Page 137 of The Storm Boys Series Collection

He leaned against the kitchen counter, took a tea towel, and began drying a tray. “Yeah, yeah.” He nodded. “I apologise for Ellis. He’s a pain in my arse.”

“Your brothers are great. Both of them. I wasn’t sure what to expect of Rowan—I think you made him out to be this big bad guy—but he’s very nice. He cares for you a great deal.”

Tully seemed to mull that over before he nodded. “I know.”

“I think he bears the responsibility of being the eldest child, the one on whose shoulders the company falls.”

“I know. I never meant to give you the impression he was a bad guy, sorry.” Tully put the tray down and picked up the next. “I was expecting them to rip me a new arsehole when I saw their cars here.” He let out a sigh. “Guess maybe that was me knowing I would have deserved it.”

“They didn’t come to rip you a new one,” I said gently. “They came to support you. To rally around you because you’d made a mistake. That just proves what an amazing family you have.”

His eyes met mine. “I apologised to my father, and he said... some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

He looked down at the tray he was holding, and his cheeks tinted pink. “Just... stuff I didn’t think I was ready to hear from him but I dunno, maybe I am.”

“Like what?” I rinsed the bubbles off my hands and dried them on the tea towel he was holding. “About me?”

His eyes cut to mine. “What? Did my mother say something to you?”

So definitely about me then...

“Do they not like me?” I suddenly felt a little unwell. “I tried to stop talking at the end there, about the cyclone and maybe kidnapping you, but I was nervous because they were all looking at me—”

“What? No,” he said with a laugh, taking my hand. “The opposite, actually. My mum thinks you’re great.”

“Oh.” My stomach was on a seesaw. “Then what is it?”

He looked at our hands, his thumb sweeping nervously across my knuckles, and he smiled and shook his head. He whispered, “I don’t know... I don’t know if I’m ready to say just yet.”

Outside, thunder rumbled and a crack of lightning echoed through the sky from a few kilometres away.

We both turned to the balcony, but the glass doors were all boarded up. “This place looks like a prison cell,” he mumbled. Taking my hand, he pressed my palm to his lips and his eyes met mine, a different depth to them now. “Take me to bed, Jeremiah. Have your way with me. I want you inside me while the storm rages outside.”

Oh.

Well, then.

I lifted his chin and kissed him softly. “Are you sure? After last night—”

Something fierce flickered in his eyes, and there was no doubt.

He was sure.

Still holding his hand, I led him toward the stairs. He hit the light switch on the way, and his room, with the windows all covered with plyboard, was pitch-black. I went to turn the lights on, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me close.

“Go by feel,” he murmured.

Oh boy.

My body already on edge, I did what he wanted. I raked my hands up his chest, feeling along his neck so I could undo the top buttons on his polo shirt. I pulled it over his head, quickly cupping his jaw so I could line up a kiss.

I teased his tongue with mine, pulling him in close and skimming my hands down his back and over his arse and back up again. My hands explored and mapped out every inch while I sucked on his tongue.

He fumbled with the button on his pants, and I gripped his hands to stop him. “You said I could have my way,” I murmured.

He made a sound that was more groan than gasp. My eyes had adjusted to the complete darkness, enough that I could see the outline of the side of his face, his eyes, and...

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