Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,142

you were here at my place anyway,” I ask, peering up at him.

“I sent K. a picture of my bike a few weeks back. They tried the doorbell at my place. When I didn’t answer, they walked around the property to check it out and saw my bike beside your porch.”

“Why is it there?” Last time he returned home on the bike, he parked in the grass to the right of my porch, near the edge of the enclosure fence rather than in the driveway.

“Long story,” he says, arching his brows.

I give him a skeptical look.

He leans down to kiss my lips. “Mine,” he murmurs.

I can’t help it. He’s so freaking sweet and handsome. I lace my fingers through his curls and sigh, then groan and nip at his chin. “Okay. I guess…”

He grins.

“But only because you do bad things to me.”

That makes him throw his head back and chuckle. “Gwen…”

He takes my hand and kisses it, then lets it go and turns a circle, eyes scanning the floor.

“Footboard.” I nod at a shirt of his that’s draped there.

“Ah. Thank you.” His voice is soft and kind of polite. I smile, thinking how adorable he is. He grabs the hunter green shirt and pulls it over his head, and I drink in his glorious body.

I guess he can tell I was lusting after him after he surfaces, because he grins. “You’re a dirty little Piglet.”

“Told you I needed a shower,” I shrug.

He laughs. “You’re not nervous…?”

“Yes! Of course I am, you goose.”

“Don’t be nervous. They’ll love you.” His voice is soft and low as he grabs my hand. “You want to grab breakfast somewhere? I know you didn’t expect anyone.”

“Yeah, sure.” I smile for him, for once. “And mi casa, su casa. Is that right?”

“Su casa es mi casa, sus osos son mis osos. Soy tu oso. Que me ama, te amare.”

“Was that for real?” I gape.

He laughs again, a soft punch of sound.

“I don’t know much Spanish. I took French in school.”

He kisses my head. “Piglet.” His hand comes to my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

I grab some boots and socks, and also my phone. Barrett squeezes my hand as we walk through the living room.

“Don’t worry,” he says gently.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders, making me feel safe and sheltered. Then he pulls the door open and I behold our guests.

I’m not sure which face is more surprising to behold. My eyes go from the blond, tanned version of Barrett to the stunning brunette and back to the guy as everyone smiles, talks, and grabs for each other all at once.

The girl reaches for Barrett, leaving me face-to-face with his brother. Ever awkward, I murmur, “You look like Barrett. Sort of.”

The guy smiles, and I feel slightly warm. Magnetic: that’s the way his face is. His smile is beautiful, like Barrett’s, and his face, like Bear’s, is chiseled, classically handsome. He’s got Barrett’s gorgeous man lips and, like Barrett, sports something between stubble and a light beard. Which only enhances his great looks.

But where Barrett’s skin is creamy, Kellan’s is tan. Where Bear’s hair is curly and dark, Kellan’s is slightly wavy, golden blond. This guy’s eyes are blue like Bear’s, but they’re more ocean blue than gray-sky blue. His eyes are kind, his smile is white. His eyes are brighter, I think, as he reaches for my hand. He looks more peaceful than Barrett.

I feel a streak of hurt at that thought, and shift my gaze down to our clasped hands. After just another millisecond of me taking in brother’s wide shoulders and tall, slim build, I turn my gaze to his girl—Cleo.

And two things happen really fast. The first: my heart squeezes in an aching, awful way—because she’s seriously breathtaking: wavy, shoulder-length dark hair and wide, green eyes. Her brows are flawless; her cheekbones are high and delicate; her lips, less full than mine but perfectly shaped, now pulled into a pretty smile.

For half a second, I’m swamped by raw inadequacy. Then she lunges for me, pulling me into a hug—or trying to. Barrett’s arm is still around me, though, so when she pulls me toward her, I don’t move. Cleo stumbles forward, and seconds later, we’re all laughing.

Her laughter is ridiculous: almost a howl.

I grab Cleo by the shoulders just as Barrett’s heavy arm releases me, so she and I end up wobbling comically into each other.

Her face is right in mine; her light, fragrant perfume fills my nose as my stomach rolls. My face is