Saving Savannah - A Reverse Harem Romance

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1 - Savannah

  2 - Savannah

  3 - Savannah

  4 - Savannah

  5 - Savannah

  6 - Erik

  7 - Savannah

  8 - Savannah

  9 - Savannah

  10 - Savannah

  11 - Zane

  12 - Savannah

  13 - Savannah

  14 - Savannah

  15 - Savannah

  16 - Savannah

  17 - Roman

  18 - Savannah

  19 - Savannah

  20 - Savannah

  21 - Savannah

  22 - Savannah

  23 - Zane

  24 - Savannah

  25 - Savannah

  26 - Savannah

  27 - Savannah

  28 - Savannah

  29 - Savannah

  30 - Savannah

  31 - Erik

  32 - Savannah

  33 - Savannah

  34 - Savannah

  35 - Savannah

  36 - Savannah

  37 - Roman

  38 - Savannah

  39 - Savannah

  40 - Savannah

  41 - Savannah

  42 - Savannah

  43 - Erik

  44 - Savannah

  45 - Savannah

  46 - Savannah

  47 - Savannah

  48 - Savannah

  49 - Savannah

  50 - Zane

  51 - Savannah

  52 - Savannah

  53 - Savannah

  54 - Savannah

  55 - Savannah

  56 - Savannah

  57 - Savannah

  Epilogue

  Unconventional

  About the Author

  Saving Savannah

  A Reverse

  Harem Romance

  Krista Wolf

  Copyright © 2019 Krista Wolf

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.

  Cover image: Stock footage — story is unrelated to subject/models

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  ~ Other Books by Krista Wolf ~

  Quadruple Duty

  Quadruple Duty II - All or Nothing

  Shared

  Snowed In

  Unwrapping Holly

  Protecting Dallas

  The Arrangement

  Three Alpha Romeo

  What Happens in Vegas

  Sharing Hannah

  Unconventional

  Saving Savannah

  Chronicles of the Hallowed Order

  Book one: Ghosts of Averoigne

  Book two: Beyond the Gates of Evermoore

  Book three: Claimed by the Pack

  One

  SAVANNAH

  “You can just put that anywhere…”

  The mover bent at the knees, but my eyes stayed glued to his bare arms. His great biceps, bulging and flexing. The cut of his triceps, straining against those broad, muscular shoulders. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat now. An extra glisten and shine that made everything that much more delicious.

  “Ma’am?”

  I shook my head to clear it of my self-induced trance. The other two men were standing there waiting on me, holding another pair of the heavier boxes.

  “Okay those…” I pointed one by one. “Living room. Bedroom.” Then, adding my sweetest smile: “Please.”

  They shuffled off in opposite directions, leaving my eyes torn with a hard decision. Each of them had an amazingly firm, rounded ass. Ultimately I went with the blond, whose jeans were tighter.

  “You should start unpacking,” the first man said with a chuckle. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  “I’d still rather help,” I said, following him down the stairs.

  “You really don’t have to,” he replied. “That’s what you hired us for.”

  “I know. But still…”

  The number I’d called on the flyer said something about ‘College Hunks’. It came complete with the graphic of a handsome, barrel-chested youth with big, strong arms.

  I just never imagined I’d actually get someone like that.

  Much less three someones.

  And yet here they were — almost exactly like the little caricature on the flyer. Three giant, college-age movers with bulging arms and square-set jaws. They met me at the truck, down in the street. Each looking more chiseled and beautiful than the one before.

  “You’ve got an awful lot of stuff,” the first one said as we reached the truck. He stood on the sidewalk for a second, setting his strong hands on his slender hips. “It’s just you up there?”

  I hesitated for an awkward moment. Eventually, I nodded.

  “Sorry ma’am,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No, it’s alright.”

  “It isn’t, really,” he replied. “I shouldn’t be—”

  “Calling me ma’am?” I chuckled. “The others look like they’re in college, but you…”

  He turned to look back at me, and his blue eyes sparkled. “Twenty-six.”

  “Ah, now see? You’re a few years older than me!”

  A smile curled its way up one side of his mouth, splitting his gorgeous, stubbled face. God, he was beautiful. So strong and savage-looking.

  “Tell ya what,” I said, returning his grin. “Start calling me Savannah, and I’ll start calling you…”

  “Erik,” he said, wiping one palm on his jeans. “With a K.”

  He extended his hand, which was attached to a very tattooed arm. I shook it, noticing how big and calloused and amazing it was.

  “Nice to meet you, Erik with a K.”

  “Likewise.”

  His touch lingered on mine for just an extra half second. Then he nodded and hopped back up into the truck.

  “The Italian Stallion back there is Roman by the way,” Erik called from the top of the ramp. “And the blond one’s Zane.”

  “Ah,” I acknowledged. “Either of them actually in college?”

  “Roman is,” he replied with a grin. “The rest of us are just hunks.”

  With a grunt, he lifted the next box and carried it down the ramp. I stacked two of the smaller ones against my chest and followed.

  My God, his ass is fantastic…

  It was a little salacious maybe, perving out like this. But for the past hour I’d been really enjoying the view. And hey, if I were being honest — it had been a while. Much longer than I actually liked to admit.

  We made our way back to my new apartment, which amazed me every time I walked through the door. A big wide studio, with smooth oak floors and beautifully molded walls, it was easily double the size of any place I’d ever lived before.

  I almost wanted to pinch myself again, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  “How many more?” asked Zane, the blond one. Like the others, he’d stripped off his brightly-colored uniform, and was down to a sleeveless white T-shirt that hugged his lithe, beautiful body. I could even see the hint of his sculpted abdominals, straining against the fabric as he caught his breath.

  “More than enough,” Erik chuckled. “It’s like the truck keeps refilling itself.” His eyes darted playfully to me. “I think she’s moving three whole families in here.”

  “Five,” I countered, without missing a beat.

  “See?” said Erik, with a lau
gh. “I told ya she’s one of us.”

  Just then the Italian Stallion stomped in from the back bedroom. He was tall and dark and devilishly handsome, a little fact that certainly hadn’t escaped my notice.

  “Roman, Zane,” said Erik with a gesture. “This here is Savannah, not ‘ma’am’.”

  I smiled pleasantly and nodded.

  “Savannah, these are my chucklehead friends.”

  I reached out to shake each of their hands, then turned back to Erik. “Are all of your friends chuckleheads?”

  “Only the best ones.”

  “I see.”

  Introductions finished, we headed back down for the rest of my stuff. It took the better part of another two hours, even with four of us, before we were staring at the back wall of the moving truck. Box by box, step by step, the last of my things was finally carried up three flights of overly-steep stairs. It left us breathless and heaving, leaning against the barren walls.

  “Damn,” said Roman. He made his way through the kitchen and started filling a plastic cup with tap water. “That was a rough one.”

  I watched him drink, the water moving in rhythmic gulps down his magnificent throat. He had the jawline of a boxer. The hands of one, too.

  “At least you didn’t have any couches,” chuckled Zane. “Or loungers. Or…” He paused and scratched his head. “Hey, where is all your furniture anyway?”

  “In those boxes,” I smiled, pointing.

  His innocent eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

  “Yup. Everything’s all brand new.” I raised my shoulders in a little shrug. “Figured I’d give myself a fresh start.”

  Roman mopped the back of his sun-bronzed neck with the bandana that had been hanging out of his front pocket all day. “Well it doesn’t get much fresher than this.”

  Zane walked the room in a circle, admiring the high ceilings. “You’re going to be here all week putting this stuff together,” he said, gesturing around.

  “Probably,” I agreed.

  “Oh definitely,” said Erik. He plucked a large bottle of wine from the kitchen counter. “At least you have this, though. You were thinking ahead.”

  “Actually,” I admitted, “that was left here for me. A little gift, from the previous tenants.”

  Erik lifted the tiny card next to the bottle read it. “Wow,” he said. “You mean there are still nice people left in this world?”

  “A few,” I laughed. “Probably not many.”

  “That’s an awful lot of wine,” Zane noted, scratching at his shaggy blond mane.

  “Yeah,” I chuckled. “Too bad you guys won’t be here later to help me finish it.”

  The words were fun, flirty. They’d just slipped out. But the way the guys were suddenly eyeing each other, it made my stomach erupt in butterflies.

  “I think you’re just angling for someone to put your furniture together,” Erik insinuated with a wry grin.

  “That too.”

  He looked again at the others, then raised an eyebrow. “Would there be pizza involved?”

  My heart was pounding now, hammering a steady rhythm in my chest. “Could be, yeah.”

  The guys looked at each other again. All three of them gave up a mutual shrug.

  “Then we’re in,” said Zane.

  Roman folded his arms and nodded.

  “Let’s say eight o’clock?” suggested Erik. “Gives us time to run home and shower. Come back without the stupid uniforms.”

  “And what if I like you in the stupid uniforms?” I flirted, for no particular reason.

  Erik’s smoldering blue eyes bored into mine. I knew right then I was in trouble. Big trouble.

  “Trust me,” he winked. “You’ll like us better without em’.”

  Two

  SAVANNAH

  It took them just ten minutes to put my kitchen table together, and another twenty to assemble the chairs. I’d bought a cheap set. Nothing fancy. But it seemed more than adequate, as the four of us sat huddled around it in my brightly-lit kitchen.

  “Wanna pass me the salt, bro?”

  Zane slid it across the table, toward his friend’s waiting hand. He went too hard though. Halfway there, it tipped on its side and spilled out in a cool-looking fan pattern.

  “C’mon man,” said Erik. “Have some respect. She hasn’t even set up yet and you’re wrecking the place already.”

  Zane righted the shaker apologetically and began the cleanup process. Before he did though, Roman took a pinch of the spilled salt and tossed it over his opposite shoulder.

  “What’s that for?” asked Zane.

  “Good luck,” I answered for him.

  Roman turned his attention my way and gave me a very approving look. “So… you’re Italian?”

  I pulled at my deep red curls and laughed. “Do I look Italian?”

  I was leaning back in my chair a bit, balancing precariously. The pizza was great. So was the company. Two glasses of wine in, I was feeling no pain.

  “No,” Roman finally admitted.

  “Call me superstitious then,” I said with a shrug. “I just happen to know a lot of that stupid ‘old wives tales’ stuff.”

  “It’s not stupid if it works,” he replied smoothly.

  Zane laughed and twisted the cap off another beer from the six pack he’d been sharing with Erik. “And how would you even know if it works?” he asked Roman. “Have you been having especially good luck lately?”

  Roman’s soft brown eyes found mine. His smile was charming as he tipped his glass in my direction. “Can’t really complain so far.”

  We were a couple of hours into our move-in party, which included the assembly of five pieces of furniture so far. The end tables in the living room were done, the entertainment center, all screwed together. The couch would arrive tomorrow, the television the day after that. As for my bed…

  Well, the guys had set the box-spring on its brand new frame, and enjoyed peeling the protective plastic off my brand new mattress. When they saw it was a King, they made jokes about my boyfriend or husband showing up at any minute. In reality though, I’d picked it because the room was just really big. That, plus I loved to stretch out.

  We’d unpacked the kitchen together, and the bathroom also. Everything of course, was brand new. From the still-in-the-box coffee-maker to the bright red price tags slapped on the bottom of my dishes.

  “You really are getting a fresh start,” whistled Zane. He looked me up and down and squinted. “You come up here from Georgia?”

  “Why?” I teased, adding an exaggerated twang to my not-so-southern drawl. “Just because my name’s Sav-ann-ah?”

  His mouth opened and then closed, causing me to laugh and tip my wine back against my lips. I was enjoying how red he was turning, beneath his lion-blond mane.

  “Well you’re sure not from Massachusetts,” Zane continued to blush. “Much less from Salem.”

  Salem. It had been the place I’d finally settled on. Not so much at random, but for purposes I hoped would ultimately pan out for me. And if for some reason they didn’t…

  If they didn’t, you know exactly what to do.

  I shook the intrusive thoughts away. Salem was every bit as perfect as I imagined it would be. Small. Sleepy. Charming in its sense of rich history, but also just crowded enough to blend in and not really be noticed.

  Especially around this time of year.

  “Well I think we’re about finished for the night,” I said, tracing the rim of my glass with one finger.

  Disappointment fell over their faces like a curtain of gloom. I had to stifle a smile.

  “It is getting late,” Erik agreed, draining his beer. “I guess we’ll pack our tools and head out.”

  “Oh I didn’t say that,” I corrected him. “I just meant we’re done putting stuff together. I’m tired of hammering and screwing things. And you guys have done more than enough work for me today.”

  Hope dawned for them again, bright and clear. This time I actually chuck
led. I’d forgotten how much fun it was, flirting like this.

  “I don’t have a television,” I shrugged. “Or a radio. Or even a couch. But I do have something to make us a little more comfortable.”

  Roman grinned. Erik rubbed at his jaw with one tattooed hand.

  “Oh yeah?” Zane asked carefully. “And what’s that?”

  I got up, stretched my tired legs, and crossed into the empty expanse of the living room.

  “Come and see.”

  Three

  SAVANNAH

  “Okay then…” I purred, squirming my ass into the pillow. I took an emboldening sip of wine. Leaning back a little bit, the softness felt good beneath me. “Your turn.”

  Zane grinned, pretending to stroke his chin thoughtfully. But he already had it. He already knew.

  “Never have I ever… had sex in public.”

  We were sitting in a circle, cross-legged, facing each other as we played the game. The only thing keeping our asses from the hard wooden floor were a series of fluffy red throw pillows I’d bought on a whim, that I hoped would match the couch when it finally showed up.

  Erik and Zane both drank, indicating they’d done the deed. As they tipped their beers back in surrender I drank as well, straight from the quickly-dwindling bottle of wine.

  “Here,” smiled Roman, reaching in my direction. “Might as well make it unanimous.”

  Our hands touched, his fingers lingering on mine for a few seconds as our eyes met. He drank deeply from the bottle we were sharing, but without breaking our gaze.

  “Alright,” I said. “Out with it.”

  “Stories?” asked Zane hopefully.

  “Of course.”

  The pillows had been my idea, but the game of course had come from the guys. It had taken all of two rounds before it got sexual. And that was only because they were being polite.

  I didn’t mind at all. It was kinda fun.

  “It was on a pool table,” Erik began, “in the back room of a shitty bar. Pool tables are hard, by the way. I don’t recommend them.”

  We laughed as he pretended to rub at his sore lower back. Zane went on to detail having sex in the ocean, submerged up to his neck at a semi-crowded beach. Roman’s public romp was more adventurous, having taken place in the changing room of a department store.