Raging Hard: A Stepbrother SEAL Romance (With bonus novel Based!) (45 page)

“Lincoln.” I moved closer to him. “What were you doing out there?”

“I saw you leave. I wanted to talk. I don’t know. I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?”

“The stupid date thing.” He paused and massaged his right knee. “It was Jules’s idea. I didn’t really think about it.”

“The date? Who cares about that?”

“You looked like you did.”

I blushed. “I was just tired.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I saw your face when that girl went up onstage.”

“Fine. Okay? Fine. I was a little jealous.”

He laughed. “A little? You stormed out of there.”

I looked at him, a little annoyed. “What do you want from me?”

“Admit you fucking want me.”

He was suddenly so close, his body warm and strong, and I didn’t want to pull away.

“You know that I do,” I whispered.

“Then enough with this bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” I said more forcefully. “If we keep doing whatever this is, it could mean your entire career.”

“You think I care about that?”

“I don’t want to compromise what you’ve built.”

He sighed, taking my chin in his hand and turning my face to look deep into his grass-after-rain colored eyes. “I’m already deeply fucking compromised.”

Then he kissed me. And like the first time and every time after, it rocketed through my whole body, sending shivers down my spine. It was only a kiss, a simple, boring kiss, but with Lincoln it was so much more.

After a second, we pulled away, the tingle still lingering on the thin skin of my lips.

“What are we going to do?” I said softly.

“Let me deal with it.”

“I won’t be the reason you lose everything you worked for.”

He grinned. “You already might be.”

I smacked his chest. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Just being real, Brie baby.”

“What do you think’s happening back there?”

“Probably taking him to the hospital.”

“He was drunk. Really drunk.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Breath reeked of it.”

“What a piece of shit.”

We lapsed into silence for a second and watched the few scattered people walking along the sidewalk. It was comfortable there, even though my heart wouldn’t stop hammering. I couldn’t tell if it was the lingering adrenaline from my run-in with Brent the psycho rapist, or if I just always felt that way when Lincoln was so close to me.

“I feel like I keep asking this,” I said. “But what now?”

“I don’t know. Not sure I really care.”

“You don’t have a plan?”

He laughed. “Nope, no plan. Not yet at least.”

“This thing with Brent is serious.”

“I know. I’ll deal with whatever happens. But let’s just sit here for now.”

I sighed and looked up at his face. He looked calm, almost happy, even though his whole life might be over. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if he got sent off to prison. It wouldn’t be some easy, minimum-security thing either, I figured. It would be serious prison.

But he didn’t seem to care. And his calm made me calm.

“Fine. Let’s stay here,” I said.

He looked down at me, this wicked grin spreading across his face. “And when we get back, I’m going to make you come harder than you’ve ever come before.”

I giggled. “Lincoln!”

“I’m going to slide my big cock into your tight little soaked pussy and fuck you rough. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t get the feeling of me out of your mind.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said, looking away but smiling.

“Yeah. We will.”

My heart kept hammering in my chest.

It was definitely him. It was always him.

I
pulled her chair out, playing the perfect gentleman for the cameras. She smiled hugely, clearly beyond excited to be out in public with me, and I smiled back.

“Thanks, Based—I mean, Lincoln.”

“No problem, Misty.”

I watched as she sat down, her big fake boobs pressing against her pink tube top. She wore a white furry cardigan over top, but that barely covered anything. It was clear what she felt her best features were, and she wasn’t shy about showing them off.

I looked away as I limped around the table and sat down. Misty stared at me, grinning this big stupid grin, and I wracked my brain for something to talk about. She had been pretty quiet on the ride over, mostly alternating between gushing about being out on a date with me and staring with this insane look on her face.

I can’t believe I have to be on a whole date with this lunatic
, I thought to myself as the waiter walked over.

“Good evening, sir, madam. Can I tempt you with drinks to start?”

“Yes, please. Dirty martini for me,” Misty said and then looked right at me. “Extra dirty.” She winked.

She seriously winked. I had to stifle an eye roll.

“Very good. And for you, sir?”

I glanced at the menu. “The Japanese whisky, neat.”

“Very good. I will return shortly with your drinks.” He turned on his heel and left.

I sighed, feeling fortunate that my mom had sprung for the private room. Even though I was surrounded by the camera crew, with Jess lurking in the background, at least I didn’t have to suffer through my embarrassing ordeal with a room full of strangers.

“So . . . Based—I mean, Lincoln,” Misty said.

“So, Misty. Let me ask you something.”

“Okay. Ask me anything you want. I’ll tell you absolutely anything.”

I ignored the innuendo. “What do you do for a living?”

She giggled. “Not much really. I design dresses.”

“Who carries them?”

“Nobody yet,” she said. “But Daddy says I have talent.”

I winced. Any adult woman that called her father “daddy” was deeply, deeply damaged. Or maybe I shouldn’t generalize, but it definitely applied in Misty’s case.

“Where do you live?”

“With Daddy still.”

I paused. “How old are you, Misty?”

She smiled. “Twenty-three.”

I had a feeling she was lying, but I wasn’t about to press her on it. I pegged her closer to thirty. The waiter returned with our drinks before I could go back to pulling conversational teeth.

“Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?”

I looked at Misty and she smiled, picking up the menu.

“I’ll have the Caesar salad, no croutons please.”

Of course. We go to one of the most expensive steak houses in the whole area, and she wants to eat a salad. That should be a crime. Someone should seriously show up and throw her out.

If the waiter was as offended as I was, he didn’t show it.

“Very good. And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the prime rib, medium rare.”

“Very good. I’ll put those in for you right away.”

He took our menus and walked out.

The cameras hovered around us, and I could have sworn I saw the sound guy stifle a yawn. I knew exactly how he felt. Jess made an urgent motion, probably trying to get me to talk. Misty leaned forward on the table, sipping her drink and smiling at me.

“So, Based. What do you like to do?” she asked.

“Please. Call me Lincoln.”

She giggled. “Sorry, I keep forgetting. I can be so silly sometimes.”

“Right. Well, I like to play piano. And pinball sometimes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That sounds . . . interesting.”

“Not really. What about you?”

“I love to party. Do you like to party, Lincoln?”

I made a face. Was she fucking serious?

“Sure. I guess.”

I took a sip of the whisky, savoring its smoky flavor. At least the drink was decent. I took another sip, hoping that the warmth would dull the annoying night I was having, when suddenly I almost spit it out. Under the table, I felt the unmistakable sensation of someone’s foot slowly climbing up my pant leg.

I sat up straight, moving away from Misty’s roaming appendage.

“Uh, anyway,” I said.

Her smile never faltered. “Have you jumped at all lately?”

“Not since the accident.”

She pouted. “Really? I never thought that would stop you.”

I clenched my jaw. “Really. Turns out, when you shatter both your legs, it’s pretty fucking hard to walk normally afterward.”

She giggled. “You’re so silly. Tell me about the last time you jumped.”

“You want to hear about my accident?”

“Please?” She batted her eyes at me. I wanted to take a fork to her skull.

“I’d rather not.” I took another sip. Actually, more like a gulp. I was going to need ten more drinks before Misty became tolerable.

“Humph, fine. You’re no fun.” She pouted.

I leaned forward in my seat. “How about you tell me about the most painful memory you have? Does that sound fun?”

“Lincoln.” Jess’s voice cut through the brief awkward moment. I glanced over at her stern look and grinned.

Misty laughed, deciding I was joking. “You’re so funny!”

“See, Jess, I’m hilarious.”

Jess shook her head as I turned back to Misty.

The whole night was incredibly surreal. Really, it should never have happened, considering what I had done at the end of the charity event. Last I heard, Brent’s broken kneecap was healing nicely, but that only pissed me off.

He deserved worse than what he got. Sometimes, I pictured his face as he yanked at Brie’s arm, and rage filled my entire body.

“What is your absolute favorite drink, Lincoln?” Misty asked me.

“I don’t know. I’ve always been a whisky guy.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said, nodding knowingly. “Daddy always drinks whisky. You’re so much like Daddy.”

“And what does Daddy do for a living?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, something boring. Something to do with investment banking. But who cares?”

“So long as he keeps giving you money, right?”

She laughed. “Exactly! I have to admit, though, there’s something sexy about a man drinking whisky.”

I raised an eyebrow, putting my glass down.
I might have underestimated exactly how horrible this girl is
, I thought to myself.

“Why do you think that is?” I asked, not caring about the answer.

“It’s masculine. I love men when they’re manly.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. “What do you think is manly?”

She sipped her drink and leaned forward, practically shoving her tits in my face. “I love tattoos, like yours. And men that aren’t afraid of anything, like you.”

“Got it. So you think I’m manly.”

“Extremely.”

I remembered the crack of my cane against Brent’s knee, and again against his ribs. I remembered kissing Brie, and later, once we got home, shoving her up against the wall of her bedroom and fucking her senseless. We didn’t fall asleep together, but I did work her body over and over again.

That next morning, the day after the event, I woke up with morning wood like crazy. But I wasn’t sweating, and I hadn’t dreamed about the crash.

Brie was like fucking medicine or something.

And to top it all off, once I went downstairs for my usual PT session, Brent wasn’t with the crew. Some new guy had taken his place. When I looked at Jess, she just shrugged.

“Brent’s fired,” she had said simply. “And he’s not pressing charges.”

“How is that even possible?” I had asked her.

“We have him attacking Aubrie on film. He figured it would be better to let it go than to risk getting labeled as a rapist.”

I had to admit, despite everything with Jess, I wanted to give her a big, fat fucking kiss on the mouth. Her obsessive and authoritarian nature was finally working in my favor.

The days slipped by, and I kept sneaking into Aubrie’s room at night. And we didn’t hear a word about Brent after that.

Those were some of the best nights of my life. It was Aubrie and more Aubrie, her body and lips and everything mixed together in sweating exertion. We spent all night together and only parted when it was clear we were about to both pass out from exhaustion.

Then, of course, my mother insisted that I go on that stupid date I had agreed to. She set everything up, even getting a limo. Jess said it would be great for the documentary and would really show me in my element. As if a limo and an expensive restaurant were my “element.”

The waiter returned, yanking me back into the present moment. Misty threw back her martini and asked for another. “Just as dirty,” she said with another wink at me.

I finished my drink and asked for another as well.

The steak was delicious and was a good distraction as Misty began to ramble on about her dress designs and about some new handbag she had bought with Daddy’s money. I thought she said it was a “Monica Lewinsky original,” but that couldn’t have been right.

I was half listening, and I mostly grunted at the appropriate moments. As I took juicy, delicious bites of steak, followed by smoky and full-bodied sips of whisky, I was imagining what I was going to do to Aubrie once I got home.

Misty paused and stared at me, and I realized I had missed something she said.

“Right, totally,” I grunted.

She laughed. “You love to wear silk thongs too?”

I grinned. “Not me personally.”

She leaned forward. “If that’s something you like, maybe I can show you what I’m wearing.”

“No, thanks,” I said.

She wasn’t deterred. “Are you sure?” she asked, pouting. “I think you’d like it. Pink and easy to rip off.”

Is this girl for real, or is she too drunk to notice the cameras?
I thought to myself, glancing over at Jess. She was barely concealing a smile.

I looked back at Misty. “You know this isn’t a real date, right?”

She smiled and finished off her second martini. “Maybe. But I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

I sighed. “I’m sure you can be, Misty.”

She smiled at me. “Have you ever fucked a blonde in a limo?”

I almost choked on my steak. “No, can’t say that I have.”

“Do you want to?”

I winced. “No, thanks.”

“Mmm, come on, Based. I thought you were fun.” She gave me a little smile.

“Sorry, Misty. We need to keep this strictly professional.”