Brock_Four Sons Series Read online

  He was an asshole.

  But I loved him fiercely.

  And as much as I want to deny that, I don’t, because as angry as I was at him for how he went about taking Rowan as his own, I could never hate him. And now I’m here with no one to be angry with, so Ethan is the one who takes the brunt of my shit. Thankfully, he hasn’t walked out yet.

  Chapter Three

  Ethan

  Sometimes I wonder how I’ve put up with Brock’s reckless attitude and anger for so long. Given the choice, I’d do it again, but I wish he’d see how much he has going for him and stop drinking himself into oblivion.

  When my mother died, my father practically slapped some sense into me when I wanted to spend more time on the beach surfing than going to school. But with my best friend, it’s different. He witnessed his father’s brutal death, had the pregnant neighbor take a bullet to the stomach, and then, to make matters worse, learned his mother hadn’t run off and had been buried a few feet away from the swimming pool we spent most days in. The shit that went down at the Pearson residence was fucked up.

  Our friendship means a lot to me, even though I’ll never tell the asshole that to his face. He’s far too arrogant for his own good already. Like father, like son. But I care about him, perhaps more than I should or care to admit. Over the past few years, feelings have changed between us. There’s much more between me and Brock than either of us have been willing to admit.

  “I’m ready,” he stalks out of his bedroom, looking like he’s about to head to a photoshoot. With his tan skin, blue eyes, and that dark hair, he looks more like Eric every day—a playboy in the making.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I tell him, rising from the sofa and grabbing my keys. We don't live far from campus, but I prefer driving. That way, I can offer a ride to a certain beauty I’ve had my eye on for a couple weeks now. Her pert, round ass looks good enough to eat as she sways her hips on campus. And it’s not just me who’s noticed. Every male in the vicinity has seen her. A smile that lights up the whole goddamn world makes me want to see it on her face all the time. If Brock knew I was salivating over her every day, he’d give me grief, and this is why I’ve kept it to myself. For now.

  I follow Brock down to the Jeep sitting in my parking space. Once the engine roars to life, he turns on the stereo, notching the volume up to almost max, and I wonder what happened to the hangover. Unless he popped a couple painkillers. I don’t ask. Instead, I take in the boom of the rock music from the speakers as I weave us through traffic toward school.

  “Who the hell is that?” Brock questions as I pull into a parking spot close to the building. I turn off the engine and drag my gaze over to where he’s gesturing with his chin.

  Fuck.

  “A pretty little thing I’ve been keeping my eye on for the past few weeks,” I tell him, a smirk curling my lips. “What do you think?” I cast my glance at Brock who’s eyeing her up.

  “Not bad. Not bad at all, man,” he chuckles.

  The girl in question is petite, dressed in a pair of ripped faded blue jeans that hug her slim thighs. Her top is white, tight-fitting, and offers an intoxicating view of her tits. Smooth caramel skin hints at a natural tan, and when she turns around, I’m afforded a glimpse of the ass I’ve been picturing in front of me as I fuck her from behind.

  “Dude,” Brock grits out, “are you getting a boner next to me?” He chuckles, and I swat at his chest.

  “Fuck off, Pearson,” I retort. “That ass would look so good on my dick,” I tell him, still in awe of the woman with the long, wild, chocolate curls I want to fist in my grip.

  “We can share,” my best friend says, and my gaze snaps to his. Those blue eyes that match all the Pearson boys flit with satisfaction and mischief. When it comes to women and alcohol, Brock is the first one in line. And he can score pussy like a world-famous quarterback.

  “Sounds like a plan. She’s a junior, though,” I respond. “She’s probably been warned off us seniors.” I turn my attention back to the girl who’s stolen my focus. Everything about her screams innocence—something my father taught me to always want in a woman. When I asked him why, he told me it’s to ensure you’re the one to corrupt her, and even though she may go off and fuck other guys, you’ll always be the one who was there first.

  “Let’s go,” Brock says. He’s out of the car in seconds, but I don’t move. I watch him saunter up to the girl with a swagger that tells me he’s feeling far too confident. There’s something about her that makes me think she’s not going to fall for his shit.

  I can’t hear them, but her body language alone is icy at best. He turns, heading away from the beauty without casting me a glance. My phone vibrates with a message, and when I glance at the screen, I see his name.

  Laughing, I open the app and find his message.

  She’s hard work. Your turn, Smooth Talker Kingston.

  With pleasure, I think to myself.

  Exiting the vehicle, I make my way to where she’s still standing, holding a stack of books and looking around as if she’s lost. It doesn’t take me long to reach her, and when I do, the smell of coconut and the ocean emanate from her. My two favorite things.

  “A surfer,” I say as soon as she turns her big blue eyes to me. They’re luminous against her tan skin. She’s exotic looking, and I’m dying to get a taste.

  “And you know this how?” she sasses, turning her full attention on me.

  Shrugging, I take her in, from her bright yellow flip flops to her luxurious curls. “You’re dressed for the beach for one.” I point to her casual attire. “And you smell like coconut and the sea. Two of my favorite things.” My assessment makes her smile, and I’m stunned at how much more beautiful she is when she gifts me a glimpse of her happiness.

  “So, you love the waves as well?” She crinkles her nose as she glances up at me, the sun glinting off her gold necklace and a small dolphin charm hanging between her cleavage.

  “I have an affinity for them, yeah.”

  “And your friend?” She tips her head toward the path Brock took only moments ago. “Does he always try to pick up chicks with bad one liners?”

  “Only when he’s hungover.” I can’t help chuckling.

  She’s sweet, innocent, but there’s a snarky sass that makes me want to delve so much deeper and learn who this beauty is. When I look at her now, I don’t see a girl—I see a woman who’s got a good sense of self.

  “Well, tell him he shouldn’t be attempting that when he’s been drinking. It’s not attractive.” Her words cause another laugh to rumble in my chest.

  “Tell me your name and I’ll reacquaint you with Brock.” I point to my best friend, who’s leaning against a tree, his shades covering his blue eyes.

  “Camila,” she responds, a hint of an accent peeking through. She’s foreign, or something. Explains her exotic beauty. Most girls who follow us around are blonde dolls caked in thick eyeliner, even thicker concealer, and have fake everything because they have far too much money to splurge on attempting to look perfect.

  But when I look at Camila, I don’t see anything that needs covering up. She's perfect as she is. I see beauty in her conventional casual clothes, and the fact that she has no makeup on. It’s refreshing, it’s different, and my cock agrees, throbbing at the sight of her smile.

  A beauty spot sits just on the apple of her left cheek. The gentle curve of her small button nose crinkles when she grins, which makes her plump, full lips shimmer with the light dusting of clear gloss on them. A normal girl in an overly fake world.

  “Where are you from, sweetheart?”

  “Here. Well, my father moved here from Spain when I was ten,” she informs me, a soft smile on her lips. Her eyes shine as she looks up at me.

  “What’s your name?” she asks, snapping me out of the filthy thoughts of what she could wrap those lips around.

  “Ethan,” I offer, holding out my hand. She accepts with a smile.

  “Nice to meet you, Ethan.
” The way her accent caresses my name makes me bite back a groan of want and need. This woman may just kill me by whimpering my name. “You going to introduce me to your friend now?”

  I nod. “Come. He’s not as bad as you may think he is.”

  Chapter Four

  Brock

  I watch him flirt and can’t help smiling. When I saw her, I offered up the option of sharing, and if I know anything, it's that my best friend can’t refuse a threesome with a beautiful woman.

  It started one night without us planning it. The chemistry was there, and I went with it. We’re young, experimenting, and I enjoy it—so does he. My brothers have their assumptions about my sexuality. I know they do, but they’ve overcomplicated something that’s pretty simple.

  I never denied there’s something between Ethan and I, even though we’ve never said it out loud. It’s always been there, and with time, it’s only become more obvious. Yes, we like to fuck the same woman at the same time, but we’ve never ventured further than that. Not on our own.

  If something ever happened between us and we ended up in bed together, or on the sofa, or anywhere, for that matter, I wouldn’t say no. I’d definitely be down for it.

  When he saunters toward the building with her beside him, I know it’s in the bag. My head is still pounding as they near me, but I blink away the violent hangover and offer her a smile.

  “Hi.” I smirk, watching her tan skin turn a darker shade with the blush on her cheeks.

  She offers a hand to me, greeting in a gentle tone. “Hello.”

  “I’m the asshole,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine, lifting it to my lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “But you’ll get used to me.”

  “Where is your next class?” Ethan rolls his eyes at me, then drags his gaze over to her. He's intrigued by her beauty, overly so.

  “Um…” she mumbles, opening a schedule. “Art History.” Her eyes glimpse my way, lingering over me before lifting to my stare.

  “Good,” I respond first. “Ethan, let’s walk the gorgeous lady to her class.” I offer her my arm, which she accepts after a moment’s hesitation.

  With Ethan on her left and me on her right, we lead her into the large building where we find students milling around. She tells us about her love of the ocean, how she came here to study and surf, and I can’t help smiling when I think about her tight little body in a swimsuit.

  “You’ll have to come to one of our pool parties,” I offer, casting my eyes to my best friend.

  He nods. “We normally have them once a month,” he explains as we stop outside her classroom. “Your first class.” Ethan offers her one of his charming grins.

  “This is it?” She looks almost nervous. Her innocence is like a drug I’m dying to taste.

  “We’ll see you later, yeah?” Ethan smiles. He’s always been so laid back, and girls love it.

  “That sounds nice. Bye, Brock. Bye, Ethan.” She waves shyly and leaves us staring at her pert ass in those tight blue jeans.

  “Jesus, the things I want to do to that ass,” I grin, my cock already throbbing at the thought of sliding between her cheeks.

  “Come on, man.” Ethan tugs me toward our classroom, and away from the pretty vixen I’m dying to get a taste of. “You’re a manwhore,” my best friend chuckles.

  “Yeah? Didn’t hear you complaining the last time we—”

  “Brock,” a sultry voice comes from behind me, and I shudder. I’d recognize that sickly tone anywhere. The blonde sidles up between me and Ethan, hooking her arms through ours and entering class with us. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of taking her home one night, and now, she’s always hanging around. We met in one of the bars downtown while I was looking to get my dick wet. She, on the other hand, is looking for a ring on her dainty little finger. Not happening, sweetheart.

  Ethan tugs himself free, leaving me to deal with my mistake.

  “Look, Monique—”

  “It’s Lauren,” she bites out, planting her hands on her hips as if she’s about to admonish me. The corner of my mouth kicks up into an amused grin. Fuck this.

  “Lauren, we’re not together and we’ll never be together, so just quit trying, sweetheart,” I inform her, keeping my tone low, hoping like hell I’m making myself clear.

  “You don’t have to be an asshole,” she huffs, her cheeks turning bright pink. My gaze falls to her fake pouty lips and I can’t help the revulsion that trickles through me. She reminds me of the women my dad used to fuck—fake Barbie dolls. As much as I don’t want to be like my Dad, I always end up in bed with those fake, clingy girls. I don’t realize it ‘til I wake up the next morning and regret every moment. And those times, I just wish I had the real thing—a real woman who can hold an intelligent conversation.

  “Trust me, sweetheart, I do. I am an asshole. So, I would suggest you turn on your fuck-me heels and leave me the hell alone.” No more words are spoken. She twirls in what I’m guessing is meant to be seductive, but is far from it, and I can’t help shaking my head. I’m in my seat beside Ethan when I feel his gaze on me. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. Say what you want to say.” Dragging my gaze to his, I meet his dark brown eyes.

  He shrugs, twirling his pencil through his fingers. “You know you’re just like him. You sometimes lose focus on who you are.”

  His words slam into my chest.

  He’s right.

  “Fuck you, Ethan.”

  “Later.” He smirks as our professor strolls into class, and my chest tightens in anticipation that he would be down for something happening between us as well. My cock throbs in my jeans at the thought. Facing the front, I attempt to calm myself, but I know nothing will clear my mind of the thoughts now racing around my head.

  Chapter Five

  Ethan

  The sun beats down on my back as I wade through the crystal-clear water, my mind filled with thoughts of our new conquest—Camila. Brock is definitely interested, and I certainly am, so we need to find a way to get her between us.

  Most girls we’ve shared were looking for it. They didn’t care that they had us both—it was exactly what they wanted—but I have a feeling Camila is different. She’ll need coaxing. Perhaps a date with each of us before we drop her into the deep end of the ocean.

  I think about Dad and how he and Eric would go out and find pretty girls to share. I’d been in the house a couple times when they had brought the parties back to the mansion. At the time, I was angry at him, but I can’t deny he and Eric had some fun with the women who fell for their one liners. He thinks I had no idea, but there were many times I heard some woman squealing from down the hall, and the next morning, I would “accidentally” stumble into one of the young women in our kitchen. I always wondered if he’d ever find the one again.

  Which brings me back to my feelings. I haven’t yet told him about Brock. At least, I haven’t told anyone I’m bi. Dad wouldn’t care. He’s not the type to disown me over something so trivial, but I need to tell him, because each day I’m here, living with my best friend, I realize my feelings run far deeper than I expected. Even though Brock and I haven’t taken that step physically, I hope we will.

  There are times I wish my father wasn’t such an asshole while I was growing up. Times where I wonder what would’ve happened if my mother lived, if she would’ve made him more of a dad rather than a drill sergeant. I still remember when she was around, how she’d make him smile.

  Those times were my favorite.

  Even though Kristyn kicked his ass into gear, I didn’t think he’d change, but with my baby sister, Brynn, he’s become the dad I remember once more. He’s spending a lot more time at home, which is a good sign. But I haven’t been home in a while, which I’ll need to rectify soon. Problem is, I need to broach the subject with Brock.

  “What the fuck are you daydreaming about?” Speak of the devil.

  “I was thinking about beating your ass on this wav
e,” I shout as I lie front first on my board, my arms working hard to get me closer. I’m up and on my feet in seconds, as soon as it crests, and Brock is right beside me, riding the wave.

  This is where he’s more himself than anywhere else.

  His eyes shine with happiness. He's carefree and relaxed. And it makes me happy. When we reach the shore, I stay on my board, my legs hanging over either edge as he turns to regard me. “Are we heading to Kula?”

  The place is a little shack not far from where we’re surfing. When he offers me a grin, the one I know far too well, I nod. He has something on his mind.

  We make our way, dripping wet, toward the small café. After shoving the tip of our boards in the sand, I follow him up to the counter where he orders two coconut waters and two plates of fries.

  Once we’re seated, I wonder if it’s time to ask him about heading home for a weekend. We have a break coming up, and seeing the rest of the family will be good, not only for him, but me too. My dad mentioned Hayden wanted to have a get-together at some point soon.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I start, lifting the bottle and taking a long swig, “we should head home for a little while.” My words stop Brock from taking a long gulp of his drink. “Just for a weekend or something,” I offer. “I want us to talk to my dad, and we need to talk to your brothers.”

  “Yeah,” he responds finally. “We can head back in a couple weeks, but I don’t know if telling them I want to live here permanently, with you, is a good idea.”

  “Why? We’re friends. Aren’t we?” I question.

  He shrugs. “I don’t know if they’ll accept it, the situation.”

  “We’re a situation, Brock?”

  “No, I mean…fuck, I just don’t want them to be angry, or some shit. You know? Hayden wasn’t happy I wanted to go to school so far from home and if I lived here permanently…” his voice tapers off, and I know exactly what he means—we’d finally have to talk about our emotions or what’s going on between us, because there is definitely something between us. He glances at me, his eyes holding all the emotion he’s feeling—that I’m feeling.