Wicked Game: a Billionaire Stepbrother Romance (12 page)

I looked around and realized where I was.  

I looked back at Damien and realized what I was doing.

“Oh no,” I said.  “I shouldn’t….  I shouldn’t be….”

Damien’s hands pulled away from me.  “What do you mean?  Do you not want this?”

“I’m sorry,” I choked, wiping a tear away with the heel of my hand.  “I don’t…  I don’t know….”  It was too much.  My mind was completely clouded by confusion and emotion.

God, what had gotten into me?  One minute I hated him.  The next I loved him.  One minute he was slapping me in the face with a pillow.  The next he was dedicating a museum wing to Dad.  One minute I wanted to fuck him so hard he forgot his own name, and the next I wanted to kill him for the way he had fucked me all those years ago.  I was about to cry after reuniting with my dead father.  And then I was about to fuck my stepbrother in front of him.

It was all too much too soon.

Without thinking, I turned from him and ran.  I heard his voice call after me and his footsteps follow me as I tore down the wall, but I didn’t care.  I couldn’t handle this anymore.  I felt hopeless and broken inside, and I didn’t know why.  All I could do was run.

I soared through the museum’s halls and pushed past the front doors.  Rain splattered against my face as I made it outside, and sharp thunder cracked overhead.  I raised an arm, shielding me from the night storm.  It didn’t help.  The water mixed with my tears, running down my face and soaking my hair and clothes.  The cold bit down on my skin, sending shivers through my bones.

My foot slipped in a sidewalk puddle, sending me falling forward.  

Once again, Damien’s strong hands caught me.  

Saved again by the man I thought hated me.

He scooped me up in his arms and pressed me against his chest, his fingers running through my hair.  “Cleo,” he whispered as he crushed me to him.  “Please.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

I shook my head and choked a sob, burying my face into his chest.  I couldn’t tell him.  I couldn’t tell him that I missed Dad, that I missed having a home.  That I missed having
him
.  That these tiny acts of kindness he was giving me were tearing me open from the inside.  He was making me fall in love with him again, even if just in tiny little bits. and it killed me.

And even though I knew it shouldn’t…

It was working.

“I’m sorry,” I choked.  It was all I could think to say.

“Sorry for what?” he asked softly, cradling my chin in his hands.  I knew I should pull away, but I couldn’t.  It felt too good to be held by him.

“Sorry for this.  For not knowing what I want.  For not knowing anything anymore.”

“It’s a lot, I know.  We can go slow.”

“But that’s the problem,” I cried.  “I don’t know if I want to go at all.”

“Do you not like it?  I can get them to take it down.  We don’t have to go the charity ball.  We don’t have to do anything, Cleo.  We can do whatever you want.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I don’t know!  I don’t know what I want!”

“Then we can start slow,” he murmured, cradling my face in his fingers.  “You kissed me.  Do you want to kiss me?”

I looked up at him was the thunder cracked behind us, lighting him with a glowing halo.  Drops of water streamed down his face, resting at his lips and eyes.  Something had changed about him, or maybe something about the way I saw him.  

Those eyes didn’t look like they were filled with hate anymore.  They looked human.  His eyes gleamed from the streetlights and lightning, and he bit his lower lip softly.  

God, how long had I dreamed about biting that lip again?  Why was I dreaming about that now?  Why did he have to tease me like this?  

With his strong fingers biting into my hips, drawing me closer?

With his eyes locking with mine and burning into me?

With his head bending closer to mine?

I couldn’t stop myself.

“Always,” I whispered.

It was the truth.

Softly, his lips pressed down on mine again.  This time, it was gentle.  It wasn’t the hard and hungry kisses we had attacked each other with earlier.  These were sweet and light.  His hands ran down my hair to the small of my back, holding me steady.  The rain poured around us, soaking both of us like wet rags, but I couldn’t care.  All I could care about was how good he tasted.

Damien pulled away for a moment.

“How about that?  Do you want that?”

“Yes.”

I couldn’t lie anymore.  I didn’t know how to.

My fingers reached up to trace his jaw, and his eyes looked softly into mine.  “And this?  Do you want me to touch you like this?  Just tell me that.”

“No,” I said, taking his hand in mine.  

I pressed it again my breast.  

“I want you to touch me like this.”

A fire was lit in his eyes.  His fingers clutched around me, and the hand on my back pressed me to him again.  I opened my mouth, taking his mouth on mine and moaning into it.  I never wanted to stop kissing him.  Not now.

Unfortunately, we had to.

At that moment, the sound of jingling keys and the wet slaps of footsteps approached us.  

“Hey, you kids!” the security guard at the end of the street shouted.  “This is private property!”

“Shit,” Damien chuckled as the lights hit us.  He pulled me into the shadow of the building, slipping away from the sight of the guard.  “Come on.  We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Afraid of the law finally catching up to you?”

“God, no.  I’m afraid of the law catching up to
you
.  You’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Where are we going?” I said as he grabbed my hand and pulled me behind the building.  I no longer felt the urge to cry or fight.  The cold inside me was slowly melting away into a warm, comforting glow.  The shouts of the security guard and the wet slaps of his footsteps followed after us, urging us forward as Damien led me down the dark, slippery street.

The sleek black sports car was glittering under a streetlight ahead of us.  Waves of rain battered down, soaking us to the bone as we ran to safety.  Damien’s hand stayed clasped around mine, and the warmth ran up my arm all the way to my lips.  God, I had forgotten how good it felt to hold his hand.  I stumbled after him, still giggling as we fought our way through the slippery street.

Giggled
.  Adult Cleo giggled.  How long had it been since I had honestly giggled?

The man was turning me into a ridiculous teenage girl again.

And worse, I liked it.

“Home,” he choked, digging into his coat pocket for the keys.  “I’m taking you home.  God it feels good to say that.”

I didn’t understand the last part, but I was too punch drunk by the ridiculousness of the night to care.  “Home?” I asked, jumping up on down in my freezing, soaked shoes.  “Already?  Aren’t you going to buy me a drink first?”

“What’s wrong, Cleo?” he asked, looping an arm around me and pulling me tight.  God, he felt so soft and warm, even in these damp clothes.  Without thinking, I nuzzled my face into his neck.  “Your parents don’t allow you to stay out late with strange men?”

“We have the same parents,” I laughed, pushing him away from me.  Or at least we used to, even if I was glad that marriage was dead and buried.  I slipped in the car as fast as possible, shaking off the water from my coat.  I hated to soak the inside of such an expensive car, but Damien didn’t seem to mind.  His smile still stretched giddily across his face as he leaned over.

“Kiss me again,” he said.

“Is that all for tonight?” I snorted, my mind buzzing from the cold.  “Just kisses?”

“Oh fuck no,” he growled against my lips.  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against my ear, and the warmth of his stubble scratched my cheek.  My lips parted involuntarily.  No, kiss me again, I wanted to scream.  Just do it already.  Instead, his hand slipped up against my breast.

My heart caught in my throat as he whispered:

“But first I’m going to make you beg.”
 

Damien and I burst through the door of the mansion, still soaked and clinging to each other.
 
I couldn't keep my hands off of him.
 
I had lost him for so long, and now that I had him in my arms again, I was sure it must be a dream.
 
His strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight embrace as he kissed me again.
  

"They'll see," I snapped, hurriedly trying to kick the door closed.

"Cleo, we're married.
 
Or at least they think we are.
 
And besides—we're safe.
 
No one is here but us."

I peered out the window, checking for the sight of any paparazzi hiding the bushes.
 
But he was right.
 
I looked back into Damien's eyes, my heart racing in my chest.
 
His lips fell on mine again, and his stubble scratched my cheek.
 

"Come on," he said, wrapping me up in his embrace again.
 
I gasped as I felt myself swept off my feet.
 
Damien cradled me in his arms, carrying me down the hall.

"Where the hell are we going?" I demanded.
 
But my voice wasn't angry.
 
I was back to half-giggling again.
 
God, he was changing me, wasn't he?
 
"What are you doing?"

He glanced down at me and gave me that cocky smile again.

"I'm going to make you beg."

Oh, Jesus.

Damien swept us through the halls and to the door of his bedroom.
 
The massive oak doors swung open for us, and his lips crushed mine again.
 
His fingers dug into my thighs as he carried me to the massive four-poster bed and threw me down.
 

Breathless, I gasped raggedly on the bed and watched him tear off his shirt.

He was sexier than I remembered.
 
Muscles rippled down his chest and arms, and with the thin damp layer of rain on him, he looked good enough to eat.
 
His dark hair was slicked back, and his abs moved under his tan skin as he crawled forward on the bed.

His lips pressed against mine as he hovered on top of me, his fingers pressing into my hips again.
 
He pulled me tighter to him, and I felt his hand run up my thigh to the zipper of my jeans.
 
My heart sped up as his fingers pull the zipper down.
 
His tongue slipped into my mouth as he ripped my jeans off in one move, leaving me half naked before him.

He pulled away, and his gaze moved down to between my legs.
 

His breath caught.

"Jesus Christ, Cleo.
 
I forgot how fucking good you look naked."

I loved the way his eyes hungrily searched my body.
 
He had wanted me just as much as I wanted him, I realized.
 
With a smile, I slipped off my soaking wet shirt as slowly as I could.
 
I wasn't used to being seductive, but Damien was desperate for me.
 

Damien's eyes moved back up to my chest, and I saw his mouth slip open.
 
I snorted to myself.
 
I hated a lot of things about Damien, but the fact that he was a drop dead sexy manwhore when he wanted you wasn't one of them.
 

Damien's arms grabbed me and pulled me to him again, and he kissed me hard on the mouth.
 
His lips trailed down my jaw and neck as one hand reached up to unclasp my bra.
 
His warm fingers rolled over the hard nipples as his mouth teased my throat.

Unable to hold it in, a moan escaped my lips.

Damien looked up at me with a raised eyebrow and a grin.

"You like that, Cleo?" he said in an insufferably cocky tone.

I rolled my eyes.
 
"Don't be so—Oh God!"

His finger had pinched my nipple.
 

"How about this?"

"Damien," I moaned.