to the gut. This time, Eleanor has thrown one of his heavy boots at him.

Suits, shirts, pants... every form of men's clothing is on the lawn, covering up the synthetic sod almost completely. The ocean is within view, but the beach is at least a half-mile hike. This is normally a very quiet, respectable neighborhood. Right now... It's like the Real Housewives uncut version.

"Get the hell out of my house, you sick son of a bitch! And don't you dare come back."

She walks close to him as he barely makes it to his feet, and almost as quickly, he's falling back down to the ground, cupping his balls as Eleanor brings her knee back down from the air. I'm so proud of her right now.

Dane hisses air through his teeth and reflexively covers his own groin, and I earn a few brow raises when I applaud Eleanor's finale.

She stalks away, and the front door slams hard enough to rattle the glass around it. Dane chuckles lightly as Edward makes it up onto his knees, rocking back and forth as though he's close to vomiting. I'm tempted to go kick him while he's down—literally—but I decide against it.

He looks up at us and releases a harsh breath, and then his eyes roam around the very curious neighborhood that he has woken up to watch the craziness. After a long few minutes of collective, awkward, and judgmental silence, the snake slithers into his smashed up car and drives away, never uttering a word to explain himself.

"Dane, you can go. Tria and I probably need to go check on Eleanor and find out what the asshole did."

He frowns as he laces his fingers with mine. "I'd rather stay. She might need something, and I can be the fetch-it boy while you all talk."

Now's not the time to be grinning and openly falling putty to him, but he makes it impossible not to. Eleanor. First I have to concentrate on Eleanor.

We make it to the house, and Dane's hand never leaves mine. Tria pushes through the door, eyeing the path of destruction in front of us. And I thought Dane and I made a mess.

The house looks like a tornado breezed through. Even the walls have cracks, as though the battle started in here and ended up on the lawn. Lamps are broken, light fixtures are barely hanging on, and rugs are crumpled and left in disarray.

Laughter finds us—loud, delirious, hysterical laughter, and Tria and I exchange a look of concern. Eleanor has seriously lost it.

We follow the sound to the den, which is just as wrecked as the rest of the house. The coffee table is broken in two, which is curious, since that wood is hella thick. And three of the giant floor-to-ceiling windows have been shattered, probably from where Eleanor threw things through them.

Poor Eleanor is sitting on a couch and laughing crazily while ripping up pictures, tossing the shards to the ground like confetti.

"Mom," Tria says cautiously, approaching her mother like she's a rabid animal.

Eleanor looks up from her task, but only long enough to see us. She shakes her head while resuming her task, her laughter not easing even a little. Her hair looks as though she hasn't brushed it in days, and her eyes have bags under them, painting her years of sleep deprivation with their black circles.

"That bastard won't have a damn cent when I'm done with him," she says through her cackles. "I made him. I can ruin him!"

She laughs harder, and I look up to Dane, possibly seeking his help. I'm not sure if I want his help or his protection, to be honest. The Mad Hatter has pulled a body switch with Eleanor.

"Mom, what happened? What'd he do?" Tria asks softly, still afraid to get too close.

I start to worry that Eleanor is going to hyperventilate when her giggles become almost painful. If you've ever witnessed someone laughing, you kind of can't help but laugh, too, even if you don't know what's so damn funny. So I laugh, as does Dane.

Tria works really hard not to, but she can't help it. Eleanor is infecting us with her hysteria. I'm starting to worry there is biological warfare going on, and someone has released laughing gas into the house.

"The stupid asshole. He's cheated on me... for years, and the... bastard had... the audacity to apologize," she says through her theatrical heaves of laughter.

O...kay...

"He cheated on you again?" I ask, my laughter slowly fading.

Tears are streaming down her face as she loses her breath from the ungodly outburst she's having. Not one of those tears seems to be mourning for the loss of her marriage. She's just laughing so hard that it's forcing tears out. Unbelievable.

"Again," she heaves, cackling. "Oh, sweet Rain, he cheats on me with someone new every year. But the bastard knows better than to do that shit in my bed. He has his own fucking room."

Okay... this is so weird. And Eleanor said
fucking
. Who is this crazy lady wearing my stepmother's skin?

"So he screwed a girl in your bed?"

I really don't know how to broach this.

"And now I have crabs!" she says through even louder hysterical laughter.

Wow... So did not see that coming, and I wish I had bleach for my brain.

Dane coughs and turns away to hide his laughter, taking quick strides and abandoning me as he makes his escape. I can almost picture him running far away from here. What a great way to start our relationship—or what I think is a start.

My stepmother announcing her crab infestation is not a morning time conversation. I need liquor to endure this.

Involuntary laughter attacked me after epic sex with the guy of my dreams, and poor Eleanor is cursed with the inability to stop laughing after catching crabs... Maybe they're on to something with the whole
nature versus nurture
thing.

"He fucked her in my bed, and the bitch left her crabs on my sheets. The son of a bitch didn't even have the maid change my sheets. I haven't had sex in ten years, and now I have crabs!"

She wheezes when her hysterical laughter steals her breath, and Tria and I both squirm uncomfortably. Damn you, Dane Sterling, for leaving me.

I finally go to sit down, even though I choose the other couch—far away from the woman who is now doubled over, clutching her side as her body shakes. Tria wisely stays away from her, too, and sits down beside me.

The woman I've rarely seen break is a mere hull of herself as she sips scotch this early in the morning.

"Want one?" she asks, swirling her glass of amber liquid.

Great. Now the Mad Hatter wishes to have a tea party.

"Um, Eleanor, should we go to the drugstore or something?" I ask as Tria sits there, not really helping me out very much.

"No," she says while swatting away the question. "Melanie is on her way with all I'll need. I just told her to give me a while to take out the trash."

Aunt Melanie is coming over? Good. She'll make sure Eleanor is taken care of.

"Is that really why this happened? Or is it because of what I told you?" Tria asks.

Since we've been here, she's been quiet. Now that I'm paying attention, I see regret in her eyes.

Eleanor's laughter completely ceases as she straightens her back and rolls her shoulders.

"This is a mountain of things, Tria. What you told me might have fueled the fire, but it didn't light the match. I should have left that bastard years ago."

So it's not just about getting crabs?

"What's going on?" I don't particularly like always feeling out of the loop.

Tria sighs while leaning back, and Dane comes in carrying a tray of breakfast sandwiches. He winks at me as he sets the tray down, and Eleanor smiles up at him.

"Come on, Dane. Sit down beside Rain. It's about time you came around again. Always thought the two of you would be married by now," Eleanor blurts out, forcing me to cough on the surprise.

Dane just chuckles lightly, not seeming as rattled. Fortunately.

He sits down on the other side of me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. Any other guy would be gone by now. What a crazy morning.

"What's going on?" I ask again, looking to Tria for answers since she seems to know them.

She worries her lip for a moment, and then she releases a weary breath.

"Mom found out that I knew she wasn't my birthmother."

What the hell rabbit hole did I fall through this morning? I should have known it was too good to be true that Dane Sterling is mine. This is an alternate universe or one elaborately fucked up dream.