Stepbrother UnSEALed (2 page)

Oh God, is he completely naked under there? I'm a little relieved when I see the navy blue trunks as he kicks off the rest – but only a little.

He's...magnificent.

His back looks powerful, just like a hardened swimmer's who's been at it for a long time. Muscular creases collide with long, dark stripes permanently inked on his flesh. He's
big
, but he's smooth, sculpted, and his skin looks totally natural, healthy and real in a way Tangerine Man will never be.

Sure, it's silly to prefer ink all over his body instead of too much UV tone, but I can't help myself. Then he turns around, and my eyes almost pop out.

His chest looks like an underwear model's, if they put their perfect bodies under the world's most skilled tattoo artists. More dark stripes spike up his arms, like flames licking his biceps, and something dark and menacing lines his broad chest.

It's some kinda dragon. The beast surrounds an anchor or multi-pronged pitchfork, a lot like my grandfather's old Navy patches that dad keeps hanging proudly in his office.

He's mature, several years older than me, but young and alive, like he's fresh out of college.

Our eyes lock. His are bright green, set in a strong face, with just the right amount of dark, sandy stubble. His jaw looks like it's home to the most capable mouth in the world, able to kiss or spit so much fire he can burn whatever the hell he wants.

Maybe even
who
he wants.

Oh, God.
I'm supposed to give him a polite warning about diving on our little stretch of land, but now I can't even think. I'm starting to feel like a bitch for inwardly rolling my eyes at Marnie and her boy toys after all.

“Didn't know I had an audience,” he growls, giving his rubber suit a swift kick behind him and marching toward me. “Where the fuck did you come from, princess?”

Jesus. The tone in his voice makes it sound like
I'm
the intruder here.

“You're not supposed to be diving here.” I swallow weakly and point to the nearest PRIVATE PROPERTY sign behind me, wondering if he can even read it in the creeping darkness.

Mystery Man focuses his eyes through the darkness before he looks at me. “Aw, shit. I thought this whole stretch was public?”

I shake my head. “No, my dad owns it.”

Damn!
Why is it so hard to form words? It's not like he's going to grab me and throw me in the water for saying the wrong thing.

The man cocks his head and smiles. “What did daddy do to buy himself such prime beachfront? Hell, who'd he fuck to make a sexy thing like you? The rich guys I know all look like something I oughta find under the ocean.”

I'm floored at the crude, half-complimentary things spewing out of his mouth. Then the big, beautiful bastard closes the last few steps between us and throws his arms around me, pulling me close.

Despite being beneath the cool waves only a few minutes ago, his chest is warm, dangerously hot and tempting. Finally, I'm thankful for the shorts. If I had bikini bottoms on right now, I'm sure he'd see them soaked, and then I'd probably drop dead from embarrassment.

“You know, I normally don't take orders from little girls standing on the beach in their PJs,” he whispers in my ear, his breath so hot it matches the fire rippling in my blood. “But I normally don't fuck up and drag myself onto a billionaire's private beach club either. What's going on over there? Big party?”

Tilting his head, he looks over my shoulder, noticing the light and noise from all the partiers. Just the perfect angle for his sandpaper stubble to rake my shoulder, ruining any urge to fight him off for at least another ten numb seconds.

“I'll be damned.” He pulls back, staring me straight in the eyes. “You don't look like much of a party girl, princess. Then again, I've fucked enough girls in my day to know the quiet ones are always the wildest. Go on, get back to your fun. I'll be on my way.”

His hands slowly slide down my body as he releases me, driving me temporarily insane.

This can't be happening, getting felt up by a total stranger. Why am I letting him?

Some crazy instinct flips on and my hand flies across his face.

Before I know what's happened, there's needles on my palms, and I realize I've just slapped Mystery Man. My jaw drops.

“Oh, crap. Jesus. I'm sorry, sir, I really didn't mean to hit you like that. I just got carried away when you started feeling around for –“

What, exactly? Maybe I screwed up, misread him, even if he was getting way too close for comfort.

“For what?” he says coldly, reaching down to a huge bag at his feet to start packing up his gear. “You've got nothing to worry about. I said I'm on my way out. I'm used to partying on these beaches too when I'm stateside. It's fucking hard keeping my hands to myself when I see a firecracker.”

He flashes me a smile, complete with dimples that bend in on his cheeks. My heart sinks as I watch him stuffing his scuba gear away.

Yeah, he's been rude, but I haven't exactly been an angel. Clearing my throat, I step up to him again, gently reaching for his shoulder.

He stands up, a fresh change of clothes in his hands, turning to look at me when he feels my touch. “What?”

“Hey, I didn't mean to just brush you off. I'm not as rude as I seem. You probably think I'm a snob, but if you want, we've got an open bar and some music tonight. It's no big deal if you want to hang around and have a few drinks. This isn't like an invite-only thing.”

He quirks an eyebrow, moving his eyes up and down my curves. “Yeah? You're serious?”

I nod. I'm not sure what's pumping my heart harder – the awkward guilt, or seeing how hard his tattooed muscles flex when he drops his pants and boxers, ready to roll them on.

“Sounds a helluva lot more fun than being slapped by a party girl. Turn around while I get dressed. Unless, you know, you wanna rake those little nails across somewhere else on my body.”

I'm not sure what's pounding more hot blood as I spin around. My nipples are like hot, wild buds beneath my tank top, but the heat in my cheeks is almost enough to burn me alive.

I lead Mystery Man to the small private bar and watch as he orders a dark beer and another martini for me.

“So, what the hell were you doing out there diving this late at night?” I stare at the neat white button down shirt he's changed into. It clings perfectly to his slab of a chest.

“Work. Fitness. Pleasure too. You'd be amazed at all the things you can see along this stretch of beach. This place is pretty damned pristine by Bay Area standards.”

I sip my martini, unable to keep my eyes off just
how
sculpted he really. He sounds too smart to be a beach bum bodybuilder like Marnie's new fling. Only one possibility comes to mind.

“Are you Navy, or something?”

“Yeah, you can say that,” he says with a wink, taking a long pull from his beer. “I didn't really come here to talk about business. Listen to that music.”

He holds up a finger, and I sit up straight, listening to the booming speakers. There are only a few couples left swinging drunkenly around the fire, occasionally collapsing into the sand underfoot with bawdy laughter.

“I didn't get your name,” he says, standing up and darting his eyes over my top.

I try not to flush. “Cordelia. Everybody calls me Delia.”

“Fuck, for real? I've never heard that name outside the Johnny Cash song.” He snorts, and then smiles. “Love it. Does Delia like to dance dirty?”

I'm stunned. Is he seriously asking me to dance? Nobody's done that since high school prom, and the skinny geek I danced with there didn't have
anything
on this god.

He gestures toward the open fire, polishing off his drink. Before I can answer, he slams his empty glass down with a clink, and grabs my wrist.

“Come on, babe. This is supposed to be a party.” He pulls me along, picking me up with one arm under mine, carrying me across the sand toward the dance around the fire. “My name's Chris, by the way.”

I'd say 'pleased to meet you,' but I'm yelling instead when she swings me completely over his shoulder and flings me around, before pushing my bare feet into the sand with ease. Right where he wants me. It's hard to keep up, and he does most of the work.

I catch flashes of his eyes on me, checking to make sure I'm not going to freak out and walk away. Once his hands wrap tight around my waist, jerking me close to his chest, it's not even a possibility.

“Too rough for you?” he asks, pushing his hot breath into my ear.

My brow furrows. I'm tired of being the boring good girl at all these parties. I want to act out, and the perfect opportunity just landed in my lap – or is it up my skirt?

My panties feel like they're about to melt, but I force my hips to grind into him, wrapping my arms around his thick neck.

“No. Show me what you can do.”

His green eyes light up and he grins. “I knew you'd be fun, Delia. I'm gonna move fast, swift,
hard.
I'll take you every goddamned place I see you begging for in your dark little eyes. I'm in control. I've got you.”

Everything about him screamed powerful before. But once he's moving me effortlessly across the sand, around the fire, tangling our shadows together like rich black waves, I know it's true.

Something visceral tells me I'm clinging to a real man, an alpha male with an edge to him that's so sharp I want him to cut me to pieces.

Chris handles me with strength and elegance. Total control. Everything he promised.

He flings me through the air and rips me back, dangerously close to his heat, his temptation, before tearing me away again.

He makes me want. I'm dying to feel his mouth on mine, his hands on my hips, his strength between my legs. His power wants to conquer, and I want to submit.

His hands are everywhere – long enough to tease, but never lingering so long it wins him another slap across the face.

I'm glad I slowed down on the drinks. Some of the strange tango movements he leads me through are so quick, so vibrant, they'd upset my stomach if I'd had a little more. So would the swarms of butterflies he's stirring up from head to toe.

Mostly, I'm drunk on the adrenaline, the hellfire coursing through my blood, filling all my tender parts with crazy admiration, wanton desire, ruthless excitement.

Obsession, in a word.
Crazy fucking need.

We dance for what seems like ten minutes, and I'm breathless by the end. Toward the last spin, his hands sweep across my ass, grab it hard, and pull me into him. My legs part automatically. I'm only against him for a second, but I swear I feel something hard and wild in his jeans, something electrifying.

The current hits and makes my whole body tingle. My head spins as he finally settles me in the sand for good, still holding me close.

There's a clapping noise. I look up, and realize some of the drunken partiers are applauding us. Chris waves, brushing it off like it's nothing. It doesn't take them more than a few seconds to go back to their private revelry.

“Wow. Holy shit. Where'd you learn to do that?” I gasp, trying to recover precious oxygen.

“A man learns a few things when he's been around the world like I have. Tonight, I only care about this beach.”

The way he's looking at me makes me feel like it's
not
just the beach. There's a hunger in his eyes, a feral look I've only seen on my short-term boyfriends a few times before. The big difference is, for the first time in my life, I'm sure I'm beaming back the same desire.

“You're a bigger party girl than I thought, Delia.” He pushes his chin against my shoulder, moves his lip to my ear, and growls. “You move like a fucking angel, when I make you. Will your lips twist like they were made to kiss me, or am I gonna have to lead them too?”

Oh, God. God!
He doesn't waste any time. His hips grind against me, giving me another rough, wonderful feel of that huge, angry hardness he's sporting beneath his denim.

My hand slides down between us, checking if I'm completely soaked through my shorts. Not quite, but there's definitely a heat; a raw, wet craving so bad it makes me want to rip my clothes off.

I have to taste him. Craning my head, I pucker up, moving in for a kiss.

He preempts me, driving his firm, strong lips against mine first.
Bastard.

Wonderful, arrogant bastard.

Masculine warmth floods my mouth. Chris takes my mouth in a heartbeat, blitzes my lips. His kiss is intense, decisive, and so is the way he parts my lips, shoving his hot tongue into my mouth.

I can't hold back the moan that washes over me. It comes from deep in my belly, pulses into his mouth, like I'm sharing the horny fire deep inside me.

His breath quickens. His chest bows up, pushes against mine, giving my buds the perfect friction.

So much for regaining my breath. By the time he breaks the kiss, I'm panting, struggling not to pass out from the wild thunder in my blood, plus the surreal realization that I want to
fuck
this strange badass.

“You like my taste, baby?” His eyes burn me down as I nod shyly. I can't deny it.

He smiles before he leans in again, stamping his mad lips up my throat, working his way to my ear. “Good. I want to feel your hungry little lips wrapped around every fucking inch of my cock. Now.”

He's got me by the wrist again, and we're heading for the bar, but we pull past it. It's like my feet have turned into dumbbells, and I trip all over myself, trying to keep up with him.

Hell, trying to decide if I'm really going to go all the way and get my V-card punched by this wild animal tonight.

I don't have long to decide. My body does it for me when he slams me against the wall, covering my mouth with his again, picking up where we left off.

Except now we're truly alone and secluded, behind my dad's beach bar. His kisses crash over me again and again, as sure and powerful as the dark waves lapping the shore behind us. He palms my breast, pinching my nipple, and I almost come on the spot.

“Christ. Chris!” Mom would slap me across the face if she heard me confusing Jesus with the bad boy at my throat.