Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3) (8 page)

SIX YEARS, FOUR MONTHS AGO

"You're getting better," Addison says.  She pulls herself out of the pool in one swift movement, her hands on the concrete edge, ignoring the steps that are less than three feet away, the same way she always does.  I don't know why she doesn't get out of the pool like a normal person, other than the fact that nothing Addy does is normal.  She's one of those people who looks normal on the outside, but turns out to have all these little quirks and things.  Like the way she counts when she's nervous.

I don't know if it's weird that I notice this stuff about her.  No one else seems to.  Of course, no one really seems to give much of a shit about what she does, other than if she's showing up at the studio or going on tour.

That's my biggest problem. I notice way too much about Addison Stone.  Like the fact that her eyes look so damn blue when she wears this one-piece navy swimsuit and matching swim cap, goggles perched on top of her head.  It should be the most unattractive look ever.  Except that it's not.  The water runs down the sides of her face, and over her shoulders, and...holy shit...her breasts.  Her nipples are hard through the fabric of her swimsuit, and I'm afraid to look down because my cock has got to be tenting the fabric of my trunks right now.

"Dude," she says.  "What, are you stoned?"

"Huh?  No.  What?"  I sound like a total idiot.  "What were you saying?"

"I said, will you hand me the towel?"

"Oh."  I reach down and grab the towel beside me and toss it to her, then turn away, adjusting the obvious bulge in my trunks. 
Fuck.
  I'm having a hard time -- pun intended -- hiding my response to her and I hope she hasn't noticed.  I walk away, toweling off to conceal my erection, my back facing her, and try instead to focus on the most un-sexually attractive things I can think of.  It barely helps.

"You're getting better," she says.  "Maybe you can go be a SEAL or something."

"Fuck."  I practically spit out the word.  "Wouldn't that be a trip.  The Colonel's head would explode."

"Why?" she asks.  I glance over my shoulder at her, and she's pulling the swim cap off her head and shaking out her hair. 
Damn it.
  She looks like an actress in one of those movies, when the girl shakes out her hair in slow motion as some slow porno-music plays on the soundtrack, hair tumbling down in waves, and I look away again.

I can't keep coming out here like this, hanging out with her, talking to her like we're friends.  Not with the way I'm starting to like her.  And definitely not with the way I'm looking at her.  "The Colonel is Army all the way," I say.  "He considers every other branch inferior.  Don't you know?  He'd love it if I went into the Army."

"Is that what you want to do?"

I turn around, making sure to hide my junk with the towel.  I'm still so damn hard I can barely think, and Addison wants to have a conversation about my life and my damn future.  "What, you're going to ask what
I
want to do?"

She looks taken aback.  "What else would I ask?"

"I don't know," I say.  "No one else seems to give a shit.  Are you doing what you want to do?"

Addison laughs.  "I'm fifteen," she says.  "I'm a star."

"That's not really an answer," I say.

She just shrugs.  "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"I don't know.  You're not that great at answering questions."

"It's not related," she says.  "I need a favor, since I'm helping you."

I cock my head to the side.  "You're helping me?"

"I'm teaching you to swim, jerk-face."

"Jerk-face?"  I ask.  "How old are you, twelve?  Go on, I want to hear what kind of favor Addison Stone needs from me."

"I need you to teach me how to drive."

"You don't know how to drive yet?" I ask.  "You're sixteen in...how long?"

"Four months," she says.  "I was on tour, and my mom has been..." Her voice trails off.

"Preoccupied with my dad," I say, sighing.

"You don't have to," she says, obviously misinterpreting my sigh as reluctance.  I guess it wouldn't really be a misinterpretation.  I don't want to spend any more time alone with Addison than I have to.  I keep coming down to the pool at night, even though I know it's playing with fire. Addison is getting under my skin.  It's Addison I talk to about things, down here at the pool.  It's Addison I look forward to seeing every night like clockwork, and Addison I'm ditching dates for, just so I can continue our swim lessons.  Addison is the one I've talked to about my mom's death, about what a douchebag my father is.  It's Addison I want to talk to all the time.

And that's a fucking problem.

I need to get her out of my head.  There are a hundred different girls I can go screw, girls that don't live in the same house with me.  Girls who aren't my stepsister.  And I've been fucking them.  It's just that it's Addison's face I see when I'm in their beds.  And it's Addison's name that's on my lips.

"It's fine," I lie. 
I should tell her no.

"Don't do it if you don't want to."

"I said it's fine.  We'll start this weekend.  But if you fuck up my car, driving it like shit, you're going to buy me a new one."

A grin spreads across Addison's face and she holds out her hand for me to shake.  "Okay.  Deal."

PRESENT DAY

I strip off my shirt as I come in the apartment, careful to close the door quietly behind me.  It's five in the morning, and I'm feeling energetic, despite my best efforts to wear the hell out of myself. 
Too
damn energetic.  I'm edgy and irritable as a result of being in close quarters with Addison.  Last night, hanging out with her in the pool sent memories of all the nights we spent together flooding right back – all of those nights I spent fighting my attraction for her.

I remind myself that I should be behaving more like a bodyguard, even if this isn't some routine security gig. The Colonel's expressed words were "no actual security threat."  I'm a glorified babysitter and that's it.  It's also not a regular situation because it's Addison.

Pouring a cup of coffee, I take it back to the room I appropriated a few days ago when Addison was being a less-than-gracious host.  Most people like her who are big stars now would hire a designer for decorating, but I know just by looking at it that this guest room, like everything in her place, is her own design.  This apartment is her private space.  Everything in here has been carefully selected, from the carved teak bed to the deep wine-colored curtains to the paintings on the wall, modern art with bright sunset oranges and Caribbean blues.  It's more bohemian than country and it reflects Addy's personality.

And that's one of the things making me lose my mind here.  Not only am I surrounded by Addy during the day, I'm surrounded by her at night, too.  Even here in this room I can't get away from her.  I swear, the damn sheets on the bed smell like her perfume.

It's making me edgy and irritable and...fucking hard as hell.

I strip down to my boxers and drop my sweaty clothes into the hamper, gulping down more coffee and grimacing as the hot liquid hits the back my throat.  I need a shower after another eight-miler.

What I really need is to get laid.

What I really, really need is someone to get my mind off my stepsister.

When I open the door, she's coming down the hallway from her room, dressed in a t-shirt.

And nothing else.  Addison is wearing a grey t-shirt that barely comes down over her hips and makes me wonder if she has on panties at all.  She stops short, a foot away from me, and her face turns practically scarlet.  When she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, the t-shirt fabric gets pulled higher, until I can see the edge of her panties between her legs. 
Pink.
  She's wearing pink fucking panties and a t-shirt.

If I thought my cock was going to explode before...

I swear to God all the blood drains from my head and I just stand there, staring at her with my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

"Oh," she says.  Her gaze travels down the length of my body, and I am suddenly really fucking aware of the fact that I'm standing here in boxer briefs and nothing else.  With a raging hard-on.  I'm face to face with the girl I've just sworn I needed to get out of my head, and my boner is broadcasting loud and clear just how absolutely not out of my head this girl is.  "I heard the door close and I thought you were out running."

"I was," I say.  "Out running.  I'm done now."

"I was just -- coffee," she says.  "I mean.  Um.  I didn't expect you to be here, or...yeah.  No pants."

"Pants."  I swallow hard, trying with every fiber of my being not to look down at her bare legs.  And definitely not to look down at the place where the t-shirt hangs, at the crease of her thigh.  And for shit's sake, not to glance down between her legs again to see if the pink fabric peeks out.

"I mean, it's my house, so I don't usually have to...you know..." Her voice trails off.

"Wear clothes."  Once I speak the words, the image of Addison walking around her house naked flashes in my head, and my cock throbs.

She has to think I'm a fucking pervert.  I
am
a fucking pervert.  The things I want to do to her...  I have to clench my fists at my side to keep myself from taking her by the wrists, pushing her against the nearest wall, pinning her arms above her head, and sliding my cock inside her.

"Clothes," she says.  "You're not...and, I mean, there's
that
..." Her eyes drift down my body, and I know she's looking at my erection, and heaven help me, I should walk away from her now, but I can't.  I don't want to.

"That," I repeat, even though I know exactly what she's talking about, what she's looking at.  "Say the word, sweet cheeks."  I don't just mean that I want her to say the word
cock
, although hearing that word come out of Addison's mouth would be a high point in my fucking life.

I want her to say the other word.  I want her to say
yes
.

Heaven help me, I want her to say yes, even though she shouldn't.

Addison pulls the corner of her lower lip between her teeth, and it makes me want to take her face in my hand, crush her mouth under my lips, and pull that lower lip between my teeth.  She looks at me, her eyes wide, pupils big, and I can hear her intake of breath, sharp.