Destiny Calls by Samantha Wayland (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📗

but not before Patrick heard Destiny"s shriek of protest at having a sixty-pound dog shedding all over her dark suit.

Patrick locked eyes with Brandon, who nodded his understanding before sending Farley into the back seat. Patrick closed the door to the kitchen, pulled his gun and worked his way through the house, searching each room. Finding nothing disturbed, he returned to the kitchen and out to the driveway to begin lugging all of Destiny"s stuff into the house.

By the time they"d each made three trips up the stairs, Destiny was flagging badly.

She"d confessed that she"d not slept at all the night before, thanks to his big mouth and her panic attack. She literally staggered on her feet in the kitchen while trying to find something to eat.

He couldn"t stand to watch her dragging herself around another minute, so he swung her up into his arms.

She squeaked, hooking an arm around his neck. “Put me down, Patrick.”

“No.”

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She opened her mouth to protest again but he turned toward the front hall and the stairs up to their room. “You need to get into bed and relax,” he informed her.

She frowned. “I need to eat. All I"ve had today is one stinking Starbucks mocha.”

“I"ll bring something to you,” Brandon called from behind them, the sound of a pan hitting the stove issuing from the kitchen. “One Hangover Special coming right up!” Destiny and Patrick smiled at each other. Brandon had never been hungover in his life, the bastard, so he always had the thankless job of nursing them back to health after their more ill-advised adventures. The Hangover Special was just a grilled cheese sandwich, but it sounded like heaven right now.

“Put me down, Patrick,” Destiny said more quietly as he strode toward the stairs.

He stopped and searched her face, looking for signs that she wasn"t comfortable with the intimacy. He didn"t know how far this reconciliation had brought them.

“Why?”

“Because I"m too heavy for you to carry up the damn stairs, that"s why,” she said with exasperation.

Destiny had always worried about her size, though he and Brandon had never understood why. She was curvy and fit and lush and if she lost a pound, Patrick would miss it. “No.”

When she started to push away from him, squirming in his arms, he tightened his grip.

“If you keep that up, we"re both going to fall down the stairs and break our necks,” he warned her.

She wasn"t deterred. Sighing, Patrick let her slide down his body, her feet landing on the bottom step. Before she could turn, though, he bent and tossed her over his shoulder. Her screech echoed throughout the house. Patrick smiled, spanking her ass once, hard, her outrage getting louder.

“Put me down, you freaking idiot!”

“No,” he said again, banding an arm around her thighs to hold her still.

Unfortunately, it wasn"t the first time he or Brandon had forced a fireman"s carry on Destiny, so she knew just what to do to get revenge.

He winced when she pinched his ass cheek hard, but he wasn"t going to give in and started up the stairs. He heard footsteps behind them and turned to Brandon. Brandon"s smile was wide, the little lines at the corners of his eyes fanning out. Patrick"s heart stuttered.

Damn. How had he never noticed how freaking hot Brandon was? In hindsight, it was a complete mystery.

With a wink for Bran, he smacked Destiny"s bottom again and went up the stairs quickly. He was going to have bruises all over his ass from her pinches, but it only made him laugh. God, he loved having them both home with him.

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Tossing Destiny down on his bed, he watched her surreptitiously as he plucked off her shoes and reached for the tops of her stockings. He kept his demeanor nonchalant, as casual as a man could be while stripping off a beautiful woman"s stockings. As if it was no big deal. If she showed even the slightest moment of fear or hesitation, he would back off.

Destiny just sighed and flopped back on the bed. It wasn"t sexual, though he had to tell his cock that every three seconds as he peeled the silky hose down her legs. She was obviously exhausted and appeared content to let him pamper her.

It was another good sign. He"d been afraid she"d be more skittish.

When her legs were bare, she sat up to shuck her jacket and pull the zipper down on the side of her skirt. She moved to climb off the bed, but Patrick pushed her back and helped her wriggle the skirt down and off.

He loved to take care of her like this. He"d never realized before now how much.

Down to only her thong and a silk blouse, her hair spread out around her on the bedspread, she looked lovely. Soft and feminine. Tired. He watched as her eyes drooped as she started to nod off.

“Oh no, you don"t,” he laughed, pulling her upright. Turning down the bedding, he stacked pillows in the middle of the headboard and helped her settle against them.

“Patrick, I need sleep,” she said with a yawn.

“You do, love, but if you don"t eat, you"ll be up in a few hours.” The words has no sooner left his mouth when Brandon came into the room bearing a stack of plates, the topmost loaded with toasted sandwiches, his pockets stuffed with a can of Diet Coke and two bottles of beer.

Patrick helped him unload, distracted by the look Brandon sent him as he tugged the beverages out of Brandon"s pants. Blood rushed to his cock. He shook himself as he turned away, reminding himself that Destiny needed to eat and Brandon wasn"t on the menu.

Yet.

Brandon climbed on the bed facing Destiny and sat with his back to the footboard.

Patrick followed suit. They ate and chatted companionably about nothing important.

As soon as she took her last bite, Brandon cleared away the remains of their supper.

It was barely seven o"clock, but it was bedtime for Destiny.

Patrick followed Brandon to the kitchen,