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Emma pulls back, surprised by his unusual display of affection. She stands on her tiptoes to peek into each of the cabinets. “There’s not much left. But I can make it work.”
We relied so much on our last house manager that when she quit, it fucked up our status quo. She had developed feelings for Brady that he didn’t return. That really screwed up the dynamic in the house. At one point, I was afraid she would poison us.
Brady slaps Emma lightly on the back. “You rock, Little Bradshaw.”
She chuckles. “Technically, I’m one minute older than Ollie.”
“But you’re a little person,” he jokes.
Brady is two inches taller than me, and by far, the tallest on our team.
“Em’s had a long day,” Ollie tells him, taking the box of brown rice from his twin’s hand. “She’s not cooking you dinner.” He shoves the box at his chest. “Make something to eat and then meet us in the living room. We’re having a house meeting.”
Brady rolls his eyes at him. “What do you want to talk about?”
He pulls his sister into his arms and squeezes her shoulder. “Our new house manager.”
Emma
When my alarm clock sounds the next morning, I want to throw my phone across the room to make it stop. The sun has yet to rise, but the guys have crazy schedules, which means I’m now a morning person.
I flick on the lamp on my bedside table and shut off the alarm. Clearing the sleep from my eyes, I blink a few times and slide out of bed.
Half-awake, I push open the bathroom. A cloud of steam smacks me in the face. River is standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist. His body is lean but muscled, his stomach hard and toned. For a split second, I can’t focus. I can only think about running my fingers down his skin.
“Emma?” River cocks his head at me. “You okay?”
Nope.
Water drips from his curly brown hair and trickles down his cheek. His thick chest and muscular arms are still damp, and my eyes fall to the hair that dips beneath his towel.
“See something you like?”
His deep voice pulls me from my sex-induced haze. My head is foggy, like this bathroom. I need to get away from him… or say something that doesn’t make me sound like an idiot.
“I need to brush my teeth.”
River flashes one of his panty-dropper grins that I’m still not immune to after all these years. I nudge his hip with mine, even though there’s plenty of room for both of us, and move him out of the way. The intensity in his eyes pricks my skin with tiny bumps.
We brush our teeth, staring at each other in the mirror. Electricity pulses between us and sets fire to my skin. I spit and rinse. He does the same and then places his toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.
As I walk away, River grips my hips and spins me around to face him, pushing my backside into the sink. “Don’t act like you walked into the bathroom by accident.”
His lips hover over my neck, and I moan when the heat from his breath warms my skin. Damn, why does it have to feel this good to be touched by River? And why do I want it so much?
“It’s too early,” I said in my defense. “I’m not awake yet.”
His fingers skate up my arm, spreading warmth throughout my body. I need to get away from him before I let him have his way with me on the damn sink.
Annoyed and beyond sexually frustrated, I step out of his grip, accidentally running my fingers along his stomach. His towel loosens and before I have time to prepare, it falls to the floor.
“Oh, my God.” I shield the side of my face with my hand, my heart racing out of my chest.
Of course, his package matches the rest of him.
I cough to cover the soft moan that escapes my lips and turn away from him, now facing the open door. We need some space. If I don’t get out of this bathroom right now, my ovaries might explode.
It’s been too long since I had sex. Too long since I let a man who looks like River touch me. Actually, no one that hot has ever touched me. So yeah, I need to get lost like right the fuck now.
River moves behind me and breathes against my ear. I expect him to make another dirty gesture. Instead, he says, “I want an egg white and spinach omelette for breakfast. Brady likes cinnamon oatmeal. And your brother…”
“I know what Ollie eats.”
He taps my backside and moves me toward my bedroom.
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” I say before he closes the door.
After my embarrassing moment with River, I quickly dress into black yoga pants and a comfy sweater and head into the kitchen. Ollie is already sitting at the counter, phone in hand, playing a game. He taps the buttons with one hand and sips from a bottle of water with the other.
