Nicole Edwards - Temptation

Yanking the door open, Luke fully expected to come face to face with Cole, but instead, his brother stood on his front steps looking none too happy to be there. Glancing around, Luke figured he’d find Sam standing behind him, but no, Logan was apparently alone.

“What?” Luke asked, not feeling up to having company.

“Why don’t you invite me in, bro.” Logan said as he sidestepped him, not waiting for an invitation.

What the fuck? Shouldn’t Logan be at home with his wife?

“What’s the matter? Where’s Sam?” Suddenly worried that something was wrong, Luke shut the door behind him and waited for the bad news.

“She’s at home. Where I should be.” Logan stated, sounding irritated. Without further explanation, Logan veered toward the kitchen, and Luke fell into step behind him.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because my meddling wife said I needed to come talk to you. When I tried to talk her out of it… with my tongue… she cut me off.” Logan glared at him, then turned his attention to the refrigerator. Pulling out two beers, he handed one to Luke before taking a seat at the bar. “Fucking cut me off.”

Luke wanted to laugh. Remembering the way Sam heated up the room with just her presence made Luke take a seat beside his brother. Adjusting himself, he got comfortable, opening his beer and tossing back half of it before looking at his brother again.

“What did we need to talk about?”

“Shit if I know.” Logan smirked. “You got anything stronger than this?” He asked, tossing back the rest of his beer in one gulp.

Luke knew where this night was going. He’d spent a couple like this recently. Although he’d been alone at the time with a single shot glass and his buddy Jack. Getting up once more, he moved to the cabinet above the refrigerator where he kept the hard liquor and pulled out the bottle of Jack Daniel’s he’d gotten so acquainted with. It was almost half empty – or was that half full? Shit. What did he care?

Two shot glasses in hand, Luke made his way back to the bar, this time choosing to stand on the opposite side as Logan. He poured a healthy amount in each glass and then scooted one in Logan’s direction. “What are we toasting to?”

“Threesomes.” Logan stated flatly.

Luke damn near choked and he hadn’t even taken a drink. “Threesomes?”

“Yes. Let’s toast to threesomes. May every man be lucky enough to watch the pleasure another man can bring his woman.”

“Frequently and in every possible position.” Luke added before clinking his glass with Logan’s and tossing back the amber liquid.

“Damn that’s good. Another.” Logan said, pushing his empty glass forward.

Luke wasn’t in the mood to argue, so he filled their glasses once again and pushed the second in front of Logan.

“Your turn.” Logan looked up, clearly waiting for Luke to say something.

“To sex.” Luke lifted his glass, waiting for Logan to click his glass against it.

“Sex? Seriously?” Logan laughed. “Surely you can be more creative than that.”

“Nope, I was thinking the same thing about sex that I was about threesomes – frequently and in –”

“Every possible position.” Logan chimed in, clinking his glass against Luke’s.

“Another.” Logan slammed his glass down. “So now that we know the truth… my life is clearly lacking threesomes, and yours is lacking sex in general, why don’t we solve both our problems and go back to my house.”

And there it was. Luke knew his brother was disappointed in the fact that Luke hadn’t been an active participant in their midnight rendezvous, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not that he didn’t want to feel Sam’s mouth wrapped around his cock, or the silky, warmth of her pussy as he fucked her from every possible angle. Those would always be fond memories, but Luke had apparently evolved.

Or maybe he’d just lost his fucking mind.

“Don’t be stingy with the liquor.” Logan said as he pulled the bottle out of Luke’s grasp and filled both glasses once again. “And don’t worry; I’m only giving you shit about the threesomes.” Logan clarified before tossing back the next shot, a toast apparently not needed.

Not wanting to be left behind, Luke took the shot and felt the heat wash through him, his vision becoming just a little fuzzy while his ears were starting to ring.

“I’ve actually thought about talking to Tag.” Logan admitted, glancing up at Luke as though he expected a reaction.

“Tag Murphy?” As if Luke needed to clarify. How many Tag’s did they actually know?

“One and the same.” Logan slurred, reaching for the bottle again.

So apparently Logan had come over to comfort Luke, for whatever reason, and was seeking his own comfort in the bottle of whiskey that was now… three quarters of the way empty. At this rate, he’d have to pull out another bottle.

“So, why Tag?” Luke inquired, getting that backup bottle. Just in case.

“I’ve seen the way Sam looks at him. I mean, how could she not. The man’s built like a brick shithouse.”

That was the damn truth. Tag Murphy was one of the newest members of Club Destiny, and one mean looking son of a bitch. Apparently the women thought he was hot, or so he’d heard. Cole had actually introduced Luke and Logan to Tag and not long after, the man had asked about joining the club. Luke was a little surprised that Logan would even consider the man. “I figured you’d talk to Dylan.”

Logan didn’t seem surprised by the idea, but he turned his attention back on the bottle. “I thought about it. I just don’t know if he’s in the right place in his head right now.”

Another round was poured and Luke tossed his back as fast as his brother, his legs suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. “No, you’re probably right.” Pulling out the barstool beside Logan, Luke slid into it, wanting to remain vertical as long as possible.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Sierra?” Logan asked after a few minutes of silence. Although he managed to butcher Sierra’s name, thanks to the whiskey.

“Hell if I know.”

Logan’s face contorted, and he suddenly looked… sad. Shit, just what Luke needed, a sappy drunk that wanted to talk.

“From the moment I met that woman, I thought she would be your perfect match. Physically she isn’t what you normally go for, I get that.”

Logan was accurate in that respect. Luke didn’t go for tiny, petite women. At six feet five, two hundred and forty pounds, women like Sierra scared him. He was damn near twice her size, and he feared he would hurt her. But she had proven just how fragile she wasn’t, and the thought made his dick stir.

“But the woman’s a firecracker.” Logan continued, apparently not needing Luke to contribute to the conversation. When he picked up the bottle and began to slosh the liquid into the glasses, Luke knew they were damn near at their limit. How many had they had anyway?

“That she is.” Luke agreed, taking the bottle from his brother and filling the shot glasses once more. This had to be the last one or they would both be flat on their faces in the next few minutes.

“And she’s hot as hell. Granted, she’s not Sam, but the woman is a beauty.”

Logan’s words began to get closer and closer together and Luke had a hard time understanding him. Or maybe that was Luke’s brain running the words together.

“I love her.” Holy fuck! Where the hell had that come from?

Logan turned to Luke like his hair had just gone up in flames, and Luke knew he’d actually said the words out loud.

“I knew it!” Logan slammed the glass on the bar. “I fucking knew it.”

As though Logan had just figured out the cure for cancer, his eyes lit up, and a smile split his face. Luke couldn’t help but laugh. Yes, damnit, he loved her.

“Let’s drink to that.” Logan slurred, drink coming out more like shrink.

They tossed down another shot and this time Luke damn near fell off of the barstool. His eyes crossed, and his vision went gray on the edges. Time to call it a night.

No sense in staying up any longer… Logan had apparently been successful in getting Luke to talk.

* * *

Good God.

Someone must have hit Luke square in the face with an anvil. That was the first thought that sprung to Luke’s mind the next morning when he awoke to the sun bathing the edges of the bed through the blind’s wooden slats.

“Sonuvabitch.” Apparently that was fast becoming one of his favorite words these days.

Throwing his arm over his eyes, he attempted to shut out the blinding light and to hold his brains inside of his head. Whiskey was not his friend in the morning that was for damn sure.

Despite the throb behind his eyes, Luke’s mind immediately drifted to the night before. And it didn’t have anything to do with the fifth of whiskey he and his brother had downed. He couldn’t get his mind off of Sierra. Or Cole. And the way he’d successfully managed to push the two of them away. Likely for good this time.

Fucking idiot.

What the hell was Luke supposed to do now?

When the answers didn’t just spring forth, not that he really expected them to, Luke pushed himself to the edge of the bed. He knew of one thing. He had to get his ass out of bed and attempt to salvage the two things that actually meant something to him.

He just didn’t know exactly how he was supposed to do that.

 “Yes, ma’am.” Sierra rolled her eyes as she managed to remember her manners. The woman deserved to be called a few choice other things, but at the moment, Sierra knew her reputation was on the line. Not that she should care. She was going back to Nashville, right? At least that was the plan she had drafted in her mind the night before. It had sounded so finite when she had shared the news with Sam.