The Five Brothers Next Door: A Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  The Five Brothers Next Door

  A Reverse Harem Romance

  Nikki Chase

  Copyright © 2017 Nikki Chase

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is for mature readers. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some.

  All sexual activity in this work is consensual and all sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older.

  Contents

  About This Book

  The Five Brothers Next Door

  Prologue

  1. Ava

  2. Ava

  3. Mason

  4. Liam

  5. Ava

  6. Ollie

  7. Noah

  8. Ava

  9. Nathan

  10. Ava

  11. Mason

  12. Ava

  13. Noah

  14. Ava

  15. Liam

  16. Ollie

  17. Ava

  18. Nathan

  19. Ava

  20. Ava

  21. Ollie

  22. Ava

  23. Liam

  24. Noah

  25. Nathan

  26. Mason

  27. Ava

  28. Ollie

  29. Ava

  30. Noah

  31. Ava

  32. Nathan

  33. Mason

  34. Liam

  Epilogue

  Bonus: Again

  Prologue

  1. Aubrey

  2. Aiden

  3. Aubrey

  4. Aubrey

  5. Aubrey

  6. Aiden

  7. Aubrey

  8. Aubrey

  9. Aiden

  10. Aubrey

  11. Aiden

  12. Aubrey

  13. Aubrey

  14. Aubrey

  15. Aubrey

  16. Aubrey

  17. Aiden

  18. Aubrey

  19. Aubrey

  20. Aubrey

  21. Aubrey

  22. Aiden

  23. Aubrey

  24. Aubrey

  25. Aubrey

  26. Aubrey

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Preview: My Brother’s Friend, the Dom

  Prologue

  1. Sarah

  2. Sarah

  3. Luca

  4. Sarah

  5. Luca

  Bonus: Guilty

  Prologue

  1. Cole

  2. Emily

  3. Cole

  4. Emily

  5. Emily

  6. Cole

  7. Emily

  8. Emily

  9. Cole

  10. Emily

  11. Cole

  12. Emily

  13. Cole

  14. Emily

  15. Emily

  16. Cole

  17. Emily

  18. Cole

  19. Emily

  20. Cole

  21. Cole

  22. Emily

  23. Cole

  24. Emily

  25. Cole

  26. Emily

  27. Cole

  28. Emily

  29. Cole

  30. Emily

  31. Cole

  32. Emily

  Epilogue

  Preview: Knocked Up

  1. Kat

  2. Heath

  3. Kat

  4. Heath

  5. Kat

  About the Author

  About This Book

  The Five Brothers Next Door is a full-length novel of approximately 56,000 words.

  I’ve also included two free, full-length bonus books—just a little something to thank you for reading, and hopefully get you interested in the rest of my catalog.

  Happy reading!

  <3 Nikki

  The Five Brothers Next Door

  A Reverse Harem Romance

  Prologue

  Ava

  I nuzzle my face into Liam’s chest and mewl happily. He’s so warm and it feels cold outside the covers. I don’t want to leave the bed.

  I feel Ollie stir behind me. “Hi, Ava,” he says in a hoarse, sleepy voice.

  “Morning, Ollie.”

  Ollie scoots closer to wrap his arm around me, spooning me. He moves my hair aside and comes closer, putting his lips right up against the back of my neck. “Morning, Ava.”

  I gasp as a jolt of pleasure shoots from my sensitive neck, all the way down to my core.

  I have two men in my bed. Two strong, gorgeous, sexy, men who are obviously into me, too.

  This early in the morning, my brain seems to still be asleep. But my nerve endings aren’t. I can feel every little breath of Ollie’s that falls on my skin, and it kindles a hungry flame inside me.

  “Do you like that, Ava?” Liam asks as he stares intently at me, his hungry eyes studying me.

  “Yeah.” I bite down on my bottom lip to muffle a moan that’s threatening to escape.

  “I can make it feel even better.” Liam smirks as he puts his hand on my hip, under the covers.

  Liam keeps his gaze on my face, waiting for any sign of my disapproval. Seeing none, he drags his hand up my abdomen, slipping under my shirt. His fingers find my nipple already hard and erect. The smirk on his face grows wider.

  Liam kneads my breasts as Ollie’s hand on my stomach pulls me back until I feel his hard morning wood poking against my butt cheeks.

  It doesn’t take long until I can’t stifle my voice anymore. My lips part, letting my sighs and moans out.

  “Lift up your hands, Ava,” Ollie says as he pulls my shirt up from the back.

  I don’t sleep with a bra on, so as soon as the shirt comes off I’m naked from the waist up and lying on my side—not exactly a flattering angle for my breasts. Gravity does strange things to them when I’m in this position.

  Still, Liam doesn’t seem to mind. He shoots me a hungry smile as he kisses my throat and moves down to the valley between my breasts.

  As Liam latches onto my nipple, Ollie’s hand wanders south and slips under the waistband of the sweatpants I wear to bed.

  I gasp when his fingers find my lower lips. Instinctively, I arch my back, which only pushes my ass back against his hard package behind me.

  “You’re wet,” Ollie whispers from behind me. “You like being with two guys at the same time, Ava?”

  I want to shake my head, but Ollie would know I’m lying. My panties are drenched.

  “Yeah.” My voice comes out in a sigh that’s heavily laced with arousal.

  Suddenly, we hear three knocks on the door and stop, looking at one another.

  It’s most likely the other Hunter brothers behind that door, and they’ve probably heard my want-filled moans . . .

  Are they joining us?

  Do I want them to?

  Ava

  I wasted three years of my life with a loser. Three precious years I’ll never get back. Even by my standards, what happened with Joseph was bad.

  I don’t know why I have such bad luck with men. It’s not that I’m hideous and nobody wants me.

  I have long, silky chestn
ut hair and almond-shaped green eyes, both of which get me regular compliments. I wish I was taller, but I’ve been told I have a proportional body.

  Yes, I’ve put on a little bit of weight over summer holiday, but I can still fit into my clothes, although I’ll admit they’re a little tight.

  I do get some male attention, but . . . I don’t know, I’m just not into the men who like me, and the men I like aren’t into me.

  My mom says I’m too picky. She says when she was my age, she was already pregnant with me. She’s always been very domestic, my mom. And competitive.

  She probably would’ve had more children if it weren’t for her endometriosis, which she got not long after giving birth to me. She tells me she cried and wailed in her doctor’s office he told her the disease had gotten so bad a hysterectomy was medically necessary.

  Maybe that’s why she wants me to get married and pop out babies ASAP. I’m only twenty-one, but that also means my mom’s been waiting for twenty-one years to have another baby in the family.

  That’s one of the big reasons why I stayed with Joseph for so long, actually: because my mom liked him. She still does, which kind of makes me angry.

  I mean, she’s my mom; she’s supposed to be on my side.

  I could forgive her when I was still with Joseph, because I didn’t tell her what he was like. But now that she knows, I’m having trouble understanding why she still wants me to be with him.

  In short, Joseph was incredibly insecure and controlling.

  The long version could take forever, but let me list off a small sample of his most grievous offenses:

  We went clubbing and I drank too much. I got lightheaded and asked him to drive me home, so he did. But I wished I’d taken a cab instead because he berated me for ruining his night out the whole way home.

  During a vacation in a nearby coastal town, I got my period and he sulked for the entire three-day trip like it was my fault we couldn’t go snorkeling or have sex. I remember sitting on the beach with the water lapping at me, wishing a shark would smell my blood and wander over to take a bite. Anything would’ve been better than listening to Joseph’s incessant complaints.

  We bickered all the time, over the smallest things. He used to yell at me, grab my wrist so I couldn’t escape stressful situations (I’ve never liked conflicts), and punch the wall. He was careful never to show his mean side in public, though.

  Whenever I tried to break up with him (and I did try—many times), he subjected me to multiple hours of him crying and pleading for yet another chance. A few times, he even slapped himself in the face, again and again, until I capitulated.

  So he didn’t cheat on me or anything, but he was like a spoiled kid. He didn’t take good care of his toy—me—but when he thought he was going to lose the toy, he threw tantrums until he got his way.

  Hey, maybe that’s why my mom likes Joseph so much. He’s basically a big baby, and she’s always wanted more babies.

  It’s been one month since the last time I told Joseph it was over. Still, he continues to harass me, asking me to move back into our old shared rental house, trying to lure me with the stuff I left behind.

  It’s laughable, really. I’m not going back there to pick up my ratty T-shirt. Not when there’s a good chance it’s just an excuse to rope me into yet another one of his dramatic outbursts.

  So yeah, in summary, I’ve learned a lot from my first serious relationship.

  The scariest lesson of all, though? Apparently, I’m a terrible judge of character.

  When I first met Joseph, I thought I’d hit the jackpot on my first try.

  He was kind, funny, and smart. At the young age of twenty-six, he was a successful lawyer, too. He courted me with freshly-cut roses, candle-lit dinners, and long walks on the beach.

  It took less than three months for me to move in with him, and my mom couldn’t have been happier. She was already buying pregnancy kits and flipping through baby-name books.

  Looking back, my mom’s excitement made me feel trapped and claustrophobic. Maybe that should’ve been a red flag, a big, flashing sign telling me I should’ve moved back out right away.

  But if I start thinking that way, there’d be no end to it.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have moved in, in the first place. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to enter an exclusive relationship with Joseph. Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted the cosmopolitan he bought me at Feral, the bar where we first met.

  It’s hard not to have regrets, though, because I’m paying for every single one of those mistakes now.

  Joseph’s been blowing up my phone at all hours, bombarding me with text messages and phone calls. I’ve blocked his number, but he keeps trying with different numbers—by borrowing other people’s phones, by using cheap Skype numbers, and even by using payphones.

  Lately, I’ve been turning off my phone at night because otherwise I’d never sleep through the night. I’ve also disabled the doorbell because sometimes he just appears on my doorstep, demanding to be let inside.

  I dread the day he shows up at the high school where I teach. Feels like it’s just a matter of time until that happens.

  Joseph’s texts have been getting more and more unhinged. I get the feeling he’s just going to get even worse.

  Like an experienced storm chaser, I recognize the signs before disaster actually strikes. That’s just one of the useless skills I’ve gained after three years of walking on eggshells, trying not to upset him in any way.

  I pick up my phone from my desk to read the text messages I got earlier today.

  Joseph: I’m coming home early from work today

  Joseph: I remember when I used to run errands for you on a day like this

  Joseph: Like when I bought some Spanish textbooks for you

  Joseph: Or when I filled up your gas tank

  Joseph: Or when I got you flowers on the way home

  I roll my eyes. It’s been years since he last bought me flowers.

  I scan the classroom to check that all my students are working on the test I’m giving them today. Most of them are still hunched over their little desks, writing furiously. For a moment, I wonder if future generations are going to be horrified when they find out just how unergonomic school desks and chairs used to be.

  I turn my attention back to my phone. The next few messages from Joseph were sent a couple of hours after those initial ones, and they have a completely different tone.

  Joseph: I spent so much money on you

  Joseph: I really love you and you’re just throwing everything away

  Joseph: Didn’t I give you enough?

  Joseph: What about the $3k I spent on that dress you liked so much?

  Joseph: Or the $1.5k shoes you wore to meet my parents?

  Joseph: I can’t believe I thought you were the one

  Joseph: You’re nothing but a gold digger

  Anger boils within me, making me shake like I’m about to erupt. But there’s an entire class of sophomores in front of me right now, and they’re quietly working on a test. A meltdown is not a good idea right now.

  As their teacher, I’m supposed to be a good role model. A good role model doesn’t slam her desk and yell about what an asshole her ex-boyfriend is.

  I probably shouldn’t be a teacher in the first place, but this is not the time to think about that. I don’t have any brain power left to worry about my career path.

  My wrath flows down my arms and into my fingers. My thumbs are frozen over the phone screen, ready to deny the accusations that have been leveled against me.

  I mean, what kind of a gold digger never asks for anything? I clearly remember telling Joseph those gifts were too expensive and I didn’t need them, but he didn’t listen. He said he was making good money and he wanted to spend it on me.

  I start to type.

  Ava: If I knew those gifts came with strings, I would’ve

  Would’ve what? Thrown them in his face? Burned them to a crisp?

  My thumb
s hover over the keyboard on the little screen. As I consider my options, I scan the classroom full of young, impressionable minds.

  Maybe I should strive to be a better person. I have a shiny, new job. It’s the perfect time to reinvent myself.

  Also, it’s probably not a good idea to let myself be dragged into an argument. I shouldn’t stoop down to Joseph’s level.

  Rise above, I tell myself.