SCORCHED: A Firefighter Stepbrother Romance Thriller (7 page)

I
wobbled near the doors and put my good hand on the wall to steady myself. My
pulse pounded in my ears so loud I couldn’t hear the
bassline
anymore. My throat was dry and my stomach was turning, threatening to spill my
guts right there on the floor. I took a deep breath through my nose and shut my
eyes, telling myself the same thing I had every time I had to come to the
champagne room.

It’s not him. He hasn’t been here in weeks.

A hand
on my shoulder made me jump.

“I got
you, Tanya,” Daryl said. He was our other bouncer—he and Nick worked
opposite shifts unless there was a big crowd, and then they worked together.
“If it’s that dickhead again, you scream first thing and I’ll come get you.”

“I
know,” I said, putting my hand on his. “Thanks, Daryl.”

Daryl
squeezed. “No problem, baby girl.” Then he turned back to the club and I
straightened up.

Okay. You got this. Showtime.

I
opened up the door and put on my best smile, stepping through. But that smile
faded dead away the second I saw who was sitting there.

“Hello,
Tanya,” he said.

I
opened my mouth to scream.

Chapter 7

Gunner

“Don’t,”
I began, holding up my hands as I rose from the crappy, faux-leather couch
against the wall. The “champagne room,” they’d called it. All I could smell was
jizz
and regret, and champagne was the last thing I’d
have thought of drinking in this shit hole.

Thankfully,
my sister had decided not to scream, at least not just yet. I was a pretty
tough guy, but the bouncer I’d seen by the door could probably have broken me
in two and I didn’t need that kind of trouble—not tonight.

“What’re
you doing here, Gunner
?!
” Tanya hissed, glancing over
her shoulder before shutting the door after herself. She looked livid, but I
couldn’t begin to keep my eyes on her expression, not with the way she looked
in that thong and bra.

“You
need to come home,” I said, setting my jaw as I forced my eyes back up to meet
her own. “And when we get there, I’m going to find you a
real
job—not working in some fucking strip joint. I mean,
Jesus, what would Mom—”

“You
shut your fucking mouth,” Tanya snapped, stepping forward without warning and
pushing me square in my chest with her good hand. “I’m not going anywhere. And
if you’re not going to pay for your goddamn lap dance, then I’ve got plenty of
other men who’d gladly be where you are right now.”

“Tanya,”
I began, but as she turned I sighed and dug my wallet out of my pocket. “
Here.
”

I
pulled out a crisp twenty and tossed it at her, sitting myself back down on the
couch, much to the complaint of the artificial leather.

My
stepsister turned back around, her eyes narrowed into slits of the purest
dislike I’d ever seen. She bent down, picked the twenty up and slipped it into
the band of her G-string. The way she stared at me made it clear that instead
of a lap dance, I might just be able to get castrated.

“Fine,”
she said, blowing air through her nose as she went over to the beat-up-looking
sound system next to the door and started playing a slow, bass-heavy
porn-groove.

She
turned to face me, her eyes narrowed, a smoldering rage burning behind her eyes
as she started walking toward me. It was a slow, determined walk that gave me
the impression that she knew exactly what to do to me. I couldn’t decide if
that was an utterly frightening or arousing thought—that my baby stepsister
had just the thing in mind to turn her older brother on.

“No
touching.”

“What
are you doing?” I asked.

“I
don’t do charity. I earn my way in life.”

“Whatever,”
I muttered, leaning against the back of the couch as she pressed her knee just
short of my crotch I looked up into her eyes, her body barely an in away from
mine as she pushed herself up with her full weight on the couch. I watched as
her breasts came up in front of my face, her back arching before she leaned
back. The way she moved her body, working her core like she was come kind of
Arabian belly dancer.

“When
the hell did you become a stripper? I bet Jim must have been super proud when
he heard that,” I said, trying my best not to focus on the way her hips moved
as she started to grind against my abs.

“I
don’t give a fuck about what
your
dad
thinks, Gun,” she said, turning
herself
around to set
her ass right against my lap. “Jim hasn’t been a part of my life since I moved
out. But you probably know how that is, right?
Just packing
up and leaving at the first chance?
Never looking back or calling?
Telling us you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere?”

“Tanya,
listen, I . . . ” The feeling of her tight ass against
my groin stole the words right out of me. I closed my eyes as I tried to deny
to myself how good it felt having her body pressing against mine. “You
shouldn’t be here.”

“What
the hell do you know?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me before
turning herself around again. She straddled my waist, grinding on my crotch
again, just a thin piece of fabric between her womanhood and my jeans. “Are you
going to pay my bills? My rent?”

“That’s
not—” I started to say, but stopped in a desperate attempt not to make a
much more compromising sound. I couldn’t let her know how good this
felt—how much of an effect it was having on me. “You can do better than
this.”

Tanya
fluttered her lashes and opened her eyes wide. “Gosh, I’d never thought of
that. It
really
never occurred to me
to just do something else besides shake my ass for total strangers. Thanks for the
advice, Gun,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Maybe I should
have tried a few other things before I resorted to the pole—oh, wait! I
did.”

I
couldn’t speak as I listening to her, the way her body undulated against mine
had taken all the words from my lips, threatening to replace them with soft
grunts and groans of enjoyment—I couldn’t give her that satisfaction, and
keeping myself from getting an erection was taking all of my conscious effort.

“Fast
food places.
Waitressing in a fucking diner.
Spinning
a fucking sign, for God’s sakes. I even lost my apartment before I had to start
stripping. Do you have any idea what that’s like, Gunner? Living on the
street?”

She
held onto the back of the couch to brace herself, her hips gyrating against me.
I looked up into her face, her lips parted, brow furrowed in the effort it took
to move with the kind of coordination this dance of hers required. I couldn’t
deny that despite how I felt about her being a stripper, my little
step-sister
was damn good at her job—which only made
me hate it even more.

“Tanya—”

“Shut
up! I’m not done!” she growled, arching her back so that her tits were pressed
right against my face. It was more than enough to break my concentration for a
moment—more than enough to wake up my sleeping cock from between my
thighs.

“I
didn’t know how I was going to fucking eat or where I was going to sleep at
night. It was
hell
, Gunner. And you
didn’t even bother trying to find me.”

I
closed my eyes, tight, trying once again to regain control of my thoughts, to
once again bring myself back under control, but it was too late. My shaft began
to swell inside of my pants, stiffening until it strained against the fabric of
my jeans. I needed this to stop.

I
couldn’t help myself, thinking about how easy it would be to slip her G-string
to the side and unzip my pants, to take her right in the back room of the place
she worked. It’d happened here before, the stench of it still clung all around
me and that only seemed to make it more exciting, fucking my own step-sister in
the dirty back room of a strip-club. But it was too much, and I knew that if
she didn’t stop I’d never be able to resist my own urges.

“Tanya,
enough,” I snapped. I grabbed her hips, pushing her away from me as I tried to
stand. But before I could try to move she slapped my hands away and pushed me
back against the couch.

“No
touching
,” she snarled back, grinding
herself
right against my throbbing erection. I let out a
groan, my eyes shutting as she worked herself right against my shaft. “We’re
not done yet.”

The way
she spoke, I could almost swear that she was enjoying this, loving all the
torment that this was putting me through. I looked up at her, snarling as I
tried my best to deny her the satisfaction of seeing me enjoy the way she used
her “skills” against me—literally.

My
heart was pounding, my brain wondering just how good it would feel to take out
all of the frustration that she was putting me through out on her in all the
most satisfying ways. But this was my
step-sister
, the
girl I’d grown up with in my own damn house as a kid. How could I be thinking
about her like this?

I’d had
enough. I couldn’t do this anymore.

“Get
off of me!” I said, pushing her off of me and standing up. I
watches
her stumble back off the couch, catching herself on an armchair nearby. She
winced as she braced herself with her hand—the
wrong
hand. Shit. That looked like it hurt.

“What
the fuck!”

“Get
your stuff.
Now
,” I hissed at her, my
muscles tense. Fuck, I could feel every one of them, even the ones I’d never
known I had.
That
was how worked up
she had me. How angry. How frustrated.
Mostly with myself.

But
damn if I didn’t want to shove my dick straight into her smart mouth.

I
didn’t, though. Couldn’t. My stepsister didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve
some prick like me. I took a deep breath, sobered by her pain, and said, “You’re
coming home.”

“Fuck
you!” Tanya shot back, heading for the door. Before she could turn the handle,
I blocked her way.

“You’re
coming
with me
.”

“Get
out of my way, Gunner.”

“Say
it.”

“Fine!
I’m going home with you, okay? Shit.” She glared at me through her bangs. It
was so fucking
hot
. “Can I get my
stuff?”

I moved
out of the way, my heart still racing and my erection still throbbing in my
jeans. I watched after her as she walked out of the room, giving myself some
time to get my body back under control.

I
couldn’t even begin to believe what had just happened, much less my reaction to
it. The way body craved my own stepsister almost made me hate myself. I felt
like a pervert, some creep who sits outside girl’s doors and jacks off while
they get out of the shower.

I
rubbed my hand over my face in frustration and made my way toward the front
door of the club and out toward the parking lot to wait for Tanya. It was safer
for her—and for me—when there was some distance between us.

Chapter 8

Tanya

Nothing
was turning out the way I’d planned. A few days ago, my biggest concern was
paying my rent and making sure some dick weasel didn’t get too friendly with me
in the club. Now I was worried about a million other, shittier things.

Like
the burn on my hand.
The fact that my
apartment had burned down, taking my whole life with it.
And my
stepbrother showing back up to not only save me from the flames, but from
myself.

That
last part I wanted to dismiss as utter bullshit. Nobody had held a gun to my
head and told me to strip. But nobody had thought to stop me, either. Nobody
had ever offered me any alternatives.

What,
waitressing? Like, for real waitressing? A couple bucks an hour, plus tips,
would’ve seen me on the street. So yeah, nobody
made
me shake my tits, but they damn sure made it unprofitable for
me to do anything else.

I got
out of the car the second Gunner pulled into the drive. He hadn’t even parked
when my feet touched the ground. I slung my pumps over my shoulder and headed
for the door, knowing damn well I didn’t have a key, but wanting to put as much
distance between me and my stepbrother as possible.

“Tanya,
wait,” he said from behind me. I turned, glaring at him as he shut his door. He
jogged a couple feet toward me, hit the steps, and then sighed.

“I
didn’t mean to hurt you,” he told me. “Things back there just
got . . . ”

He
trailed off, but I knew exactly what he meant. I’d taken things a little too
far with that lap dance. I still wasn’t sure what had come over me. Maybe it
was the look on his face, reminding me of how he’d stared when I’d walked out
of his shower. Or maybe it was his
massive
erection jutting between my legs, letting me know I was doing a damn good job.

It was
so naughty.
So . . . 
taboo
.
It was exactly what a good
girl shouldn’t be doing, and somehow, that made me feel sexy. Powerful. Maybe
for the first time in years…

Besides,
Gunner wasn’t exactly hard to look at. With that square cut jaw, those bulging
muscles, that piercing gaze, I could see why women might flock to him.

Oh,
God! What was I saying? He was my stepbrother. The prick I’d grown up with. The
one who’d walked the hell out of me and left me alone with his abusive, piece
of shit dad. I didn’t owe him anything. And I shouldn’t have been attracted to
him. Maybe breathing in all that smoke had done more damage than I’d thought.

“Whatever,
Gun,” I said. “Are you going to open the door for me, or what?”

Gunner’s
expression darkened. He shook his head just a little. “Yeah.” He jammed his key
in the lock.

“You
shouldn’t have come for me,” I added, bumping the door open with my hip and
strutting in. “You didn’t come back for me all those years ago, so why the fuck
would you start now?”

“ ’Cause
you’re making some real shitty decisions,” he answered, which I hadn’t been
expecting. His bluntness made my blood boil all the more. “I can’t just sit
back and pretend like I’m okay with that, Tanya.”

“But
you can sit back and throw money at me while I grind on your lap?”

Gunner
slammed the door. “For fuck’s sakes, that’s not what I came here for.”

I
snorted. “Who are you ashamed of, Gunner? Me, or yourself?”

He ran
a hand through his hair and stalked over to the fridge, pulling a beer out.
Typical. Just like his dad.
“Sorry for
givin
’ a shit,” he muttered, twisting off the cap. “Thought
I’d save my little stepsister from grinding on a pole, and whatever the hell
else you do in that
champagne room.
”

I
rolled my eyes. “I don’t do anything in the champagne room, Gunner. Nothing I
don’t
do
out on the stage, anyway.”

“Come
the fuck on,” he sneered, taking a long pull from his beer. “I’m not stupid,
Tanya. I know what goes on in those places. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m
not lying,” I answered coolly. I even threw in a little shrug. “I’ve never
fucked a customer. Never even sucked a cock.
Any
cock. I’m a virgin.”

Not two
seconds after the v-word had left my mouth, Gunner was laughing. In fact, he
was laughing so hard he choked on his beer and almost spit it across the floor.

“A
virgin. A
virgin stripper.
” He
laughed again. “Jesus, you really do think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”

I
should’ve been angry. And I guess that part of me was. But mostly, I was tired.
Tired of the way men used me. Abused me. Silenced me. Tired of the way they
never believed me, even when I was telling the truth. Looking at the guy I’d
once called my big brother shaking his head in disbelief put another little
crack in my heart. I turned away and sat down on the couch.

“Whatever,
Gunner. Believe what you want. But it’s true.”

It took
him a while to stop laughing. Maybe when he saw I wasn’t even paying attention
to him anymore, he got the picture. I flipped on the TV and slumped against the
armrest, and a moment later, he came to sit beside me.

“Shit,
Tanya. I’m sorry.”

“You
sure do a lot of apologizing,” I said. “Not a lot of actually fixing anything,
though.”

“Don’t
take this the wrong way,” he began, “but what you did back in the Domino . . . what
you did to me . . . ” He licked his lips and took
another swig of beer. “It’s just hard to believe you don’t have any, uh,
experience.
That’s all.”

I
shrugged. “It’s not hard to learn the moves. Even the damn YMCA has pole
dancing lessons now.”

Gunner
shook his head. “It was more than that. The way you moved. The way your body
fit against mine. How you knew just where to press, stroke, and touch . . . ”

I tried
not to think on it too much, but with every word Gunner spoke, another image of
the two of us in the champagne room popped into my head. I remembered the way
he’d grabbed me, sinking those strong fingers into my flesh. It had given me
goosebumps
then, and it was doing the same thing to me now.

More
than that, it was making me wet. My neck and cheeks flushed.
Shit.
I was always bad at hiding my
feelings.
Especially around Gunner.
It was like he
could see through me. Like he could knock down all the walls I’d put up to
protect myself, revealing the soft, squishy me underneath.

It left
me feeling weak and vulnerable, and I’d spent too much of my life feeling that
way already. I wanted it to stop. Now.

“I
can’t do this,” I told him. “I can’t be here with you. I can’t live in your
house. I gave up on you years ago, Gunner. Gave up on our family. On . . . us.”
I stared down at the bandage on my hand, like I could see through it to the
burnt flesh beneath. I was as raw and smarting as that wound. Being around
Gunner brought back so much of the heartache I’d felt when he’d first walked
out on me. It made me feel like the same little girl I was back then. It made
me feel small, broken, and alone.

But I like being alone. I like not relying
on anyone but me. It’s better that way. Safer.

“You’re
trying to be good to me, Gunner,” I whispered. “But I can’t take it. It’s too
much for me.”

He
reached over then, drawing a strand of my hair behind my ear. I shook my head
but he slipped his fingers around the back of it, bringing my skull against
his.

“I need
to make it up to you,” he said. “Not just want, Tanya.
Need.
I’ve been running from this for so long. Throwing up whatever
hurdles I could just to numb the pain. So I wouldn’t have to think about you,
and what I’d done. You think I’m doing you a favor, but really, I’m being as
selfish as ever. I need you to be here so I can forgive myself. So I can say
I’m nothing like . . . ”

Gunner
trailed off, but I knew exactly
who
he meant. I opened
my eyes and looked up at him. “Your father.”

He
nodded, fingers wrapped tight around the beer bottle in his hand. His knuckles
were white. Slowly, he set it down on his coffee table. “My old man.”

“So
don’t,” I said. “Don’t be like him. Start over. Be better.
Try.
”

“Don’t
you get it, baby?” Gunner asked, replacing his grip on the bottle with a grip
on the nape of my neck. “I
am
trying
to start over.
With you.
”

There
was so much darkness inside me. So much pain and hate.
So
much rage.
Too much for just one person to handle.
And in Gunner’s eyes, I saw that reflected back at me. We were both carrying a
load that was too heavy for either of us to bear. But how was I supposed to
forget everything that had happened? I’d been holding onto this anger for so
long I wasn’t sure I knew how to let go.

I was
about to pull away and tell him as much when the parting of his lips caught my
eye. They looked so soft.
So . . . enticing.
His gaze was on my lips, as well, searching their slopes and curves, memorizing
every inch. I wet them with my tongue.

The way
he dragged his teeth over his lower lip when he did that sent a surge of
adrenaline right into my belly. I breathed in deep through my nose, inhaling the
heavy scent of Gunner’s beer, and something else, too.

I’d
kissed men before. I’d touched them. I’d let them touch me. Just because I
hadn’t gone all the way didn’t mean I hadn’t done
some
things.

So I
knew what lust smelled like—hot, hard,
masculine
lust. I knew the fragrance of a man’s desire. It was
heady. Intoxicating.
Even if he was my stepbrother.

I
started to say something. I’m not sure what. It was a reflex, you know? Like
when a silence gets awkward, or when you know something’s about to happen, but
waiting to find out is just . . . murder.

When
Gunner kissed
me, that
was what it felt like: murder.
Like he was killing everything bad that was inside me. His mouth flooded my
body with a heat I’d never felt. Not even when I’d been dying in the fire he’d
pulled me out of.

Safe and sound.
That
was how I’d felt then, and how I’d felt now. I closed my eyes and let myself,
for just a second, feel like I was home again. Like I was where I belonged.

I
kissed my stepbrother back. Sweetly.
Passionately
.

And
then jumped away from him at the sound of breaking glass and
Jax’s
bark.

Gunner
was already up and at the door. “What the fuck?”

I
followed after him, my lips still numb from our kiss. My heart was hammering a
million miles a minute and the world seemed to spin. What were we thinking?
What had we just done?

What
had
I
just done?

And
then my gaze settled on his Mustang. His pride and joy. Specifically, the
busted-in back window.

“Holy
shit,” I whispered.
Jax
was at Gunner’s side, ears
pricked, tail out straight, staring at the dark road. Gunner was reaching in
through the glass and cussing up a storm as he pulled out a piece of paper
lying beneath a brick—the brick that someone had put through his baby.

“Son of
a bitch,” he muttered, his wild eyes darting over the text. I could see it even
from the stoop. Someone had scrawled all over the other side of that paper, big
and in Sharpie. Gunner looked up at him, his face pale. “Tanya, do you know
anything about this?”

I
walked over to him as if in a dream, my legs quaking all the way. Once I
reached him, Gunner pushed the note into my hands. My fingers trembled as I
read it.

“There is a Smile
of Love

And there is a
Smile of Deceit”