“Five years,” I answer quietly. “It’s been five years since we were all together at the same time.”
“We need to fix that.”
“Get some sleep, Royal.”
“Take care of yourself, JD.”
I hang up and stare at the phone, lost in thought until a deep voice startles me into dropping it.
“Royal? Is he one of your brothers?”
“Carter.” I look up in surprise, suddenly anxious. “Yes, he is. I’m sorry, was I too loud?”
He shakes his head slowly, and then my gaze drops from his face and I forget what we were talking about. What call? What brother? I’m too busy staring at the masterpiece standing in front of me to care.
I don’t know how to handle the view I’m getting right now, but I’m glad my new laptop is positioned where it should be. On my lap to hide my latest erection.
He’s basically naked, wearing grey shorts and nothing else. His hair is mussed. His thick thighs, strong arms and hairy chest are visible, and I see a tribal tattoo on his left shoulder, but I can’t tell whether the design is Celtic or Norse. I don’t think it matters. All I know is it is working for me. The longer I look, the more it works, and the more I’m worried I’ll punch a hole right through the keyboard with my dick.
Carter Willis is a full course meal and I’m a starving man. I want to tug on his thick pelt of black and silver chest hair, lick his sculpted muscles and hang on to those mile-wide shoulders as he fucks me right into the wall.
I’m being inundated with images of all the fantasies he’s starred in during the last twenty-four hours. But none of them hold a candle to the reality in front of me.
I pulled away for reasons that made sense at the time. It’s too soon, I’m too vulnerable and his intentions are still too murky. But I’m having a sudden, violent allergy to things that make sense, and I did promise myself I wouldn’t turn him away again. If he made a move.
Make a move, Zeus.
“You wear glasses?” he asks in a deep voice tinged with affection.
I adjust them self-consciously. “Words get a little blurry without them.”
“They look good on you.” He grins. “Though the purple leopard print is unexpected.”
Shitballs. I drag them off my face and fold them, flustered. “My spare. I always pick out crazy designs I’d never be seen in public with. It’s my incentive not to lose my more expensive black frames.”
“Were they broken from…?”
“I don’t think so. But I couldn’t find them when I was packing. Hopefully they’re just misplaced and they’ll show once I get my place cleaned.”
He nods and then glances down at my laptop. “Are you still in pain? Is that why you’re awake?”
“Not at all.” Not in the way he means. My shiner is already fading to sickly yellow with purple accents, and my jaw doesn’t ache nearly as much. My lack of sleep is entirely dick related. I lick my lips and try to form a few more complete sentences without the aid of blood flow to my brain. “I was trying to get some writing done but that went nowhere. I’d given up when Royal called to check in on me.”
“You told him what happened?” He sits down and I’m surrounded by the scent of woods and warm man.
Help.
“My editor spilled the beans, the drama queen.” I shake my head. “We need to have a talk about boundaries tomorrow.”
The worry lines on his forehead deepen. “Why don’t you want your family to know what happened to you?”
“Most of them are on the West Coast, Carter. Why bother them when there’s nothing they can do about it?” He doesn’t look convinced. “We aren’t like Brady and Wyatt’s clan. We don’t spend all our free time together or have dinner every week.”
Family dinners at our house had always been sporadic, and not only because none of us could cook. Between football practices, piano recitals, science fairs, legal briefs and paper grading… It’s really a miracle we ever saw each other at all.
“I heard you say it’s been five years since you were all together?”
“We all have busy schedules, and a handful of us are out of state, so we each go home when we can, which is rarely at the same time. But if I needed them they’d show up fast enough. Heck, if I told Rick and Matilda, they’d end up coming just to lead a protest outside the police station. Get the local news involved. Which is another reason I haven’t called.”
“Rick and… Your foster parents?”
Hell.
“Yes. They raised us.”
“All ten of you.” He still looks stunned by the number. “How did they end up with so many kids?”
It’s been a while since I explained my family to anyone, but for some reason, it feels natural to tell Carter. “That’s my fault. I was their first. They were best friends with my mom and dad in high school and, after they died, Matilda and Rick took me in and gave me a home.”