Hard: A Step-Brother Romance (17 page)

Shay
was as lovely on the inside as out. She’d spend her last cent trying to make
sure everyone was happy. She’d run errands, copy homework, and give money
because she mistook gratitude for love. And her asshole friends seemed the type
to exploit it.

I
tugged her close, surprised when she rested her head on my shoulder. “You don’t
owe them anything, baby.”

“But
I will help them.”

“I know.”

“I just
hoped tonight would let me clear my mind. I needed…to think.”

And I
needed to kiss her. Maybe that was her problem. Too much thinking, not enough
kissing, touching, and fucking.

“They
didn’t even try to help with Professor Sweeten. They asked how I pissed her off
and then…bam. And Heaven, I swear, she better not come near me again. Not unless
she’s on her knees and I’m on my way out of church.”

“Sounds
like a rough night.”

“Why
are you the only one who understands?” She swallowed. “Why are you the only one
who even
tries
to understand?”

“Because
I know what it’s like to have everything but still lose the one you want.”

Shay
quieted. I thought I blew it. It sounded romantic in my head, but what the hell
did I know? There was still too much shrapnel, swelling, and half of the desert
rattling around my brain for me to make sense of most things.

I
should have spelled it out for her. Laid it all out and waited for the
rejection.

But
I always did like torturing myself. Kicking my own ass meant I was getting
stronger. Worked in the weight room, on the battlefield, and in the bedroom.

I
didn’t have to say a damn thing. Shay reached for me, her delicate fingers
stroking over my cheek. She leaned in, gentle, and kissed me.

Goddamn,
those lips. With a single nibble to my bottom lip, Shay might have asked me to burn
down the damn estate, and I’d have agreed with the flick of my tongue against
hers. My cock throbbed for her. I shifted in my jeans, but that gave it room to
get harder.

I
wanted this fucking woman.

I
wanted everything about her. The pouty lips. Those hidden curves under the
robe. Her body. Her heat.

Her
dreams. Her secrets. Her every vulnerable thought.

And,
in return? I’d be the one there for her. Her douche-bag friends or absent
father would never hurt her again. I’d comfort her. Hold her. Kiss her.

Until
I shipped back out.

Holy
Christ.

I spent
two months in the hospital and six in therapy. Every damned second of my
recovery was spent forcing myself to take the next step, add the next weight,
and meet the next challenge.

I never
had a reason to stay that could compete with my desire to go.

Until
her.

Shay
stood. I curled my fingers in the comforter so I wouldn’t throw her onto the
bed. She tickled the knot of her belt.

The
silk opened.

Fell
away.

And
she stood before me in perfect, goddess-like perfection.

Dark.
Sensual. Curvy and feminine and absolutely utterly beautiful, from the ebony curls
of her hair to the swell of her breasts and the hidden treasure tucked between
her thighs. She let the robe drop to the ground and turned. Her firm ass
brought a man to his knees quicker than a gun slammed into the back of the
head.

She
escaped into the bathroom. I stared after her, my heart punching a hole in my
chest.

The
water started again. Her voice echoed from the tub.

 “Zach?”
Her words were a light tease. “Are you coming in or not?”

Heading
to campus sucked.

Just
plain sucked.

That’s
why I didn’t do it alone.

Zach
didn’t know how much it meant for him to tag along. Unfortunately, he decided
to cheer me up on the back of his Harley. In a history of bad ideas, crawling
onto a two-wheeled monstrosity driven by a guy named
Hard
might have
been my most dangerous adventure. It still wasn’t my worst idea, but if I cracked
my skull off the asphalt or swallowed just
one
bug, so help me God…

“Are
you sure this thing is safe?” I bit my nail. Zach fit a helmet over my head.
The dimples flashed. He thought my reluctance was hilarious. “I’m really not brave
enough for this.”

“It’s
fine. Once you hop out of a helo in hostile territory under enemy fire, a
little bike ride seems pretty relaxing.” Zach wore a pair of sunglasses.
Aviator. Like he
tried
to be the cliché soldier. It worked. “Still, I’d
rather tour Afghanistan on the bike than take I-75.”

“You
think you’re so cute.”

“So
do you.”

I wasn’t
answering that. He had to work for it. And, knowing Zach? He would.

Eagerly.
Like a little boy in a candy store.

“Come
on. I’ll ride you to the campus, then we’ll get lunch.”

I
secured my backpack and triple checked it wouldn’t spill my life onto the
highway. “Lunch?”

“That
okay?”

He
said it so
casually
.

Sure,
I made a scene when I invited him into my bathtub. And yes, he fulfilled his
promise when I finally granted him entry into the master bedroom. But lunch?

Somehow
that changed our arrangement to something…different. Good different, but still
confusing and exposed. My emotions blended into a weird cocktail of Zach and went
straight to my head.

Really,
lunch
was where our relationship should have began. I went from leaping
into bed with him to hating his guts and back again. That emotional whiplash hadn’t
stopped for small-talk, baby pictures, or embarrassing stories about our prior
relationships.

Had
we done it right, I would have started by smiling at him over a menu, flirting by
biting a straw, and then excusing myself from the table so he could watch my
ass sway. Now we were a couple sways too late for that. Probably a few bounces,
spanks, and wiggles too.

Zach
shifted his long legs over the motorcycle. He patted behind him.

“Better
hang on tight,” he said. “You know. Like last night.”

I
smacked him through the helmet, picking a path over the coiled parts and chrome
finish. I awkwardly fit onto the seat. I had no choice but to cling to Zach. The
bike angled, and my waist ground against his back.

Just
what we needed while flying down the highway at sixty miles an hour.

Zach
patted my knee and pulled my arms over him.

“Lean
when I lean. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Yeah,
and Eve trusted the serpent too.

The
bike rumbled under us. The first few turns I screeched instead of leaned, but
Zach’s heated laugh warmed me. I focused on his movements. By the time we reached
the highway I had enough confidence to open my eyes. I clung to his broad
shoulders and let the morning wash over us.

A
motorcycle. A SEAL. Zach even made baking a pie sexy. I fought to not fall head-over-heels
for him if only so I wouldn’t tumble from the bike.

The
bag rested heavy on my shoulders. I brought my schedule, my information, and a
formal letter of withdrawal. I managed to not cry when typing it up. Printing
the document was another story. That emotional breakdown ended with streaked
lines, broken toner, and half a package of Oreos to soothe me.

My goal
in life.

Gone.

Hell
reserved a special circle for horrible professors. The ones who promised to grade
on a curve and didn’t. Those who never graded their tests and only posted
scores the day before finals. The absent-minded flakes who forgot to assign
homework in class and instead emailed the assignment the night before it was
due.

The
cruel monsters who crushed innocent students trying to get ahead.

I
didn’t care about the money I lost in tuition, just how hard I busted my ass to
get on the Dean’s List. All that wasted time. Then again, what did time matter
to me? It wasn’t like I was in a hurry to find a job and make money. I’d
transfer to another school, take my classes, and then do student teaching with a
saner advisor.

And I
had to prepare to do it alone.

My
friends weren’t in a chatty mood after I stormed out of dinner—especially as
the forty dollars I tossed on the table didn’t cover
all
their meals.
And Zach…

Zach
wouldn’t be hanging around either. My heart ached. I’d actually miss my nuisance
house guest when he re-enlisted in the SEALs.

Though
I’d rather lose him to a deployment than anything worse.

I
didn’t want to imagine something bad happening to him.

I
gripped him harder. He didn’t seem to notice—the bastard was too busy
accelerating, splitting a lane between two cars and edging onto the exit ramp.
I pinched my eyes shut and clung to him as the bike roared over the road.

He
didn’t just get off picking up pretty girls from bars. He was a pure adrenaline
junkie. No wonder he wanted in the SEALs. He acted like a total idiot as a
civilian.

We
cruised to the campus and parked outside the administration offices. I hobbled
off and handed him my helmet.

“Want
me to come in with you?” He asked.

Escort
me through
this
hostile territory? Not without a polo shirt as
camouflage, his gun exchanged for a laptop bag, and his radio swapped for Beats
headphones. I shook my head.

“I’ll
handle it.”

He
didn’t remove the sunglasses. That only attracted glances from passing girls.
He grinned as I spied a cluster emerging from the nearby dorms.

“They’re
freshman,” I warned. “Look, but don’t touch.”

He
quirked an eyebrow. “They don’t got a thing on you, baby.”

Christ,
I believed him.
Again
. That would have to stop.

Or
did it?

Ugh.
Not what I needed to worry about while facing the crumbling foundation of my
future.

I
marched into the administrative offices with all the confidence I could fake.
The secretary greeted me with oversized glasses and undersized patience. I tried
to smile, but I didn’t know what expression said
Hi, I’m dropping out of
college and disappointing generations of my family. Where do I sign?

I
opted for something simpler.

“Hi.
I…uh, I was withdrawing from my classes. I have my form…”

“Student
ID number.”

I
rattled it off. She waved for the papers in my hand—the few letters I gathered
from my professors who waived the F in favor of an Incomplete.

“A
member of the student relations board will call you once this is processed.
Please be aware we cannot grant refunds on this semester’s tuition.”

“Oh,
I…I know.”

“Have
a nice day.”

That
was it? I swallowed. The secretary dismissed me with a slurp of her diet Coke.

Was
it really that easy? All of Professor Sweeten’s threats, the humiliation at the
academy, the sleepless nights—and all I had to do was hand in a
letter
?

I could
have
emailed
my failure to the school.

What
the hell was I doing standing before a complete stranger pretending not to fall
to pieces? These people wouldn’t help. They’d sweep me into the same garbage
bin as the other shattered students who fell apart before making it into the real
world.

Thank
God Momma wasn’t here to see this. Or Dad. He was the one who paid for it.

I returned
to Zach. He tossed me the helmet.

“It was
quick,” I said.

He shuddered.
“Words a guy never wants to hear.”

I
forced a smile. “I’m not very hungry.”

“But
I know the best burger joint.”

“Zach—”

“Hop
on. They make a chocolate milkshake that’s more tempting than you.”

Ice-cream
did sound good. For a girl without a future and a severe allergy to cats, about
the only thing I could collect in the future would be pints of gourmet ice-creams.

Hell,
if I
really
wanted to become an eccentric hermit, I’d invest in some
prime ice-cream makers with all my untouched money…

The
idea struck me with the same severity as an ice-cream headache. I hopped on the
bike and patted for Zach to ride.

“Damn.
Someone likes her desserts. You should have told me. I can do wicked things
with whipped cream—”

“Drive,
Zach.”

“Yes,
ma’am.”

True
to his word, Zach delivered us to a gluttonous heart-attack waiting to happen—a
Mom and Pop diner with food served in a puddle of grease. The milkshake crowned
with a heaping layer of whipped cream bigger than my head. It was a good
choice.

I
nibbled on my fries, scrunching my nose as Zach dipped his into my chocolate
shake. He didn’t let me argue.

“Just
try it.”

I
rolled my eyes and buried the fry into the mess. Sweet, salty, and perfect.

“You
gotta stop fighting me,” Zach winked. “No, you can’t live here. No, I don’t
want to talk to you. No, don’t put it in
there
, that’ll hurt.”

“Very
funny.”

“You
okay?” He asked.

I
shrugged, happy for the milkshake to distract me. “I think so.”

“No
shame in ordering a second of those.”

Oddly
enough, I didn’t need chocolate to survive this crisis. I teased the cherry through
the whipped cream and shrugged.

“What
if…” I didn’t know how to phrase it or if it was even a viable idea. “You know
how everyone tells me to forget college? That I should just buy my own school
and screw those who held me back?”

Zach
gobbled half of his burger down. He nodded.

“Why
don
’
t
I buy a school?”

“
Mrphschool
?”
He swallowed. “A
school
?”

“Or…a
charity. I was thinking…I don’t have to be a teacher to do what I wanted. In
fact, I’d be
limited
if I taught, stuck with a set curriculum and working
inside the administration. But, if I had like…an after-school program? Or a
school with summer events? Tutoring and games and all that?”

Zach
put the burger down. He smiled. His dimples were every bit the affirmation I
needed.

“I
think it’s a good idea.”

“Really?”

“Sure.
With our money? Hell, a chicken in every pot and a tutor for every kid.”

My
heart
lumped
but forgot to
bump
. “
Our
money?”

“Yeah.
It’s a good cause. Toss my share in there too. I’ll pull a salary again once I
re-enlist.”

“You’d…do
that for me?”

“Shay,
I told you before. I’m not in this for the money. I wanted a place to crash and
a gym to train in so I could pass my physical.” He sipped his Coke. “And I
wanted a chance to get closer to you.”

I
looked down. The milkshake refroze in my stomach. This wasn’t a conversation to
have over a burger and fries in a tiny diner.

“How
close did you want to get?” I asked.

He
waved a pickle at me after watching how I inhaled mine. He let me take a bite
of his.