Forbidden: Her British Stepbrother

by Smith, Lauren

  One finger…that was all he could get inside her. Liquid heat burned his skin as his finger fucked her, slow and steady. He’d have to work on stretching her before he got inside her. She was too small, too unused to the type of wild and often rough sex he craved, but he could give her a release tonight, show her a taste of what he wanted, what she wanted, too.

  “Oh, God, that feels—” Kat whimpered in pleasure as he curled his index finger inside her, finding that hidden spot that every woman had.

  It was a tiny little place, feeling almost rough to his touch. Using the pad of his index finger, he curled it repeatedly over that spot. Kat’s legs spasmed around his hips, and she nearly crushed his arm between their bodies as she thrashed when the orgasm hit her hard. She moaned, the heavy, throaty purr tensing every muscle in his body.

  Fuck . He needed to come. Needed to get inside her before his arousal killed him.

  When she threw her head back, her long, dark brown hair felt like silk on his hand.

  It was the last thing he needed. He came right then and there in his trousers, like a bloody schoolboy. The embarrassment over his lack of control would hit him later, but right then he didn’t care. Pleasure exploded through him, like volts of electricity, shocking everything inside him until he broke apart.

  The intense pleasure faded, and an unfamiliar urge rapidly took its place. He stared at Kat, their noses brushing, his body jerking and trembling as he slowly drifted down from that glorious high. All he wanted was to stay right there in her bed, looking at her, holding her, feeling her close.

  Never in his life had that ever been in his mind right after sex. Ever .

  He cleared his throat. “Would you mind if I got up for a minute? I need to take care of a little matter.” For the first time since he was a lad, his cheeks burned as he rolled off her and waited for her to nod. He rubbed his wrist as he stood up, a red stripe circling it from where the belt had dug in when he’d tugged on it.

  “Do you have a large pair of boxers? Or shorts?”

  “Yes.” Kat stood and headed for the top drawer of her dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers.

  They’d be snug, but they’d work for one night. He took them and hastily shut himself in her lavatory, stripping out of his clothes. He used a washcloth to clean himself and then slipped the boxers on. He placed his hands on opposites of the sink and stared into the little gilt-edged mirror.

  His hair was mussed, his muscles tense, and he didn’t recognize the odd expression on his face, as though he were half lost in a dream. A dream of pleasure and anticipation, and there was a hint of tenderness when he thought of Kat. His sweet little Kat.

  Tristan understood her demand that they go beyond sex, at least enough for them to learn about one another. It made everything so much more…intense in bed. Knowing why she loved books, how he’d shared his obsession for maps, they’d opened up to each other. How much more intense could the sex be if they kept…sharing those secret parts of themselves?

  He scraped a hand over his jaw, then gave his reflection a nod.

  Give it a try .

  Maybe learning more about a woman than her favorite style of lingerie and preferred sexual position was worth it.

  This time. With this girl.

  He exited the bathroom and froze when he saw Kat sitting on the edge of her bed, legs tucked up, chin resting on her knees as she watched him with wide eyes. Her long, luscious hair was a mess of wild waves about her shoulders. She looked like a tempting Siren, ready to lure him to his doom. All she was lacking were a pair of opalescent shells to cup her breasts and a shimmery tail with water beading on the delicate scales.

  And just like that…he was hard again. What was it about this woman that made him lose himself so easily? The arousal was slow to fade, especially when he walked to the bed and cupped her cheeks in his hands. Those dark lashes of hers fanned up, followed by those lovely gray eyes. He’d never given much thought to the color, but hers was almost electric, like liquid mercury, sucking him in.

  “Move over, darling. I’ll take this side of the bed.”

  When she finally moved, he saw the lines of tension bracketing her mouth soften. So she thought he would just leave after what had happened? Not bloody likely. After she’d scooted over beneath the covers, he climbed in and clicked off the lamp on the nightstand. Without a second thought, he pulled her into his arms. She fit perfectly tucked against his body.

  “I want to know everything about you,” he murmured into her ear. “Your favorite color, your favorite ice cream, what makes your heart beat fast. Everything .” He kissed the soft shell of her ear.

  She shivered. “Will you share the same with me?”

  He chuckled. “Let’s see. Navy blue, rocky road, you.”

  He waited for her to figure out what he’d just said.

  “Wait, I make your heart beat fast?” Kat rolled onto her side to stare at him in the darkness. He could just barely make out her features. He took one of her hands and laid her palm flat on his chest above his heart.

  “Feel that?” As he spoke his heartbeat sped up. “That’s for you.”

  She nodded, looking away. She was still shy, after everything they’d done together? He rarely seduced women who were bashful, but something about Kat fascinated him. She raised her head. The moonlight, although faint, pooled in her eyes liked polished silver coins.

  Kat shifted against him, her hand still on his chest. Her fingertips drew small circles on his skin, and he repressed a delicious shiver. He loved that she was brave enough to keep touching him.

  I’m winning her over . A grin twisted his lips before he could stop himself, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “Tristan, when we were at the Pickerel Inn you said stained glass made you cry. Why is that?”

  Tristan debated a long moment on how to describe it. “The colors are so rich, they seem to burn right through the glass. And the faces of the people—their expressions are so clear, so sharp. Sometimes I feel like I can read the people in the glass better than I can read the people around me.” Could he explain the other part, about how it’d helped him be strong as a lad? He’d never revealed that to anyone, but could he do that with her? He had a feeling he could…just the way she’d talked about the butterflies with him. Some things were too personal, but with her, he wanted to share.

  “I know what you mean. People today seem to be so blank-faced. I like reading a person’s eyes, seeing their facial expressions.” Her lips curved up in a half-smile that he could just make out from his angle as he looked down at her nestled against him. Ever since he’d come to her room tonight, she’d been more and more comfortable around him, able to touch him back the way he touched her. Intimately, not just sexually. Not every caress from a lover should be given out of the desire for sex, even he knew that, although he’d never tried it himself. But with Kat it felt natural to hold her tightly while she stroked his chest. It felt…normal, in a strange sort of way that made him want to grin until his face hurt.

  “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” He curled one finger under her chin and tipped her head back so he could see her face more clearly. She was so lovely it made something deep in him ache.

  Kat licked her lips. “What do you see?”

  “Besides a beautiful, sexy woman? I see someone with secrets. Someone who wants to live but doesn’t know how.”

  Her lashes lowered but she didn’t shy away from him.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that, Kat. You’re just getting out into the world to start living.” He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wanted only the truth between them. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Hmm…” She continued to trace teasing patterns on his skin. It amazed him that such an innocent touch could make his cock harder than any other woman’s sensual touch.

  “My favorite color is red. A sort of dark cranberry, almost burgundy. It’s rich, warm…”

  “Seductive?” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kis
s to the inside of her palm.

  A swell of triumph filled him when her breath caught and she shivered. Tristan couldn’t resist flicking his tongue out to lick her palm and he kissed it again.

  “I think you just like saying that word to tease me,” she giggled.

  “Of course I do, teasing you is my new favorite hobby. I’ve never been one for hobbies, but this one I intend to cultivate.” He feathered his lips on her hand again, smirking roguishly.

  Another quick inhalation, and her eyelashes fluttered as she sighed.

  It cost him everything to contain his own groan of painful pleasure. He wanted to be bullocks deep inside her, banging her into the bed so hard she couldn’t breathe, but she wasn’t ready. He could only pray that the wait wouldn’t kill him.

  “And ice cream?” he prompted, giving her a little distraction from his seduction.

  “Chocolate. Simple, I know, but why mess with something when it’s perfect the way it is?”

  He laughed softly. “I agree. Not everything in life should be complicated. And the rest?”

  She ducked her head again. “You make my heart beat fast.”

  “Aside from me. Though I rather enjoy knowing, of course.” He moved one hand to her shoulder, then trailed a lazy fingertip across her collarbone. The skin beneath his fingers was satiny soft and a creamy, natural white he found enchanting after dating women who spent too much time in attaining fake tans.

  “Listening to Russian composers, particularly Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff.”

  Rachmaninoff? The specificity of her interest, the unique taste, was so refreshing.

  “What do you like about Russian music?”

  She nibbled her lip. “Many European composers’ music is mathematically precise, with repetitive patterns, where the sound is almost too perfect. Russian composers, at least during the nineteenth century, were different. They used music not only to tell a story, but to show a depth of emotion.” She was touching his chest again, sliding her hand up and down as she talked. “The swells, the passion, the bittersweet despair, the hope, the love. It reverberates with every note—it sweeps you away.”

  Tristan held his breath, remembering how, the night before, he’d asked her if she wanted to be swept off her feet, and how she’d said she did. He lowered his head with the need to kiss her, not because he craved sex, but because he simply wanted to be close to her. To connect with her in a small way. Her mouth parted beneath his, and yet he didn’t let the kiss turn rough. He deepened it gently, coaxing her to make love with her mouth.

  Minutes later, he somehow found his way out of the sweet fog of desire.

  She exhaled softly, then yawned.

  “Are you tired?” Her answer was going to be obvious, but he delighted in making her admit it.

  “A little.” Her voice was barely above a murmur.

  “Liar,” he teased. “I can tell you’re about to drift off. Why don’t you get some sleep? I promise to only hold you tonight. Do you trust me?”

  At his question she nodded like a sleepy kitten and snuggled deeper into his embrace. Tristan pulled the comforter up around them both and tried not to think about how this woman, so unlike anyone he’d ever met, was worming her way under his skin.

  Be careful , a dark little voice warned in his head.

  Something about Kat was dangerous. He was feeling things he shouldn’t feel, wanting things that hadn’t ever mattered before tonight.

  I should walk away, but I can’t let her go .

  * * *

  “I need you to come to the address I’m going to text you.” Tristan held his mobile close to his ear as he whispered to Carter.

  “Bloody hell, Tristan. You realize it’s six a.m.? Where the hell are you, anyway, and why do I need to come get you? You took the Aston Martin out. Don’t tell me you wrecked it.”

  Tristan pressed his forehead to the lavatory door in Kat’s room.

  “I’m at someone’s dormitory, but I need trousers. The pair I wore last night met with an accident. Can you get your arse out of bed and meet me here in half an hour?”

  Carter’s laugh made Tristan squeeze his eyes shut and clench a fist by his head as he sought to quell his temper and humiliation at the reason his trousers had been soiled.

  “I think I’ll come just to have the pleasure of seeing you squirm. Text me the address.” Carter was still laughing as he hung up.

  “Bloody bastard,” Tristan muttered as he opened the door and glanced at the bed.

  Kat was still asleep, and she looked kissable, fuckable. Perfect in every way a woman could be. The palest of light, more blue than white, filtered through the blinds, stretching across her dormitory windows to illuminate one side of her face and a bare forearm that had slipped free of the covers.

  Tristan was captivated by the sight of her. He approached the bed, careful not to wake her. He hadn’t ever stayed with a woman past dawn. He’d always slipped out before now, waiting just long enough for his partner to fall asleep before he made his disappearance. But with Kat, he’d fallen asleep himself, deeply, while holding her. He’d been so relaxed, not even an explosion could’ve woken him. When had sleep ever been that easy? Not in a long while.

  Kat shifted, nuzzling her pillow and sighing. The sound sent a blazing path of desire straight to his cock. Tristan forced his eyes away from her and onto his phone, where he texted Kat’s dorm information to Carter.

  While he waited for Carter to arrive, he studied her room, the books on her shelf by the door, the small, worn collection of travel guides, each one tabbed and highlighted.

  She’d lived quite the nomadic life with her father. What had she said? They’d moved every year or so and she’d never known when they’d move again. Something about that made a tightness grow in his chest.

  He couldn’t get what she’d said last night out of his head. Books didn’t leave her, she didn’t have to say good-bye.

  Tristan took Dropped from the Clouds from its box and wrapped the ribbon around the book. Then with a grin, he placed it on the pillow next to her. It would be there when she woke up.

  She hadn’t had a chance to look at it last night, but she’d have plenty of time to when he was gone. He wouldn’t let her give it back. It was a gift, and if she was going to be spending time with him in bed or out, she’d have to learn to accept the things he bought for her, no matter their price.

  The mobile in his hand buzzed with a text from Carter. He was waiting outside.

  There was no way he could avoid his friend’s teasing. Not when he was practically naked in the dead of winter. Tristan slipped on his sweater and pants from last night and his socks, and then opened Kat’s door and crept out into the hallway, where he could see Carter waiting outside the glass door.

  His friend was dressed in a gray, knee-length coat and jeans, and he was kicking snow about with one booted foot, his hands shoved into his pockets like an errant schoolboy. A pair of trousers was tucked under one arm.

  Tristan unlocked the glass door and pressed a finger to his lips. “Say one bloody word…”

  The wicked glint in Carter’s eyes assured him that his friend would take full advantage of this situation later.

  “Stay out here.” He grabbed the trousers and stalked back to Kat’s room, leaving Carter out in the cold. When he got back inside her room, he slipped into his new pants and boots. He was in the process of putting his coat on when Kat’s voice stopped him.

  “You’re leaving?” Her sleepy voice filled him with a fuzzy warmth and a desire to stay. But he assumed she had classes most of the day like him, and neither of them could afford to miss them.

  He finished putting on his coat and turned to her. She was sitting up in bed, the covers pooled in her lap. Her hair was sleep mussed and her eyes were soft. She looked like a well-loved woman. Again, that damnable ache flared to life inside him.

  Stay . He could see it in her eyes. And it was too dangerous an offer.

  “I have an early class.” He paus
ed, then strode over to her, putting one knee on the edge of the bed as he leaned over to cup her face in his hands and kiss her. He delved between her startled lips, teasing, nibbling at her mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue against hers, promising her that everything he wanted hadn’t faded.

  “I want nothing more than to stay right here with you, darling, but we both have things to do today. Shall I drop by tonight?” His tone was…hopeful. Tristan let out a string of curses in his head. Normally he’d just come by and take whatever woman he was seducing right to bed. But not with Kat. Slow seduction, letting her have some control. That was how he’d break down her protective barriers. Then he’d have a chance to set fire to her body with the passion he saw simmering in her eyes.

  “Tonight?” She pursed her lips, her eyes hardening a little as she seemed to wake up and consider his proposal.

  He brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, praying she’d agree, but then again, it shouldn’t matter. He needed to take charge of the situation.

  “I’ll come by tonight at eight, with dinner.” Better to tell her, then let her decide. He grinned at the little frown that creased her brow.

  “But—”

  He silenced her with another kiss, one just as deep, reminding her with his tongue what he’d done to her with his hand.

  She moaned against his lips.

  That was how he left her, dazed and dreamy-eyed.

  As he exited the dorm, Carter was still outside, arms crossed and grinning a jackal’s grin.

  “Are you going to tell me about her?” Carter strolled beside him as they made their way down the snow-covered path that cut through the college’s main courtyard.

  “No. This one is off limits, even for you. I don’t want the paparazzi to get wind of her.” A shudder rolled through him at the memory of the last woman he’d slept with.

  She’d been the daughter of a knighted gentleman out of Surrey, and when the papers had heard of their affair, the pictures of them had been everywhere. Some bastard with a camera had haunted their every step, and the articles hadn’t painted their relationship in a flattering light. The relationship hadn’t even been serious, a mere fling, but the paparazzi had run with the story for weeks.