Stepbrother Romance 2 - Consumed: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Taylor, Tawny

  If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was the sight of my mother crying. My heart broke, shattering into a million pieces. I pulled her into my arms.

  Just then an explosion outside boomed, glittering lights illuminating the dark sky. Fireworks.

  How ironic, those fireworks would probably pale in comparison to the ones that had just exploded out by the pond.

  Chapter 8

  The rumble sounded like the echo of fireworks. After a second flash lit up the room I was wide awake, sitting upright on the puny loveseat I now called home. I looked out the window.

  That wasn’t fireworks. The party was over. Long over. It was thunder.

  Crap, I hated storms.

  I flopped back down and pulled a pillow over my head, hoping to drown out the banging and booming. Rain lashed the window. The wind howled like a wolf. And the pillow did absolutely nothing to muffle anything.

  There was no hope for me. Between the storm blasting outside and the one in my head, because of that infuriating, confusing Kent, I wasn’t going to sleep. I went to the kitchen and poured myself another glass of wine.

  The wind was really blowing now, so strongly I heard the trees outside bending to its unrelenting anger. A tad nervous, I peered out to the window and downed half the alcohol in my glass.

  The big tree that stood next to the carriage house was taking the brunt of the blustering force, limbs waving madly, like the floppy arms of a ragdoll. In some respects I knew how that tree felt, being subjected to a force of nature so overpowering it was defenseless against it. That was how I felt whenever Kent was near. He made the strongest parts of me bend and break. I needed to get away from him.

  Just as I was about to step away from the window, a massive gust slammed the tree. It was too much. One half of the tree split from the rest and tumbled down, down, down, crashing on the top of the carriage house.

  The building quaked like a bomb had struck it. The deafening noise of wood and brick giving way thundered. Terror froze me for one long, bloated second.

  Then I dropped my glass and dashed to the stairs. Mom and Dirk. Their bedroom was upstairs. I had to get to them. They had to be okay.

  As I climbed the rubble-clogged staircase, rain pelted me, the drops pounding so hard they stung. Overhead, a jagged hole yawned, opening the house to the storm’s fury.

  “Mom!” I screamed as loud as I could over the roar of the wind. “Mom!” My throat burned. My heart thumped. Where was she?

  “Here! Here we are.”

  Her voice was strong, thank God. She was alive. She was okay. I climbed over fractured tree limbs and busted drywall and lumber to get to their bedroom. The door wouldn’t budge. I pushed. I shoved. I kicked.

  “Shayne,” she yelled from inside. “I can’t get the door. We’re trapped. And Dirk is hurt. Part of the roof fell on him.”

  Panic raced through me, producing massive surges of adrenaline. There was no time to waste. I needed to get them out now! “I’ll get help,” I screamed.

  Unable to move fast enough, I ran-slash-tumbled down the clogged stairway back to the living room, grabbed my cellphone with my trembling hands, and poked 9-1-1. As I was waiting for an answer, the front door flew open and in stomped Kent, soaked to the skin, eyes wide.

  “Is everyone all right?” he yelled.

  The dispatcher answered, and I pointed up, indicating to Kent that there was trouble upstairs. In the phone, I said, “We need help. A tree has fallen and my parents are stuck upstairs. One has been injured.”

  Kent’s eyes went wider and within a blink he was out of sight, upstairs.

  I rattled off our location while scrambling upstairs after Kent. I stopped before reaching the top because I was afraid the driving rain would shut down my cellphone, my lifeline to help. I watched, with my heart pounding in my throat, as Kent kicked at the blocked door with all his might. I watched the door splinter. And I watched him tear it to pieces with his bare hands. And before the sound of sirens reached my ears, I watched him help Mom and a limping Dirk climb through the hole he’d made in the door.

  Kent Payne was a total asshole when it came to women. But I had to give him one thing: when it came to family, he did what he had to, to protect them. And he did not give up. No matter what. His hands were bloody, the skin torn by the splintered wood. And all to protect his father and stepmom. My mom. The most important person in the world to me.

  An hour later we were all safe in the main house--Mom, Dirk, Kent, and me. Dirk refused treatment when the EMT’s tried to take him to the hospital, claiming he was okay, just a little bruised and sore. He and Mom were now holed up in a bedroom together, Mom probably fussing over him since she was worried he might be more injured than he realized.

  Kent was somewhere—maybe in his bedroom—probably tending to his wounded hands. Like his father, he’d refused treatment from the EMTs. Me, I was in my former bedroom, on the other side of the wall from his, staring at the ceiling, wishing I could sleep.

  Being back in this room made things even worse than before. I still had very little respect for Kent as a husband. He cheated on his wife. With me. And at least a few dozen other women. As it was said: once a cheater, always a cheater.

  But a tiny part of me reasoned that it wasn’t easy for a man to stay committed to a woman who was never around. His wife hadn’t made a single appearance, not one, since I’d met him.

  Was there more than one side to this story? I wanted to know.

  Then again, did I?

  If I did learn there was more to it than Kent being a two-timing asshole, I might change my opinion of him. And if that happened…I might…I might fall in love with him again. Or rather, I might fall more in love with him than I already was. And that, regardless of whether Kent was married or not, would be a bad thing.

  Because it would probably still lead to nothing but heartbreak and frustration.

  It was better, safer, if I could go on disliking him. Maybe, after what had happened tonight, he didn’t deserve the hatred I’d felt toward him before. After all, he had protected me. And my mom. And he’d endured plenty of pain in the process. But that was as far as I would go. No further. It wasn’t safe to allow myself to feel tender emotions toward him. Like admiration. Respect. Affection.

  I inhaled deeply. His scent surrounded me.

  Dammit, this sucked. Because all my clothes had been saturated, thanks to the big hole in the carriage house’s roof, he’d loaned me a dry t-shirt and pair of shorts to sleep in. They smelled like him. And that scent stirred too many memories, too many emotions.

  Annoyed I couldn’t sleep, I opened the door and peered into the hallway. The house was silent. Everyone was sleeping…I hoped. I crept into the kitchen for some water then headed outside onto the deck. The storm was long gone, leaving in its wake heavy, damp air and broken tree limbs. I could see the outline of the carriage house but it was too dark to see the damage it had sustained. I knew it was bad. Which meant Mom, Dirk and I were all temporarily homeless.

  Sipping my water, I leaned my hip against the railing and watched a fallen branch float in the pool.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  I knew that voice. It belonged to Kent. The guy who made me feel too many emotions, who made me think too many things. I wasn’t ready to deal with him.

  “It’s been quite a day,” I said without turning around. In my mind I saw him wearing a snug tank, the knit material clinging to his ripped abs, and a pair of shorts, sculpted thighs and calves covered in coarse, dark hair. I tried to blot out the image by focusing on the branch in the pool, but it didn’t work.

  “Yes,” he agreed, “Rough night too.”

  I nodded.

  Something touched me. A hand. On my shoulder. I flinched but the hand didn’t move. “This gives me a chance to talk to you about what happened earlier. With Zack.”

  I owed him a thank you for what he did, even if I felt the fight was very brutal. I knew I did, but it was hard to force the words from my m
outh. A big lump of emotion was blocking my throat. “Yes. Thank you. For…for protecting me. From Zack.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken it as far as it did. I was angry.”

  Something in his voice made me turn to face him. Regret, maybe? Our eyes met and a rush of emotion swept through me. He confused and confounded me, and I hated it. After everything that had happened today, I didn’t know how I felt about him. Hate. Love. Respect. Lust. Distrust. All of the above? All I knew was that I felt something, and that something was very powerful. Just like the wind earlier, thrashing at the trees.

  The tree broke.

  I was afraid I would too.

  I said, “I admit I was shocked when you came out of nowhere and beat him practically to death. I mean, he was an old friend of yours and he hadn’t done anything to me--”

  “That little prick was never a friend of mine. And he hadn’t hurt you yet, but he was about to.”

  That lump, the one in my throat, doubled in size. I swallowed. Hard. “I believe you.”

  He stepped closer, his gaze traveling up and down my body, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. I set the glass down and crossed my arms over my chest. The deck railing dug into my back, letting me know I couldn’t step backward, couldn’t put any space between us. The air thinned, forcing me to breathe faster, deeper.

  “I know I shouldn’t have beaten him the way I did. But the thought of that asshole touching you made me crazy.” He cupped my cheek, and I shivered. Instead of pulling away, I leaned into the touch.

  This was bad. I couldn’t do this again, couldn’t let him use my body to conquer my mind. I knew what was right and wrong. This was wrong. For a lot of reasons.

  His thumb grazed my lower lip and I trembled. “Kent, please stop.” Before it’s too late.

  “If he’d hurt you I would’ve killed him. I would’ve ripped out his throat with my bare hands.”

  Slightly intimidated and shocked by his threat, but also warm, breathless, and dizzy because of his touch, I placed my hand over his, weaving our fingers together. I’d intended to pull his hand away from my face but instead I pushed it flatter against it.

  Why? Why was I so weak?

  This guy is married. Married! He’s unpredictable. And capable of doing major damage with just his hands.

  I pulled that hand away, studying it. His knuckles and fingers were bruised, cut and bloodied. Some of that blood had been spilled because of me. And my mom. Nobody had ever shed blood for us. We’d only ever had each other…until now.

  I ran my thumb over his knuckle. “It’s okay,” I told him. “Zack didn’t hurt me. He won’t hurt me. No man will.” Except for you.

  Kent’s gaze was razor sharp, piercing, and invasive, as he looked at me. What did he see when he looked into my eyes? What was he searching for? “Are you afraid of me, Shayne?”

  I shook my head even as a little quiver of unease quaked through me. “No. Of course not.” He was still staring into my eyes, digging, delving, deep, deeper. I wanted to look away. I felt too vulnerable.

  “You are, aren’t you, Shayne. You’re scared of me. But also…what?” When I couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, he pushed my chin up, not allowing me to hide my eyes from him. “Does my unpredictability excite you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.

  It was absolutely terrifying how easily he read me. It was as if he knew me better than I knew myself. It did excite me, I realized. His powerful, overbearing ways made him not only forbidden but also dangerous. And yes, that did make my blood pump faster. But how did he know?

  His eyes flicked down, to chest level.

  Oh, so maybe it wasn’t so hard for him to figure it out.

  My breasts. I’d forgotten. I’d taken off my bra before going to bed. I didn’t have to look down to know my nipples were hard. For him. Because of him. His touch. His heat. His power.

  “No?” he asked, mouth curling into that semi-smile that made me melt.

  My cheeks burned. It annoyed me that he had noticed my own body betraying me. And I despised that he enjoyed my suffering. Instantly I fell into bitch mode, where I felt safe. “You’re such an asshole, Kent. Just leave me alone.” I shoved at his rock-hard chest, but he didn’t budge.

  “I am an asshole, I know.” He leaned forward and thrust his arms out, caging my body between them. Now there was no escape. And there were several parts of me that were happy about that. “But I’ve tried to leave you alone, Shayne. I’ve done everything short of putting you on a plane and shipping you to fucking Timbuktu. But here you are, once again, tempting me, frustrating me, making me hard…” This time it was Kent who moved my hand while I stood there breathless and speechless. He grabbed it and placed it on the prominent bulge in his pants, and my knees turned to marshmallow. He was so hard. My mouth watered even as dire warnings echoed through my head.

  Yes, he was married.

  Yes, this was wrong. So wrong.

  But ohmygod, was he beautiful. And powerful.

  And he wanted me. Desperately.

  And I wanted him too. Just as much. I was haunted. Every night. Every day. Every hour. Of memories of that one time, the only time we’d been together.

  “You’re married,” I whispered, more to remind myself than to remind him. I pulled my hand away from his crotch, even though I would have rather plunged it under his shorts and gripped that thick length, feel the velvety skin against my palm.

  “Technically, yes. I am,” he said, not backing away. “But I’ve filed for divorce. I’m just waiting for the final court date.”

  He’d filed for a divorce.

  “You’re getting divorced?” I repeated, afraid to believe what I’d just heard. I had heard him right, correct? That was what he’d said? Kent said he was getting a divorce. He was going to court. And once that was done, he wouldn’t be unfaithful if he…if we…he wouldn’t be cheating on a wife.

  He would be free to do what he wished.

  That was good. Because for some reason it seemed we just could not stay away from each other. The harder we fought, the harder I fought, the worse it got. Kent Payne was not a simple man. He was complicated. He was beautiful and he was infuriating. He was generous. He was protective. And he was also cruel. Loving him was not easy. But losing him…? I couldn’t bear the thought.

  My heart jumped. A smile pulled at my cheeks but just as quickly it faded as my thoughts raced.

  Just because he would be free, did that mean I should pursue him?

  Wasn’t he still a cheater? Yes, he was. He’d fucked me before his divorce was final.

  And he was my stepbrother. Surely the fact that our parents were married would look really bad, especially for him, since he was a hot shot business tycoon. People like that cared about their reputations, didn’t they?

  Then again, Kent had entertained a parade of women in his house while he’d been married. Surely the press had gotten wind of that. But he hadn’t cared. So maybe he wasn’t so concerned about his reputation.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I told him as I stared at his beautiful face.

  He leaned closer, his eyes locked on my mouth. “You don’t need to say anything right now.” He cupped the back of my head and sealed his lips to mine.

  His kiss was a tender seduction. With lips, teeth, and tongue he made me forget every reason why I shouldn’t be kissing him. All that remained was his hard bulk pressed against me. His heat. And his intoxicating flavor.

  When my lips parted to release a sigh, his tongue swept into my mouth. His hands held me at my waist, pulling me against him and holding me there. His erection was a hard, hot lump, pressing against my stomach and igniting a spark deep inside.

  Within seconds a steady throbbing ache was pounding between my legs and I was desperate to make it go away. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him. My hips rocked back and forth, back and forth in a vain effort to rub my swollen center against him.

  Oh God, this was what I’d been
waiting for since that day so long ago. Every nerve in my body was electrified. I wanted him. Desperately. I wanted him to throw me onto his bed and thrust his thick, hard cock deep inside. I wanted him to keep telling me how he couldn’t stop himself, how he was consumed by me.

  I wanted him to tell me he loved me. That he couldn’t live another day without me. That he wanted me to be his wife. And that he would never touch another woman again.

  Was any of that possible? Did I dare hope?

  More importantly, if all those things did happen, would the reality live up to the fantasy?

  Chapter 9

  I was doomed.

  My heart was leading me down a road I knew I shouldn’t take. My body was in rebellion. It wanted no less than complete satisfaction, despite my mind’s feeble and failing attempt at taking control.

  I knew everything about this situation was wrong. Everything. First, and most importantly, Kent was still legally married. And second, he was my stepbrother, and although we weren’t related by blood, and our parents had married when we were adults, any relationship beyond a friendship would be viewed by many people as weird or sick. Ultimately, if we were to fall in love and eventually marry, what kind of trouble would we face?

  I wasn’t the kind of girl who constructed my life around the opinions of others—with the exception of my mom. I cared what she thought. But this was different. I’d never strayed too far outside the lines of socially acceptable behavior. I’d never pushed those boundaries. Not even as a teenager, when it was sort of expected.

  But I found myself in this situation now, and I couldn’t help it.

  To describe why I felt such strong and conflicting emotions for Kent would be like trying to describe why I loved my favorite song. There were so many complicated and contradictory things going on in my head and heart these days. At times, just a look from him could make me melt. At others, he made me so angry and hurt I wanted to hurt him back.

  The sad thing was I knew that sounded unhealthy, even admitting those things to myself.

  If Ransom had said something like that about one of her boyfriends, I wouldn’t have been able to hold my tongue. I would have told her the relationship wasn’t healthy; she needed to end it. ASAP.