by K. I. Lynn
I scowl at him. “How do you even know if it’ll fit me, dumbass?”
His eyes drop to my chest. Their emerald shade darkens and flash with a bodily hunger.
Right on cue, my nipples perk up.
Running his thumb along his bottom lip, he murmurs hotly, “Kira, I know those tits.”
“You’ve barely seen or touched them,” I snap. Oh God, why did I say that?
His eyes darken even more. “Trust me, baby. The sight and feel of them is etched into my mind.”
My nipples tighten to the smallest points possible, straining toward him. I can almost hear the little fuckers begging for him, him, him!
I take a step back, honest-to-God frightened and too weak to sift through the lust and pain I feel.
“Kira, oh my God look at the size of this thong, girl . . . never mind. Look at the size of all that man meat. Hello, there.”
Marilyn.
“Yo, Lyn! Let me see that—Jesus-fucking-Christ.” Insert low melodramatic gasp that isn’t really that low to begin with. “It’s Brayden Hunt.”
Ashley.
“Well, hello, big, sexy, and yummy. Kira, introduce us to your hot-as-hell stepbrother,” Jenna says.
I want to kill them all. My only friends. Just because they’re drooling over Brayden.
“Not now,” I tell them, struggling to hide how annoyed I am. Not stopping to analyze the impulse, I walk up to Brayden and tug on his sleeve to get him away from them.
He doesn’t budge.
“Besides—” I tug some more “—he’d try to flirt with all three of you at once. Total sleaze like that.”
“We wouldn’t mind,” they answer as one.
The vein in my temple almost pops.
Are they fucking serious right now?
Of course they are. It seems that almost every living, breathing female wants a taste of Brayden Hunt.
I renew my efforts to pull him away from my friends before they get any more ideas.
“Sorry, ladies,” Brayden says, finally walking backward as I continue to pull on his sleeve. “I’m a one-woman man now, and that’s not going to ever change.”
What he just said doesn’t register until we’re by the dressing rooms.
I let him go as if burned.
My heartbeat’s in my throat, choking me . . .
His smile is so wide now—the epitome of cockiness—and I just want to smack him across the face with my shopping bag. “What?”
Back into his pockets his hands go, and . . . is he rocking back and forth on his feet like an excited kid?
He is! This motherfucker is downright giddy.
“What?” I ask again.
“Nothing, baby.”
“Stop. Calling. Me. That!”
That smile remains fixed firmly on his face.
I shove him away. “You can go now.”
Brayden grabs my hand.
Gasping under my breath at the way my entire body heats up, I rip my hand out of his grasp. My mind twists and twists, spiraling into the memories of last night.
Him, on his knees, his mouth on my aching cunt, licking me until I had no choice but to come on his tongue.
Him telling me that he loves me.
“No. We’re spending the whole day together.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“You can’t. I’m hanging with my friends today.” Must get away. Must get away.
“I’ll tag along.”
“The hell you will. You can’t.”
“Sure I can.”
Desperate for an escape, I look around.
The dressing rooms. No way dipshit can follow me in there, and even if he waits for me, I’ll have a few solid minutes to regain some control. To remind myself why I can’t want him the way I do.
Because years of constantly reminding myself have worked out really well for me so far. Right.
Still, I bolt straight into the dressing room. There’s no one back here to count how many items I’m trying on.
Fuck it.
I dart behind a curtain all the way at the end, panting.
I’m alone. Thank God. Unfortunately all the privacy in the world can’t erase the images in my head.
Or the hungry pounding of my pussy.
Or the fact that there’s no way I can try on any of the panties I picked out. I’m fucking soaked, thanks to that asshole.
I grind my teeth, infuriated by the never-ending lack of control—
A head of black hair appears above the curtain.
Then a face.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss, glaring up at him.
He’s so tall that he has no problem looking into the stall and smiling down at me. “You look fucking adorable when you’re angry. You know that?” The curtain starts to move.
I snatch it out of his hand. “You’ve been telling me that since we were kids. It’s still not a free pass to piss me off all the damn time!” Too late I realize what I’ve admitted, the memories it dredges up.
Any wider and that smile is going to burst open his face.
One could only wish.
“You need to get out before someone sees you,” I say, holding the curtain in place.
He pulls on it lightly, his eyes dropping to my chest. “A chance I’m willing to take. Let me see you try on that bra.”
How can a request like that make my clit literally tremble as if stroked?
“What on earth makes you think I would do that?”
Molten eyes meet mine, focused. Intense. I feel like I’m being eaten alive by that stare. “Because you want me to see you in all that lingerie, Kira,” he rasps.
My mouth goes dry. “Idiot, you’re my stepbrother. What if one of my friends come back here and see you standing there like a psycho?”
“Willing to risk it.”
Staring up at the ceiling, I wonder what the fuck I ever did to deserve any of this. Even worse, his obnoxious, demanding way of flirting is getting to me. All I feel is that yawning chasm of hunger for him, the soul-deep ache that wants to connect with his body.
No, not “connect.” Fuck. It always comes down to the sex with him. I refuse to attach feelings to it any longer. I’m just horny for him and frustrated because I can’t have him.
Nothing more.
Annoyed, I yank open the curtain.
And come face to face with that massive chest. “Excuse me.”
He doesn’t move.
Not surprising.
“Brayden.”
His hand shoots up, cupping my jaw. His thumb skims along my bottom lip, parting my mouth open slowly. The look in his eyes makes me tremble harder.
“Fuck, baby. You’re practically vibrating for what I’m dying to give you.”
I can’t help but moan quietly at his statement. Miserable due to my weakness, I jerk my face out of his grasp. “Please move.”
With a low sigh, he does.
Another pause on my part, and I’m reminded of last night again. I’m used to Brayden doing what he wants, whenever he wants. Him actually acquiescing to a request of mine is utterly new to me.
I blink up at him, taken aback.
He glowers at me.
I wonder . . . biting the corner of my lip, I decide to give it a shot. “You can go now.”
“You’re pushing it, baby,” he says, eyes on my mouth.
Fuck me. I swallow hard. “I want you to leave.”
“I already gave you that last night. Today? I’m sticking around. For a little while, at least.”
So much for acquiescence. “Brayden, I can’t afford to argue with you about this with my friends around.”
“Then don’t.”
I resist the urge to jam one of the hangers into his eye. Regardless of my feelings toward him, it really is a very pretty eye. “What can I say to get you to leave me alone?”
Brayden gives me a sheepish smile and shrugs. “Absolutely nothing. Short of forgiving me and admitting you’re mine, of course.”
“I’d be lying if I said any of that.” I stomp out of the stall. I’m almost at the entrance to the dressing rooms when it occurs to me. “You can’t exit at the same time as I do. What if my friends see you?” There’s no plausible way to explain why my stepbrother is in the dressing room with me.
I won’t lie; I’m also hoping to use the opportunity to lose him.
“I’ll wait, but don’t think I won’t find you if you try to run out of here.”
Turning, I glare at him.
He lifts an eyebrow. “I know you. No running, baby.”
“Damn you. Stop calling me baby!”
The other eyebrow joins the first. He stares at me as if he knows why it drives me crazy when he calls me that, what it does to me.
He makes me feel powerless. Like I have no choice in this attraction, and I hate him for it.
But I have no plans of ever fucking him, not any more, and fucking him was the only thing I would’ve risked discovery for.
That and being his girl.
A discarded, stupid dream.
I will not face an entire town’s censure for nothing more than an inconvenient distraction and a few moments of lapsed judgement. That means I somehow have to convince this stubborn fuck to behave so that no one suspects what’s going on between us.
Which also means I’m stuck with him until I can persuade him to leave.
“You’re a ruthless bastard,” I grumble.
“Only when it comes to the woman I love.”
My brittle heart threatens to crack. “Whatever. Just wait here until it’s safe to leave.” I hightail it out of the dressing room, looking left and right like a guilty bitch.
Which I am. A guilty bitch who had just been entertaining the idea of letting her stepbrother eat her out inside that dressing room.
Ashley spots me from the line and calls me over.
Schooling my facial expression, I join the girls in the line.
“Did everything fit?” Ashley asks me.
I nod. A nonverbal lie.
Great. Looks like I’m buying the bra Brayden picked out for me.
“Where’s that hot piece of man meat you have for a stepbrother?” Jenna looks around, clearly trying to spot Brayden.
Unwarranted rage ignites in me. “You do realize he’s the biggest whore in town, right? And, hopefully, he broke his leg somewhere and won’t be joining us.”
Marilyn smiles. “You guys seem to act like you’re really brother and sister. It’s adorable.”
This horrifies me. More than it should. I don’t want to be seen as a girl interested in Brayden; the thought of us coming across as brother and sister makes me downright sick.
I’m such a mess.
A warm, muscular arm drapes over my shoulders. I know who it is without looking.
“Kira only pretends to hate me,” Brayden says. I can hear the smile in his voice.
“This is a filthy lie.” I elbow him in the side. He, of course, doesn’t let me go. “I despise you, and you know it.”
“Kira’s full of it. She loves me.” He smiles at my friends.
They melt in unison.
I hate them all.
Especially Brayden for that lie he just said. It’s impossible. Who would be foolish enough to love someone who has hurt them so much?
One of the girls at the register calls next. I rush forward, out of his hold, and hand her my items.
Brayden stops next to me and hands her his card.
What the hell?
Is he stupid?
I open my mouth to protest.
His eyes flicker in my direction. “Fight me over this baby, and I’ll kiss you. Right here, in front of everyone.”
I believe him. I really do.
And I’m absolutely disgusted with myself because I’m getting wetter with each “baby” he throws my way. “You wouldn’t,” I whisper, calling his bluff.
He licks his bottom lip. “Try me.”
The self-disgust expands at the impulse I have to try him. Definitely no doubt that he means it. For some reason, he’s become even more amoral than before. When it comes to me, a part of him really doesn’t care what everyone would think of him. He doesn’t care if they judge him for wanting his stepsister.
Silently seething, I watch as the cashier uses his card to ring up my lingerie purchases.
I now own sexy bras and panties that Brayden bought me.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only one watching. The girls are too.
Can they tell why he’s buying me these things? That he wants to see me wearing them?
Is it obvious that I’m aching, my clit needy and swollen because he’s the one paying for my lingerie?
I’m breathless the entire way out of Victoria’s Secret, and Brayden watches me, as if he knows why I’m having a hard time breathing.
“Cheesecake Factory, guys. I’m fucking starving.” Marilyn walks ahead of us, her blond ponytail bouncing behind her.
My way out. “Well, Brayden. It’s been real. Thanks for the—”
That damn arm drapes over my shoulders again. “I’m pretty hungry, too. Cheesecake Factory sounds perfect.”
Jenna and Ashley stare at us.
I fight to keep my face from turning red.
Thankfully, Brayden has the common sense to get his arm off me.
“You can’t go find somewhere else to eat while I hang out with my friends?”
“Nope. Plus, the girls don’t mind. Do you, girls?”
“Of course we don’t mind,” the trained little monkeys sing.
Of course they don’t.
Jenna turns, walking backwards, brown eyes fucking Brayden up and down. “You can tag along whenever you want.”
I stew in an unnerving fury as we walk to the restaurant.
Jenna doesn’t know I’m attracted to him, what I once felt for him, I remind myself. Yes, I want to freaking kill her, but she’s like this with all hot men. Always has been.
All my friends are shameless when it comes to sexy men. It’s to be expected that Marilyn and her twin Ashley keep sneaking horny glances at Brayden also.
Doesn’t matter that I know all this, how I try to rationalize it. By the time we’re in the Cheesecake Factory, my mood is beyond foul. A hostess leads us through the dimly lit restaurant toward a booth.
I stop in my tracks, fully expecting my friends to go at it, battling for the right to sit next to Brayden.
They all cram into one side of the booth, talking and giggling.
They left the other side empty for just me.
And Brayden.
That’s when panic hits. Oh no . . .
“You have to go,” I tell Brayden in a rush. They’re going to interrogate me once he leaves, and I’ll have to come up with believable lies and do so fast, but the sooner he leaves the better.
The sooner he leaves, the sooner they stop jumping to more conclusions.
Brayden pauses in the middle of reading something on his phone. Scowling, he puts it in his pocket. “Tough luck. I’m not going anywhere.”
What is he so mad at? “I’m serious, Brayden. I think my friends suspect something. I know them.”
“Tough. Luck.” He grabs my arm, practically forcing me to the booth, staring all around the restaurant with that expression that promises a beatdown.
Who is he looking for?
I want to bash him over the head for not taking me seriously. Not that I can. All I can do is slide into the booth, guilt and panic suffocating me.
The girls purposely sat together, leaving me no choice but to sit next to Brayden. If any of them had really wanted him the way they’d seemed to, it would’ve been Battle Royale among them to get to sit next to him. There’s no doubt in my mind they suspect who Brayden is to me.
The guy who destroyed me months ago.
He slides in next to me, leaving a foot of space between us. His eyes continue to flicker around the restaurant.
Ashley’s twinkling blue eyes focus on me.
I get busy studying the menu, making sure to keep my eyes away from Brayden.
Deja vu hits.
The last time I was in a restaurant with Brayden, in an eerily similar situation, I ended up getting fingered under the table.
Then, I was eaten out inside a bathroom stall.
Right before he rocked his huge cock against my pussy and I felt it coming in my hands.
God help me.
Arousal slaps me, gaining force. I cross my legs, my pussy throbbing between them. I can’t have him near me. I just can’t.
A waiter comes to take our orders.
When it’s my turn, I can’t find the strength to speak. Brayden’s at least nice enough to order something for me—the same thing he’s having, but really, at this point I don’t care.
I don’t need food. I need distance from him. Space. He’s affording me neither. Yes, there’s at least a foot between his body and mine, but just having him in the same room drives me nuts.
Brayden’s large hand lands on my knee.
I choke back a gasp. No, not again.
Please, don’t do this to me . . .
“Move over, I have to go to the bathroom,” Jenna tells Ashley and Marilyn.
“Actually, me too.” Marilyn stands.
Ashley follows her out of the booth. “I’ll go with you guys.”
Panicked, I open my mouth—
Brayden’s hand slides up, cupping my pussy over the thin, loose genie pants I’m wearing.
Silencing me.
The girls abandon me, without so much as a “we’ll be back.”
“Let go of me,” I say under my breath.
Brayden turns his head in my direction. The way he stares at me heats me up all over.
I look away.
He rubs his fingers into my clit. “Look at me, baby.”
I bite down on my lip, trying to shift away. “B-Brayden. Stop. Please.”
Sucking on his bottom lip, he rubs my clit again, soft circles that almost make me levitate off my damn seat. “You need to come, Kitty. Let me give it to you. I’m dying for it.”
“St-stop. People . . . my friends.”
“I’m keeping an eye out. Don’t worry about that. Just feel me.”
I do. I feel what he’s doing to me everywhere, each light stroke driving me crazier. Pressing my legs together does nothing but trap his hand there, right up against my aching core.
The pleasure spikes. My hips rock into his hand. I’m too hungry to fight this. The desperation claws at my soul, ripping my resolve from me.