Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3) (16 page)

FIVE YEARS AGO

"He left this morning," Grace says, flopping down on my bed.  "I thought you knew he was leaving.  He had to report for boot camp."

I feel like someone punched me in the stomach.  "I thought he'd say goodbye."

Grace rolls over onto her back and twirls a long strand of dark hair around her finger.  "That's weird, yeah?" she asks.  "He said goodbye to me last night.  I guess since you were at the movies, he didn't want to bother you when you got back?"

"I guess."  My head is swimming, and I have to sit down.

"What's wrong?" Grace asks.  "You look pale.  Do you need a soda or something?"

"No, I --" I start.  What can I say?  I fell for my stepbrother, and he kissed me, and I was naive enough to think it meant something to him.   Then I heard him tell all his friends horrible things about me, but I still thought he might make a last-minute declaration of love before he left for the Marines.

I'm a total idiot, a girl who's read far too many fairy tales.

"What?" Grace sits up.  "It's not Hendrix is it?"

"Huh?" I ask, distracted by my thoughts of Hendrix.  My stomach churns at the thought of him joining the Marines.  What if something happens to him, and the last feelings I had toward him were hate for what he said about me?  I'd never forgive myself.  "No, it's not Hendrix."

"You guys were like, really good friends there for a while, huh?" Grace asks.  She grabs one of the bottles of nail polish from my desk and starts painting her toes.  "Ugh, pink.  Don't you have any more edgy colors?  Can you really see me wearing pink?  I mean, no offense, it looks good on you, obviously."

"I think there's some in the bathroom," I say, numb.  I don't care about nail polish.  I can't think about anything except Hendrix.

"Don't worry about Hendrix," she says, hopping up and disappearing into the bathroom.  "Although, can you really see him being a Marine?  That would be like me joining the military.  They're going to shit their pants when they see him walk into boot camp with blue streaks in his hair."  When she reappears, she has a bottle of blue polish.  "Speaking of blue, at least you have something that's more useable than that pink crap.  Do you think he'll come back all 'roided out and like, prison hot?"

The thought of Hendrix getting "prison hot" makes me shiver, and I try not to think about what he might look like after being with the Marines.  I've fantasized about Hendrix too many times to count already.  Far too many times to be good for me.  I need to put Hendrix out of my head.

PRESENT DAY

"Just a second," I call.  The door opens before I can say anything else, and I reach frantically for the towel I tossed carelessly on my bed, getting tangled up in the pile of wet clothes on the floor at my feet.  Looking up, I see Hendrix shutting the door behind him.  I hiss at him through clenched teeth to get the hell out of my bedroom before someone catches him, but he just stands there, grinning at me.  "Turn around."

"What?" he whispers.  "Your taste is still on my tongue, but you don't want me to see you naked?"

"Don't say that."  I scramble to get the towel wrapped around my body, mindful of the fact that Hendrix isn't doing what I tell him to do.  Not only is he not listening to me, he's standing there shirtless, his chest still damp from the rain.  Shirtless and sexy.

"Don't say what?" he asks, his voice low.  He crosses the space between us so quickly that I inhale sharply.  "Naked?  Or that your taste is still on my tongue?  Would you rather I say that I was licking your pussy?"

"Hendrix," I whisper.  "You can't talk to me like that.  Not here, in this house."

"Or what?"  He steps close to me and puts his mouth close to my ear, taking one finger and trailing it up my arm and over my shoulder, then across my collarbone.  He slowly, lazily runs it up the side of my neck, and I'm left so on edge, so wanting, that I could cry again.  "What are you afraid of, Addy?"

"You," I whisper.  It's the only word I can choke out, the only thing that escapes my lips.  I don't say all of the other things going through my head, the things I want to say.

I'm afraid that everything I've worked for will be destroyed.

I'm afraid of falling for you all over again.

I'm afraid you'll rip my heart to shreds, the way you did when you left.

I'm afraid you'll break me.

The look Hendrix gives me is practically feral.  He makes a sound, deep in his throat, his hand on the back of my neck, and I think if he kisses me again, he'll destroy us both.  But he just looks at me.  "You're right," he says.

"What?"  All I can feel is the warmth from his hand on my neck, the heat that radiates from his palm down my body, pooling between my legs.  I'm a raw nerve, a ball of need and desire, and as much as I want him to go, more of me wants him to stay.  More of me wants him to pick me up and fuck me against the bedroom wall, right now.

He groans, as if he can read the dirty thoughts that are running through my head, and pushes me against the wall.  "Drop the towel," he says, his voice gruff and gravely.

"What are you doing?" I choke out the words, my palm up to push him away, but instead I end up sliding my hand over his chest and down his rippled abdomen.  I can see his hardness pressed against his jeans, and all I can think about is having him inside me.

"I'm doing what I told you I was going to do before," he says.

"Hendrix, right here is not the place.  Our parents -- "

"Are we both going to pretend you're not aching for me?" he asks.  "That you're not soaking wet with the thought of having me inside you?"  He reaches underneath the towel, between my legs, and touches me gently with the tip of his fingers, and his touch makes me practically melt.

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Hendrix," I say, protesting, but weakly.  My resolve isn't even weak.  It's practically non-existent.

He wraps his hands around my wrists and pins them to the wall above my head, then holds them there with one hand as he traces his finger gently over my lips.  "This is
not
a good fucking idea, Addy," he whispers, his finger moving slowly down the front of my chest to my cleavage.  "This is the worst fucking idea in the world."

"This
is
the worst idea ever," I say.  "We should be reasonable."

"I've never been a reasonable man," he says, stepping back from me and surveying me.  "Take off the towel."

I draw in a sharp breath, but I do exactly that.  I slip my finger under the edge of the towel, and it drops softly to the floor.  I'm left standing there completely naked, with Hendrix's eyes on me.  He surveys me for a moment, then steps forward, inches away from me, his mouth so close to mine as he teases me, his warm breath on my skin. 

He puts his palm on my stomach, exhaling heavily as he slides it up between my breasts, his eyes never leaving mine as he covers my breast with his palm, his thumb immediately on my nipple.  When I moan, he whispers.  "Careful, don't let the Wicked Bitch hear you.  I have a feeling she wouldn't like this."

The thought of our parents finding out makes my heart nearly stop.  "Shit, Hendrix," I whisper.

Hendrix smiles and drops my hands.  "You can walk away at any time, sweet cheeks," he says.

"No, that's not what I meant.  I -- "

He raises an eyebrow and sinks to the floor between my legs.  "Open your legs for me, Addy."

"Again?"

But the way he says it, looking up at me like he is, makes me think I'd be stupid to do anything except that.  He touches the tip of his tongue to my clit, and it sends a jolt of arousal ricocheting through my body, down to the tips of my fingers.  I run my hands over his closely-cropped hair.  "Oh my God, Hendrix."

I can hear him inhale deeply, and the fact that he's between my legs, smelling me, while our parents are downstairs, is so ridiculously...inappropriate...that it makes me blush.  "I'm going to take my time now that we're out of the rain, Addy.  I've dreamt about putting my face between your legs," he says softly.  "I've fantasized about my tongue on your clit, licking you, feeling you come on my face.  Do you know how many times I've thought about it?"

I can tell that my face must be scarlet, from the heat that rises to my cheeks.  "Hendrix."

"You're blushing," he whispers.  He takes my clit in his mouth, gently at first, and then sucking so hard I have to grip his head, unable to stifle my cry.  Then he pulls his head away and looks up at me.  "You're going to have to be quiet, Addy, or I'm going to give you something to put in your mouth."

No one has ever talked to me the way Hendrix is talking to me now.  "Careful," I whisper.  "I'm not sure that would keep me quiet."

Hendrix makes a sound, primal in its intensity, and grips my ass cheeks tightly, pulling me down on his mouth with a ferocity that takes my breath away.  His tongue is everywhere, licking me, probing me, and I feel my knees nearly buckle underneath me.  When he pulls his face away, I'm clutching his head to stay upright.  "You taste better than I could have imagined," he says.

"You imagined what I tasted like?"  The thought intensifies the throbbing between my legs.

Hendrix doesn't take his eyes off my face as he slips his fingers inside me, and I moan softly.  "I've jerked off to the thought of it a thousand times," he whispers.  "I've come thinking about my tongue inside you."

"Oh God."  What he's doing with his fingers, his magic fingers, is almost too much.  His touch is nearly unbearable.

"Tell me you've come thinking about me fucking you, Addy," he says, his fingers stroking me, more insistently now, pressing against the oh-so-sensitive place inside me.

"I thought about you, Hendrix," I gasp, barely getting the words out.  "Even before you left."

"Tell me," he says.  "Tell me what you used to do thinking about me."  His fingers continue to work their magic, but he covers my clit with his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, sucking as he strokes me.

"I...oh God..." I cling to his head, pressing him against me, trying to force my voice to remain no louder than a whisper, mindful of the fact that our parents are in the house, that if they discovered us, everything would be over.  It would all be ruined.  The fucked up thing is that I think the threat of discovery actually makes it more intense. "When we swam at night, I...oh shit...I'd come back here and touch myself thinking about you."