Dray (Miller Brothers Book 1)

  Dray

  Alexa Young

  Copyright © 2015 Alexa Young

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictional and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Editor – Hot Tree Editing

  Cover – Mayhem Cover Creations

  DEDICATION

  To L, I miss you x

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Two Years Later

  Chapter One

  A cruel sliver of sunlight slowly tortures me awake, sending me plummeting straight into the bowels of Hell.

  Hangover Hell.

  I tentatively pop open an eye then instantly regret it. The crushing pain piercing my skull only serves as a reminder of my overindulgence in the alcohol department last night. Jesus, it’s like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to my head. I lick my dry lips then wince at the taste, my mouth feeling like the bottom of a birdcage.

  Water. I need water.

  I’m getting too old for this shit.

  It hurts to fucking blink right now, but I’m soon distracted hearing a soft moan beside me. My head snaps around and the nausea reacts to the sudden movement. God, I need to stay off the scotch, but it always has a habit of making its way into my hand over the course of the night. There’s another soft moan as warm fingers curl around my bicep, making me shiver, but not in a good way.

  “Hey, sweetie,” the cute blonde purrs beside me, and I cringe.

  I hate that pet name.

  She’s probably using it as she’s forgotten my name, because I sure as hell can’t remember hers.

  “Hey,” I croak and wince; it’s like I’ve swallowed glass. My hand drops down to check underneath the covers.

  Fuck, I’m naked.

  But no surprise there.

  I hope at least I wore a freaking condom.

  How many guys has she screwed before me?

  I know.

  Pot meet kettle.

  I’m a hypocrite. I can’t even count the number of women I’ve had over the last year. My head just can’t keep up with my dick.

  I shiver when her fingers stroke along my hard chest. At six-foot-four, my body is ripped from all the hours pounding away in the gym. My love of tattoos has become one hell of an obsession; my whole back is inked, and I sport two impressive sleeves that bring a lot of attention. My chestnut-brown hair is cropped short, and teamed with blue eyes and a cheeky smile, it’s enough to impress the ladies and send them my way.

  Her fingers continue their journey down south, and all thoughts soon go out the window the moment I feel her hand rest on my slowly rising cock.

  Am I actually getting hard?

  Well, possibly, since she’s working me with her hand. I push my head back into the pillow and feel her warm body slide down mine until her lips meet where I need her the most. I groan when she rolls her tongue over the head. Fuck me, she’s good. I could almost keep this chick around—well, maybe if she remained mute. She begins taking me deeper into that mouth of hers. Nice to know it’s good for something. I grab her hair as she shows me just how good she really is with her oral skills. I’d go as far as saying she could be top of the class.

  I know I’m not going to last long. Fuck, I wish I could, but I have stuff to do, so despite my body's reluctance I give in, coming hard in her mouth. I feel her gag slightly, but I don’t ease up the tight grip I have on her hair, despite her struggling against my hand. Eventually, I let her go and she crawls back up to give me a ‘you’re welcome’ kiss, but I’m not having those lips anywhere near me. Instead, I sit up and swing my feet out of the bed, ready to take a hot, lengthy shower.

  “But, sweetie, what about me?” she whines as I roll my eyes and chuckle at her pouty, pleading face.

  “Not going there again, darling. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  “Bastard!” she shrieks, and I smile as I head for the bathroom.

  Yep, that’s me.

  Chapter Two

  I swing open the door in search of a strong coffee. I go to the same place every day, Luciana’s, just to see my little firecracker. Her coffee shop, which is aptly named after her, is one of the busiest places in this area, specialising in delivering the most amazing fine Italian coffees and cuisine. Luce is a five-foot-two fiery Italian, who gets her Italian roots from her dad’s side. Her mum is British, born here in Manchester. Gianni Abbiati and his brother, Luca, emigrated here from Naples thirty years ago to start a life and Gianni met Elizabeth straightaway. They married a year after and fell pregnant with Luciana. I’ve never called her by her full name in the whole time I’ve known her; to me, she will always be my Luce.

  She purses her lips the moment her beautiful brown eyes meet mine as I head towards her. Despite the shower and fresh clothes, I know nothing will hide the worn look of a night overindulging in booze and easy chicks.

  “Hey, firecracker.”

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she huffs, wrinkling her brows together. She has the most amazing olive skin, the kind that’s completely flawless. She doesn’t need makeup; she’s perfect as she is. She barely gives me any eye contact as she starts refilling the cupcakes on the counter. Her long, rich chocolate-brown hair is swept back into a ponytail, which swishes with every movement she makes.

  “I see your sparkling personality is in full flow today. You maybe want to take it down a notch or two, just to go easy on me?” I plead, but it’s a lost cause. Luce doesn’t work that way. She scowls and I know that look. No sympathy will be sent my way. She’s such a little tough nut, and I can’t help but smile.

  She stops to look at me. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself for the condition you’re in.”

  Ouch.

  Straight to the point.

  Luce is not a fan of my drinking and lifestyle, and makes sure I know it. She’s not one to stand on ceremony. I pout my lips, hoping she’ll relent. I don’t have a cat in Hell's chance, but that doesn’t stop me trying.

  “Do you honestly believe that works on me?” she scoffs, her eyes filling with amusement at my pathetic attempt to win her over.

  “I’m hoping it does,” I say, giving her puppy-dog eyes once more.

  I don’t give up that easily.

  She gives me ‘the look.’ “Oh, purlease. God
knows who you’ve been kissing with those pouty lips, so do me a favour and put them away.” She turns away in disgust as I frown.

  “Oh, Luce, you know you’re still my girl. No need to be jealous.”

  She snorts. “Me, jealous? I don’t think so.”

  I quirk a brow. “You sure? Maybe just a little?” I tease.

  “Yeah, whatever, Dray. Let me get your coffee and you can be on your merry way.” She grabs a takeaway cup and heads over to fill it.

  Wow.

  “Charming. Maybe I was going to hang out here and just annoy the hell out of you.” There’s a part of me that wants to do that anyway.

  She pops the lid on the cup with a hard tap. “No way. My day has already officially sucked, considering I’ve burned one batch of cupcakes so far. I don’t need you adding to the mix.”

  A scowl crosses my face at her attempt to quickly brush me off. “Fine, just hand me the coffee and no one gets hurt. Maybe you could slip a little Jack in. You know, just to clear the cobwebs,” I jest, hoping to quirk a smile on those sweet lips of hers.

  She purses them instead and sends a glare my way. “I think you’ve maybe had enough, don’t you?”

  “Jeez, you’re no fun. I think I might try and sweat it out.” That was my usual attempt to get over a humdinger of a hangover.

  She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “What a pleasant thought,” she mumbles, wiping the cloth over the counter.

  “Hey, the girls love me stripping down so they can watch me work out. I know it may seem alien to you, but some girls actually like to see me drenched and panting.”

  They fucking drooled every time.

  “Eww. Same old Dray, you always did like an audience when you perform.” She rolls her eyes as she takes more cupcakes from the oven to cool.

  “Oh, darling, I leave them wanting for more.” I smirk, hoping to spark a rise from her.

  Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “Well, not this girl. Now please, take your hangover somewhere else. I have cupcakes to ice.” She waves me away like a nuisance fly as I sigh in defeat.

  “Promise to save me one for later?”

  Her eyes fill with amusement. “You not worried you’ll lose your definition?”

  “What, with these abs of steel?” I run my hand down my hard torso in jest. “Besides, I’ll be having more than a workout or two tonight,” I add, smirking.

  She pulls a face. “Seriously, Dray, too much information.”

  “You know me, I don’t hold back.” I shoot her a cheeky wink and get out of there while my balls are still intact. She’s a little Rottweiler, and even I know not to push her too far.

  We’ve been best friends since we were ten. She first caught my attention when she smashed her right hook into my face. Admittedly, I deserved it after throwing a water bomb her way, completely soaking her from head to toe. I guess she didn’t see the funny side, leaving me nursing an aching jaw, which served as a reminder to never mess with her again. We became best friends soon after, hanging out together all the time. She was a little tomboy, taking no shit from anyone, and I admired how fearless she was, weighing in when her help was needed.

  Over time, though, things changed. She became more studious while I let my grades slide, too busy acquainting myself with all the ladies who caught my eye, but we still hung out. Then my old man walked out on us, leaving my mother heartbroken, trading her in for a younger model. It turns out he'd had his irons in quite a few fires, the revelations of his past infidelities breaking my mother’s heart piece by piece. When my mother died of breast cancer when I was sixteen, my whole world fell apart. She was always the main person in my life, lifting my spirits, cheering me on despite my many failed attempts.

  After that, I lived with my uncle, who was too far gone with his drinking habit to care. That’s where the gym came in. I needed a focus, something to drive towards, and there were many boxing circuits where I lived. I strived to have the best body and fitness to take down any competitor who came my way. Luce was against it, of course, but she was always there to tend to my cuts and bruises, despite not having the gentlest of bedside manners. But she was my rock, the one I turned to and spent most of my time around, when I wasn’t preparing for a fight. Her mum, Liz, became my mum, taking over the role. She cooked me meals and made sure I had all my washing done. I stayed over most nights, grateful for a clean bed to lie in.

  I left school with poor exam results, but the money was rolling in, so what did I care if I wasn’t academic? I would make my own way in life using the best skills I knew. The money soon piled up and from then on, I dabbled in some gambling. I had spent enough time with the lads to know how to play a mean game of poker. I became good at it, and the money soon soared. At eighteen, I was living the kind of lifestyle I could only dream about, with money, fast cars and all the women throwing themselves at my feet, but I needed something more.

  The boxing soon got old—despite winning, the recovery time was taking its toll on my body—so I invested my money in a rundown gym. My friends actually scoffed when I bought it, saying I had more money than sense, but the price I paid was next to nothing. It took a lot to get it refurbished to a standard where people would take it seriously, but in the end, I made it. Over the next few years, I turned one gym into a chain, opening several more around the country. I was a success and boy, did I fucking love it.

  I had everything I ever wanted, except the one thing I needed the most.

  Luce.

  I think I knew from the day we met that girl would hold a special place in my heart, but over time, it went from a friendship to something more. I became more aware of my feelings the moment she announced she was dating a guy named George. I already hated the fucker before I even met him. Turns out he was a science geek—she had taken the brains over beauty route. He could outsmart me in a second with his extensive knowledge, but it would only take a flick of my pinkie finger to knock him spark out.

  They lasted for about three months, three long months where I was pushed to the brink of jealousy. I wanted to rip his throat out at the very mention of his name, but I kept my cool, losing myself in any female who looked my way. Man, I fucked a lot of women during that period. It was a wonder my cock never actually fell off.

  Over time, I got used to the jealousy, the insane ways I would blow up over the merest mention of a guy. I managed to keep my cool in front of Luce. Since she never suspected I had any kind of interest in her, what was the point of telling her? My feelings weren’t reciprocated—hell, most of the time, she treated me like the dickhead I was—but I welcomed any time I could spend with her. She was my rock, my heart, and my home, and I would take her any which way I could. Nothing was worth losing our friendship over; it was the one constant in my life, and I needed her like my next breath.

  After school, Luce went on to college, working her way to receiving a culinary diploma. She’d always been great at whipping things up from scratch, having learned it from her grandmother, Gianni’s mother. I couldn’t cook for shit, so I spent most of my meal times being fed there. It became an inside joke that I could smell their cooking from a hundred miles away. Sure, I had to step up the sessions at the gym, but each mouthful was worth the extra hour working out.

  After college, she put together her own business plan, which secured a loan to buy her coffee shop. From the moment she opened, business boomed as customers flocked to get their coffee fix and feast on those sweet and savoury treats. I was proud of my little firecracker. I’d offered to help, but her quick rebuff of where my money came from soon put me in my place. I knew if she was to do this then she would do it on her own.

  “Is there anything else, Dray? I’ve got customers to serve.”

  Fuck.

  Huh?

  “Sorry, I must have zoned out there. Blame the Jack. See you later, firecracker.” I raise my coffee in a salute before taking a sip.

  Sweet nectar.

  “No doubt.” A smirk crosses her lips; she can’t stay mad at me for l
ong. I walk away, grabbing the door handle and letting the cool air encase me. A shiver runs through me, waking me up. I need to get this day started already.

  I drive up to the gym, the first one I ever owned, still my baby. It never fails to raise a smile, to see all my hard work standing there in front of me. The car park is full, which is good; it brings in a lot of customers a day. My gyms are fitted with the most hi-tech exercise equipment. I’ve spent most of my life in a gym, so I know what people want, what they expect. People want quality, so I went all-out in delivering that.

  DM Fitness is my life, and I spend the best part of my day there. Not a single thing happens without my approval, and the staff knows it. I deal with all the paperwork, then delegate all the admin work to my PA, Abbie, a mousy little thing who barely says a word, but she’s good at her job. Most of my staff are amazing, straight down the line, but then there are some who are attention seekers. What can I say? Some are a little too eager to please, but who am I to turn them down? When it’s offered to you on a plate, a guy is only human.

  Right on cue, Caroline walks out to greet me.

  “Hey, boss,” she purrs. She’s a five-foot-six blonde who is very bendy due to regular yoga, a useful thing to have in the bedroom.

  “Hey, C. How has this morning been?” It’s now just past eleven. Normally, I’m in by eight, but last night’s scotch binge took its toll.

  “Pretty decent turnout. The ladies' Zumba class were asking after you,” she adds with a smirk.

  A smile creeps over my face, thinking about it. Those ladies are in their fifties but they sure are hands-on, groping me at any given chance. Jeez, they’re old enough to be my mother, but each one still has a sparkle in her eyes. I get the feeling my presence puts a little spring in their step. I guess my charm knows no bounds.

  “I bet they did.” I grab the mail and shuffle my way through the pile to check if there’s anything interesting.

  “Well, I would ask if you wanted a coffee, but you seem to have covered that part.” She nods to the drink on my desk and I smile, taking another sip. Nothing beats Luce’s coffee. “Is there anything else you want taken care of?” The cheeky glint in her eye tells me she doesn’t mean work-related, and a flick of her tongue across her glossy lips only confirms it.