Stepbrother Romance 3 - Addicted: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance (6 page)

My face was on fire. Seriously. If I touched something flammable to it, I was sure that something would ignite.

Kent knew the answer to that question. The jerk. He knew I wanted to go back to that bed, throw myself on it and say, “You win.”

But no, I couldn’t do that. I had to win the bet. It was more important to get some honest answers from him than to have more sex. Even if it was great sex. Mind-blowing sex. Sex that would leave a smile on my face for days.

It was still just sex. And I wanted this thing between us to be more than that.

So I had to stay strong. Which meant I had to do whatever it took to keep Kent’s hands off me.

“Okay,” I conceded. “You’re right.”

Beaming, like a little boy who’d just learned he could eat ice cream for dinner, he jumped to his feet. “Let’s go.”

“That’s not what I meant. Now is the perfect time to get some work done. Go ahead.” I made a shooing motion. “I’ll…” I searched the plane’s cabin for something to entertain myself. “find some way to occupy myself...”

No longer grinning like a total goon, he sat and flipped up his laptop screen again. “If you change your mind, just give the word. I’d be happy to oblige.”

I made a pouty mean-face. “I’m sure you would.” Then, needing to get as far away from temptation as possible, I forced myself up from the safety of the couch and, bracing my hands on anything within reach as I walked, paid a trip to the nearest bathroom. It happened to be adjacent to the bedroom, which did, indeed, look mighty comfortable. So after taking care of business in the bathroom, I stretched out on the bed, pulled the sheet over me, and closed my eyes.

With any luck I would sleep half the trip away. I would be losing the opportunity to talk to Kent. We were trapped together in this flying tin can. It was convenient that he couldn’t run away. But neither could I. And that was the problem. Also a problem: I was tired. I hadn’t slept well last night. My mind wasn’t as sharp as it should be.

Sleep. It was my best option for now.

I was falling. Tumbling through the air, careening toward the ground. Alone. No parachute. The world was zooming at me. Closer. Closer.

No!

I jerked up and the plane bumped against something, jarring me and sending me sprawling back down on the mattress. Were we crashing? I grabbed the bed frame and clung to it. Sweat prickled my scalp and nape. Another bump and then another. I braced myself, sure the end was coming. But it didn’t. I felt the ground beneath the plane. We were rolling.

We’d landed.

The plane slowed and I sucked in a deep breath. I’d not only survived the seven hour flight; I’d managed to do it without having sex with Kent.

Score one for me! Maybe I could win this bet.

I stumbled off the bed and made a bee line for the bathroom first. In there, I took care of the most pressing matter first then tidied myself up, making use of the toothpaste and brand new, wrapped toothbrush I found. When I exited, I felt like a new woman. Minty breath. Rested and refreshed. Ready to face whatever adventure Kent threw my way.

He was, as usual, looking devastatingly handsome. Still sitting on the couch, an arm slung over the back, long legs stretched out in front of him, he was sleeping. A soft snore buzzed from his slightly parted lips. I admit, I stood there for several moments and just watched him. This was a rare opportunity. To look at him without being seen. To admire the angle of his cheekbone, the strength of his jawline, the thickness of his eyelashes.

But my stalkerish staring was cut short when the flight attendant hurried in from wherever he’d been hiding to announce our arrival.

Kent’s head lifted and his gaze met mine. His lips curled into an adorable lopsided smile. “Ready for some adventure?”

“You bet.”

He stood and offered a hand. “Hold on, baby. You’re in for the time of your life.”

I giggled because he was being so dramatic and slipped my hand into his. His hand was big and warm and strong, and I felt protected and safe as we clattered down the metal ladder and climbed into the waiting limo. The car drove down long two-lane roads cutting through scrubby fields with skinny evergreens. Ahead the white peaks of the mountains loomed. Snow covered and scraping the sky. The sun was hanging heavy, hiding behind trees. Disorientated, I asked, “What time is it?”

“Just after nine o’clock.”

“Is it evening or morning?”

“PM. This part of Alaska is four hours behind Michigan. They have double daylight savings time.”

I did some quick math and figured it was about one in the morning at home. “It’s still so bright,” I remarked, remembering what I’d heard about Alaskan summers. “Does it really stay light all night long?”

“You’re about to find out. I hope you got plenty of sleep on the plane.”

“I did.”

“Excellent.”

The car bumped down a narrow gravel road before finally lurching to a stop outside a massive two-story home on a wooded lot.

I didn’t wait for Kent. I climbed out of the vehicle and inhaled deeply. The air smelled so fresh and sweet. I’d expected it to be sterile like Michigan’s winter air. But no, it was far from it. Life abounded in the air and all around me. The forest lacked the thick undergrowth I was accustomed to in Michigan in the summer. Tall grasses abounded where thick shrubs would in Michigan. And the forest trees were more uniform in shape and type where in Michigan it was more varied. Michigan lacked one thing: the absolute vastness of this place. It felt so wide open and huge. I was awe inspired.

“Do you want to come inside?” Kent gently tugged on my arm, leading me into the house.

“Um, if you insist. Though it’s so gorgeous out here…” I said as I tripped along beside him. The house was lovely. Soaring ceilings, exposed rafters, polished wood floors. The living space was open, with a wall of windows bringing the million dollar view of the forest and mountains into the living space. Kent led me through the house and outside to the deck. On a table sat covered dishes full of fragrant food. It was a wonder the wild animals hadn’t helped themselves.

“I thought you might be hungry for a little snack,” Kent announced.

“How did you arrange this?”

He didn’t try to hide his guilt. “It’s a secret.”

“I hope it’s the only secret you won’t share with me.”

He gave me a look that said it wasn’t, and my mood wilted slightly. But I hoped after spending some quality time one-on-one it wouldn’t be long before he would feel comfortable enough to share all his secrets.

We sat out there, amidst glorious nature and ate a meal that was so divine I stuffed myself. It was no snack. And everything, from start to finish, was delicious. When I was through, I sat back and groaned, admitting, “I ate too much.”

“A walk will cure that,” Kent suggested, once again offering his hand.

I accepted it gladly and we set off, taking the deck stairs down to a gravel trail arcing into the woods. I hesitated when we stepped into the shadow of the trees. “Is it safe? Are there bears?”

“There may be. But I’m prepared. No need to worry.” The chill of the shadow made my skin prickle as we walked. Releasing Kent’s hand, I folded my arms over my chest to warm myself. Kent scowled. “You’re cold.”

“A little.” I shivered. “I’m not dressed for hiking.” I indicated the dress I’d donned many hours ago, thinking we were heading to a restaurant. At least the seriously outdated and ugly dress was long-sleeved. In the Michigan late summer heat the lack of exposed skin hadn’t been so great, but out here it was somewhat helpful.

“We’ll go back. I arranged for food, supplies, and clothes to be stocked in the house for us. You can change into something warmer. Maybe freshen up if you wish.”

He didn’t have to offer twice. I loved going for a walk as much as the next girl. But this was different. This wasn’t a stroll down the sidewalk. I wasn’t dressed for it, for one. And, for another, from what I’d read and seen on TV, this was a foreign land, full of large, dangerous,
carnivorous
animals. Like bears. Big bears.

Inside, Kent gave me the grand tour, ending at my room, which happened to be next to his, just like at home. As usual, a wall would separate us.

“I hadn’t realized we were staying here for more than a day,” I said as I checked out my new digs. They were just as lux as at home too.

“I thought we’d stay for a week. Did you have other plans? I can arrange for an earlier return flight.”

“Um…” A week? We would be here for a week? Out here in this wilderness? Alone? Just the two of us?

It was so romantic.

And so dangerous…not just because of the bears.

Yep, my scheming stepbrother knew what he was doing by bringing me here.

“I guess it’s okay.” I flopped on the bed and closed my eyes. My body felt like it weighed more than a thousand pounds. I’d slept almost seven hours on the plane, but already I was ready to fall asleep again. Was this the infamous jet lag making me so sleepy?

The bed was heavenly, like floating on clouds. I sank into it, limbs growing heavier. Darkness swallowing me.

I couldn’t fight it anymore.

Coffee?

Coffee!

Bacon!

I was in heaven. And Kent was a freaking angel.

I blinked open my eyes, momentarily forgetting where I was. Oh yes. Alaska. I was in Alaska. Somewhere. I checked my cell phone for messages. Normally I heard from Mom every few days. I wouldn’t be hearing from her today. Or from Ransom. No service.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, I dressed in the brand new jeans, T-shirt, and sweatshirt I found in the closet then hurried down to the kitchen for some breakfast. Last night’s dinner had been huge, but my stomach was growling this morning. Empty.

I arrived to find Kent standing at the stove, a pair of sweatpants hanging from his hips. No shirt. Now that was a view worth a million bucks. More like a billion.

A year from now, would he be standing in our kitchen, cooking breakfast? Or will this thing we’d started unravel by then? God, I hoped it wouldn’t. Not only did this guy bail me out of one scrape after another, but he did so eagerly, happily. I appreciated that more than he could ever know. But that wasn’t why I couldn’t imagine my life without Kent anymore. Since spring break, Kent had slowly, gradually become one of the most important people in my life.

Openly admiring the view, I helped myself to a cup of coffee and sat at the massive farm table in the kitchen’s center.

Kent grinned over his shoulder. “You’re alive.”

“It’s a miracle, I know.” I sipped the coffee. It was mind-blowingly good. “Sorry. I totally crashed last night.”

“Not a problem. I caught up on some work.”

“What’s on our agenda today?”

“We could finish the walk we started last night. Maybe go for a hike.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I motioned to my jeans. “At least this time I’m dressed for the weather.”

“Good.” He set a plate heaped high with eggs in front of me. “Eat up. You’re going to need your strength.”

I eyed the mountain of yellow. It rivaled the massive snow-capped mountains outside. “There is absolutely no way I can eat all that.”

“Trust me. You’ll be sorry if you don’t. This air will make anyone as hungry as a grizzly.” He placed a second plate of eggs on the table, added a plate full of crispy bacon and then sat across from me and dug in. “I figure we’ll get in at least ten miles today.”

Was this really the Kent I knew? The one who normally drove his fancy cars everywhere? Who lived in suits and ties? Who practically dripped fine culture from every pore?

“Ten?” I gulped hard, not because I was trying to swallow a mouthful of eggs.

“What’s wrong, princess? Is that too much for you?”

My hackles went up. And then I got really annoyed because it was so easy for him to push my buttons. Even now.

I jammed a big mouthful of eggs into my mouth and washed it down with coffee. “Hell no. Ten miles is nothing. A walk in the freaking park. Bring it, Jeremiah.”

“What did you call me?” he asked. “I thought I was Valmont.”

“Having an identity crisis, are you?” I laughed at his scowl. “Ever heard of Jeremiah Johnson?”

“No.”

“Well, if we had the internet I’d tell you to look him up.” I pointed at him with my fork. “But I don’t think we do. So I’ll tell you. Johnson was a fictional character in an old movie made in the 70’s. He was a bad ass mountain man.”

Kent’s chest puffed up. Such a proud peacock, he was. “That’s me. Bad ass.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I didn’t quite finish Mount Scrambled, but I did a fine job of decreasing its size. And before I knew it, we were on our way, each carrying a backpack loaded up with sealed snacks, water, bear spray, and other hiking gear. The pair of boots I found in my closet was a godsend in the rough terrain. The paths weren’t the smooth stroller-friendly paved lanes I frequented in Michigan. No, these were narrow and uneven. But there was something thrilling and romantic about being alone in the Alaskan frontier with Kent.

He led like he knew where he was going. And I followed closely behind. Our pace was neither too fast nor too slow. Even so, I was ready for a break after about an hour and a half. I let Kent know by plopping down on a flat rock and exclaiming, “I need a break.”

Kent parked his cute little butt down next to mine and shrugged off his backpack. I admired the way the muscles on his arms and shoulders bulged as he moved for a few seconds before digging into my pack for my water bottle.

We both swallowed at least a half-gallon each before we put our bottles away.

“Tired?” Kent taunted. “Ready to go back?”

“No way! Are you?” I shoved him, catching him off-guard. He fell on the ground, landing with arms and legs sprawled. I laughed. Until he gave me a look that made me grab my pack and start running like a scared rabbit. I crashed down the path with Kent on my heels. At a bend, the path skirted a stream, the left side sloping and slick. My boot hit something and then I sailed through the air, landing on hands and knees. Kent saw me and tried to stop before he ran into me. Instead, he tripped on the same thing I had. But he performed a world class belly flop into the frigid stream water. He gasped. Didn’t move. Didn’t stand up, even though the water was shallow.

“Kent?” I yelled.

His eyes widened but he didn’t speak, didn’t move. He was breathing really fast, too fast.

Gray. He was turning gray.

Something was wrong!

I shouted a curse and quickly plunk-plunked into the icy water, moving swiftly but carefully so I wouldn’t fall. My legs practically went instantly numb. I grabbed an arm. His body was rigid, muscles frozen. “Kent!” I locked my jaw and pulled as hard as I could. He was dead weight. A ton. My boots slid on the rocks and in the mud, making it that much harder to get him out. I couldn’t feel my feet. And my legs were getting heavier by the minute. The water’s current tugged at me, pulling Kent away from me, downstream.

I clung to his arm, refusing to let go, stared at the shore and concentrated. One step. Two. Another. It felt like it took forever. Each stumbling, clumsy step. Each inch of progress. But slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, I dragged him to the shore and out of the water. Then I collapsed beside him, sucking in huge gulps of air.

“Ohmygod,” I huffed. “Are you breathing? Please tell you’re breathing.” I shivered violently as the crisp air hit my soaked clothes, making them feel like ice.

“I’m breathing.” He reached for me, fingers curling around my hand. “Thanks to you.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Shock, I think. The cold water. Wasn’t expecting that.” He shivered. “Didn’t think the water would be so cold this time of year.”

I eyed the clear water with a new respect. “I didn’t know what was wrong.” My teeth chattered, making my words sound funny. “You wouldn’t move.”

I didn’t know what I would have done if he fell ill. Suddenly, being out here, in the boonies, alone with Kent felt a whole lot riskier. And not just because of our bet.

“Couldn’t move. We need to get out of these wet clothes,” Kent suggested.

“There you go again,” I said, trying to lighten the mood a bit so I wouldn’t panic. “Looking for an excuse to get me out of my clothes.” I rolled my eyes.

Kent laughed, sat up, and fumbled with his pack. His hands were working, but he moved a little clumsily, his movements jerky. I was hugely relieved he was alive but still worried. He needed to get warmed up.

He unzipped his pack, producing a flimsy silver sheet. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Take off those clothes and wrap up in this.”

“You’re kidding, right? I mean, it isn’t
that
cold out here. I’m sure I’ll be okay.” Leavng my clothes on, I wrapped the thin reflective blanket around my shoulders, surprised by how much warmer I felt. “Besides, only my pants are wet. You’re wet from head to toe.”

He closed his pack and threaded an arm through one of the straps.

“Aren’t you going to take off your clothes? And where’s your space blanket? You need one more than me.”

“I only brought one. Didn’t think we’d need more.”

I pulled it off and handed it to Kent.

He refused, waving a trembling arm. “No, you keep it.”

I sent him some don’t-make-me-kick-your-ass mean eyes. “Take it, dammit.”

He trundled away. Stubborn bastard. “No.”

I wadded the blanket up in my hands and shoved it at him.

It fell on the ground but I refused to pick it up.

Kent signed. “Shayne.”

“Don’t ‘Shayne’ me. You were immersed up to your neck. Wrap the damn blanket around yourself or I’ll kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.” His purple-tinted lips curled into a cocky grin. But he snatched up the blanket and did as he was told. “Happy?”

I tried very hard to hide my shivering. “Yes.”

“Good.” He waved a shaky arm. “Let’s get back to the house.”

I clamped my lips and swallowed a sarcastic comment about who was calling it quits early. I didn’t need to bruise Kent’s fragile man-ego. I knew he’d try to continue on if I did.

There was always tomorrow.

It seemed to take a lot less time going back. Even so, by the time we reached the house, my pants were dry and I wasn’t cold anymore. Kent, on the other hand, was still wet. It appeared the blanket held the wetness in. Before stepping inside, he stripped off all his clothes but his pants. Then he cranked on the heat, lit a massive inferno in the fireplace, and bundled himself up in multiple layers from head to toe.

Gradually the color returned to his golden-brown skin, to my relief. An hour later, he was still shivering, even though the heat was almost unbearable. The fire in the fireplace that was so hot I couldn’t sit near it without breaking out in a sweat.

Several hours later, things weren’t much better.

Kent didn’t act like himself for the rest of the day. He cooked dinner but didn’t eat. After dinner, he sprawled on the couch, a heavy quilt wrapped around him. The television was on but he didn’t look at it.

Getting worried, I placed my hand on his forehead.

It was hot. Very hot.

“You have a fever,” I informed him.

“I’m fine. Just chilled from the water.” He snugged the quilt tighter around himself.

My insides twisted and a massive chill rushed through my body. “No, you’re sick.”

“I don’t get sick,” the sick man proclaimed.

“Evidently you do. Because you are.” I glanced out the window. Trees. That’s all I saw. Trees. And mountains. How far were we from civilization? I had no idea where the nearest doctor was. Or hospital. What if he got worse? What would I do? I didn’t have a car. No phone service.

“I’m fine.” He blinked in slow motion, leaving his eyes at half-mast.

“You need rest. Medicine. A doctor--”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really. I’m okay. I’m not too proud to admit when I need help. If I needed a doctor, I’d tell you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Shayne.” He cupped my cheek. His palm felt hot. He was running a fever. I was sure of it. “Trust me.”

I huffed. “Fine. I’ll trust you.” I’d never met a more annoying or stubborn man in my life. “Come here and keep me warm.” I pulled on his shoulders, coaxing him to recline against me. He did more than that. He lay completely flat, his head cradled in my lap. The knit hat he’d donned flopped off, so I combed my fingers through his silky waves, enjoying this quiet moment of vulnerability.

His lips curved into a semi-smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked as I played with his hair.

“For saving my life. You could have fallen in, too. It was a selfless, brave thing to do.”

A tear of joy slipped from the corner of my eye. “You’re welcome.”

We were getting somewhere at last. It was sad it had taken a near-death experience for Kent to get to this point, but I wasn‘t complaining. His walls were crumbling. And I was finally able to see the man inside, the one who could be vulnerable.