Stepbrother Thief (40 page)

“Regina,” he says, his voice a rough plea that I ignore. His words don't matter right now; I've made my choice.

“Gilleon, listen to me,” I say, pausing and turning, forcing him to look at me, the stray strands of a distant porch light limning his dark head in light, turning his face to shadow but highlighting the full curve of his lower lip. Somehow, I've manged to stop us beneath the branches of a massive tree, providing at least a little bit of cover from the increasing fury of the sky. The rain slams down in sheets, leaking between the leaves and splattering on my nose. “I've known this since the first moment I saw you, when you looked at me with a blank face and a closed heart.” Even though my stepbrother's in shadow, I can visibly see him tense further, a primal sort of fear infusing the rigid movements of his body as he runs a hand through his damp hair, droplets sprinkling across my face.

This is going to shock the shit out of him, isn't it?
I think with a small amount of triumph.

My heartbeat picks up speed; my breath catches in my chest.

“Gill, I still love you,” I say, prefacing my statement with those ever important words. I think it's virtually impossible to say
I love you
too much. For whatever reason, that scares the crap out of him and he takes a step forward, caressing my jaw with wet fingers.

Big breath here, the feel of my heart racing in my chest, pulse pounding in my head. I lift up a hand and push aside the black wool of my coat to touch the pendant.

“Gilleon …” There's a million ways to say this, an infinite number of phrases that could work to convey what I need to tell him, but I can think of only one. “I forgive you.”

Gill swallows hard, throat moving as he turns his head to the side and runs his hand over his mouth, knocking stray droplets of rain water to the pavement.

I'm shaking right now, but I don't know why. The cold maybe? The wet? No, I don't really think it's either of those things. I let out a breath and it comes out in a rush, fogging in the autumn air. I feel … lighter somehow. I'd told myself I wasn't holding a grudge, that it didn't matter anymore, that I'd grown past it, but that wasn't entirely true. This, it was
this
moment I'd been waiting for, a second in time ten years in the making.

“I feel like now, I have two real choices, two good ones. I've said what I need to say, made my peace with what happened between us.” I tuck my hands in the pockets of my coat and wiggle my fingers against the smooth silk lining. “I could walk away from you right now, take the money from the heist and be content with the fact that I really do forgive you, Gilleon. I'm not mad anymore; I'm not upset. I think that I could actually be happy by myself or, in the future, with another man.”

Gill sucks in a harsh breath and turns back to look at me.

“But I don't want another man, Gilleon,” I say, my voice strong and clear and loud enough that the shattering break of rain doesn't matter, the cars driving by don't matter, the distant murmur of voices don't matter. Gill can hear me, loud and clear, I know he can. “Gill, the only man I want is you.”

Shock passes over Gill's face for a split second before he's stepping forward and sliding his arms under my coat, wrapping them around my waist. His fingers manage to find the bare skin of my back, fingertips warm but wet, his prints searing my flesh with whorls and ridges.

A laugh bubbles up and out of his throat, a murmur of surprise that he quickly suppresses as he pulls me against him.

“Are you …” he begins and then shakes his head, splattering me with water again. I blink away the droplets on my eyelashes and let the smile I'm feeling in my heart show on my face. “I want to ask if you're serious because it's hard to see someone offer the one thing you've always wanted and not question if it's real, but … I feel like it'd be insulting if I did.” Gill takes a deep breath as he presses our bodies close, the firm planes of his chest and stomach the perfect partner to the softer, rounder curves of mine.

“Not what you were expecting?” I ask, unconsciously pitching my voice to a whisper. It just sort of feels like the right moment for quiet reflection, gentle passion, the perfect look from a pair of bright blue eyes. It was a look I was afraid I'd never see again, and the sight of it is nothing short of miraculous to me.

“Not what I was expecting, but everything I was hoping for,” he says and then pauses, pulling his gaze away. “Although I'm worried that you'll change your mind when you finally hear what I have to say.” I shake my head, wet hair plastered against my forehead, my cheeks, the back of my neck. My legs are cold and I'm uncomfortable as hell; it's the happiest I've ever been.

“I know that what you're going to tell me could change my world, break my heart, tear me into pieces, but what it won't do is affect how I feel about you, Gilleon.” I lean into Gill, resting cheek to cheek with him, his breath warm on the side of my neck. “The only reason I agreed to the heist was because I could tell you needed me. My friends, my apartment, my life in Paris, I was willing to give it all up to help you, even if you didn't love me anymore. I realize that now, that I'd do anything for you Gill. If that includes forgiveness for something horrible, for something you did to my mother, then so be it. But I know you. I know you
think
that it was all your fault, that you somehow caused her death, but I know you're better than that. You'd never hurt my mom, not on purpose. If something happened, it was out of your control.” I try to take a step back, but he won't let me go, holding me closer, tighter, harder.

“Are you sure you're real?” he whispers against my cheek, his lips as soft as his body is hard. “Because for years I tried to convince myself that you were some sort of dream, that nothing in this life could really be as good as I remembered you.” I smile, pulling back just enough that I can look into Gill's beautiful eyes.

When he kisses me, I open my mouth, letting the hot heat of his tongue warm me up from head to toe. The sensation of his wet lips on mine is thrilling, a distant reminder of our first kiss back together outside of the restaurant. But this time, I'm not going to pull away, run away. This time, I'm here to stay.

Gill's hands roam down, over the teal lace of my dress, until he reaches my ass, cupping my flesh in tight fingers, kneading until I moan into his mouth and raise my own hands to his chest. I pull buttons apart until I can feel skin, teasing that smooth, hard flesh with my fingertips. Since my fabulous little slingbacks put Gill and me at just about the same height, I can feel his erection pressing in all the right places, wiggling my body against him until I get a reaction.

“Fuck,” he murmurs as I bite his lip, giving him a short second to breathe. “We should probably take this back to the SUV.”

“Probably,” I whisper as he turns us around, my heels splashing in a puddle. I don't even care at this point. Right now, I don't feel at all like I'm thirty-one, but like I'm sixteen again, kissing Gill for the very first time. His scent, mixed with the smell of rain and wet leaves, is intoxicating. And the taste of him … oh God, the
taste.
Gilleon's got all five of my senses enveloped, wrapped up in that dichotomous perfection of his, that strange mix between light and dark.

I reach my hands up to Gill's cheeks, pressing my palms against either side of his face.

“Somehow, no matter what else happened, I knew tonight was going to include a quickie,” I whisper as my back presses up against something hard—the trunk of the tree that's currently providing us shelter and hiding us away from the rest of the world.
Thank God.
With the dark and the rain, I don't think anyone can see us here.

At least, I hope they can't because this is happening.

I brush some dark, wet strands of Gill's hair off his forehead and study his expression. He looks right back at me, moving his tattooed right hand to my face, trailing his fingertips over my cheek and across my lips. There's a look of wonder there, a flicker of light that is all me and nothing else. I'm not trying to be arrogant here or overplay my own importance, but it is what it is.

For better or worse, I want this.

For better or worse, Gilleon Marchal is mine.

I gasp as Gill pushes up the lace skirt of my dress, a smile curling the edge of his lip. On the street behind him, a car rumbles by, lights flickering in the rush of rainwater. The danger of getting caught, it's all mixing up with the danger of Gill, the unknown, the infinite possibilities that a new start will give us. It could be good, great even, but there's always a risk—just like there is right now. I shouldn't take it … but I'm going to anyway. Why is it that the things that make you feel most alive in the world are the very same things that can bring you to your knees?

“Are you sure about this?” Gill asks as I drop my hands to the button on his slacks. I'm not sure if he's asking about the sex or about getting back together. Either way …

“Yes.” Easy question, easy answer. “Now let's do this before the neighbors call the cops.”

Gill grins; I'm sure he of all people doesn't give two shits about the cops.

His lips drop to mine, hot tongue darting into my mouth, tasting me as I free his dick from his pants, sliding my hand down the long, hard length of him. His wet fingers slide away from my bunched up skirt, down the sensitive flesh of my bare thighs, drawing my right leg up.
Thank God I wore tall heels today.
Certainly makes things a lot easier in this department.

I release my hold on him, switching my fingers to the back of his neck, curling them together in a tight grip. Without skipping a beat, he pushes my panties to the side and drives into me, filling me up until we're pelvis to pelvis, gasping and squinting at each other in a deluge of rainwater. The skies crack open and come down hard, raindrops sticking his dark hair to his forehead, blinding me with heavy wet strands of blonde.

I raise my lips to Gill's again, tasting the wet and the autumn cold and his body's natural warmth. We move together, grinding our bodies tightly against one another, probably committing some sort of felony (or at the very least a misdemeanor). But I don't care, not right now. Right now, all I give a shit about is Gilleon.

In that moment, in the freezing rain, my breath frosting against his lips, I feel more alive, more awake than I have since the moment we first met. Our chests tight together, I can feel his heartbeat pounding against mine, like the sweet sonata of a new beginning.

My lips are tingling so bad, I can't resist touching them, scraping my fingertips against the tender flesh. Even though I know they aren't, my hands feel rough, like sandpaper. Gill glances over at me from his position behind the wheel and smiles knowingly.

“I was just thinking,” I say, grabbing my purse and withdrawing a tube of lipstick, “that it seems like a good time to reapply.”

“Sure it is,” he says with a warm chuckle. He's a mess; I'm a mess. We're both sopping wet, hair tangled and dripping, my makeup melting down my face. But at least I have my fresh pair of panties … Gill, at least, had the good sense not to laugh when I switched them out and shoved the wet ones in the glove compartment. Hopefully one of us remembers to clean those out before he turns the rental in. Wouldn't that be embarrassing …

“I'm glad we're still going to dinner,” he says and I nod.

“Me, too.” I slide my hands down my dress, the fabric clinging to my body and emphasizing the gentle swell of my breasts and hips. Gill notices and swallows hard, like he's already ready for round two. I can't blame him, I guess, since I was there about two seconds after we finished.

“We really need to start having sex in beds more,” I say, reaching back to pick a leaf out of my hair. I'll be lucky if my designer dress doesn't have any holes in the lace. At least it was all worth it—so, so worth it.

“Speaking of,” Gill begins, clearing his throat and tossing me a grin, “are you going to let me move into the master bedroom?” I open my mouth to protest, but … if I'm going to do this, then I might as well go all the way.

“Yes,” I say, and then pause. “You get to tell Papa about it though.”