Dragon Island [Dragon Love 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 9

  “Not unless you come up with one.” Anthony felt the same way. He didn’t want to confront her, especially when they’d have to admit to searching her room. But he didn’t know how long he could wait for her to trust them enough to tell them.

  “I say we give her more time. The more she gets to know us and feel comfortable here, the more likely she is to tell us.”

  He hoped Montana was right. But what if he wasn’t? If she didn’t come forward soon, at some point, they’d have to lay their cards on the table. “Fine. For now, we wait.”

  “We need to keep a lookout while we’re waiting for her to talk.” Branson pointed out the window.

  Anthony shifted enough to make his eyesight better. A boat, more than likely a freighter, was a distant dot on the horizon. No human standing in that room would’ve been able to see it that far away. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m willing to bet she didn’t pull off a jewel heist on her own.” Branson’s expression was grim. “And if she didn’t, then her partners are looking for her.”

  “Shit. You’re right. And they’re probably pissed off that she jumped ship and took their loot along with her,” added Montana.

  “Damn it. Not only is she a possible thief”—he still wasn’t ready to believe she was a criminal—“she could be in danger, too.” The twist of his gut grew harder, tighter.

  “Exactly.”

  “Then what do we do?” asked Montana. He straightened, determination showing in the strength of his body.

  “We watch, and we wait,” answered Anthony. “We don’t know what’s going on with her, but I know one thing. No matter what her story is, she’s going to be our mate. I, for one, won’t let anything happen to her, come hell or high water.”

  He could feel the rise of their dragons, their need to protect her stripping away all other concerns. They’d do whatever they could to keep her safe.

  “I’ll take the first watch.” Branson headed for the door. “I’ll get a better look at that ship and keep to the air for the rest of the afternoon. Tell her I had business to attend to.”

  “Good. I’ll take off tonight and do a quick sweep, too.” Montana followed Branson.

  He couldn’t have asked for a better cousin or friend. “And I’ll take the late night. Until then, we keep an eye open even while asleep.” If they had to, they could stay awake for days on end. And if they had to, that’s exactly what they’d do.

  Chapter Seven

  Arielle was having the time of her life. Without thinking, she’d find herself laughing more than she’d ever laughed. Although Branson had been busy taking care of a business matter most of the afternoon, he was back now, lounging in his chair at the dinner table. Anthony and Montana were arguing about a soccer match. She leaned back, enjoying their easy banter and the feeling of being included even when she wasn’t part of their conversation. When had she ever enjoyed a night like this? Would she enjoy many more of them?

  She should’ve pushed them to get her passage off the island. Yet, the longer she stayed, the longer she wanted to stay. Why rush back to a world where she no longer felt safe? Why go when who knew was trying to track her down? Two days had passed since she’d fallen off the ship. Those had been two days of fun and laughter, along with more amazing sex. Why throw it away before she had to?

  She frowned. She’d have to go back soon. Although her parents were deceased and she had no other family, surely her friends would be worried.

  But I don’t want to go home.

  She sounded like a spoiled kid not wanting to leave Disney World. Yet she couldn’t help it. Who wouldn’t love to live this way? Forget the mansion and the island, she’d be happy wherever the men were. Their obvious wealth wasn’t the attraction.

  They were simply great guys. Even if she wasn’t half in love with them already, even if she didn’t hunger for them, lusting after them day and night, she still would’ve felt the same way. Their looks were a part of it, but her attraction to them was built on so much more. There was a deeper connection between them, as though they’d been great friends in a past life and had finally found their way back to each other.

  Friends, my ass.

  Lovers is more like it.

  Did I know them together in the past? Or each man in our own time together? Did I marry one or all of them and lose them tragically?

  The ideas were silly, of course. She didn’t believe in reincarnation, much less that she’d remember the people who had touched her in a different time and place. But then, how did she explain it? Was it love at first sight? Or was it really just plain old horniness that she wanted to be more? Down deep, where it really counted, she knew it was so much more than either one of those explanations.

  Is it fate? Did I go overboard and wind up on their island because it was meant to be?

  She hid her smile, knowing that if she let it show it would be too large, too exuberant for them not to ask her what she was thinking. What could she say without sounding like a girl in a romantic comedy?

  The reality of her situation set in.

  I should tell them about the jewels.

  She’d wanted to so many times during the past days. But she was afraid. What if they didn’t believe her? Could her heart stand to see the disappointment she knew she’d find in their eyes? What if they turned her over to the police? Would she ever see them again? Or would they wash their hands of her?

  So she kept silent. But how long could she do so? How long could she hide out on their island before they started demanding that she tell them how she’d really ended up in the ocean? They were intelligent men, and judging from the questioning looks they sometimes gave her, they knew her story was fake. Yet they’d held back from pushing her. Why? Did they feel something for her? More than simply a fun time?

  “Are you all right, bella?”

  Her gaze shifted to Anthony’s worried one. “Sure. I’m great.”

  “Are you enjoying your time here?”

  “Definitely.” There was a hint of something else behind Montana’s question. Or was it her guilt playing tricks on her?

  “Hey, how about we take this into the game room?” Branson was already on his feet.

  She’d had time to explore the house on her own. Along with all the bedrooms, the place had a game room filled with a pool table, arcade-style games, and a huge screen for the latest video games. She liked that they still liked to play games, proving once again that they still had a little of their boyish nature locked inside them.

  They moved around her, as though keeping her safe, even as they walked from one room to the other. Somehow, they made her feel like one of the gang without losing the feeling that she was a woman. Perhaps, if dreams came true, their woman.

  The billiard table was gorgeous. She’d been around enough of them to know a top-dollar table when she saw it. A mahogany bar, along with leather furniture and hunter green sconces on the walls, screamed man room, but she loved the ambience.

  “How about a game of strip billiards?”

  She was almost as surprised as they were after her impromptu suggestion.

  “Strip pool, huh?” Branson sported a wicked grin. “Sounds like fun to me. But are you sure? It’ll be three against one.”

  “Not really.” She picked up a pool cue and pretended to study it. “Everyone’s on an even playing ground. You miss a shot, you lose a piece of clothing. Simple.”

  “And if we make a shot, you take off your clothes, right?”

  “No way. That really would stack the game against me.”

  “Shit. You’re right.” His grin widened. “Not that I was trying to play you.”

  She feigned shock. “Oh, of course not. You’d never do anything like that.”

  “Let’s think about this first. I’m down with you losing your clothes, but I’m not sure I want to see Anthony’s naked ass.” Montana made a disgusted face. “At least not when there isn’t any sex involved.”

  “Fuck you, man,” joked Anthony. “
It’s not my sorry body that’ll make her hurl.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Wow, Montana. We haven’t even started a game and you’re already conceding defeat? Talk about a lack of confidence.” She shot him a coy look. “Or maybe you’re only being honest. I mean, if you don’t have any game, then you don’t have any game.”

  “Ouch, man. She got you.” Branson moved to the bar, motioned at a bottle of Jack Daniels to offer drinks then started pouring. Once he had four glasses filled, he offered one to her then, after she took it, they downed their shots together.

  “I don’t think she’s fooling around.” Anthony studied her, his eyes narrowing.

  She averted her gaze. If she didn’t, he might guess what she was thinking.

  I’m going to run the table.

  She accepted yet another shot of the fiery liquid. “So, boys, are we going to play or not?”

  Anthony eyes narrowed again. He stared to say something then changed his mind.

  “Rack them up, Branson,” she ordered, not waiting for them to agree. They’d play, all right, and if she had it her way, she’d end up playing with more than the balls on the table.

  Branson got right to it, placing the balls within the triangular rack. Once he had the cue ball in position, he shook the rack then put it a few inches from the short rail. “Who’s going first?”

  “Ladies first, of course.” Where Anthony’s scrutiny had made her nervous before, the tone in his voice confirmed that he was suspicious.

  “Thanks. I don’t mind breaking.” She chalked up her pool cue then leaned over the rail, intending to play it cool. Her shot was less than spectacular, not getting any balls in the pockets, but not scratching the cue ball, either. “Was that okay?”

  “That was great, sugar.” Branson stepped up to take his turn. “You’ll get better with practice.”

  “Really? I hope so.” She eased back to the bar, ready to down another shot while she watched them take their turns.

  Branson’s long body seemed even longer as he leaned over the railing. “Eight ball in the corner pocket.”

  She couldn’t have cared less which shot he made. Her focus was on his firm, round butt perfectly covered with his worn jeans.

  Daaayum.

  She bit her lower lip, saw that Anthony was watching her, and hurried to turn her back to him while she poured yet another shot. Her head was already starting to swim.

  Don’t get too buzzed. You’ve got to win this.

  Still, when she thought about it, either way, win the game or not, she’d still end up with the prize.

  Or should it be prizes?

  She dragged in a long breath and pivoted around to see Montana go for a difficult shot. He missed, let out a low curse, then tugged off a boot. Branson had done the same so that both of them were walking around with one boot off.

  “Your turn, Anthony.” She dared to stare him down.

  His brow furrowed. “Yeah. It is.” Taking his time, he set up his shot, he announced his shot, then sent the ten ball rolling into a side pocket. Two more balls followed until he finally missed. Unlike Montana, he didn’t cuss his luck. Instead, he cupped his hands on top of the cue stick.

  It was her turn. She lined up her aim, very aware that their eyes were on her ass, then took her shot. The ball came nowhere near the corner pocket she’d called.

  “Take off your shirt, babe.”

  She smiled at Montana then slipped off one of her shoes. “Seriously? You think you can get away with taking off a boot, but I’ve got to take my shirt off first? Yeah, right.”

  The game continued with each of them losing their other shoe then moving on to the next easiest piece of clothing. Unlike the men, however, she hadn’t been wearing any socks.

  The game ended with the men without their boots or socks on. She was already down to her underwear.

  “Want to admit defeat?” Branson’s eyes sparkled with both mirth and lust.

  “Nope. Rack them up again.” She did her best to act confidently while standing around in her underwear. Although they’d seen her naked before, it was somehow intimidating to be down to her last two articles of clothing.

  “Fine with me.” Branson started the second game. “But once you blow two more shots, the game’s going to be over.”

  “I understand.” She put on a worried expression. She brightened. “Hey, I have an idea. How about we play without taking off one piece at a time—”

  “Aw, hell. Where’s the fun in that?”

  She held up a finger, silencing Branson. “Instead, at the end of the game, the losers have to strip down to nothing.”

  “Why would you want to play it that way?” asked Anthony.

  She was sure he was on to her. “Because I’m going to win.”

  Branson and Montana chuckled and did a high-five. A slow smile spread over Anthony’s face.

  “Does everyone agree?” She tried not to sound too eager.

  Again, Branson and Montana were quick to agree while Anthony took his time before nodding. “Great. Then let’s get this game going.”

  Montana and Anthony took their turns. She exaggerated her expression even more. “Damn. I didn’t think you guys would be this good.”

  “Uh-huh.” Anthony tilted his head to the side, his strange silver gaze locked on her yet again. He sank two more balls.

  “Good shot. Too bad you didn’t run the table.” She took her time now, being careful to line up the first shot. When she sent it flying with a crack in the air, she sensed the men standing up taller, suddenly aware that her skill level had jumped several levels higher.

  She didn’t give them time to say anything. Instead, she began calling out one shot after another. The balls rolled across the green of the table straight into their designated pockets. In less than five minutes, she had the table cleared.

  Montana let out a low whistle. “Guys, I think we just got hustled.”

  “No shit,” added Branson. But he still had a smile on his face.

  Anthony was already smiling. “I knew there was something fishy going on. Damn. I should’ve known. It’s the oldest trick in the book.”

  She couldn’t hold back her own smile as she sighted the shot and sent the cue ball into the left corner pocket. Trying not to gloat, but loving that her plan had worked out, she straightened up, rubbed the top of her stick, then adopted a cavalier attitude. “I win.”

  “Where the hell did you learn to play like that?” asked Montana.

  “I had an uncle who used to play professionally. Whenever he agreed to babysit, he’d take me down to the local bar and teach me to play.”

  “He took a kid into a pool bar?” Not that Branson was shocked. Instead, he seemed more intrigued than anything else.

  “The owner was a friend of his, so he overlooked the fact that I was only twelve. It was cool with him as long as my uncle kept buying drinks and as long as we played in the rear room where most of the other customers couldn’t see me.” A touch of melancholy hit her. “I really had fun with him. By the time he passed away when I was seventeen, I could already outplay the regulars.”

  “Why didn’t you go pro?” Anthony was no longer viewing her suspiciously. Now his eyes were filled with pride.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “My parents would’ve been mortified to have a daughter who was a pool shark. It’s not the ladylike thing to do, you know.”

  “Screw being ladylike.” Branson came toward her, the look on his face one of blatant hunger. “I can think of another fun thing that isn’t ladylike.”

  She didn’t have to ask him what that was. Instead, she held up her hand, stopping him cold. “Hang on a sec. I won, remember?”

  “Sure, sugar. We know that.”

  “Then start stripping.” She pointed at them with her pool cue. “All of you. Now.”

  “Whoa. Look who turned into the boss.”

  “I won,” she repeated while giving Branson a hard look she didn’t mean. “That makes me the boss for now.�
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  “You heard the lady.” Anthony started with the top button on his shirt. “Get naked, guys.”

  Branson undid his jeans while Montana and Anthony worked on getting their shirts off first. Montana’s shirt went flying, landing on top of the pool table. Since he’d worn a button-up shirt, Anthony was busy undoing the buttons as he tugged the tail of the shirt out of his jeans.

  She swallowed hard as Branson shoved the flaps apart, exposing the fact that he didn’t have on any underwear. Black hair trailed down his mountainous chest, leading the way toward his ridged abdomen. The hair spreading out below hinted at what lay beneath the denim.

  He smiled at her, a knowing glint in his eyes, and instead of dropping his jeans, he pulled off his T-shirt instead. “I can’t say I’m sorry that you won, but you’re not going to just stand there and watch, are you?”

  “Maybe.” She didn’t sound half as confident and in control as she had a few moments ago.

  Three amazing chests rippled with muscles. Tanned skin stretched over hard-packed stomachs. A sprinkling of hair decorated their chests. Lean waists showed the lines coming down to form that sexy vee in front.

  Her fingers ached to skim over their skin. She couldn’t wait to put her lips to their dark nipples. She sighed, uncaring that they had to have heard her. She swallowed again, even harder than before. “Keep going.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” quipped Montana. “Whatever you say.”

  “Whatever I say?” That opened up a world of fantasies.

  “You bet.” Branson strode toward her. Once he was only a foot away, he stopped, his gaze locked to hers. His hands found hers. “Come on, sugar. Take them off me.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat as he put her fingers to his jeans. As though lightning had struck her, her fingers became singed with heat. She would’ve looked down, sure to see her flesh on fire, but that would’ve meant looking away from his hungry eyes.

  Oh God.

  Soft hair tickled her fingertips.

  Oh hell yeah.

  The temperature climbed higher. The air around them crackled as though a storm had suddenly sprung up inside the room. Steam rolled in around them. None of it made any sense. None of it could possibly happen. Yet it had.