Page 23 of My Ex's Billionaire Brothers

HUNTER

I standunder the motel shower, letting the forceful spray of hot water cascade over my shoulders and down my back. I thought cheap motels were notorious for their water pressure, but Delaware continues to defy traditional logic.

Steam curls around me, clouding the plastic curtain. I close my eyes, trying to focus on the steady hiss of water rather than the images that insist on creeping into my mind—images of Anya. Her curves, the slope of her waist, the softness of her lips.

Of course, I fail miserably at banishing those thoughts. Instead, I picture her pressed against the motel kitchenette, arching her back under Gage’s firm hand, or leaning over the rail outside with Theo. I saw them out there last night, thanks to the curtains not being pulled tight.

I would never let her out of my sight if she were mine.

The water drums against my neck, but even that rhythm can’t drown out what I feel. I take a few unsteady breaths, bracing my hands against the tiled wall. My thoughts drift to her brighteyes, her uncertain laugh, the way she bites her lip when she’s nervous.

With a ragged sigh, I let my hand slide down my chest, allowing my imagination to wander. I picture Anya alone with me, the softness of her body, the breathy sounds she might make if I coax every ounce of pleasure from her.

A dollop of conditioner for lube, I let out a low groan,needpulsing through my balls. Her name forms on my lips in a hushed whisper as I seek release with every stroke. Desire crackles along my spine, and for a handful of moments, I let myself sink into fantasy—her hair twisted in my hands, her curves pressed against my front, her sweet sighs in my ear.

Heat pulses through me, throbbing down low, sending a jolt of electricity across my nerves until it hits, stealing my breath in ragged pants. I finally shudder, head hanging forward, letting the water sluice away the proof of my need.

Geta grip, Hunter.

Just had one, thanks.

If I were any kind of gentleman, I’d keep my distance until she sought us out for more. But I’m not a gentleman. Never claimed to be.

Eventually, I shut off the faucet and grab a thin motel towel, rubbing it briskly over my skin. All the while, my mind keeps circling back to Calvin, no matter how much I want to cut him from my thoughts.

How the fuck did he reject that delightful creature?

I dress quickly in black boxer briefs and a clean T-shirt. My reflection in the tiny mirror above the sink glints back at me—mybuzzed hair still beaded with droplets, the scars on my knuckles faintly visible. I let out a slow exhale, remembering the many teenage fights that gave me those scars. I’ve always protected the people I care about, but I took things too far back then.

And I care about Anya. I might not have Theo’s long-standing crush on her that he tries to hide, but I find myself caring about her more than I should. It’s funny—he’s usually so determined to stop me and Gage from making asses of ourselves with girls and now he’s the one with his heart in his eyes. Thinks he’s so suave, but I know him too well for him to hide his crush from me. The night we met her, he could barely make eye contact with her. It’s been a struggle for him ever since. Until this road trip.

I am a hundred percent certain that’s why he demanded to do all the driving. It gives him a reason to avoid eye contact. The man has tells.

Gage, on the other hand, keeps putting it out there. If Anya were more experienced, she’d see he’s practically got a cartoon heart floating over his head whenever she’s around. The man is not subtle. He’s still a growly beast of a man, but it was Beauty who tamed the Beast, wasn’t it?

My thoughts circle back to her. Anya has an air about her—vulnerable, but somehow strong. Shy enough that she blushes at the slightest hint of flirtation, yet she’s teetering on the brink of something wild with us. What’s that old saying? Not fragile like a flower, but fragile like a bomb. And she’s ready to go off.

It makes me want to wring Calvin’s scrawny neck. That lousy bastard never had any idea what he had in his hands. His loss, our gain.

Temporarily.

By midmorning, we pack up the SUV and head back onto the highway. We have hours of driving to reach our next stop in North Carolina, a middle-of-nowhere town whose only notable attraction, from what I can tell, is a Waffle House and a motel chain. I’m in the passenger seat this time, my feet propped on the dashboard while Theo drives. Gage occupies the back, giving Anya the middle row to herself.

About halfway through the drive, I notice Anya sigh heavily as she stares down at her phone. Her face clouds over, her soft mouth twisting into a frown. Something in me bristles.

“You okay?” I ask, twisting in my seat to look at her.

“Yeah, just…” She grimaces, tapping the screen. “Calvin texted me. He’s mad.”

“Mad about what?” Gage says, leaning forward, resting his arms on the back of her seat.

Anya shrugs, defeat flickering in her eyes. “He says I ruined the Carver family Fourth of July. Because you three are traveling with me instead of attending the annual family reunion or whatever, and now he has to explain your absence. I don’t get it—there’s never been a Fourth of July reunion in the past few years, so what’s he going on about?”

That jackass.“Let me see,” I say, holding out my hand. She hesitates briefly, but eventually passes her phone over.

Calvin’s last text reads:Can’t believe you dragged them away. You’ve ruined the family reunion. You should’ve just stayed put. Typical.

I breathe out through my nose, trying to keep my temper in check. “This is nonsense. He’s blaming you for something that’snot even your fault and isn’t a thing we do. Besides, if we wanted to attend, we would have. But we weren’t going to—we already sent our regards. He knows that.”