Hard: A Step-Brother Romance (11 page)

I wasn’t
talking about swimming. Shay couldn’t hear me anyway.

“But
once you get used to it…”

Shay
murmured something. I let my hand trail over her arms, to her side, tickling
her stomach, then lower. She didn’t stop me. I didn’t think she would. If the
girl was wound tight enough to freak out over a bad spaghetti dinner, she
probably needed this more than I did.

Maybe.

Not
like I was sleeping well at night. Just down the hall rested the most
unbelievably beautiful, challenging, and passionate woman I ever met. Living in
close proximity was a fun tease, but I wanted more. A shared bed. Tangled
sheets. Her whispering affectionate and perfect words instead of insults.

Her
pleasure.

I’d
roll over an IED for a chance to take her again. Fuck our parents’ ridiculous
marriage. I didn’t care if we were step-siblings or not. I wanted Shay more
than I ever wanted any other woman, and I’d prove it to her the best way I knew
how.

My
fingers tangled in the florescent pink bottoms. She gripped my hand, but
releasing her hold on the wall only weakened her more. She groaned, even as she
tried to bite her lip to silence her mew of excitement.

“I think
you might eventually like swimming,” I whispered.

The bottoms
pulled aside, exposing her puffy slit to the barbaric force of the water. But
she didn’t protest. Her body shivered, shook, and arched against me in perfect
pleasure. Her nails dug into the pool’s wall, but she didn’t move.

Just
the opposite.

Her
hips bucked.

Fuck
yes
.

She
slammed against my hardness. I pushed, capturing her against the wall, shoving
her into the jet, and grinding to hear her whimper.

I
wanted to haul her out of the pool and shove her on her knees. Sink my cock
inside that waiting slit and fuck her until she begged for more, forgave my
indiscretions, and promised to ride me every goddamned night until I had to
deploy.

She
beat me to it.

Her
orgasm nearly wrenched her body in half. She arched against me, and I’d have
sunk to the bottom of the pool with her if I hadn’t caught her in my arms.

Fucking
beautiful, everything about her.

Mocha
skin, full, pouted lips, the ebony curls that clung to her body as the water
eagerly lapped at her panting chest.

Her
pleasure would boil the pool.

But
I felt her get hotter before. Inside. Deep. Right where my cock ached to bury.

God
damn, this woman was perfect. She knew how to writhe, how to tremble, how to
come hard enough to rock through me with just a touch.

But now
she struggled against the jet that trapped her body in sensitivity. I hated to let
her go, but, at least she knew where she could get more.

So
much more.

I’d
worship the fucking ground she walked on. Kiss her toes, lick her skin, devour
her pussy, suckle her nipples, nip her throat, and claim her lips with every
passion I could offer.

If
she’d let me.

If
she’d stop hating
me for just a minute, just enough time to prove I wasn’t the jerk she thought I
was.

I wasn’t
a pervert who wanted to sex his sister. I was a red-hot, testosterone-fueled
man who fell too fucking hard for a beautiful face and harder for the frustrating
woman who hid her passion, her happiness, and her fears behind a forced responsibility
and layer of guilt. It wouldn’t bring her father back or fix whatever
relationship they had. It made her hate herself and the fortune that she
inherited.

I
had to show her it was okay to be vulnerable.

Even
if I couldn’t be.

But Shay
moved before I could, squirming from my hold. She groaned—and not a good sound.
I helped her to sit on the side of the pool. She tried to rise to her feet, but
she stumbled as her strength still paddled in the water with me.

Shay
was the type who needed to lay for a while, post-bliss, to recover. She was
probably the only woman I had ever let cuddle me.

And I’d
be the last. Next time it happened, she’d suffocate me with a pillow.

“Completely.
Inappropriate.”

She
scolded me, but she panted, satisfied, out of breath and ragged with pleasure. Usually
how I preferred my women.

“It’s
just a swimming lesson.” I grinned. “You did very well for your first attempt.”

“Don’t.”

“Wait
until I show you my favorite stroke.”

“You’re
unbelievable.”

“That’s
what I hear.”

She seized
her towel and wrapped it over her curves. Not that it mattered, I still felt
the heat where she bucked against my chest.

“Where
are you going?” I asked. “You didn’t even let me show you how long I can hold
my breath under water!”

Shay
grabbed her things with trembling fingers, though her body swayed and shifted
now, more relaxed. I’d get that stick out of her ass yet—and replace it with something
better.

“I think
we’ve had enough poolside fun for one day.” Shay swallowed. “Probably a
lifetime.”

“You
don’t mean that.”

She
brushed her hair behind her ear, but her smile hadn’t returned. “Yes. I do. I’m
sorry, Zach, I never should have let you…we can’t. Okay? You’re my step-brother.
I don’t trust you here, I don’t trust you with the inheritance, I don’t trust
that you won’t run around and find some other mermaid to…teach to swim.”

“Give
me a chance.”

“Let’s
do ourselves a favor and forget everything ever happened,” she said. “Save us
the heartache, okay?”

She
didn’t let me answer, and I didn’t know how to fight to get her back.

My
stomach dropped.

Here
I was, pissing with her, craving a chance to fool around, having some fun, and
sneak beneath her sheets.

She thought
it was something more?

Save
us the heartache
?

She
hurried in the house.

I
hadn’t moved. Couldn’t, not when she dumped the entirety of the pool over my
head and froze it.

Was
she
falling
for me?

I
grinned, watching as she slammed the door the patio behind her.

She could
hide from it all she wanted, but one thing was clear. Shay wanted me more than
she let on.

And
I wasn’t letting her get away.

Lesson
plans.

Safe,
innocent lesson plans.

They
were time-consuming. They were boring. They were due at the end of the week so
I could present something to the school where I’d be observing.

But teaching
kids their A-B-Cs wasn’t taking my mind off of S-E-X.

I was
new to teaching, but I knew
that
would get me fired quicker than if I
revealed my step-brother was the object of my forbidden desire.

I
groaned. Who was I kidding? I used the
step-brother
excuse to stay away
from Zach. If I forced myself to believe what we did was wrong, then I wouldn’t
end up in his arms again. That humiliation was the only thing preventing me from
grabbing a pen-knife and notching his bedpost for him.

Zach
was a player. He was an asshole. I had to watch my every word around him or he’d
twist it into something sexual and promising.

Except
he had the prowess to justify his teasing.

And
he knew it.

Lesson
plans
.

I meant
to focus on my lesson plans.

I
bit my lip. I loved the education program, the prospect of teaching, and the thought
of working with kids. But unless I was huffing the glue I reminded myself to
buy, no way could I use phonics lessons to forget what happened in the pool.

I sighed.
I once thought the shower attachment was divine. Now every morning I eyed the
Jacuzzi tub.

Bad
idea. Just
bad
. Humiliating. Regretted.

Delicious.

No one
touched me like Zach. No one stirred me like him.

No one
nearly drowned me in literal pleasure and whispered innuendoes in my ear until
I collapsed in his arms.

And
no one was idiot enough to bolt from the pool, lock myself in my room, and pray
the bikini hadn’t fallen off as I bounced to safety.

But,
for Christ’s sake,
one
of us had to be responsible, and I wasn’t talking
double-checking to ensure I took my pill in the morning. We had to be adults.
We had to forget all about the sex. Since Zach was a meathead who spent every
available hour harassing me, training, or eating, I’d be the one to take charge.

We
had to end it.

Whatever
it
was.

The
games. The flirting. It was time to make a plan for him to move out as soon as
he deployed so we could get on with our lives. I had four months until I
graduated and received my trust, and they would be spent fully-clothed and
respectable. If we had to act more like strangers than family, so be it.

But,
of course, I checked my makeup before I went down the stairs. And my hair. And
I wore a sweet little pair of panties I tried to convince myself matched my
outfit.

You know,
like how any girl would prepare to talk to her step-brother.

Zach
hung out in the theater more often than
should
have been fair, but I let
him have the room as I mostly occupied the library. Zach wasn’t watching TV or
playing a video game. He laid in the dark and quiet, dressed in the t-shirt and
shorts he used to work out.

He
collapsed over the couch. His long, toned legs kicked out over the arm.

I
hadn’t made an effort to hold a real conversation with him since the incident
with the pool jet. I didn’t even know what to say.

Hey,
so
that was better than drowning!
Or maybe
I don’t normally hump
inanimate objects, but for you, I’ll make an exception.

I
owed him an explanation. I knew we needed to hash it out like adults.

Hell,
I probably should have thanked him for the mind-blowing orgasm.

Instead,
I said the stupidest thing I could think of.

“Don’t
sit on the furniture with your shoes on.”

Zach
didn’t move his arm from over his eyes. He grunted and kicked the tennis shoes
off his heels. One nudge of his legs dropped the shoe to the floor. The other
he decided to launch into the nearby lamp.

“Oh,
that’s great.” I stood the floor-lamp up, brushing the dust from the shade.
Uh-oh. There was quite a bit. “Now we have boot-prints over everything.”

“Hire
a maid.”

His
voice muffled over his arm. He didn’t look at me while we talked. Fantastic.

“Do
you
really
want a maid here?”

“Yep.
And a personal chef. And a landscaper. What are you waiting for?”

“It’s…in
the process,” I shrugged. “I have to figure out how my dad managed all this.”

“Easy.
Open wallet. Pay butler. Let him oversee the estate.”

Couldn’t
he see how weird that was for me? I wasn’t throwing money at a problem to make
it go away.

…Unless
it was him and the inheritance I planned to buy back.

That
didn’t count. It was completely different.

“I
haven’t decided on anything yet,” I said. “We can do something temporary.”

“Temporary?”
Zach snorted. “You can’t take care of this house. It’s a full-time job, and you
have the money to hire the army it needs to stay in shape.”

“But
if I sell it—”

“
Sell
it
?”

I flinched.
“Well, yeah.”

He
sat up. His profanity was a sharper bite than usual. “Why the fuck would you
sell this place?”

He
asked that question while sitting in one of the fifteen leather recliners and
sofas positioned around an auditorium-styled room, complete with full-sized movie
screen, projector, and arched buttresses decorating the ceiling.

“Because…it’s
ridiculous
?” I said. “Because I still get lost in the east wing? Because
the upkeep on this place is insane?”

“You’re
a
billionaire
,” he said. Then the asshole spelled it out for me, letter
by letter. “This house is nothing to you. You should have two more like it in
other places in the county, plus a vacation spot in the Maldives for kicks.” 

“Don’t
sass me.”

“This
house is an
estate
. Size matters. It’s meant to be large and obscene.”

“You
would know that best.”

He
swore. Damn it. I waved a hand, collapsing on the chair beside him. He didn’t
make room for me. In fact, he scowled.

“Sorry,”
I said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I’ll
take the compliment anyway.”

“I’m
sure you would.” I picked at the couch. “I don’t know what I want to do with
the money or the house. I mean, technically? I don’t even own it yet. His
estate is paying for everything. My bank account has about five hundred dollars
in it.”

“You’ll
manage.”

“Probably.
I did before. But this isn’t me. And I don’t think it’s you either.”

He
snorted. “And so you can’t accept it? You can’t take the help?”

“It
doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re
crazy.”

I grimaced.
“What do you care? You should be in the exact same spiral of shame that I am.”

He
laughed. It wasn’t his normal, carefree chuckle. It almost sounded…angry.

“Please,
Shay. Go ahead. I’ve heard it every day since I came here. Tell me why I should
be ashamed of myself.”

“What
the hell is wrong with you today?”

Zach
groaned as he sat up. “I’m waiting to hear how I’ve fucked it up this time.”

“Why
don’t you get it?” I asked. “How don’t you see that this inheritance is all
bullshit?”

“It’s
legal
.” A grunt accompanied his words. “You want to screw me out of what
an attorney said is rightfully mine? Be my guest. Find a judge who’ll side with
you. We’ll get it over with.”

“I’m
not talking about
you
!” I pushed from the couch only to pace the room.
“For Christ’s sake, Zach. I’m talking about me.
I
got all this stuff—the
house, the cars, the school, the
billion freaking dollars
—all from a man
I didn’t know!”

“He was
your father.”

“He was
never
a father to me. He ran around on my mom, left my family when I was
a kid, and only checked in on my birthday and holidays to give me money. He never
loved
me. He tried to buy me off so he could have a life without me.”

“So?
What’s the problem then?” Zach shrugged. “Take the bastard’s money. He screwed
you over for twenty-one years. Least you can do is get what’s yours.”

I
gave up. “You don’t understand it.”

“Then
tell
me.”

There
was nothing to tell. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say anymore. I didn’t know
what I wanted. Suddenly, an entire freaking estate was too damn small, and Zach’s
presence entirely too big.

“Forget
it.”

He called
after me before I made it to the doorway.

“You
make it seem like you’re the only one who lost someone.”

I stopped.
His voice embittered, but I didn’t blame him. Not when he was absolutely right.
He stood, gripping the couch with a trembling hand.

He
didn’t look okay. Was he sick?

“Do
you think you’re the only one who had a shitty parent? Think I wanted to be
hauled house to house, date to date, man to man? You’ve never asked where my
real father is.”

No,
I hadn’t. “Where is he?”

“My mom
said he was dead. A soldier. Died in Desert Storm.”

I
swallowed. “Is that why you…?”

“Became
a SEAL? Yeah. Felt like it was in my blood. Serve the country. Do some good.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Except I’m twenty-four years old, and Desert Storm ended
twenty-five years ago. Mom was never good at math.”

“Oh.”
I softened my voice. “Did you ever find out who he was?”

“Don’t
know. He was probably just some screw she had. She was good for fucking around
like that. She tossed herself man-to-man looking for someone to take care of
her. She married three times before shacking up with your dad.”

“Wow.”

“Six
years ago, I came home from basic training and she tried to hide a black eye. I
kicked my step-father’s ass from one side of the house to the other, but
she
defended him. Took her three more months of him beating on her before the money
ran dry. I got her out of there, she met your dad, and the rest…” He shrugged.
“At least he never hit her.”

“No.
He wouldn’t have.”

Zach
held my stare. “Don’t pretend like you’re some lost little lamb in the world. You
want to feel guilty? Feel guilty. You want to feel sad you didn’t know him
better? Fine. But don’t front a holier-than-thou attitude, Shay. I’m not in the
mood.”

I
bristled. Only Momma ever took that tone with me. I wasn’t sure I liked it
coming from Zach. He wasn’t exactly shining his perfect halo.

“Don’t
you dare lecture me about my behavior,” I said. “Not after what you did.”

Zach
waved his arms wide. “God help the next man who thinks you’re attractive. Two
forms of ID, a credit check, and proof of his family tree before he gets in
your pants.”

“I
should have known what type of guy you were when you introduced yourself.”

“And
what
type
of guy is that?”

“I
don’t know,
Hard
, why don’t you tell me? Find a girl in the bar, take
her home?”

His eyes
darkened, a deep jade that looked colder and less inviting than his usual
conquesting smirk. His voice rumbled, rough and impatient. Everything about Zach
morphed before my eyes. This wasn’t the carefree charmer from the pool.

I
really pissed him off.  I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t like that it
happened.