Read Forbidden: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance Online
Authors: Vesper Vaughn
Tags: #bad boy, #stepbrother romance, #New Adult, #stepbrother secret baby pregnant fucking romance sexy steamy hot knocked up bad boy's baby billionaire tension tattoos muscled ripped strong hot
Forbidden: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance
FORBIDDEN
BY VESPER VAUGHN
COPYRIGHT VESPER VAUGHN 2016
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
TESSA
"I'm just pissed at him, that's all. Seriously," I scream over the pounding music.
"What you need to do is go fuck a guy here tonight. That will make it better. I promise." Jillian hands me another martini. I've had four already. I feel like the walls are starting to bend a little. I push it away from her.
"Nah, I need another minute," I say. I lean against the bar and look around the room. Sweaty bodies are pushing against one another in time to the music. We've been here an hour and I haven't had the opportunity to hit the dance floor yet. I've been too busy drinking away my sorrows.
"I've said this before, Tess," Jillian says, flipping her dark, long hair back over her shoulder. "Paul is a jackass. I have no idea why you were with him as long as you were. Other than out of habit, I mean."
Her words sting. "It's more than that, Jill," I say to her. Then I think about it. Is it more than that? I glance at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is twisted up into a bun, and Jillian's low-cut red halter dress is too small for me. My breasts are pushing together in a line of cleavage that even makes me blush. But I feel good. This is what I need. To be somewhere that’s not home.
Jillian nods knowingly. "Right, okay," she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Then what is it? You flew all the way out here to see me this week and we're still talking about Paul."
It's true. I flew to San Francisco from Indiana to get some clarity about my life. Paul and I had broken up for the millionth time a few days earlier. I'd booked a last-minute, cheap ticket out here. My brain flashes truth at Jillian's words and I don't want to hear it. It is habit that I'm with Paul and that I continue to be drawn back to him. Even if our relationship bores me to tears.
I reach over to Jillian and grab the martini, picking the salty olive off the toothpick with my teeth and washing it down with the entirety of the drink. "Enough talking. I leave tomorrow. Let's dance and have some fun," I say. The alcohol rush is heady and vibrant. I pull Jillian onto the floor and dance with her. Within a minute, a guy's hands are on my waist. I slap them away, turning around and smiling at an annoyed-looking college-aged kid. "You should learn to ask permission before you touch a woman," I scream at him over the music, a smile still on my lips.
The kid is skinny and pale-faced. Anger flashes across his eyes. "I don't need to listen to a fat bitch like you tell me what to do!" He practically spits the words in my face.
I roll my eyes. "Fuck off," I say, turning back around to Jillian, who I see is now dancing with a guy of her own. Oh well. I can dance by myself. Then I feel more hands on me. I spin around again. Same kid, this time with two friends who are leering at me.
"You think you're hot shit, huh?" A taller guy with a harsh face and huge, tattooed muscles licks his lips in my direction.
I try not to sigh. This is why I never come to clubs. "How about you all run back to your philosophy lectures and leave me alone." I turn around and walk away, but they grab me. I jab my elbow at flesh, kicking my legs and yelling. My elbow connects loudly with a bone. I hear a satisfying crack and a yowl from one of the boys. I smile, fighting my way away from the other two.
"You fucking bitch! This lady just fucking assaulted me!”
I smile as I realize that it’s the tattooed boy crying over my little jab. People around me are scattering and glowering at me. Are they really going to do nothing?
"Go cry to your mom about it, you little -" My cutting words are interrupted by a shadow that falls across the three boys.
They look like they're about to wet themselves. I turn around. Now I know what scared them. A man is standing there – no, not a man. A god. A muscled, tattooed god who is easily a foot and a half taller than I am. He has rippling, tanned muscles and tattoos snaking up his arms into his tight, black t-shirt. His long hair is piled onto the top of his head in a messy bun.
He looks pissed and steps forward. The crowd has made a wide berth around where he’s standing. "Is there a fucking problem here?" he hisses, his deep voice vibrating through my body.
The boys shake their heads no.
"Really? Because I thought I noticed you messing with this woman right here. Maybe you should fucking learn what the word 'No' sounds like, you little shit stains. Get the fuck out of my fucking sight. I ever see you bothering someone like that again, I'm bashing all of your heads together until your brains are pulpier than they already are. You got that?"
The boys nod their heads. "Yes...sir," they stammer. But they are still standing there. The Man Beast flexes his torso and they take off running, pushing their way through the crowd. Everyone slowly gets back to dancing, and it's just me and Man Beast standing there.
He looks down at me with sparkling, blue eyes. "You okay?" he asks in a gruff voice.
I nod my head. "I had this covered, you know," I say defensively.
He raises his eyebrow. "Is that so?" he crosses his arms, a serious look still on his face. "Looked to me like you were about to be hauled out of here by three skinny college kids."
"I got a hit in," I retort, starting to feel annoyed. I realize that Man Beast is staring at my breasts. I feel the blood flow to my cheeks and warmth appear between my legs. His cheekbones are incredible. I find myself longing to trace my fingers across his tattoos, following the paths to find out what lies beneath the tight fabric of his shirt.
"Usually 'thank you' works well in these situations," he says, still staring at me with his ice-blue eyes.
"Fine. Thank you," I say to him, feeling myself cower slightly underneath his stare.
Man Beast turns around and walks away from me. I realize Jillian has run up to me. "Sorry, I had to pee," she says. "Who was that?"
I realize I'm still staring at his ass as he's walking away. "Um. Nobody," I say. But I don’t say it quickly enough.
Jillian isn't buying my words. "Uh huh. Well, to me he looks like the guy who is going to make you forget about Paul. He looked like he wanted to eat you, Tess."
Her words hit me, piercing through my martini fog. I feel emboldened by them. "You know what? I think you're right." I walk after my buff, mystery savior.
"Hey! You want me to come with you?" Jillian asks.
I wave back at her. "I have my phone. I can call you, okay?"
Jillian smiles. "Use protection!" she shouts, falling back into the crowd and grinding her body up against another man.
CHAPTER TWO
JAX
My hands are shaking with rage. I ball them into fists and breathe through my nose. Those little fuckers. If I'd snapped, I would have pounded them into a pulp. Keep your shit together, Jax, I say to myself. The last thing I need right now is another reason for my dad to cut me off.
I walk over to the bar and grab a bottle of Jack from the shelf, pulling out two one-hundred dollar bills and shoving them into the tip jar. Nadine, the bartender, smiles and winks at me. "Don't drink it all in one place," she calls after me.
I'm here all the time. She knows me.
I take a swig from the bottle and wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand. It takes so much to get me even buzzed, my monthly alcohol budget is what most people's mortgages are. I wander out of the club and into the hallway toward the hotel lobby. The bouncer nods at me, saying nothing about the bottle of alcohol in my hand. "Sleep well, Bobby," I say to him.
"Night, Mr. Hadley," he says.
I'm at the elevators and a quarter of the bottle is already gone. I push the glass bottle against the plastic UP button, hitting it repeatedly. I can hear my dad's voice in my head as I do it. "That won't make it come faster, Jax. Stop it." I push it more indignantly at the memory. The best part of growing up is doing all the things your parents said would break the world. Because those things never fucking actually do break the world.
The digital, glowing numbers above the doors slowly creep down as the elevator makes its way to me. The door dings. Finally. Two skinny blonde women dressed in almost nothing slip out of the elevator doors. They bat their eyes at me. I tilt my head. "Ladies," I say to appease them. They giggle and I watch their asses wiggle as they walk away from me. Gorgeous, but hardly my type.
Not that I'm too picky.
I press the P button for the penthouse and the doors start to close. I lean against the back wall of the elevator, closing my eyes. The alcohol is taking the edge off of my rage. Then I hear a sexy voice call out. "Hold the elevator!"
Before I can even think, my arm flies forward to hold the door open. I slip my forearm in right before the doors shut all the way. They bounce open off of my bare skin, the rubber leaving an imprint of black dust on my forearm. I rub it off as the curvy, sexy woman I just saved on the dance floor sneaks into the elevator. Her eyes are shining brightly at me.
"Hi," she says, looking at me squarely before turning her back to me. I can see her face in the mirrored walls of the elevator.
I stare at the back of her head and follow my eyes down her bare back toward her full hips and ass. I blink a few times. "You staying here?" I ask her.
She nods without turning around. I see she's on her phone. She's so short it's not hard to look over her shoulder to see that she's texting someone. In the elevator. Penthouse. Will let you know all is well in a minute.
Smart. I'm a total stranger to her after all. I could be a serial killer. Which, for the record, I’m not.
She's here for me, and I feel movement below my belt that makes me realize my body doesn’t mind that fact. But it doesn't mean I can't make her work for it. "What floor are you staying on?" I ask her. I see panic cross her face. I reach my arm out to the buttons, pleased that I can tease her like this. "You didn't press anything. Which floor?"
She gapes at me, her full lips forming an O that makes me think about her on her knees. "I'm, uh, on the twenty-second floor," she says unconvincingly. I stare at her intently and press the 22 button. It lights up. I step back and take another swig from my bottle. I see in the mirror that her eyes are staring intently at the numbers going up. Eighteen, nineteen...I wonder if she'll punt and get off on that floor before riding back down. She seems uncertain. Ding.
Time’s up. Time for her to make a decision.
She wavers for only a second. "Night," she says, flashing me a smile before stepping confidently off the elevator.
I smile wryly. "Night," I say in return. She turns right without hesitating. The doors start to close. Dammit. I was certain she was going to break before I did. My mind flashes back to the roundness of her ass.