Stepbrother Broken (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 2)
Read Stepbrother Broken (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 2) Online
Authors: Colleen Masters
Copyright © 2015 Hearts Collective
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in
any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas,
characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and
any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely
coincidental.
* * *
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* * *
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STEPBROTHER BROKEN
A Hawthorne Brothers Novel
Book Two
* * *
by Colleen Masters
CONTENTS
The Bear Trap Bar
Montana, USA
Adrenaline
spikes through my already boozy blood as I slam the bathroom door shut behind
me. Flattening my back against the flimsy wooden barrier, I turn to face my
unexpected companion for the evening. He towers above me in the dimly lit
space, his sculpted features rendered all the more intense by the low light.
His close cropped chestnut hair, dark stubble, and effortlessly cool bearing
caught my eye from the very first second I saw him. But in such tight quarters
as these, every enticing aspect of him is amplified tenfold. The sheer pitch of
my fascination with him renders me all but speechless as I drink in the sight
of him. At last, we
’
re all alone.
He
’
s easily six feet tall, with a balanced, controlled
body well-conditioned by a lifetime of athletics and hard physical work. His
cut, perfectly shaped muscles are rippling with barely contained desire. And as
visceral as this moment is, it
’
s still hard to believe that what
he desires is
me
. God knows I
’
ve been fantasizing about finding
myself alone with him for weeks on end. But now that we
’
re here together, I
’
m
almost overwhelmed by the hugeness of his want. The staggering, powerful
presence of him. My breath catches in my throat as he plants his hands hard on
the door above my shoulders, caging me in with mere inches of space between us.
“
You sure you
’
re up for this?
”
he growls, his dark green
eyes smoldering in the dim light of the bar bathroom.
I
draw myself up with a defiant stare, keeping my eyes trained on his face
…
no matter how overpoweringly gorgeous it is. Reaching
around behind my back, I slide the door
’
s heavy bolt into the locked
position. The satisfying, metallic click rings out loud and clear in the small
room, despite the cacophony of music and voices roaring in the bar proper. It
’
s the last night of classes at the university nearby,
where I
’
m just finishing off my junior
year. Thank god I decided to ditch the frat-sponsored school-spirit shit show
on campus in favor something a little more exciting. Or rather,
someone
a little more exciting.
“
Does that answer your question?
”
I breathe, all but vibrating with anticipation.
He
cocks a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me, keeping me pinned between his
powerful arms.
“
Not quite,
”
he laughs, his voice ragged around the edges,
“
Try again.
”
“
Wh-what?
”
I stammer, trying to keep up. At 21, I
’
m hardly inexperienced with the opposite sex. But even
though this guy only has a few years on me, he
’
s
making the other men I
’
ve been with look like little boys.
It
’
s been a long time since I haven
’
t been the more dominant partner in the bedroom
…
or, uh
…
bathroom
, as it were. But where this
particular man is concerned, I hardly mind. In fact, I actually find myself
wanting to let him take the lead. And that is abso
lute
ly a first.
“
I need a yes or no,
”
he goes on, easing his perfectly balanced body toward
me.
“
It
’
s
a simple question, Sophie.
”
My
very cells are screaming to feel him against me. If he would just come a
little
closer
…
“
Would I have come back tonight if I
didn
’
t want this?
”
I point out, resisting the urge to throw myself into
his thickly muscled arms.
“
To be honest,
”
he murmurs, eyes flicking down to my almost-quivering
lips,
“
I
’
m
having trouble getting a read on you. And let me tell you, that
’
s not something I
’
m used to. You
’
re gonna have to tell me outright what it is you want,
here.
”
“
Why don
’
t you let me show you instead?
”
I shoot back, letting my hands trail down his
rock-hard chest.
“
Come on,
”
he says, his full lips spreading into a rakish grin.
“
You already put it into writing, didn
’
t you? What did that note of yours say again?
”
“
You
’
re
such an asshole,
”
I mutter breathlessly, trying
to fight the blush that rises in my cheeks.
“
Oh, that
’
s right
…”
he goes on, letting his torso
brush deliciously against mine. He leans in close, his breath warm against my
neck. Those firm lips brush against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down
my spine.
“
You want me to
‘
Nail you to the wall and fuck you dirty
’
. Wasn
’
t that it?
”
“
That
…
Uh
…
That was the gist of it,
”
I
gasp, my thighs clenching together as a thundering rush of need courses through
me.
“
Say it then,
”
he demands, brushing a lock of caramel blonde hair
away from my face,
“
Tell me what it is you want.
”
“
I
…
I
just
…”
I sputter, lowering my gold-flecked
blue eyes.
“
You
’
ll
tell me, won
’
t you,
”
he says firmly. It
’
s
not a question.
I
force a deep breath into my lungs, gathering up every bit of courage at my
disposal (liquid or otherwise). I
’
m not usually one for nerves,
having conquered my stage fright at the ripe old age of four. Usually, that
steadiness carries over into my romantic life
…
but
not now. Not with him. For the first time, I don
’
t
feel like I
’
m
performing
desire, I
’
m
experiencing
it. Turns out, there
’
s a pretty big difference
—
a difference so big that it almost frightens me. But
if I
’
ve learned one thing from my life
as a performer, it
’
s that sometimes you
’
ve got to follow the fear if you want to find the
truth.
“
Luke,
”
I
start softly, my voice low in my chest and husky with lust.
“
Yes?
”
he
replies, his smoldering green eyes hard on my face.
I
take his face in my hands, my fingers resting against his scruffy, razor sharp
jaw, and lock my gaze onto his.
“
I want you to nail me to the wall,
”
I whisper,
“
And fuck me dirty.
”
A
blaze of fiery need erupts in his emerald gaze as he takes me in. For just a
second, he looks genuinely amazed that I
’
ve risen to the moment. I may have
never had a man like him before, but maybe he
’
s
never had a woman like me either.
I
let my lips part, a snarky jab at the ready to defuse the achingly intense
moment. But before I can utter another syllable, he
’
s pinned me to the wooden door with his powerful,
tapered hips. A gasp escapes my throat as he snatches my hands from his face
and holds my wrists firmly above my head. My entire body lights up like a flare
as he brings his mouth to mine, kissing me hard and fast as he presses his
incredible form against me.
My
back arches as I open my mouth eagerly to his, letting his tongue sweep against
mine. Our mouths move together, hungry and searching. I
’
m stretched out tautly before him, and he explores my
dancer
’
s figure with his firm free hand.
My nipples go hard as he runs a hand slowly down my side, memorizing the lithe
shape of me. He grins as he brushes a thumb over one of those erect peaks,
pleased at how quickly he
’
s turned me on.
“
How long have you been waiting for
this?
”
he growls, freeing my wrists as he
kisses down along my throat. His lips leave sparks of sensation in their wake
as they trail along my skin, and it
’
s all I can do to keep putting one
word in front of another.
“
How long? Oh
…
Only since your very first class,
”
I laugh breathlessly, writhing under his intoxicating
touch.
“
Hmm,
”
he
replies, grabbing me firmly by waist,
“
I
’
ve
never met someone who was so turned on by economic theory. Kinda kinky
…”
“
It wasn
’
t so much the subject matter as it was the person
delivering it,
”
I smile, trying to catch my
breath.
“
That
’
s
good to know,
”
he grins back, his voice straining
with need,
“
It
’
d
be a real shame if you just wanted me for my brain. The rest of me wants in on
the action, too.
”
He
shifts his hips ever-so-slightly, and I feel the hard, unbelievable length of
him press firmly against my thigh. My eyes go wide as I stare up at him, amazed
by the enormity of his need for me.
“
Yeah
…
I
think I get it,
”
I breathe, letting my hands
slide down his cut torso,
“
Though I have to say, I wouldn
’
t mind getter a slightly better handle on it
…”
“
Well Ms. Porter,
”
he grins, as I whip open the buckle of his belt,
“
I
’
d be more than happy to give you
one last lesson.
”
The
din of the bar is entirely drowned out by the frantic pounding of my heart as
Luke slips his hands up under my crop top.
“
Go ahead, Prof,
”
I whisper,
“
I
’
m
a fast learner.
”
“
My favorite kind,
”
he growls back, as I slide my hand down the front of
his blue jeans.
So
consumed are we by our impromptu study session that we don
’
t even notice as someone starts pounding on the
bathroom door. We
’
ve got a lot of material to get
through, after all. And I have the feeling that I
’
ve
just discovered my new favorite subject: Lukas Hawthorne.
