Threat (14 page)

Then, his hand is gone and he wraps his mouth around my neck, his
tongue is hot and lapping at my flesh. I suck in a mouthful of air
and hold my breath. He moves slowly,
with
a
surprising mix of gentility and
strength as he suckles my skin, the sensation sending waves of heat
between my thighs. Of course he knows what he's doing—a guy
like him has had plenty of practice.

His hands are sliding dangerously low on my body. One brushes over
the curve of my breast, bare beneath the thin fabric of my tank top,
down to my stomach, which quivers beneath his fingertips. I should
tell him to knock it off, I should elbow him in the side and climb
away from the bed. But every time I open my lips to speak my brain
turns to mush and not a single intelligible word comes out.

His fingers creep beneath the waist band of my shorts, and then the
waist band of my panties. Oh, God, he's going to…

“Last chance to tell me to fuck off,” he says.

I swallow hard without a word. I'm way too past the brink to step
back from the edge now.
And the second I feel
his fingers slip between my lips I gasp, losing any semblance of a
rational thought I had left.

He chuckles into my ear, feeling my wetness. “I
guess you needed my help after all.”

God, I'm going to hate myself in the morning.
I
hate how fucking cocky he is and I hate it even more when he's right.
But fucking love the way he touches me, the way he circles my clit
with just the right amount of pressure, the way he makes my body
curve against his.

His other hand wraps lightly around my neck,
holding me in place against his body. “How's that, baby?”
he asks. His tongue darts into my ear and I let out a cry so mangled
that even I don't recognize it. He snakes his finger inside me, his
palm still pressing against my mound. My eyes roll back and I
practically melt into him—it's my sign of surrender to whatever
depraved plans he has in store for me. I'm still acutely aware of
just how wrong this is, difference is now I can't bring myself to
care.

His hands are like magic, feeling me in ways
that could be fatally addictive. My lip slips between my teeth as I
clutch his arm tight, his muscles twitching in my hands as he brings
me to a climax. I moan, grinding against his hand, all of my senses
exploding at once. A real fucking climax?! For a while I started to
question if those actually existed. I sure as hell never felt one,
not by my own doing or the work of someone else, but yet someone as
self-centered as Threat can make it happen with the flick of his
wrist. How is this possible?

I pant, my body going limp in his arms. I lie
there speechless and unable to focus on anything but him and his
wicked touch as I slowly float down from my high.

And then it dawns on me—he's going to
want something in return. What guy is that generous without wanting
gratification of his own? Shit. Why didn't I push him off of me when
I knew I should have No guy, especially not a guy like him, ever
gives anything without getting something back.

I shut my eyes tight, wishing I could take it
all back. Except not. Am I being selfish?

I brace myself for his request, but much to my
surprise, he lets me go. The bed shifts beneath me, and out of the
corner of my eye, I see him roll on to his back and scoot back to his
side of the mattress.

“Sweet dreams, sis,” he says.

Sis.

Hearing him call me that makes me cringe. What
was I thinking, and what if someone found out about this?

But really, is that all? Apparently so, because
he's on his back and snoring within minutes—what the
hell
?

And what the hell is wrong with me for feeling
slightly disappointed?

LEAH

I don't think I got a lick of sleep last night
until the sun came up, which wasn't that long ago. I can lie and tell
myself that it was Threat's snoring that kept me wide awake for
hours, but it wasn't. Our encounter, on the other hand—that's
still fresh on my mind. I'm still not sure what I was thinking or why
the hell I let that happen. So it felt good—so what? I'm not
the type who does things just because they feel good. I've never even
understood people who operate on that plane. I do things because
they're right, because they're logical, and because they make sense.
And there wasn't a damn thing right, logical, or sensible about
letting my step-fucking-brother feel me up.

Out of nowhere, the bed jostles violently below
me. “Wake up, kid, we've got places to go.”

It's Threat, of course, and he's jumping on to
the edge of the bed beside me.

With a loud groan I roll over on to my stomach,
and not just because I'm still groggy. I don't want to do this. I
don't want to have to spend the rest of the day traveling with him,
and I sure as hell don't want to have to face him after last night.

“How long are you going to lay there? Get
up now, we don't have all day.”

I just want to tell him to shut up and let me
sleep but it's not exactly in Threat's nature to just let something
go, now is it? Nope, of course not. Because the next thing I know he
yanks the covers off me.

“Hey!” I shout, pulling my shorts
down to an appropriate length. I fully expect him to make some crude
comment about me trying to cover areas he touched last night, but
thankfully he doesn't.

“Are you gong to sleep until noon? We
need to get going.”

Noon?! I shoot up in bed and look at the
nightstand.

It's 7:45.

I shoot Threat a sideways glance and quickly
notice that he's already dressed but drenched in sweat.

“The hell happened to you?” I
asked.

“I went for a run, what does it look
like?” he replies.

He's done with a run by 7:45? Now that's
dedication. I'm kind of impressed—who knew Threat had that kind
of discipline?

And then I remember last night and the
awkwardness kicks in. I just sort of stare at him, wide eyed and
aimlessly. He's not even flashing me that cocky grin of his, or
bragging about making me another notch on his belt. He's acting like
nothing at all happened and I'm not sure if that's any better.

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Uh, is there
something wrong?” he asks

I cringe in silence for a moment. “I
mean...last night...” Okay, trying to talk about it is
officially ten times more awkward than evading it. Leave it to me to
just not leave well enough alone.

“Yeah? What about it?” He shrugs.
“You're not going to act all awkward around me now are you?”

Possibly.
“No?”

“Good. We're both adults here, right?”
I don't answer. “I was just doing my part, being a good
Samaritan and all, by helping out someone in dire need of getting
laid.”

Sigh.
And
there it is. “Yeah, thanks for that,” I reply wryly.

He grins and takes a bite of the apple in his
hand. “Not a problem. I'd want someone one to do the same if it
were me.”

I'm sorry I even brought it up. Can this
conversation just end?

“Not that I would be in that situation,”
he adds.

Of course not; that would be too easy.

He moves to the other side of the room and
retrieves something from the chair. “Almost forgot, I grabbed
you some breakfast.” A crumpled McDonald's bag lands next to me
on the mattress, the smell of fried grease and lard suddenly wafting
through the air.

I just stare down at it and wonder how he
expects me to eat at a time like this. I almost fucked my
step-brother last night. The thought of that alone makes my stomach
turn.

“Not that hungry,” I mumble and
push it away.

“Yeah? Well eat anyways, we have a long
day ahead of us.”

“We're not actually that far from the
lake. It's just a few hours away.”

“We have to pick up my bike first, who
knows how long that could take.”

I forgot about that, dammit. Why did we have to
take his stupid bike out this way? Of course that thing broke down in
this kind of heat. I burying my face in my hands. “Great.”

“So... if you're not going to jump in the
shower I will.”

I blink rapidly as I stare him down. His
nonchalance is getting under my skin and heightening the fact that I
feel anything but. What kind of effed up childhood did he have that
makes him think this is all no biggie?

“Is this seriously normal to you?”

He looks confused. “Uh, is...
what
normal?”

I cock my head to the side, not wanting to say
it.

His face contorts. He looks at me like
I'm
the odd one here. “Are we seriously still on that subject?”

“Last night—”

“What, do you want me to propose or
something?”

“God, no. I'm just saying, you don't
think it was the least bit weird?”

“Damn, and here I thought it would make
you
less
cranky. I guess nothing's going to cure you except a good old
fashioned dicking.”

Did he really just… “What?!”
Good grief, that is so fucking disrespectful. And flat out
inappropriate!

“You're so tightly wound, I figured your
problem was just that you hadn't been fucked properly in a long
time,” he pauses, and my blood boils. “If ever.”

“I am not tightly wound, and we did not
fuck.
”
My teeth clench as I speak.

That sly grin of his creeps back across his
arrogant mug. “Say 'fuck' again, sis.”

“Ugh!” I shout. “You are
insufferable, you know that?”

“I mean it. It was really hot.”

“
Stop
.”

He throws his head back and says, “Don't
you mean...
ooh, don't stop, Threat!
Oh God don't stop!
”

My eyes flare. I'm quite sure my cheeks are red
as beets but I do
not
care. “You asshole,” I hiss, picking up the last pillow
left on the bed and clobbering him right over the head with it.

His laughter bellows throughout the room, even
though I get him good.

“How about you,” he starts, turning
me by the shoulders and nudging me towards the bathroom, “Get
in the shower so we can get out of here before nightfall. Like I
said, we have a lot of shit to do today.”

What kind of torture does he have in store for
me? Before I can ask, he slaps me right on the ass, startling me and
making me jump. I turn and give him the evil eye, which he seems to
get a kick out of.

“Feel free to think of me when you do
what you need to do in there,” he winks.

I let the door slam right in his annoying face.

*

I don't ask questions when I get into the
rental car with Threat. It's not like we can go very far because I
know there's no chance he's leaving his bike behind. But he gets on
the freeway and seems to be taking us farther than I expected. The
curiosity is killing me and so are my nerves—when Threat gets
an idea it's never a good one and I have no idea what I'm in for.

I reach for the dash, turning down the volume
on the hard rock music he has up a decibel too high.

“Okay, I fold,” I say. “Just
where are you taking me?”

“It's a surprise,” he replies,
keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

I don't want to be a nag, and I don't want to
start anything. Truth be told I'm still ticked off about his tightly
wound comment, but I'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing
that I give a shit about what he thinks of me.

“A clue, maybe?”

He shakes his head. “Nope, sit back,
relax and enjoy the ride,” he says, reaching over to pat my
thigh.

I swat his hand away. “You know, you
don't have privileges to touch me just because we...”

He glances at me from the driver's side.
“Because we what?” he asks with a smirk.

“Nothing,” I mumble. I shift in my
seat, angling myself towards the window and watching road sign after
road sign whip past. Whatever part of Utah this is it doesn't look
familiar and I'm sure I haven't been here before. It doesn't even say
Salt Lake City on the freeway signs anymore, so clearly, we're headed
in a different direction. I have a hard time imagining Threat having
many friends out this way, or really anything that interests him in
the state at all. That just makes me even more worried about where
we're headed.

“You know, the further we drive the
further we're just going to have to backtrack,” I say. “And
then once we get your bike we still have another 200 miles until we
get to Salt Lake.”

“I have something important I want to
show you,” he answers. “We should be pulling off the
freeway in about five minutes here.”