Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!) (52 page)

“Marry me.”

“Fine!”

He’s going to drive me crazy. I know it. I’m signing myself up for a lifetime of insanity, and I can’t stop grinning at the thought.

Sliding my arms up, I wrap them around his strong neck and pull him towards me. His soft hair catches between my fingers as I clutch him, clinging while we kiss, deeply and passionately.

Someone bumps against one of the doors, almost pushing it open. Hard enough to make the handle click. I pull away reluctantly, giggling at his disappointed groan. “We need to get dressed, before someone comes in.”

He makes a grab at me. “I don’t fucking care. You said yes, and I think that requires celebratory sex.”

Pulling my arm just out of reach, I get to my feet, gathering my clothes up off the floor. “Sorry. You’re just going to have to follow me home.”

“It’s my home too, you know.”

I pull my lower lip between my teeth and start putting on my bra. “Perfect, we can use both our rooms then.”

“Soon-to-be Mrs. Riordan Jr., I like the way you think.”

“Uh, that’s a bit of a mouthful. Maybe you can be Mr. Anderson.”

“In your dreams,” he scoffs.

Once we get our clothes back on, we open the doors to find our witness Lloyd Peterson with his tongue halfway down the throat of a woman with “Weld Wench” written across the back of her shirt.

I shake my head. “At least we had the grace to get a room.”

Declan throws his head back and laughs.

I love that sound, and I love making him make it.

I love him, period.

T
hree years to finish my degree.

Three months of planning.

Three days of panic because my dress no longer fits.

Sliding my hand over the barely there bump on my belly, I smile.

Our parents thought it was a little strange that we wanted to get married at the same castle they did, but in a lot of ways that day was as much of a turning point for me and Declan as it was for them. The memories weren’t all good, but they led to something that is quite frankly, awesome.

But no videos for us.

The music starts up, and I look over at Carl, who is walking me down the aisle.

He squeezes my hand. “This is it, kiddo.”

My mother walks out first, and I catch sight of Declan and Garrett waiting for us at the altar. My stomach flutters.

At the right moment, we step through the doors, and my knees almost buckle when I see the way Declan’s eyes are focused on me. I’m the center of his universe. Me and the little bean who caused so much trouble with the dressmaker.

I smile back, holding in a laugh as he fingers the panties he once again has stuffed in his breast pocket. Some things never change.

Some things do.

Like the fact that from the day of the disastrous Cooper trial, Declan kept his word and I’ve never had cause to doubt him.

Fill his car with Styrofoam packing balls yes, doubt him no.

He didn’t mind. Anyone who hires a singing clown to serenade someone in class on their birthday knows a little payback is in order.

Carl steps to the side when we get to the altar, turning me over to Declan.

I’ll never get over how fantastic my husband looks. Almost four years since we met, and he still takes my breath away. Standing tall next to me, he doesn’t seem to have an ounce of the jitters that are ravaging my stomach like there’s a whole colony of butterflies in there. I grip his hand tightly, and he squeezes back.

Six months ago we joined together professionally as the long absent and fondly remembered Flynn was taken off the books and replaced with Anderson. Garrett is still technically in charge, but he’s stepped back, and Declan is taking over more of the high profile cases. It was touch and go for a bit after the Cooper fiasco—which ended up in a settlement after all—but he started small again, volunteering his time for pro bono legal assistance until he was back in his father’s good graces.

Today we join as man and wife.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. We are gathered here today to join Declan and Claire in the bonds of matrimony.”

Declan squeezes my hand, and I look up into the face of the man I love.

“I want to fuck you,” he mouths.

“Later,” I reply silently.

If you enjoyed Mine, you might also enjoy my novel Rebel.
Get it now on Amazon
! Read on for the first few chapters.

I
married my stepbrother.

Yeah, no one’s more surprised than me. I can’t stand him.

All I wanted was a quiet summer before starting college. Catch up on my books. Maybe get a summer job. Then he dropped into my life.

His name’s Gavin Caldwell, and he’s stupidly rich. Cocky. Arrogant. Ridiculously, panty-meltingly hot.

And he’s parading around our bridal suite shirtless. Pantless.

He has no freaking shame, and I have to pretend to be in love with him.

I hate him.

So why can’t I stop thinking about him?

Rebel is a standalone novel with a happy ending and no cheating.

Turn the page for the first seven chapters of Rebel!

“C
ome on, Angie, you’ve totally got this. Just talk to him!”

Cassie’s grip on my arm is so tight it hurts, but she refuses to let go. Her words come a million miles per second which is a lot to handle on any regular day. Tonight, it’s like dodging machine gun bullets. Vibrating with excitement, she acts like she has more at stake in this than I do, and that’s saying something. My stake’s pretty freaking big, after all. She yells into my ear, her voice carrying clearly over the loud dance music, “I think he’s perfect.”

Clubs aren’t really my scene. Why blow out your eardrums when you can curl up with a good book and a cup of tea? They’re so chaotic, with all the noise and lights everywhere. I mean, I’m not against going out or anything, but I don’t really keep up with what’s hot either, so by the time I know the songs, they’re already completely last year. Dancing to music you don’t know isn’t nearly as much fun as it’s cracked up to be.

This is such a bad idea. Only Cassie would think of something this stupidly insane and somehow manage to make it sound reasonable. I think she does it through attrition, wearing my sensibilities down until there’s nothing left. It makes her too freaking persuasive for her own good. Or for mine.

But, what Cassie wants, Cassie gets. I used to try to resist, before I really got to know her, but I gave that up a long time ago. Totally not worth the trouble. She just goes ahead and does what she wants anyway.

I glance cautiously at the guy she’s singled out, swallowing nervously and hoping he won’t notice. He’s crazy hot, like get your panties wet just at the sight hot. Wild, spiky black hair, chiseled jaw. Broad-chested and narrow-hipped, he wears a black t-shirt that looks painted onto his sculpted torso. Tall and muscled, he could’ve been a romance cover model. I don’t see how she thinks I have a chance with him. He can have his pick of any girl in the club, so why would he even look in my direction? I wouldn’t. This is dumb.

“Cassie, I can’t do this. What’s Paul going to think?” There’s another reason why this is a bad idea. Paul’s my boyfriend. Tall, tattooed and obnoxious—in a sexy sort of way, mostly—, he’s a far cry from my structured way of doing things, my carefully kept schedules and planning notebook. He’s my little rebellion against my own way of life. I love that about him, or at least I like it a lot.

I know it won’t last, what with me going off to college in the fall, but he’s said he’ll come with me and bring his motorcycle. His hog, as he calls it. I don’t know, maybe it’s for real. All I know is that he’s really good-looking, and somehow still decided to get together with me. That puts him miles ahead of any other guy I’ve been interested in.

He’s so far out of my league, though. Not as far as the hunk of man right in front of me, but honestly I’m just waiting for Paul to wise up and realize he’s dating a dork. Cassie says he’d be an idiot if he did, but as my bff, she’s supposed to say those things. What’s she going to say? That I’m a nerd and our days are numbered?

Lately, he’s been pushing for us to go all the way. God, listen to me. It’s like I’m back in middle school. Fine, he wants to fuck me, and I’ve been stalling because I’ve never done it before. I’m terrified that he’ll think I’m a prude or hate it with me since I don’t know what I’m doing. So that’s why I’m now a part of Cassie’s Big Master Plan To Get Me Laid ™.

She stares at me with big eyes, like I’m crazy. “Paul must never know! This is for the both of you. The first time always sucks. Get it out of the way with someone you don’t care about.” She nods her head in the hot guy’s direction. “Like him.”

Someone I don’t care about. If I really cared about Paul, would I have let her talk me into this at all? Wouldn’t it feel more wrong? No, I do. I have to. Otherwise, what would be the point?

My gaze follows her nod, and I realize hot guy’s looking right at me. Our eyes lock, and his narrow while mine go wide. Oh crap. The corners of his mouth turn up in a confident smirk that makes me tingly just as my stomach drops. If he can affect me like that from over there...

It’s like he hears my thoughts. He pushes off the wall by flexing his back and walks confidently in our direction, his gaze never wavering from mine. My voice is a panicked hiss, but while I’m whispering to Cassie, I can’t tear my eyes away from him. “He’s coming this way. What do I do?”

“Smile, hon.” She nudges me with her elbow. “At least
try
not to look like a deer trapped in headlights.”

Yeah, right. I idly play with my curls, but let go at Cassie's sharp whisper, "Stop fiddling."

He’s tattooed, and not with little half-filled ones like Paul’s. It wasn’t so obvious from across the room, but as he comes nearer I see how they twine around his bulging biceps like inky snakes The club lights flash over him, pulling him out of the half-darkness and make the abstract designs stand out clearly. They writhe on his skin, rippling along with his muscles and crawling into his shirt. My mouth goes dry as I wonder how much of him is covered.

His deep hazel eyes roam up and down my body, and he doesn't even try to hide it. I wish I'd picked a slightly more modest dress. This one had looked good when I was fifteen, but while I'm not any taller now, my curves have filled out since then, and the difference is enough to firmly move it from
cute with a hint of sexy
to
totally painted on.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you girls looking.” His deep voice carries through the loud music, as arrogant as his smirk. He looks older than us, but not by a lot. Maybe twenty-three or twenty-four.

“Hi!” Cassie pitches her voice higher than normal and pushes her ample chest out. I don’t think it even occurs to her that she’s doing it. It’s just how she is, especially around guys she likes. “I’m Cassandra, and my shy friend here’s Angie.”

Yep. Shy friend. Heat rushes to my face as he studies me intently.

Still smirking, he seems to be having way too much fun. “Yeah? I’m Gavin.” He speaks to both of us, but his eyes are locked on me. Why, I’ve no idea, with Cassie showing so much cleavage that you could rappel down between her breasts. How am I supposed to compete with that?

She looks distracted for a second, then reaches into that same cleavage and pulls out a small, pink phone. The back panel reads “SLUT” in jagged, purple letters, making me roll my eyes. Gavin arches an eyebrow. She glances up briefly and smiles before scrolling through her messages. She’s totally faking it. “On vibrate,” she explains, as if she’s not being obvious.

Gavin and I exchange a brief glance while we wait, and then she’s done. “I gotta go. I’m sorry, guys, but something’s come up.” She winks at me, and my gut clenches. She’s leaving me here with him. Just like that? What do I do?

“Listen, Gavin, why don’t you take care of Angie. Make sure she has company.” It’s so obviously a ruse that she doesn’t even bother hiding her wide grin. “See that she gets home safe.”

This is crazy. “I don’t think—”

“Sure,” he cuts in. “Just go do whatever it is you need to do that’s not here. I’ll take good care of her.” His hand lands right at the small of my back and pulls me closer. It’s warm, his long fingers spanning from one side of me to the other.

I look up at him, pleading with my eyes. “Listen, this is a bad idea. I’m not...” What aren’t I, exactly?

“Not that kind of girl? Not up for a good time? Not going to stay up past bedtime?” He steps around to my front and puts his finger under my chin so I can’t look away. “Or not going to leave me here all alone?”