Hard: A Step-Brother Romance (13 page)

“Zach—”

“It
won’t be that way for you,” he said. “I won’t allow it to go down like that.”

I
sighed. “It’s sweet, but I gotta do this on my own.”

“Why?”

“It’s…my
job. My career.”

He
didn’t let me look away. “You know you aren’t alone. Not now.”

My
heart fluttered a bit too hard. I swallowed.

“I’m
not a little kid anymore.”

“So
you don’t need any help now?”

“I don’t
need you to protect me.”

His
voice edged. Apparently, other parts of him could get hard too. His words. His
dedication. His promises. “And if I want to protect you?”

The
conversation shifted. I bit my lip. We weren’t talking about teaching or life
goals or insecurities anymore. We broached a very dangerous subject, and stress
already kicked my butt from one side of the county to the other. I didn’t have
the strength to fight him too.

“What
do you want from me?” I asked. “Really.”

“A
chance.”

“To
get in bed with me?”

“That
and more.”

Bed
didn’t scare me
as much as
more
. I had been resisting our fling for so long, I never
once questioned the pounding of my heart over the tightening in my core.

“It’s
not a good idea,” I said.

“Says
who?”

Society?
No. That wasn’t true. We made for dirty gossip, but nothing else. Our families?
That was a joke. Neither of us had one anymore.
We
were as much family
as anyone.

Says
Me?

I thought
it was a bad idea to trust a man who lied the first night we were
together—either to get lucky or get money. Both reasons were equally bad, but neither
seemed to fit Zach. Hell, I started to think the only reason he lived at the
estate was for the pool.

Or
because I lived here.

My
blood scalded me, still heated from the last time I touched him, the last time
I let him touch me. The pool jet wasn’t half as exciting as his hands.

“One
chance, Shay.” Zach’s voice was the whipped, creamy topping to my mocha grace.
“That’s all I ask.”

“You’re
my step-brother.”

“Baby,
no one’s gonna see the family resemblance.”

His
lips touched mine. Tenderly. More a question for me to answer than a permission
for him to continue. His calloused hands touched my cheek. He was right.
Together, we looked like any other couple. Dark and light, petite and strong,
timid and flirty.

I knew
what I wanted.

I
also knew it was quite possibly the worst idea I had since the day I antagonized
my advisor.

But now—with
the lights low and Zach’s touch, his gentle kiss and my horrid day—a little
attention sounded good.

Right.

Perfect
with him.

Besides,
my body wouldn’t have listened to my head anyway. Not after he touched me.

Held
me.

Pulled
me into his lap.

I
groaned and almost exposed everything I tried to keep hidden from him. So much
for scolding myself into chastity. If a kiss revealed my deepest desires, then
the flick of my tongue invited him into my darkest fantasies, tied his ass to a
chair, and whispered every naughty secret I ever imagined into his ear.

I
straddled his lap, threading my fingers behind his neck. His hair, blonde and
buzzed, tickled under my touch. During our one night together, our time was experienced
in frantic and desperate intensity. We didn’t savor or explore. Each second spent
parted from the other was a pleasure lost.

I
had no idea I’d eventually end up in his lap again. I never expected the warmth
of his lips on my throat. I hadn’t hoped for his powerful fingers to unbutton
my blouse.

I
dreamed of him. Of parts of him. Of the greatest fullness and most deliberate lust
ever gifted to me.

And
now? I had him again. And he was the man I remembered.

Strong.
Charming.

And—above
all else…

Hard
.

I
ground my hips against his waist. The thickness in his pants had absolutely no
give, just as solid as any of the marble columns supporting the mansion. I was
no better. Every part of me
burned
for him. A heat built in my belly,
and I ached—actually whimpered—to feel this man over me.

The
blouse opened. Zach brushed it off my shoulders. His huge hands pressed against
my waist. He kissed the timid peek of my shoulder as the shirt fell to the
ground. His lips caressed over the soft darkness of my skin. My bra’s strap
slipped. His fingers worked the other.

The
material fell away with a skilled squeeze of his hand against the clasp. I
straightened as my breasts bared. He stared at the little chocolate buds that
tightened under his attention.

“So
beautiful.”

His
words muffled as he took a nipple into his mouth. He suckled hard against my breast,
as if I’d dare to take them away from him. The sensation rocked me to my core.
I mewed, clenching at his shoulders. I puffed my chest out, offering him the
rest. The dark caramel of my skin pressed against his pale cheek. God, we
looked so good together.

“Christ,
Shay, you have no idea what you do to me.”

I
wiggled against the straining beast throbbing in his jeans. “I have an idea.”

“You
have a
preview
.” He grinned. “My nickname is flattering, but it doesn’t
do me justice.”

“What
should I call you then?”

God,
he was strong. In a single movement, he stood and rested me against the couch. He
kneeled between my legs, his fingers aimed for my skirt. The waistband tugged down.

“Call
me Desire. Pleasure.” He winked. “
Gifted
. Take your pick.”

I
never would have swallowed such a line if I hadn’t experienced him before. I
remembered what his smart mouth could do to that crest, where he gloated and
teased with warm breath and warmer words.

“You
don’t believe me?” He asked.

His
kisses layered over the hem of my panties. I swallowed. “I believe you.”

“Are
you sure? You sound hesitant.”

I
didn’t need to wear the little lacey panties to work, but the red, tempting
silk was selected
just
for this moment. I prepared for the split second
where I dropped both my guard and my pants and decided to let what happen, happen
with no regrets and perfect bliss to guide me.

“No
hesitations,” I said. The panties peeled down. Too slow. I whined. “I’ll call
you whatever you want.”

“Let’s
start with…
Generous
.”

His
eyes flashed a mischievous green. The panties rolled over my legs, and he
spread my thighs. Two weeks ago, I might have fought him. I might have covered
my slit with my hand, hiding the slickened and puffy folds from his view. But Zach
rewarded me for being so forward. With gentle, tender, agonizingly slow kisses,
he trailed a path of excitement from my navel and lower.

“Jesus
fuck, you’re so goddamned beautiful.” Zach’s words muffled between kisses, his
lips drawing ever closer to that sensitive, waiting,
aching
spot. “All
dark and bare. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to taste you again.”

About
as long as I had been dying to feel it. I squirmed, hoping he’d get the
message.

Zach
grinned. “Tell me you want me, Shay.”

No indecision.
“I want you.”

“Tell
me you’ve been thinking about it.”

Every
waking moment. “Zach, please.”

“Ask
me to do it.”

“Please
lick me, Zach.”

“If
I didn’t know how freaky you could get…” His eyebrow rose as his mouth lowered
just
above where I needed it the most. “I’d think you were being shy.”

“I
am shy,” I whispered. “You do something crazy to me.”

“You
never have to hold back with me, baby. I’ll give you everything you can take.”

I believed
him. My hips bucked as a single lick of his tongue traced every fold of my
slit. He groaned. My head lowered, resting against the soft leather of the
couch.

He
dove forward, surging into my aching core and licking, lapping,
tasting
the slickness that shamed me—revealed me—in his presence.

I couldn’t
hide how much I wanted Zach. And I couldn’t convince myself that it was a bad
idea because he was my step-brother or because he had a nickname that proved
his damning reputation.

But
right now? With my legs spread wide, his pale fingers digging into my dark
thighs, the flick of his pink tongue against my waiting petals...he treated me
like I was the first, only, and
last
woman he would ever touch.

The
trace of his lips along my sensitive skin rolled wave after wave of shivers
through my core. I wound up, tight, jerking my hips in the imaginary rhythm of
his cock. My pussy clenched. I wanted something more than his tender kisses on
the outside of my slit.

I
needed him inside me.

With
me.

Holding
me.

“Zach—”

“You
have no patience, baby.” His smile grew. He licked his lips. He licked
me
off his lips. “I like that.”

I
didn’t have time to respond. He dove between my legs, spread me wide enough to
reveal
everything
, and aimed right for that perfect button that I’d grazed
with my fingers this morning in the shower. I fantasized about this moment,
this naughtiness, this
desire.

Zach
was better than any of my dirty little thoughts. His tongue flattened against my
clit, lapping me up with long, forceful strokes. He watched how badly my body
trembled for him. Each lick bound me tighter, cramping me from the inside out.
My fingers clenched against the leather of the couch.

His
lips captured my clit.

He
suckled.

One.
Two. Three deep strokes of his sucking and pressing pleasure, and every single
problem and conflict, humiliation and pain, concern and fear of my day
evaporated in an instant. My life faded into the tiniest, smallest, most
concentrated pinprick of sensation. He drew a long lap against my slit, and the
world exploded, reformed with shudders and lit with the stars that blinded my
vision.

“Zach!”
I thought I shouted. My voice cradled in a whisper. I shook and twisted. He
didn’t release me. “Wait! I can’t—”

He
didn’t believe me. His lips unsealed from the little swollen nub he so expertly
flicked and tormented. The draw of his tongue lowered, finding my entrance and savoring
the slickness that overwhelmed my slit, my thighs, my core.

God,
I would have been so embarrassed had I not needed to feel his mouth so badly.

I
wove my fingers behind his head. He liked that. So did I. I pulled him close
and held him to my aching slit, my lips moving in silent prayer as his tongue
entered the tightness that needed something much more than his devouring lick.

I
wanted something bigger.

Thicker.

Hard
.

No
wonder he had the nickname. No woman could resist the clenching emptiness so near
his dusty scent, the prickle of his chin’s stubble against the soft folds
between her legs, the hum of his excitement as he suckled and tempted her desire.

“Please…”
I whispered. “Please…”

“You
want me?”

“God,
yes.”

“You
sure?”

I
nodded. I released his hair if only to rub my own body, to ease whatever heat
ached inside me. I held my beasts and squeezed. Who knew how wanton and
terrible it looked, but Zach stoked the outside of his jeans, teasing the bulge
waiting for me.

This
was more than a simple one-night stand.

This
was the beginning of something…different. Complicated. Absolutely messy and
risky and probably the worst decision of my life.

But
Zach made bad decisions feel right, turned complications into an adventure, and
forged an unrepentant desire.

Worse…he
made the forbidden seem
forgivable
.

“Take
me,” I said. “Fuck me. I want to be yours.”

If
only for one night.

Zach’s
grin wasn’t the boyish charm he lathered over me. This was a man’s excitement,
a hunter’s mark, a waving flag to begin the race...even if I thought I headed
in the wrong direction.

He popped
the button on his jeans, removing the little foil packet before kicking them
away.

“SEALs
are like boy scouts?” I didn’t fault his assumption. I was glad he had the
foresight, even with the pill I popped every morning.