Hard: A Step-Brother Romance (20 page)

The
sensation turned from demanding to an unbearable quickening. Everything inside
me locked over his cock. Zach gripped me against his body. His shaft pounded, forcing
in as deeply as he could get it.

Heat
jetted into my core.

And
I was lost.

I
collapsed against him, supported only by the sheer muscle of his arms and how
thickly his cock imbedded in my slit.

Heat
coated me from the inside, and the explosive force of his desire cast me over
the edge. I shuddered in his arms, welcoming the bursting, almost-painful
convulsion of my body as it rent apart and rebuilt just how he wanted me—warm,
quivering, and weak for him.

We
fell to the ground, but Zach didn’t pull from me. I panted, arching to let him
deeper. His cock impaled me, but the slow, leisurely pump of his shaft within
my tightness was enough to draw another series of shuddered prayers from me and
more jetted heat from him.

He
held me close, kissing my cheek, my neck, and pulling my hand to his lips so he
could taste that too.

I
stayed silent. I didn’t trust what I’d say, what beautiful words I’d waste on a
man who belonged to a life that wasn’t mine.

Don’t
go.

Never
leave me.

I’m
falling in…

Dangerous,
foolish thoughts. I cuddled against him instead, savoring his heat and hoping
for nothing more than a few precious moments in his arms where life couldn’t
touch us.

And
I got it.

But
it’d only delay the inevitable. The words. The heartache.

His
leaving.

I
didn’t want to be alone anymore.

I
didn’t want to be without
him
.

Zach
rolled me over and spread my legs.

“Again,”
he whispered. “Shay, again.”

We’d
deny the heartbreak for a little longer.

Everything
was easier with money.

Lunch
at Atlanta’s fanciest restaurant with my attorney, a representative from the
bank, and my father’s chief investment officer? Easy as a phone call.

A
limo ride from my house to the meeting? The estate came with a driver.

A
salon trip to look halfway presentable? A stylist came to the
mansion
.

But
actually
getting
the money? That was much harder.

William
introduced me to Beth Hartly, my father’s pretty redheaded investor of choice.
While she worked over the agreement with the trust, Albert Wright, our banking representative,
ordered another round of escargot for the table.

I was
more a chili-cheese fries type of girl.

And,
after one bite of the shelled creations on the plate? My stomach agreed.

I
excused myself to the restroom as my financial and legal teams discussed how to
untangle my trust from my father’s graduation clause. I darted into the stall
before the escargot slithered its way back out.

Not
pleasant.

Especially
with an attendant waiting in the washroom to assist the restaurant’s patrons.
It probably wasn’t in her job description to help them to their feet after they
threw up half their lunch. She offered me a clean, warm cloth and said nothing
as I washed and dried my face.

It
didn’t soothe me. My stomach still fluttered. Maybe the escargot turned into
butterflies.

I’d
have to Google exactly what the hell I ate when I returned to the table.

If
I made it to the
table. Gross. My stomach still hadn’t settled. I hid in the stall again. To her
credit, the attendant said nothing. I shakily emerged. This time I gave a
nervous shrug.

“The
food really is excellent here…”
Awkward
. “Don’t take that as a Yelp
review.”

“We’re
pleased to hear it, Miss.”

I
hurried out of the restroom, grateful for the refilled ice water at my seat. I didn’t
press it against my flushed forehead, but I guzzled it and tried to freeze
whatever upset my stomach. Too bad I couldn’t blame the snails—they made me eat
snails?
This was the third day I wasn’t feeling great. Too much stress,
too little sleep.

Not
nearly enough Zach.

“Well,
Shay,” William said. “Looks like this will be an easy fix. Your father intended
the inheritance to be awarded at an appropriate age, whenever you’d require it.
We can agree a college graduation was an arbitrary date, especially as
he…seemed to forget precisely when you would graduate. As you’re twenty-one and
he has regrettably passed, his requirements are satisfied. Provided Mr. Harden
also agrees to the change in terms, your trust can be released.”

“Zach
has to agree?” I asked.

“I
hope that won’t be an issue?”

“He
should be okay with it.”

“Good.
I understand you aren’t on the best terms with your step-brother.”

Yeah…there
weren’t many more terms I could be on with Zach. We were as termed as any
couple could get without actually admitting our feelings.

The
only problem was that Zach hadn’t been around much.

At
all.

Ever
since his return from Washington, and that feral, passionate night spent on the
floor of the library, he pulled away. Became distant. Worse part was, I
expected it.

But
it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Zach
said the doctor would eventually decide if he was fit to return to the SEALs.
He waited on the verdict, but I knew the answer already.

A
resounding yes, and Zach would be gone.

The
SEALs were his life. He trained specifically for their demands and literally rebuilt
himself after the mission that nearly killed him. Students changed
majors
because a textbook gave them a paper-cut. Zach was hospitalized for months, and
he would have sewn his body together with fishing line just to get back to the
fight.

He’d
be the most romantic, sexy, and unbelievably noble man…if he hadn’t broken my
heart. In a few months, he’d be gone. And then?

No
matter how wonderful our nights were together, I had to prepare for him
leaving. It wasn’t worth letting him into my life if it’d be torn apart once he
deployed.

 “And
now, Shay, you want to start a charity?” Beth tapped her water glass. “You
realize investments are much safer and can guarantee a solid return on your money.”

I
nodded. “Well, yes, but I’m not looking for a return on my
money
. I want
to begin a charity or a program of some sort. Something like a tutoring or afterschool
initiative for kids. Or even a camp. I’m open to ideas.”

“But
the investments—”

My
stomach flipped.

Not
again.

I
didn’t have time for an excuse. I rushed to the bathroom, humiliated myself,
and accepted the soft words of the attendant who offered me a mint this time.

I
staggered to the table just as Beth chuckled to the men.

“A
children’s
program. Can you imagine? She’s obviously never had a baby.”

Click
.

And just
like that, it clicked.

It wasn’t
a good click. More like the starting gun to a new course of nausea and
confusion and about a
billion
different complications.

No
way.

Not
possible.

William
called my name. “Shay, are you feeling well? Maybe we should postpone the
charity talk for another day. I’ll call around for representatives of like-minded
programs. They might wish to meet with you for investment opportunities.”

We
shook hands, but I bolted, nearly forgetting my purse at the table. I didn’t
remember making it to the parking garage, and I only remembered the limo once I
circled the lot looking for my car.

The
humid, smoggy air did wonders.

Just
because I was a little nauseous didn’t mean I was…
that
. I didn’t want to
say it, especially since the pack of pills in my purse were part of my morning
ritual…even if the time I took them shifted as I occasionally overslept…

I
counted the days in my head and didn’t like the answer. So I did it again until
I missed a number, found the error in my favor, and decided to stick with it
until I was safe and secure and strapped into the limo.

I
rapped on the glass, forgetting the driver had a speaker button. He was
accommodating and dropped me at a nearby drug store, no questions asked. I couldn’t
say the same for the cashier. I covered the test with a candy bar, but she
still price-checked it. I should have thrown up on her pristine floors just for
her snotty look.

The
driver delivered me to the estate, but I wasn’t sure how to dismiss him. He
accepted a flustered
goodbye
as I tripped over myself into the mansion
and rushed into the nearest bathroom.

I
didn’t recognize the blue tile.

Had
I ever been in this powder room before?

It
didn’t matter. I locked the door in case Zach finally decided to show up and
ripped open the box. The contents flew everywhere like a piñata chalk-full of
unfortunate surprises.

This
was silly. I was on the pill. Even if Zach and I got a little too close for
comfort without a condom, the pills worked just fine. I was overreacting, and
I’d laugh about this later.

…Because
I sure as hell wasn’t laughing now.

I could
either sit and do my thing or use a small container to catch the specimen.
Ew
.
I didn’t like the odds on me doing either of the requirements correctly.

I
opted to sit, but the quirky diagram drawn on the inside of the box made taking
the test look like Olympic gymnastics. Sit, crouch, bend, flail. I wished my
hands weren’t shaking so damn much.

But
then it was done, and I resolved never to speak of it again. I rested the test
flat on the counter per the instructions and waited.

My
cellphone rang, and I nearly swore. I read the name. Azariah. Now was the
worst
time to chat with her.

But
my trembling fingers grazed the wrong button. The call connected. I grimaced
and cradled the phone.

“Hey.”
I checked the call timer. Two minutes to go. “Can I call you back? I’m kinda
busy.”

Azariah
had none of it. “Look, girl. You know I love you.”

Oh,
Christ, she had
that
tone. The
settle-in-I-need-to-tell-you-how-bad-you-fucked-up-don’t-you-raise-your-voice-to-me
lecture. I headed her off.

“It’s
fine.” The panic rushed my words out, and I wasn’t sure they spouted in the
right order. “I already accepted your apology. We’re fine. Heaven can piss off,
but we’re fine. Seriously. I need to call you back. It’s fine though.”

“You’re
saying
fine
a lot.”

“That’s
fi—okay.”

“Look,
Shay, I still feel shitty, and I know how to make it up to you.”

A
time-machine? A condom? I was
so
not worried about what my friends
thought of my money now.

“I
got your party all organized,” she said. “Forget the blowout. We’re doing what
you want.”

“That’s
thoughtful.” Thirty seconds down.

“We’re
calling caterers and waiters. Getting the real deal here, girl. Formal dress.
Linen tablecloths.
String quartet.”

One
minute left. “Sounds great. I gotta go.”

“I
just want you to know we are happy for you. I know I am.”

“Thanks.”

“And
if that step-brother of yours does it for you, then fine. We all need a little vanilla
sometimes.”

Oh,
I had a bit too much vanilla now. I swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Do
you love him?”

Dangerous
question. I stilled. “I—?”

“Come
on, now. Don’t front with me. Are you in love with him?”

Not
the best question to ask a woman holding a pregnancy test. Traditionally, the
answer would be
of course!
Other acceptable responses included
Oh, Fuck!
and
When did that happen?

Not,
I might be feeling something other than rage for the man who caused me to
piss on a piece of plastic.

The
indicator was ready.

“Azariah,
I’ll text you later.”

The call
ended. I knew what the test would say before I read it.

I
took a breath and turned it over.

Pregnant
.

And
now was the appropriate time for a freak-out of epic proportions. The type of freak-out
that began with confetti cannons shooting unused condoms and ended with banners
reading
What Did You Think Would Happen
.

Of
course
I was pregnant.

At
the time, rolling with Zach on the floor of the library was one of the most
wild and uncontrolled nights of my life. It was passionate. It was romantic.

And Zach
was exactly the type of super-strong, he-man, rough-and-tumble cowboy who
would
be super fertile. Able to jump tall buildings in a single bound and
overcome every advancement of modern medicine just to get his girl.

Here
I thought the rug burn on my knees would be the mistake of the night.

Nope
.

Mega
wrong.

Oh,
so very wrong.

I
sighed and held my head in my hands. Then I grimaced, threw the stick down, and
washed my face.

This
wasn’t good.

Pregnant.

Holy
shit
.