Inked (Tattoos and Leather) (2 page)

She held it gingerly, like a wounded bird, wishing she could will away the scratches and make the old Instamatic photo whole again. Her grandmother had been the only one who had ever truly loved her. And she had passed away nine years ago.

Someone knelt beside Megan, and she startled.

Big hands closed around her shoulders and steadied her from behind at the same time she looked up into the concerned face of one of the gorgeous twin visitors to the executive suite.

Raw from being fired, getting pissed, tripping and spilling her stuff, and damaging her most important possession, Megan’s senses went on overload. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even move. The twin was so close she caught his scent, woodsy, like a forest after a rain, and there was a hint of something else, too.

Leather?

Megan’s heart fluttered. Hell, her entire body fluttered.

“Are you all right?” the twin asked, his voice quiet but somehow commanding as he deftly swept up the remaining bits and pieces of her work life at DII and slid them back into her box. If he noticed her résumé among the papers, he didn’t mention it. He even extracted the precious photo from her fingers and laid it carefully beside the lipstick and pens, leaving her hands empty and shaking just enough to be noticeable.

He moved the box to one side as her gaze fixed on his blue eyes, then traveled down the powerful line of his jaw, taking in the light stubble on his tanned cheek, and finally, the ink on his neck. It looked like the sweeping tip of a blade. A tribal tattoo, disappearing beneath his expensive and perfectly tailored suit. The pattern probably covered part of his shoulder, or maybe across his pecs. Or both.

Half Harvard, half biker king.

Who
were
these guys?

Other than the sweetest fantasy material
ever
.

Slowly, with a fresh rush of heat and trembling, Megan processed that the hands on her shoulders must belong to the other twin. He had to be standing behind her, holding her so she didn’t topple forward.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, hurrying to get to her feet. The twin standing behind her slid his hands to her waist and gently but firmly supported her weight as she moved.

He didn’t let her go.

“You’re not telling the truth,” he said, and the low rumble in her ear sent shudders straight to her core. “Only naughty girls lie.”

The sensual menace in the man’s words nearly melted Megan’s good sense completely. The iron of his muscled chest pressed into her back, and the twin in front of her moved forward just enough to trap her between the two of them.

“Are you a naughty girl?” the twin in front of her asked, and that question promised so much if she said yes. So, so much, she could barely conceive of it.

“I think you are,” he murmured

Oh
.

Wow.

No rational thought possible.

For a few seconds, Megan was aware of nothing but the twins, and how much of her they were touching. Perfect containment. She should have been afraid or infuriated, but she felt suddenly protected. Comforted.

Safe.

I’m nuts.

Her eyes darted toward the main entrance, but the lobby was still empty, and the three of them were standing just enough to the side of the elevator that the security guard didn’t have a clear view.

I could scream
, the rational part of her mind reminded her.

And why would I do that
?

She had always dreamed of something like this, playfully and for real, too. To be taken by two men, to be completely filled and satisfied. And men like this—

That hint of leather—

They would dominate her.

No question.

With these two, there would be no such thing as compromise.

“Nick,” said the twin in front.

A few seconds later, the twin behind her said, “Sean. And you are?”

“Megan,” she whispered, without even trying to resist.

Nuts, nuts, nuts. Scream. Get away. At least try to
walk
away, you idiot.
But she didn’t move. Megan wasn’t sure she ever wanted to move again.

Did Sean have a tattoo like Nick’s? Megan wanted to know in the worst way.

“Megan,” Nick said, staring into her eyes like he was tasting each letter. Then one of his dark brows lifted, and he said, “Megan Faircloth?”

Megan nodded, faintly surprised, then confused by Nick’s frown. His gaze shifted from her face to just over her shoulder, and she assumed he was looking at his brother.

“Damn,” Sean said, so close to Megan’s ear that the sensation rattled through every inch of her.

No menace this time, though. Instead, she thought she heard regret.

“You lost your job today,” Nick said, pinning her again with those angel-blue eyes. “It’s—”

“Our fault,” Sean finished.

Megan tried to process what she heard, but it didn’t compute.

Sean was aroused. The hard length of him couldn’t be more obvious against her lower back. The ripple of his breath against her ear was making her crazy, that and wondering about his tattoo, and—

You lost your job…

Our fault…

“What?” Megan shook her head, catching Sean’s chin and knocking his face away from her. He stepped back, but kept his hands on her waist.

Nick remained unmoving, still staring at her. “Unfortunate,” he said. “Let us make it up to you.”

“I—
unfortunate
?” Megan curled her fingers into fists as her thoughts cleared and reality struck her like a blunt bolt of fury. “I got fired because of you two?”

“Laid off,” Sean said.

Megan hit Nick in the chest with both fists, hard, but not as hard as she wanted to. “Get away from me.”

He gave ground, raising his hands. “Let us make it up to you,” he said again.

“Make up for me not having a job?” Megan waited for Sean to let her go, and when he didn’t, she elbowed him with all the force she had spared Nick.

The sound of his grunt as he turned her loose almost made her laugh—from near insanity, not happiness.

“Make up for not having my rent. Make up for me not being able to pay my bills. Sure. Whatever.” Megan glared at Nick, then wheeled on Sean, who had his hand on his midsection where her elbow had made contact.

It was like standing in a mirrored room, seeing double.

He does have a tattoo. Tribal, but not a blade. More like flames.

Megan shook her head again. Did she really care what was stamped on this asshole’s neck? They had just admitted they got her fired. Probably some sort of consultants for the new no-humans-required dictation system.

“Megan,” Sean said, his expression unreadable, but Megan didn’t want to talk to him—to them—anymore.

She bent down and picked up her box. “I’m leaving now,” she said, managing to look at both twins at the same time. “Don’t follow me.”

Then, before they could answer her, before she unleashed anymore of the violence she felt, Megan shouldered her way between the men. She marched away, clutching the box to her chest and refusing to let herself look back.

Sean rubbed his abs as he watched Megan walk away, her chin tilted high, her back straight as an arrow, and her auburn hair swinging above her shoulders. She’d given him a damned good jab with her elbow. Yes, that one had spirit and fire.

He turned his gaze on his brother. “We should go after her.”

Nick shook his head. “Not now. But soon.”

Sean thought it over. He didn’t necessarily agree, but Nick was the more dominant of the two of them. Sean was just as Alpha as his brother, but Nick tended to take the lead when it came to their women.

Their
women.

It had been a while since they’d found anyone who could handle both of them at the same time. And Nick and Sean did everything together. It was the way they were designed, destined to pleasure one woman at a time.
Together.

“Megan Faircloth might be pissed now, but she wants us.” Nick watched after Megan, too. “We will make her ours.”

Sean nodded as she disappeared through the glass doors of DII and into the day that was already growing dark from clouds heavy with snow. Both wanted Megan and they always got what they wanted. Always. In this case it might take a little extra time, but it would happen.

They’d always been attracted to redheads. The moment they first saw her, something had clicked. They had noticed a natural submissiveness in her gaze in the way she would divert her eyes, and hoped to someday have the appropriate moment to act upon it.

Nick and Sean had seen that Megan also practiced random acts of kindness on a few of the occasions they’d been in the office. Once a little boy had wandered away from his mother who had been in the reception area, and Megan had helped the boy find his mother. Another time, they had overheard her consoling the receptionist who had been going through a bad breakup.

They’d also seen her interact with her boss—the one they would soon fire—and had seen her stand up for herself. They admired her spunk and her personality.

After one last look in the direction that Megan had gone, Sean looked back at his twin and grinned. “Merry Christmas to us.”

The corner of Nick’s mouth turned up. “I would say it is going to be a Merry Christmas indeed.”

“There’s something about Megan.” Sean thought about the covert way Megan had watched them every time they were near the typists’ area. “She’s different from any other woman we’ve been with.”

Nick looked like he was thinking it over. “She’s the kind of woman a man could settle down with for the rest of his life.” He had a faint look of surprise at his own words.

“She’s kind of woman we might just want to keep,” Sean said. “The one we’ve been looking for.”

Sean could almost see the gears whirring in his brother’s head. “Possibly,” Nick said.

“Definitely,” Sean countered and Nick gave a nod, conceding the point to Sean.

The twins picked up their long black coats that were draped over the briefcases they had set down in order to come to Megan’s aid. Each slid into his coat.

Of one mind, Sean and Nick fell in step with each other as they walked through the lobby of their building. One of their buildings.

During the eleven years since they had received their Masters in Business and Entrepreneurship, the Dorian twins had amassed a fortune and had holdings worldwide. However, they had never been content to rest on their laurels. They had a joint drive to succeed beyond all measures.

One of the reasons for the desire to amass so much wealth was the ability and means to give back and contribute to the community. Their favored charities to support were those helping abused women and children as well as those working diligently on cancer research.

Their father hadn’t abused the twins, but he had verbally abused their mother. He had beaten her down with his words and walked on her as if she was a throw rug. She had died of brain cancer when they were still young, but they’d never forgiven their father for how he’d treated their mother. When they were young they’d blamed him for their mother’s passing.

As Nick and Sean walked toward the front entrance, Sean couldn’t help but think of Megan with her cinnamon eyes, shiny auburn hair and curves in all the right places. Freckles were adorably sprinkled across her pert nose. Even more freckles were scattered along her collarbone and the curves of her breasts that had been visible when she was on her knees, leaning forward. Both he and Nick had enjoyed the view.

She’d been so adorable when she had watched them on the occasions they were in the office, and clearly she’d thought they hadn’t noticed. If they didn’t have such a strict policy about not dating their employees, they would have found out everything they could about her, including her name, and would have approached her long ago.

Now she wasn’t employed by DII. That had not been intentional on their part, but as far as Sean was concerned, it had worked in their favor.

Sean pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and sent a text message to their driver. He thought about how Megan had been pinned between him and his twin, if only for a short time. Damn, but her body had felt so fine against his that he had gone instantly hard. Such soft, supple curves that he couldn’t wait to have bared to him and his brother.

Silently, Nick and Sean continued to the front entrance. Their synchronized movements were not conscious. It was merely the result of the connection between them that had existed since they had been in the womb. When they were young, their mother had brought out the ultrasound images where the brothers had held hands, showing the connection they’d had before they were even born.

Christmas trees blazing with white lights, gold and cream bows and gold decorations graced either side of the entrance. Together they walked past the trees, exited through the glass doors, and strode to the curb where their chauffeur would arrive any moment. Jensen would have been waiting in the car in the garage beneath their building.

They stood side by side as New York City pedestrians walked past, jostling each other yet not bumping into Sean or Nick. It was as if a force field protected the twins.

Snowflakes drifted from the sky, landing on the concrete and asphalt and disappearing. Soon the snow would start to stick. At least a foot of snow was expected to fall overnight.

Across the street a Santa rang a brass bell while people passing on the street dropped coins into a red bucket hanging on a stand. Holiday displays lit up the windows of every building along the busy street.

Gold wreaths with cream bows that matched the Christmas trees hung in the windows of the Dorian building. Gold garlands were draped from wreath to wreath in window after window. The trees in front of the building were wrapped with white lights that glittered in the early evening.

Within moments Jensen arrived in the Rolls Royce and pulled the vehicle up to the curb. The twins did not wait for Jensen to open their doors. Sean went to the left side of the vehicle and slid inside. Nick entered on the right and sat facing Sean.

Without needing to ask, Sean got out the Waterford crystal decanter and poured each of them two fingers of the finest brandy money could buy. He handed Nick one of the crystal glasses and picked up his own.