Stepbrother Thief (22 page)

“Oh, like you wouldn't want to get your hands on the women I've slept with.”

“That's assuming I give a shit about who you sleep with. Gill, we were lovers once. We aren't anymore.”

“I think anyone presented with a recap of today's events might argue otherwise,” he purrs, low and deep, the sound making my chest tight with desire.
Thank God I'm wearing the jumpsuit.
Right here, right now, it'd be an incredible feat to get me out of it. Not that I want to. Because I don't. I don't.

“I …” I look at Gilleon looking at me, his blue eyes hooded, sitting slumped in the corner of his seat like a lazy house cat getting ready to take a nap. It's all an illusion though—one twitch of those muscles and he'd be up and ready to fight. To kill even. Can't ever forget that. I look down at the center console, the gear shift, the only things separating the two of us. “I feel like you're warming up to something, like all of this hot and cold stuff you're doing is an attempt to hold back.”

“Because I am holding back,” Gill whispers, changing the entire feel of the air, charging all of those molecules with need that I can feel from over here. Unconsciously, I squeeze my thighs together, a pulse of pleasure ricocheting up my spine. “If I stripped bare and showed you everything I was feeling, you'd run from me. I know you too well, Regina.”

“You don't know anything about me,” I tell him, watching as his eyes trail down my face, my throat, to the deep V-neck of the jumpsuit and the smooth, rounded curves of my breasts. “You did once, but not anymore. I'm not the same person you left behind.”

“No, I knew you wouldn't be. You're stronger than that. You've grown up, Regina, and I'm in awe of all of you.”

Gill leans forward and takes one of my hands in his, the whirls of black ink that make up his tattoos stark against my bare skin. I trace the dark whorls of vines that wrap his middle and ring finger, across the back of his hand and around his wrist, disappearing under the sleeve of his suit jacket.

When he pulls me toward him, his touch is light, unassuming, giving me the chance to say no. And I should say no. I made this mistake a scant few hours ago, and I shouldn't make it again.

But his hand where it touches mine, it feels electrifying. I want that sensation all over and inside—
everywhere.

I unbuckle my seat belt at the same moment he does and then reach out my other hand, letting him pull me over with that unrivaled strength of his, until I'm half on my knees, half straddling his lap.

“I knew it was a good move to go for the SUV,” he whispers, leaning down and pushing a button that slides the seat back, giving me just enough room between his chest and the steering wheel to breathe. I adjust myself enough to feel the hard bulge inside his slacks.

Leaning forward, I lay my fingers on either side of his face, tracing a path that was once familiar, that still is if I'm honest with myself.

Gill slides his hands up my arms to my shoulders, chasing a line of goose bumps up my flesh before he hooks his fingers on the black straps of the jumpsuit and slides them down enough that my bra is showing. Without breaking eye contact with me, he traces up my shoulders, my throat, and then back down again, running his fingertips across my collarbone and over the rim of my strapless bra.

I follow his lead, caressing my way along his jawline and then down to the firm, hard muscles in his neck. When he swallows hard and leans forward, I oblige, opening my mouth to him, tasting the sweet brightness of his lips as his own hands roam down my back, pushing the jumpsuit to my hips.

I can't seem to pull my lips away from Gill's, so I don't bother trying to get the suit jacket off, instead reaching down and sliding my fingers along his bare chest until I find the first button. It pops open, followed by the next, and the next. I don't even mind the two guns strapped on either side of his chest.

When I've got the shirt entirely undone, I reach up and grab the lapels, yanking them open with a rough fierceness that I didn't even know I had inside of me until this moment. Shit. Maybe I am jealous? I can't imagine another woman touching Gilleon, tracing their way down his abs the way I'm doing now.

I find the button and zipper on his slacks and rid him of those, too, sliding my hand in and freeing his cock with a groan and a sigh that I don't even bother to try to control.

Gill moans against my lips, his voice rough and deep, vibrating my bones with the sensual sound of it, tightening his fingers against my hips until they hurt. I already have slight purple bruises there from earlier, but I don't care. Having him hold me there, it feels too good. I feel like a queen with this powerful beast locked beneath me, rippling with strength but biting it all back just because I said so. It's heady, this feeling.

I pull back from Gilleon enough that we can make eye contact, my hand sliding along his rigid cock, gripping him tight at the base until he grunts and a growl escapes those handsome lips. His hooded blue eyes stare into mine, burning with a fierce desire that he suppresses, letting me stroke him until he starts thrusting against my hand, letting his head fall back with reckless abandon.

When I feel like he's close to coming, I let go and lean back, watching as he looks up at me with hunger shining brightly in his gaze.

“Get it off, Gill,” I tell him, resting my back against the steering wheel, hoping the horn doesn't go off. If somebody interrupts me right now, well, it won't be pleasant for either of us. Gill leans forward, reaching around behind me to find my zipper and pulling it down enough that he can grab hold of the waist and pull, sliding the jumpsuit down as I stretch one leg out, using the space between the seats for extra room. It's no easy feet, scrunched up as I am, but we manage. When something burns this hot and heavy, there's no other choice than to feed the fire.

The wide leg of the jumpsuit slides right over my shoe as I pull up my knee and manage to free my left side completely. The right side, well, fuck it. What I need free is free.

I shove the fabric of my outfit to the side, the right leg still trapped inside it and scoot forward, raising up enough for Gill to pull my panties aside and angle himself at my opening. I relax downward, sliding onto him with a groan, my hips picking up a rapid rhythm that's wild and careless and completely unrestrained.

Gill and I moan together, the car rocking slightly beneath us as he drops his lips to my throat and scrapes his teeth across my skin, nipping and sucking, making me gasp. His hands roam my back again, trace up my spine until the fingers of his right hand wrap in my hair, curling around the ends and pulling gently, making my head fall back. I let him bite and kiss my exposed throat, grinding our pelvises together hard enough that I can feel the movement in my clit.

My body clenches tight and squeezes around Gill as I grab onto the seat beside his head for support, sliding his body in and out of mine with violent thrusts of my hips. Once again, I've let myself get caught in Gilleon's whirlwind … and I love it. And I hate exactly how much I do.

“Regi,” Gill whispers gruffly, his voice breaking against my skin, the words hot on my neck. “Regi.” I grind harder, move faster, until he can't talk anymore, until pleasure is ripping through me and I'm collapsing against his chest, panting and shuddering as he finishes inside of me.

So much for resisting temptation.

#

It's an awkward couple of moments after, getting me back in my seat—and in my clothes. Honestly, even though we're in a fairly large sized SUV, there's not all that much room in the front. I don't even know how it all went down. I guess nature always finds a way? Unfortunately, she doesn't provide easy and ready to go cleanup options, too.

I brush some hair behind my ear and search around inside my clutch for a baby wipe or a napkin … anything really. All I have is some MAC lipstick (ironically titled
Evening Rendezvous
), my new driver's license, and the cell phone Gilleon gave me.

“Can we go home?” I ask, trying to keep my voice normal and neutral, and my gaze trained on the inside of my purse.

“Are you upset?” he asks me as I try to read his expression from the corner of my eye. All I see is dark, mussy hair and a rumpled suit jacket. Too sexy. Ugh.

“I'm not going to dinner with wet panties, and I have to pee. Just take me home, so I can get my shit together, okay?” The words come out a lot angrier than I intended.
Deep breath. Self-talk. That's what I need, positive fucking self-talk.

You are a strong and reliable human being.

“You're doing it again, aren't you?” Gill asks, starting the car with a smile lingering on his lips. “The self-talk thing?”

“Doesn't matter what I'm doing,” I say, hating that he can so easily read me. “Take me home and I'll decide if I still want to go to dinner with you.”

“I could help with that, you know.”

“
Self-
talk, Gill. Self. A singular endeavor.” He chuckles softly, his voice smoky and full of self-satisfied mirth that makes me want to strangle him. A cat that got the cream. That's what Gill reminds me of right now, if we're carrying on the feline references.

“If it helps, I think you're amazing. And beautiful. And strong. You've obviously done a great job with Solène.”

“Thank Cliff for that one,” I whisper, leaning back against the seat and trying to breathe. My whole body is tingling with the ghostly memories of Gill's hands, of his body sheathed inside of mine. I want to curl up in a bed with him, snuggle close and go to sleep.
How did I let this happen?
I have to remind myself that climbing onto someone's lap and doing crazy acrobatic maneuvers to remove one's jumpsuit doesn't exactly count as 'just happened'. There was intent there—on my part.

“Even if she doesn't know that you're her mother, Solène worships you. I can tell you guys must spend a lot of time together.” He swallows hard and grips the wheel tight as we pull back onto the street. “Regina, I really am sorry. I should've noticed sooner. Now that I have, it seems so obvious.”

“It
is
obvious,” I snap, putting on
mon visage laid
and letting a little sneer crawl across my lips that I have to force back. Anger won't help here. The only real reason it's rearing its ugly head here is because I'm conflicted and confused. Masking those feelings with rage, it's just childish. I take a deep breath. “I'm just surprised it took you so long to figure it out—especially after you pieced together that she was
my
daughter. How could you think I'd have someone else's baby so soon after you left? I mean, I would've been
well
within my right to do so, but come on, Gill.”

“That false birthday was really throwing me off. You, Cliff, and Aveline were all giving me the same story. Besides, I thought you'd have told me or at least have had my dad tell me at some point.” His voice drops, heating a little with some sort of repressed anger, probably towards me. I get it. Even if Gill says knowing about Solène wouldn't have changed things, I never even gave him a chance to get to know his daughter. “But you know what the real truth is, Regina? I didn't
want
to see it. It was right in front of my face and I couldn't be bothered to really look.” Gill clenches his jaw and shakes his head like he's disgusted with himself, glancing over at me with that laser eyed gaze of his. I can feel his stare cutting into the side of my face, but I don't meet it, looking out the window at the rush of traffic and the wet blur of red brake lights.

“All of this … none of it turned out the way we expected it to.”

“No,” he agrees, his voice softening enough that it gets under my skin and makes me want to sigh. I can remember that very same voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear, waking me from sleep with a smile and a hope, a hope that each day was going to be better than the last. Until they just weren't. That first morning, waking up without him, I felt like a hollow shell, like a soulless person with no direction and a shattered heart.

I decide to tell him this.

Fuck it.

It might be therapeutic to finally face the source of my inner demons. Okay, so there's no doubt that I have issues with my father's death, my mother's death, with my sister's abandonment of both me and my mom, but that's all stuff for another day.

“When you first left, I was so broken I didn't think I'd make it to Solène's delivery date, let alone anything beyond that. But then a week later, maybe two, I started to get hopeful again. I started to think that maybe this was just some … I don't know … like a phase or something? I'd wait around at the kitchen table, hoping that the next knock on that door would be yours, that the next phone call would start with your voice telling me how sorry you were.”

“Regina—” Gill begins, but I cut him off.

“No, let me finish. You told me you wanted to talk about your leaving, so let's talk about it. Let's just get it all out there.” I lift my hands, palms out and shrug my shoulders. “I'm tired of tiptoeing around this.”

“So am I,” Gill says, his voice tight and laced with violence. I snap my gaze over to him and find his eyes not on me, but on the rearview mirror. Shit. “But it'll have to wait until later. Regina, take your seat belt off and get on the floor.”