SEALed Bride: A Bad Boy Romance (Includes bonus novel Jerked!) (34 page)

“Okay. If I take you somewhere, you have to wear those yoga pants whenever you’re here at the house.”

She blushed and looked down. “What, why?”

“Because your body looks fantastic. No more sweatpants. I want to see the outline of your perfect ass all day, every day.”

I loved how red she turned. I couldn’t imagine she didn’t know what she looked like in them, but maybe she wasn’t used to hearing it.

I thought she was about to chew me out, but instead she took a deep breath and let it out.

“Fine, is that all?” she said.

“That’s all, for now at least.”

“What do you mean, for now?”

I shrugged. “You might want to stay out later, or get ice cream, or do something I don’t agree with. I reserve the right to negotiate for further wardrobe rules.”

Her red cheeks got even darker, if that was possible. “Fine, whatever.”

“Okay, where do you want to go?”

She looked at me and grinned.

––––––––

“W
e could go anywhere in the city, absolutely anywhere, and this is where you pick?”

I wrinkled my nose and looked out the back door. The smell of cat was thick in the air, plus a weird mixture of old people and old books. The store was completely silent and empty, and shelves with books were practically overflowing in all directions. There were only two upsides to her choice. The first was that the small space meant we were forced to be close to each other, and I took every opportunity to move as slowly as possible out of her way. The second was that she decided to keep those sexy fucking yoga pants on, even though the deal was just for O’Brian’s house.

Which meant that I was fighting a hard-on all afternoon. I guess it could have been worse.

“I like this place,” she said. “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

She gave me a look. “Yeah, and you were too cool for reading?”

“Not too cool, just too busy.”

“I’m sure. Can you even read?”

I shrugged and picked up a book.
The Singularity is Near
by some guy named Ray Kurzweil. Looked like typical pretentious garbage, exactly the kind of thing that would be in an old rundown secondhand bookstore like the one she had dragged me to.

“The ... Singular ... Name?” I pretended to read the title, emphasizing the words.

“Very funny.”

She pressed herself to the side of me and slipped by. Her hips brushed across my crotch, pushing against my half-hard dick, though she didn’t seem to notice, or at least she didn’t mind. I followed her up a narrow staircase and out into a second floor.

“Great, there’s more,” I mumbled.

She ignored me and began to browse a low wall. I leaned against the doorframe and watched her, savoring every motion she made. It was practically erotic the way she looked in those pants. I could see the outline of her ass every time she bent over to pick something out.

“Anything exciting?” I asked.

She glanced back at me. “Plenty of stuff.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“No kidding.”

Before I could think of an incredibly intelligent and hilarious response, something brushed up against my leg. I looked down stared as a gray and white fluffy cat began to rub its body against my shin.

“Bren,” I said.

She looked over. “What? Is everything okay?”

“There’s an animal.”

She looked down at the disgusting creature and laughed. “That’s Billy, the owner’s cat. He lives here.”

“Why is it touching me?”

She laughed. “Relax, it’s just a cat.”

“I’m relaxed. I’m very relaxed. But cats are not ‘just cats,’ they’re disgusting killing machines.”

“Oh yeah, Billy is a killing machine all right.”

“And they smell horrible. I’m going to have to wash these pants. Maybe burn them.”

She laughed again and walked over, crouching down. Billy walked over to her and began to thread his way through her legs, rubbing his body up against her while she gently stroked his back.

“See, he’s friendly. No need to be afraid.”

“Not afraid. Just repulsed.”

I hated cats. Despised them. I really wasn’t afraid of it, but I had always been allergic to them. There was genuinely nothing good about a cat.

She grinned and shook her head. “I should have known you’d hate cats.”

“You should hate them too.”

“I think they’re adorable. Isn’t that right, Billy?”

“Don’t encourage it.”

She stood back up and Billy the Stinky Cat scampered off down the stairs, presumably to spread his stench to other customers.

“Well,” I said, “that explains the cat smell all over this place.”

“Oh come off it. As if you smell any better.”

She stood a few feet away from me and crossed her arms, grinning.

“I smell great. Like a man should.” I stepped closer to her, smiling.

“I’m not sure I agree with that.”

“I’m willing to bet I can change your mind.”

I stood closer to her, inches away, and could practically feel her breath. She didn’t move, just like I knew she wouldn’t. She was too stubborn to let me win at anything. But that was part of the fun: I wanted to make her give in, especially when I knew she wanted to. I was willing to take our little game of chicken pretty far.

“How would you do that?” she asked.

“I’d love to pull those sexy pants down around your ankles, bend you over, and slip my tongue along your soaked pussy.”

She blinked. “Colin ....”

“We can do it right here, if you want. I can make you come on my tongue while you try not to make too much noise.”

“What makes you think it’d be so easy?”

“I’ve seen how you look at me. I know you’d grip my hair as hard as you could while I tongued that sweet pussy.”

“You’re not funny.” She looked away, a blush on her cheeks again.

“I’m not kidding. Say the word and I’ll taste you right here.”

My cock was straining against my pants and I knew that if I moved even a centimeter she’d feel the tip brush up against her. I kept still for the time being.

“I don’t think that’s what stepsiblings are supposed to do.”

“Fuck what we’re supposed to do.”

Something shifted between us over the course of the joke, and I could see her heavy breathing. The tension was thick and weighed a ton and I was waiting for her to break down. I needed her to melt into my mouth, to let me taste every inch of her body, and I didn’t care if that happened right there in the old used bookstore. I was starving for her soaked spot.

She looked away and I could tell she was trying to hide how much she wanted it. I knew she was still pissed, but she wasn’t
that
pissed. The fact that she wore the yoga pants when she didn’t have to spoke volumes about what she was thinking. She wanted me to stare at her ass, wanted me to imagine pulling them down just enough to press my cock into that wet cleft between her legs.

“Colin, we can’t,” she said softly.

“I don’t care.”

I grab her hips and pulled her against me, not giving a fuck anymore. I couldn’t stand it a single second longer. I was done with all the bullshit, all the back and forth. I needed to feel her body, and as soon as she pressed herself against my hard dick, her lips parted in surprise. I didn’t give her a chance to react; I just pressed my mouth against hers and kissed her hard, savoring the taste. At first, she didn’t respond, but quickly she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back with an intensity I had never seen from her before.

I was practically tearing out of my pants. I wanted to bend her over right there, fuck her up against the historical fiction section. She pressed herself against me harder, moving her hips softly, practically dry humping my stiff dick. I reached down and cupped her firm ass, squeezing hard, and I felt as much as heard her gasp.

As soon as I was about to slip my hand between her legs, my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. She moved away and laughed softly.

“You’re pretty excited.”

“All your fault.”

My phone kept ringing. “You should get that,” she said.

I looked at her. “Fuck my phone.”

“Really, answer it.”

I clenched my jaw. She was right, it could be important.

“Fuck,” I said, as I moved away from her and pulled it out of my pocket.

I looked at the Caller-ID, but didn’t recognize the number. I flipped open my phone and held it up to my ear.

“What?” I said.

“Colin, it’s Jimmy.”

I blinked. “Jimmy. I didn’t recognize your number.”

I moved away from Bren and spoke softly. I could feel her eyes watching me as I spoke.

“Calling on a burner. We found Fabrizio.”

“Where?”

“Safe house near Girard in Fishtown.”

“I’m close.”

“How long?”

“I can be there in fifteen.”

“Better hurry. Our guy thinks Fabrizio knows he was followed.”

“Text me the address.”

“Okay.”

I hung the phone up and looked at Bren.

“Do you have to go?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“What about me?”

“I’ll drop you off first. It’s on the way.”

She nodded and frowned. “Did they find him?”

“Might have. Not sure yet.”

She paused. “Be careful.”

I grinned. “Always am.”

T
he address was on a tiny side street in the Fishtown neighborhood. It was a blue-collar place on the border between Center City and north Philly, and was considered one of the oldest places in the whole city. According to some people, the Fishtown accent was one of the last few remaining original dialects in the whole city. The important thing was, though, that people in Fishtown didn’t talk to the police. They were old school that way, used to growing up and living in more dangerous neighborhoods where the rule of law wasn’t always guaranteed. Sure, they might call the cops if they heard gunshots, but mostly because they wanted to scare the assholes away.

I pulled over and checked my gun, not sure why I had been giving myself a little history lesson. I flicked off the safety and made sure the clip was full before climbing out of the car. Silently, I walked the perimeter of the house, but didn’t see anyone. I kept low, in case Fabrizio was watching from a window, my heart beating slowly in my chest. Most of the other houses were quiet, too, which made sense since it was two in the afternoon on a workday. Still, I needed to make sure I was quiet, or else risk getting the cops involved. On top of everything else, that was the last thing I needed.

I jumped the fence into the backyard again and stood next to the back door. The yard itself was pretty empty, and weeds were beginning to win back the corners. It was pretty obvious that nobody had taken care of it in a while. The door didn’t look particularly sturdy, which was good. I took a deep breath and mentally planned out my attack. I had to be quick, but I needed to avoid killing the guy if I could. My gun was only a last resort, though I was pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to try and take me out if he could. That made things even more dangerous, but I really had to avoid killing him. Not only would the Italians be pissed, but I was pretty sure O’Brian would be unhappy that I'd started a war with his most powerful competitors. I was at a huge disadvantage, then. Hopefully, he wasn’t expecting me.

I had the element of surprise on my side. Without thinking too much more, I braced myself and kicked the door just above the knob with all my strength. It buckled, but didn’t break. I reared back and kicked again and the door flew in, splinters scattering all over the place.

I felt cool and calm and in control. Time seemed to slow down and I felt alive, more alive than usual. The kitchen was dark. I moved in and crouched down behind the table, silent and listening. There was only stillness. I moved fast, my gun drawn, and swept through the first floor. The kitchen was empty and so was the living room. Nothing looked like it had been used in a while, which could be a bad sign. The cabinets in the kitchen were all empty and so was the refrigerator. Either he wasn’t there and Jimmy’s information was bad, or Fabrizio hadn’t stuck around long enough to make himself cozy. Either way, there was no sign of him hanging around the main part of the house. Silently, I pulled open every door that I saw, but found only a bathroom, a closet, and the basement steps.

I clenched my jaw. The basement was a deathtrap. I decided to check the upper floors first, and hoped that he would stay hidden if he were down there. It was a gamble, but I had no other choice. I had to play it safe or else risk getting killed.

The whole place felt spooky, but most safe houses did. They were built purely for functionality, hidden out of the way and furnished with the bare minimum. There were no decorations on the walls and everything had a secondhand feel to it. Some people felt like they were haunted, but really it was just the echoes from how empty they were. When a family occupies a space, they really fill the house. But safe houses stayed empty the vast majority of the time. I couldn’t imagine staying in one for very long.

I moved slowly up the stairs, gun at the ready. Sweat dripped down my back as a board creaked under my foot.
If he didn’t know I was here, he does now,
I thought. There was no other noise in the whole place as I strained to listen. I got to the top of the stairs and looked left, down a hallway. It was empty, and all of the doors stood open. There were no shadows or any other clues. To my right was a closed door that I guessed would lead to the main bedroom. I opted for that door, hoping he’d be in there. It was strange that it was the only closed door, and so I tensed for something to happen. I had a strange feeling in my gut.

Once on the landing, I turned the knob and pushed into the room fast. Ahead was a single bed with the sheets messed up.
He was here
, I thought, but didn’t have much time for anything else as a hand appeared from the closet to my right.

It grabbed my wrist and twisted, wrenching my grip away from the gun. I had a brief second to get a look at my opponent before he smashed his fist into my nose. He was young, with dark hair, but I had no clue if it was Fabrizio or not. My vision swam as I staggered back, the gun clattering to the ground, and I brought my fists up. If he was packing himself, I was done for.