STEPBROTHERS (3 Book Stepbrother Romance Collection) (36 page)

I
couldn’t understand it
. Why was she here? Why had she gone back to him? She seemed like an intelligent woman, and the thought of her going back to him after what Donte had done to her made my blood boil.

He must’ve really had something bad on her to make her relinquish all her power to him. But that logic didn’t make my anger lessen any further.

“You really shouldn’t be here,” I said, closing the distance between us. But for every step I took towards her, she took one back, skirting around the furniture as if she was scared of me.

“I could say the same thing to you!” Her hands folded in front of her. Determination and a hint of stubbornness filled her eyes, but those layers were just a veil. She made a thin attempt to hide the tremble I’d noticed on her soft lips. Her eyes kept darting behind me, looking for the exit, wondering if she could get past me and make a break for it.

I nodded my agreement. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. But I didn’t want you to—”

“You didn’t want me to what?” God, she was gorgeous when she was angry; her cheeks flushed a dark pink, the colour I imagined that would appear upon her porcelain bottom if I ever got the chance to spank her. I was only half-listening, more interested in watching the fires burn in her emerald eyes, their intensity and the way she stared at me, as if she saw right through me. “Bet you didn’t want me to see what you’d done, huh? Well, it’s too late for that!”

“Beatrice?” How could I explain myself? How could I tell her I did it all for her? The need inside me, the drive to make men like Donte pay for what they did. I’d sworn to myself, never again would I let another man harm a woman or girl—not if there was something I could do about it. Not if I was able, and my fists were keen.

She was in a full-blown rant now, no longer afraid to get close. She was stalking around the room, and I had to wonder if her words were actually aimed at me, or if they were intended for another target.

“I told you I could take care of myself! Why doesn’t anyone listen? I didn’t want you or anyone involved. But now… Fuck. What the hell am I going to do now? If this gets out, which it will, then… oh god, everyone will know.”

She stopped and pinned me with her gaze. Eyes full of sadness and worry, it almost broke my heart to see her like this. And I hardly even knew her… one night, one kiss was enough to know she was meant to be mine, and I hers.

“Beatrice?” I said again, my swollen hand reaching out to touch her bare arm. The feel of her soft skin made me shudder, made me want to grab her and run my fingertips over the rest of her body, the parts that were both exposed and hidden.

And I almost fucking did; I was seconds away from picking her up and throwing her down onto the nearby couch and claiming what I been fantasising about since she’d left the gym.

But then her voice broke, and her vulnerability shattered the impulse. The timing was all wrong.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, as if I had all the answers. “I mean, what am I going to… oh, never mind.”

“Well, for starters I should get you out of here.”

She nodded and let me take her by the hand. It hurt to move and flex my fingers after their repeated barrage of blows upon Donte’s face, but I didn’t care about the pain, not when I was touching her. I think I would’ve willingly been subjected to torture if only she was near, her skin on mine.

As I pulled her towards the exit, she glanced over her shoulder, hesitating—I could see the gears in her mind working overtime. “Did you forget something?”

The fire within her had dwindled to a few remaining embers, and she ignored my question. After another second she seemed to make up her mind and finally nodded, resolute. “No, lets go. We don’t want to be here when they…”

In the hallway I led her past the lift. “Probably best if we take the back way. We don’t want to bump into security.” She said nothing and let me lead the way.

Not knowing where else to take her, for she was in what seemed to be a stunned silence, some sort of shock perhaps, I helped her into my truck and drove to the house.

Several times I had to bite my tongue on the drive there, for fear I’d come across like a babbling, giddy fool. But for the most part, with her next to me—the scent of her in my truck—I couldn’t help the grin that was spreading across my face. I was glad for the dark shadows that concealed it. She must’ve already thought that I was a delinquent; I didn’t need her to think I was insane, too.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, but with only mild wonder.

“Somewhere safe. Somewhere where he can’t hurt you again.”

For the first time during the journey she turned to look at me, her gaze no longer fixed on the passing buildings and decrepit scenery that lined the way out of town. I took my eyes off the road for a moment to look at her.

“He won’t hurt me again,” she said, almost certain of it, like it was a fact.

“Damn right he wont…” My mind went back to the alley. The feel of my fists smashing into bone. It was quite possible that I’d dislocated one of my knuckles, but hey it wasn’t the first time.

Suddenly, I felt her warm hand on top of my jeans. She traced it up my thigh and close to my crotch. No, in fact, now she was on my crotch, feeling for the length of my cock. Shocked, I lost my grip on the steering wheel for a second.

“Beatrice?” I moaned softly, one eye on the road, one eye on her.

I could feel her fingers’ frantic movements as she attempted to unbutton my jeans and release my fly. I tightened my grip on the wheel, trying to keep the truck within the road markings as the tips of her fingers expertly found the button and popped it open. The zip was next and was no match for her. Her soft but urgent fingers dug into my now visible boxers and slipped beneath the material, claiming my awakening cock.

“God, what are you doing?”

“Shh,” she demanded, all business-like. “What do you think I’m doing?”

With a strong grasp and with a couple of handshakes up and down my length she had me harder and hornier than I had been in years.

It was a struggle to keep my concentration fixed; my eyes started to blur, and all I wanted to do was lean back in my seat and let her at it.

But something on the periphery of my mind was crying out for my attention. Something was wrong, but nothing I could put my finger on in that moment.

I glanced at her again. With her other hand she brushed her away long strawberry hair, ready presumably to wrap those delicious lips around the head of my cock, but her eyes… something was wrong with her eyes. They were vacant.

It was like she was on autopilot, not even thinking about what she was doing.

I bit my tongue as a finger swirled around my throbbing head, her thumb teasing and providing a gentle, distracting and glorious pleasure.

But the more I looked at her, the more I waited for the blank expression on her face to be replaced by something other than an obligation to fulfil a task, the more I realised I didn’t want this.

As much as I longed to feel that blissful release and spray my cum into the back of her sweet mouth, I just couldn’t do it. I needed her to be present in the moment. To want to do what she was doing and not just going through the motions.

“Beatrice?”

She ignored me, wet her lips and bent her head. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and captured a lick before I could stop her. Soft, glistening lips wrapped themselves around me.

Oh, fuck.

My eyes rolled back in my head for a split-second.

A blaring car horn, passing on the other side of the road, brought me back to my senses. My truck had drifted across the line, and I quickly corrected the mistake, then eased the car over to the shoulder and stopped.

Just as quickly, I threaded my fingers into her locks, trying to get a gentle hold of her. She did after all have my cock in her mouth.

“Beatrice, stop.”

Her head bounced more furiously in response, sucking me in deeper, and I had to suppress a growl.

“Fuck’s sake! Stop!” I yelled as I simultaneously pulled her off me.

She sat startled and wiped away the saliva at the corners of her mouth. “Why did you do that?”

I tucked myself away, still hard and feeling instant regret.

What the fuck was I doing? I never listened to my feelings.

But around her everything felt like it had changed.

“
I
thought you’d want
…” I trailed off. Never in my life had someone rejected me like that. Not all the men with their money or those without who stared longingly at me, with only one thought and wish going through their minds, their intentions displayed like fucking neon-lighted billboards.

The backs of my eyes blazed with a thousand fires; it felt like I had just rubbed them with chillies.

“Fuck,” he said, his palms rubbing at his eye sockets. “Beatrice, I didn’t mean…”

We both seemed lost for words.

I couldn’t look at him and turned away from his glare and concentrated on the passing cars and city lights in the distance that dotted the skyline.

Anger replaced the humiliation, burning it away, evaporating the onslaught of tears that threatened to breach and give me away. Who the fuck did he think he was to reject me? What kind of man turned down a free blow-job?

“Well, how on earth am I meant to take it? You obviously don’t want me!” I yelled.

The silence in the car was so overwhelming I had to double-check for his reflection in the window to make sure he was still there. But the lights bounced the wrong way, and all I saw peering back at me was my own face.

I turned then towards the driver’s side. He was sitting in shadow, but his eyes were on me, with a look of unwavering determination in his eyes.

“Beatrice—”

I didn’t let him speak, anger flaring again.

“And stop fucking calling me Beatrice!” Each and every time he uttered those syllables a portion of my facade broke away, revealing me to be the imposter I knew I was. Knew I couldn’t let him see.

He heaved a breath. He was done with me, I could tell, my tantrum a little too much drama for his liking.

The engine roared back to life, and he pulled us back onto the road. Surprised that he hadn’t made me get out, I resolved to sit quietly, to just shut the hell up for a change.

A few miles later and after a few twists and turns, Vincent slid the truck onto an empty driveway in front of a house in need of repair. He got out, leaving me alone in the dark, my head bowed in shame and my only company my bewildered thoughts.

The passenger door flew open, causing me to gasp in fright. I’d thought he left me and gone into the house, but soon his hands were on me forcing me out of the car.

“Get out,” he demanded. There was no denying him; his command wasn’t a request. So, with his hand clamped hard, but not painfully so, around my wrist I followed a step behind him as he led me to the house.

Without another word we were climbing the rickety stairs, walking across a landing, then entering a darkened room. The air was musty, but there was a lingering sweet scent that I couldn’t put my finger on.

With a swipe of a long arm he closed the door behind us, then pinned me to it.

All my breath escaped from my lungs as he pressed his hard body against mine. I had not been expecting this, not after what had happened mere minutes ago.

He claimed my wrists and simultaneously raised my arms above my head. One hand kept them there as his other fell back down, smoothing its way down my arm and then my side.

He grabbed me hard, and I closed my eyes, following the path of his touch with my mind’s eye—over my hips, skirting around my behind to give it a hard squeeze and tug.

His face was close to mine, his lips expelling hurried but controlled breaths that worked their way across my cheek, blowing strands of hair that tickled my ear.

I let him touch me, would let him do whatever he wanted to me. It was my way, it was what I was used to doing, and the thought to stop him would never ever occur to me.

His palm was upon my belly now, creeping towards my breasts. He cupped one roughly, tugging and squeezing it, finding the nipple beneath the layers of material and pinching it hard.

A moan of pain? Pleasure? I wasn’t sure anymore… It had always been an act. Had everything been an act?

“Is this what you want?” he breathed into my ear. “You want me to rip your dress off? Use you, fuck you… hurt you?”

My head was clouded with a thick fog of conflicting emotions, every single one of them piling on top of each other, trying desperately to get my attention. What did I want?

He palmed my crotch, and a pure white lightning bolt shot through me. He yanked the bottom of the dress up and positioned his body in such a way I could feel him, hard with desire, up against me.

Ready and eager. Wanting.

His voice was low, but clear. “Look at me.”

I bit my lip, not wanting to open my eyes, not wanting him to see me.

“Look at me!” he pleaded.

My throat felt swollen with emotion as my lids parted, and I finally tilted my head to look at him. His face was sombre, serious, and troubled.

“Tell me that you really want this, Beatrice, or whatever the hell your name is. And I’ll do it.” He ground his hips against me as if proving his words, and my body reacted to the feeling on impulse as I pressed back. “I’ll bend you over and fuck you raw. Use you like you’ve never been used before, hurt you till you don’t even know your own name. But something tells me you don’t need that.”

He let go of my pinned hand from above and gently lowered it to caress my face. All the roughness and urgency had gone; even his body was no longer fixing me to the door.

He stroked the round of my cheek and said, “You’re allowed to say no.”

All the effort I’d be using to hold back, to not let him see the unsureness I’d been feeling began to break through.

A treacherous tear slipped out from my control and down to wet his finger.

I nodded my understanding, and as soon as I did, he stepped back.

We stood looking at each other, unsure of what to say or do, and even in the darkness of the room I could see an adorable sheepish look come over him.

He might’ve partially seen the beyond the façade, through a crack in the wall I’d built up over the years, but what he didn’t realise is in that moment, I saw him, too.

And regardless of him being a murderer and probably worse still, my stepbrother, it made me fall for him right there and then, like I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

He brushed the back of his head with his hand, an uneasy gesture, and I moved towards the bed, sitting on the edge and wondering where the hell we went from here.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he muttered and made his way to the door.

I felt drained, like I’d just gone ten rounds. My battered emotions urged me to just lie down on the vaguely feminine comforter and sleep.

“Don’t go,” I whispered. He scanned my face. In the darkness I slipped off my heels and curled up onto the bed, letting my head rest on the pillow. He hadn’t moved, waiting for me to say more—to change my mind?

“Stay with me,” I said, holding back the tears. “Please?”

He nodded and went around to the other side of the bed. I felt the bed dip as he laid his body next to mine. And finally, he turned onto his side and pulled me into his arms.

Everything else in my life was suddenly messed up, but one thing was for sure. I knew I was safe here, in this house with him. He didn’t need to tell me I was welcome in his home; those words didn’t need to be spoken.

And the one man I wanted the most, the man whom I’d literally thrown myself at without a second thought, like it was a fucking habit, was considerate enough to push me away before I made a fool out of myself. He hadn’t said it, of course, but he was right, I didn’t need to act like that in front of him, but ingrained tendencies were hard to break.

I dozed for a while and woke still in his arms, head upon his chest. Vincent was already awake, lightly stroking the tendrils of my hair. I don’t think he’d slept a wink; he’d been keeping watch over me.

“You OK?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, I’m OK,” I said with a sigh. “Everything is just fucked up, you know?”

“I do. But what doesn’t kill us…”

“Makes us stronger, I know. Seems like I should be as strong as you if that saying had any truth to it.”

He grunted his understanding and continued to run his fingers through my hair, allowing me to fill the silence.

“I dunno, I thought I was strong, but lately since I met you it’s like all my walls have come crumbling down, and I don’t think I have the strength to put them back up.”

“Then don’t… I can be your walls.”

I closed my eyes, my fingers clutching and twisting his shirt, wishing with all my heart that that could be true.

“I’d always be there for you. If only you’d let me in.” Vincent gave a little squeeze, pulling my body closer to his.

“I’m trying but I think it’d be a mistake.”

“Why do you say that?”

I shrugged my response, not wanting him to push me away if I revealed the truth and told him who I really was.

“I have demons, too,” he said. “I think at some point, we just have to let go… and embrace something else instead.”

I lifted my head to look at the pain filling his eyes. With a small shuffle I moved up the bed, my hand smoothing over the rough ends of his stubble. And with a brave sigh, I kissed him on the cheek, then lowered my head back upon his chest, holding him as tight as I could.

M
y eyes fluttered open
; there was an empty space beside me. It was still dark outside, the shadows around the room deep like black holes that you could feel yourself falling into. I stared at the ceiling, trying desperately to hold back the impulse to go find Vincent. I needed to talk to him, to get it over and done with, deciding he had a right to know before whatever this was got any more serious.

“Hey,” I whispered, my throat not yet fully awake, as I walked into the kitchen. I’d followed the trail of light to a small back room with mismatched kitchen appliances and cabinets that looked like they were about to fall off the walls. Vincent sat at an old, scruffy chrome table, nursing a beer.

He smiled and put me instantly at ease, the sweet corners of his mouth spreading as he pulled out a chair for me.

“Sleep, ok?”

I nodded, sat, and took a breath.

“It’s a bit early but do you want a beer, or a cup of tea, or something to eat? I don’t have much but…”

Shaking my head I summoned the courage to tell him everything. Tell him who I was, who he was to me… everything, even if that meant that nothing could ever come between us.

Finally I cleared my throat. “My name is Thea,” I said, waiting to see the reaction that he would most certainly have upon hearing my name, but none came.

“I knew you’d tell me sooner or later. Thank you.” He took a sip of his beer and winked at me.

“Thank you for what?” I asked, not entirely understanding.

“For trusting me… there’s obviously more to the—”

“There is,” I said, agreeing but interrupting him, wanting to desperately to get it off my chest. I couldn’t bear to see the hope in his eyes.

“But,” he placed his cool hand onto one of mine, working his fingers into my palm, his soothing touch making me want to rethink my decision to tell him, “you don’t have to. It can wait.”

He pulled my chair towards him, closer and closer, as the chair legs scraped against the worn tiles beneath.

Before I knew what I was happening he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap, ever so gently, like I was a precious item that he didn’t want to drop. Holding me tight, his fingers wound their way through my hair, brushing past the skin of my temples.

Locked in a trance, his eyes mesmerising and oh so clear, I counted my rapid heartbeats as he moved to kiss me.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he whispered as he stole my gaze away.

I did as he requested, our eyes locked on each other. There was more emotion in his longing eyes than all the men I’d ever been with before him combined. He wanted me, and I wanted him so much in return, but I had to tell him.

I parted my lips, preparing to speak, but I was robbed of my breath as his lips enveloped mine. A moan escaped from between our joined mouths and made me desperate for more. My mind was rendered blank; nothing mattered anymore apart from his lips on mine and his eyes seeing through to my soul.

The tip of his rough tongue slipped along the edges of my lips, caressing me, melting me into a puddle of raging desire. I had to hold back the urge to speed things up, but my tongue had other ideas, meeting his in the centre and pushing past to feel the warmth inside, tasting him; it was driving me to insanity.

Vincent pulled back, our lips parting for a moment. He caressed my hairline, sending a violent stream of shivers down my back.

“We don’t need to rush,” he said as his lips found mine again, giving me gentle kisses. He paid attention to every part of my mouth, kissing the corners, the plump soft middle and the top of my Cupid’s bow.

The attention he lavished upon me was all new, something I’d barely ever experienced before. And tucked up on his lap, held within his bulging, muscular arms, I couldn’t imagine a safer place to be.

I wanted to let myself have the moment, to keep letting him kiss me… but I was already in too deep. My heart was already sealed in an envelope, ready to be posted and delivered to him. He had to know the truth, that I was his stepsister.

We came up for air, my mouth tingling from his attentiveness.

“I forgot to thank you, too,” I said, smoothing my hand over his jaw and up and around to his neck.

“For what?”

“For Donte. For doing what you did.”

He shrugged as if it was nothing, but he had to understand it wasn’t nothing. He’d killed for me, taken another man’s life for me. It was diabolical, of course, but he had to know how much it meant to me, his instinct to protect.

“No, I mean it, Vincent. It means everything to me, he could’ve ruined me, ruined my father…”

A blush and a tiny hidden smile crept on his face; he was pleased.

He shrugged again, his broad shoulder muscles moving and twitching beneath my hands as I held onto him. “He’ll be sore for a bit, but I don’t think he’ll bother you anymore.”

My eyes widened and I went still, a shroud of ice covering my bare arms.