Stepbrother Thief (35 page)

What we just did, that was us trying to find a way to get close again. What we're doing right now … is making up for lost time. It's fierce and hard and full of anger and sadness and fear. I want it, need it, but I also want it to be over. Then I can move on, really truly move on—whether I'm with Gilleon or not.

“Hard and fast, Gill,” I breathe as he pulls back and I turn over, stretching like a cat, using some of my own feline grace to entice Gilleon to thrust into me, his hands pulling my hips back, slamming his pelvis into my ass. The bed creaks, the headboard hits the wall, and goddamn it, I know there are people in this house who will know
exactly
what that means, but I don't care.

I moan, struggling to keep myself up on all fours, held up more by Gilleon's strength than my own. I'm melting, wasting away into dirty, filthy, guilty pleasure. When I feel him tensing up, getting ready to come again, I let myself go completely, collapsing beneath him as Gill releases his pleasure inside of me, thrusting long enough that I clench down around him and come hard, fast, and messy.

With my cheek pressed into the pillows, I'm asleep before I get a chance to overanalyze what just happened.

I wake up sometime later—much later if the clock on my nightstand has anything to say about it. I reach out clumsily and spin its face away with a groan, my right arm flopping unceremoniously on the bed.

The bed I shared with Gilleon last night.

I sit up suddenly, covers rustling against my naked body as I fist my fingers in the fabric and glance over at the empty space beside me. I could be offended that Gill's gone already, but I'm not. I bet he's around here somewhere, and if he's not, then he just left. Even though I was out cold last night, I could feel Gill beside me, his body wrapped around mine. If I'm honest with myself, it's the best sleep I've had in years—in over a decade actually.

I rub the heel of my hand against my bleary eyes and stifle a yawn. It's five in the morning which means … after Gill and I had sex, I must've passed out into an emotionally exhausted coma, sleeping right through our proposed dinner date. Oh well. I don't mind, and I'm guessing he doesn't either. I lift my arms up into a stretch, letting the blankets settle around my waist and exposing my bare breasts to the cool air of the bedroom, nipples already hardening into points.

“
Merde,
” I curse, shaking my head and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. When I go to stand up, my knees almost buckle, and I have to sit back down again for a moment. I am
sore
downstairs, my heart still all gooey and messed up inside from everything that just happened. When I think about the lovemaking, about gazing into one another's eyes, I flush from head to toe. When I think about the fucking that happened after … it gets worse. I groan and drop my face into my palms for a moment.

The guy tells me that my mother's death is his fault somehow and I jump into bed with him? Tell him I'll consider giving him a second chance after he abandoned me? I must be crazy.

I drop my hands and raise my head, staring through the darkness at the empty wall in front of me. I must be crazy … but I don't feel crazy. Somehow, this seems like the right thing to do, the right move to make. And it's not just the sex—although that's a bonus. Good sex isn't everything; it doesn't make the heart feel full, doesn't challenge the mind, doesn't listen carefully to secrets in the dark. But Gill … he can be all of that for me and more. Trust me, I know, because he's been all those things before. Gilleon's not just a good lover; he's a good partner, too.

A good partner who once made a terrible, terrible mistake.

I shake my head, take in a deep breath. I don't want to think about Gill leaving, not right now, not after what just happened between us.

I stand up and head to the bathroom first, debating the merits of my stolen hotel robe versus a proper outfit. The robe says
yeah, I'm cool with this whole thing,
gives off a comfortable sense of domestic bliss that I'm just not ready to admit to yet. A dress practically screams
trying too hard to look like I don't give a crap.
Hmm. I give myself a moment to think by fussing with my hair. Since it's already a hot mess, I twist it up into a chignon and call it good, slipping my body under the hot spray of the shower for a second, just to cleanup. And there's
a lot
to cleanup after—Gill and I had a good fucking time last night.

When I climb out of the shower and spy Gill's discarded shirt on the floor near my bed, the compulsion is almost impossible to resist. I have so many memories of slipping into his clothes, letting the extra fabric billow against my naked thighs as I moved into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee or snuck over to his side of the bed to give him a kiss. Gill's spicy scent would rise around me, tease my already tender body with the promise of more.

Hell no.

Okay,
that
shirt is an absolute no go.

I decide to wear the jeans Gill bought for me, the ones I used when we were sneaking around Pike Place incognito, and my white Ella Moss tank, the one that reminds me of my mother. Clean panties and a bra are musts, but I decide to skip the shoes, even if a pair of Louboutin red sole sandals seem to be calling my name from the corner of the closet …

I give myself a quick once-over in the bathroom mirror, my swollen lips and reddened cheeks impossible to miss.
Damn you, Gill.
I shake myself out, take a deep breath and head into the hallway, letting my bedroom door snick softly shut behind me.

I can't wait to see him.
The thought bubbles up inside of me, stripping the years away, making me feel like a teenager again as I head for the stairs. I pause for a moment and run my hands down the front of the lacy top, wondering what our interaction's going to be like this morning. Will he be as happy to see me as I am to see him? I'm damn near positive that the answer to that question is a radiant, effervescent
yes.
Gill's words come floating back to me:
Let me make that all clear right now. I have one goal, one motive. Regina, I want you back.

I brush some loose strands of hair back and glance at Cliff's and Solène's doors. Both closed, no light shining from underneath. Good. I need to see Gill, talk to Gill, before either of them sees me with him. I need to know exactly what I'm working with here. Well, besides butterflies. Those pesky bastards are back and making my stomach twist with each brush of their metaphorical little wings.

I start down the stairs before I let myself get too worked up about this.
It's just Gill—and probably Aveline.
That oughta be fun. If she didn't hear us fucking earlier, I'll be awfully surprised. I move down the steps slowly and then pause at the first landing, one hand on the railing, my gaze focused on the stained glass window in front of me. I can hear them both from here, talking in the kitchen, their voices nothing more than murmurs in the quiet dark of the house.

I take a deep breath and pull my eyes away from the rose pattern in the glass, turning and taking the last few stairs loudly enough that I'm sure they know I'm coming by the time I set foot in that kitchen.

I pause in the doorway, curling my fingers around the decorative molding.

I hate to admit it, but my heart is
pounding.

“Up early?” I ask casually as Aveline turns towards me, her red hair draped over one shoulder in a braid. She smirks at me as my eyes flick over to Gill's back, his shirt stretched tight across his taut muscles.
Oh God, I can still remember how those felt beneath my fingers.
I drop my hands to my sides and move through the archway and over to the coffeemaker without waiting for him to acknowledge me. Even though I want him to—more than I'd care to admit.

“Up late more like,” Aveline responds, sitting down at the kitchen table and shuffling through some papers. She snorts like the whole thing's amusing to her and tugs her laptop closer with her left hand. “There was some sort of strange mix-up where this guy was supposed to take over watch last night …” Aveline trails off as I glance over at Gill's back again, my heart stuttering as he turns away from his laptop, perched on the edge of the counter. His eyes find mine and steal my breath away, a small smile curling his lips. I have to lean against the counter to fight my body's visceral reaction. “Never missed a shift in his life, never even showed up a moment late, and now …”

“I said I was sorry,” Gill replies, voice cool and calm, gaze still glued to mine. We stare at each other for a long moment, communicating wordlessly about what happened last night, about what still needs to happen. I have to know; I have to know
everything.
But … “I got caught up in something.”

“Yeah, I heard. Hell, we all did. You know, in all this time, I've never seen Cliff look anything but mildly amused. Last night, well, all I can say is …” Aveline shuts her laptop and stands up, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Good luck with
that
conversation. I'm off to grab some shut-eye. See you on Friday?” Gill nods and Aveline salutes me once, computer tucked under one arm, before disappearing down the hall and out the front door.

After a moment, Gill follows after her and locks it, sliding the chain and dead bolt back into place. I linger in the hallway behind him, a cup of coffee warming up my hands as I listen to the torrential rains outside the window. It's still dark out there, the night still thick as ink. With the cloud cover like it is, I bet it stays gloomy and gray all day today.

“Good morning,” Gill says finally, acknowledging me fully now that Aveline's gone. “Did you sleep well?” I don't miss the twinkle in his eye, the slight twitch of his lips as he gives me a once-over that makes me shiver. There's approval in his gaze … and longing. I pretend not to notice, lifting my coffee to my lips and sipping it slowly before responding. I decide to be truthful again, even though it'd be a hell of a lot easier to lie.

“Perfectly. Best sleep I've had in years.” Gill nods like he's not surprised.

“Me, too,” he responds, moving towards me and pausing less than a foot away. “I'm not content unless you're there. I just realized that I haven't actually felt rested in ten years.” I swallow hard and look away for a second before glancing back up at my stepbrother's face.

There's warmth there, the passion that I missed so badly, that I never thought I'd see again. I can read love in his eyes, in the curve of his full lips, in the careful, considerate way he keeps his distance, waiting for me to close it. Gilleon is mine for the taking, waiting there like an apple dangling from a low branch. All I have to do is reach up and pluck it.

“I …” I'm having a hard time figuring out what to say, my emotions as jumbled as the spools of thread in Solène's room, all of those colors twisted and mixed and tangled. Some part of me that's been locked up for years, held prisoner by my melancholy and my longing, it's free now and I don't know what to do with it. “We still need to talk,” I blurt, and Gill nods. “Too bad we missed dinner last night. I had a great dress picked out.” Gill sucks in some breath between his teeth and stands stone-still, the darkness of the hallway like a blanket wrapping the two of us up tight together.

“I'm sorry I missed it,” he says, humor lacing his voice. I know he's happy right now; it doesn't take an expert to see that.
I
make him happy. Me. I do. I'm Gill's happiness, his ticket back into the light. “But don't fret too much. I was thinking we could go out on Friday?”

“Friday?” I ask, raising both brows. Today is Tuesday; Friday feels like forever away. “Why not tonight?” I try to sound casual as I ask. Pretty sure there's some eagerness creeping in there, too. Oh well. I
want
to go on a proper date with Gill, so sue me.

“I wish I could,
mon cœur.
” My heart flutters a little at that. It'd be so easy to fall back in with Gill, pick up where we left off. Not sure how I feel about that. “But … we're having some problems with Karl. I have to leave for a few days to deal with it.”

Goose bumps crawl across my skin but I nod, swallowing back some anxiety at the thought of Gill leaving, knowing how silly that is. If I'm already worried about him disappearing again, how can we ever make this work? And why do I want it to so badly?

I open my mouth to ask what kind of problems when Gill reaches up and curls his fingers around my upper arms, his thumbs teasing my bare skin into a heated frenzy in an instant. My breath catches; my lips part.

As if that's the invitation he's been waiting for, Gilleon leans in, brushing his mouth against mine, tasting me, drinking me in like it's been years since we last kissed instead of hours.

“I see you kids have made up.” Cliff's voice startles us both, and I almost spill my coffee all over Gilleon's shirt, fumbling with the mug as we step back from one another and glance up at the stairs. I can't see my stepfather's face, but he doesn't sound particularly happy about it. “Or rather, I
heard
that you made up.” I flush from head to toe again, letting my eyes flutter closed for a second to get control of myself.