Lia
He walked too close to me, but I couldn’t say anything. Maybe he didn’t mean to hog all my personal space and have his body brushing mine with every other step. Or maybe he was trying to annoy me, which was working.
If only it was just annoyance, I felt when Declan Mulvaney barely touched me. He was way too sexy for my own good, with his bad boy thing, including the requisite overly long dark hair, flashing blue eyes, and taut six-pack. Okay, I didn’t know if he actually had a six-pack under the oxford shirt he’d worn for the ceremony and reception, but it was a safe bet. Men like him always had that kind of body.
And he was a musician. It was like he’d been made to order to fulfill all my naughtiest fantasies. What’s a good girl supposed to do except fantasize about the bad boy who seduces her? I’d spent way too long just imagining instead of doing, thanks to my own choices.
The harsh truth was I needed to get laid. Only at twenty, it was kind of awkward still being a virgin. And horny. It was embarrassing how often I thought about cock. Craved it, dreamed about it, and wrote about it in my pathetic virgin’s diary. Despite all that, I was no closer to getting the V-card punched than I had been in high school or the first two years of college.
Sex on legs with the added baggage of being my new stepbrother was the last thing I needed. I mean I’d love a go at him. What woman wouldn’t? But it would be too awkward, what with him living with us for a while, and his dad having just married mine.
It was definitely a good idea that my dad had suggested the guesthouse. I could park him here, assign a couple of members of the staff to cater to his needs, and basically forget about my sexy new stepbrother. Right?
“You’re so quiet, Lia.”
I jumped at the sound of his voice, which was deeper than it should be for a guy in his early twenties who didn’t smoke. I guessed it was his musician’s voice. It sent all kinds of chills up my spine and moistened my panties. “I…huh…what?” You’d never believe I had won a state forensics competition, would you?
“Are you always so quiet?”
I shrugged. “Depends, I guess.” In an attempt to distract him from me, I pushed open the entry door to the guesthouse with too much gusto, and it slammed against the stopper, making a pinging sound. “Well, here you are.”
“You aren’t going to show me around?”
“It’s only a few rooms…” I trailed off, knowing I was being rude. Years of ingrained manners warred with common sense that urged me to get away right now. Manners won, dang my stupid upper-class upbringing, complete with a British nanny. “Yeah, okay.”
With a deep breath, I crossed the threshold, and he didn’t move any farther away. At least he didn’t come closer, but he was still in my bubble, and I didn’t like it. Or maybe I just liked it too much.
I led him through the bottom floor of the guesthouse, pausing at the staircase. “There are two suites upstairs, and you can decide for yourself which you’d like. The pool is just a few steps out the backdoor, and there are swim clothes in the cabana if you need to use some. Dad likes to keep a supply on hand for guests. No one’s worn them or anything, because that would be gross. I think the maid donates them to charity or something after the guests use them.”
I was a babbling moron. He didn’t care about the swimwear, and his smirk showed it. I started shuffling around him, intent on reaching the front door. The only problem was he matched my every step, always keeping his body between me and the exit.
I thought he was trying to intimidate me, but it wasn’t working. I wasn’t frightened of him. My own reactions were a lot scarier, and I wasn’t sure how to cope. “I, well, okay…good night.”
Thinking boldness would work, I attempted to step around him, but his arm shot out and caught hold of my wrist, arresting me in my path. I stared at him with confusion. “Do you need something?”
A strange expression flitted across his face, and his eyes took on a coldness that made me shiver. When he blinked, he looked completely normal, and I guessed I must have imagined that. “Just some company and conversation.”
“I’m really tired. It’s been a long day—”
Ignoring my protest and attempts at token resistance, Declan stepped closer and slung his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his solid frame. Yeah, there had to be a six-pack under that cotton shirt. My mouth watered, and I swallowed quickly to keep from turning into a drooling, blathering idiot. I think I might have missed the opportunity to avoid the second impression already.
He led me into the living room, pulling me down onto the overstuffed sofa beside him. At least he removed his arm from my shoulders, but having the length of his thigh pressed against mine wasn’t doing anything to calm my raging hormones or restore equilibrium.
“What do you do in this mausoleum all day?” With no regard for the furniture, he propped his shoes on the large coffee table.
I didn’t admonish him, because it was rude and I didn’t want to seem like an embodiment of Miss Manners. “I go to school.”
He cocked a brow. “Ivy League, of course.”
I sniffed at him. “Leven’s Ladies’ College, if you must know.”
He blinked before a smirk bloomed across his face. “You go to a college for girls?”
I nodded, hackles rising.
“But why? You’re missing the best part of college surrounding yourself with chicks all day.” His eyes narrowed. “Or are you a lesbian? ‘Cause that would make a lot of sense.”
“Because my dad is gay?” I snarled. “Gay people always raise gay kids, right?”
With wide eyes, he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Take it down a notch, sis. I didn’t mean anything like that. I just meant the pussy possibilities at a girls’ college would be limitless if you’re into chicks.”
“I’m not.” Still angry, I continued glaring at him, but gradually let my body relax against the sofa again. “And I’m not your sister,” I muttered so quietly I wasn’t sure he heard me.
“Has your dad always been gay, or did he spring that surprise on you one morning?”
I detected the trace of bitterness in his tone and had a stirring of sympathy. My stepbrother—and I should really focus on reminding myself of our new familial connections any time my thoughts strayed somewhere naughtier—was obviously still angry about everything. Maybe I could try cutting him some slack. Once he got used to our dads together, perhaps the jerkiness would ease down, and we might actually be friends.
Yeah, probably not. Still, I tried to relay my sympathy when I replied. “He’s been out as long as I can remember.”
“Are you adopted?”
“Surrogate.”
“And you don’t miss having a mother?”
I hesitated, lifting a shoulder. “I guess sometimes. I know a bit about the surrogate who carried me. She still sends me a birthday card every year, but I don’t feel like she’s my mother in any sense.”
“Was she your mom?”
I shook my head. “No, she just carried me. I’ve seen the profile for the egg donor, but it’s what you’d expect—like reading random facts about a stranger.” I touched my hair. “I guess I got the blonde from her, since Dad has dark hair. It doesn’t make me feel any closer to her. She didn’t want a kid, and I guess I don’t want a mother. Not that kind anyway.”
“I’m close to my mom.” His eyes darkened a bit, and he looked brooding, which was dangerously sexy. “I guess a lot closer lately.”
He didn’t have to explain. The mood was rapidly becoming morose, and I did my best to change the subject. “If you’re looking for things to do, there’s a mall on the pier not too far from here. They have a huge theater with fifty screens. I don’t know what you’re into, but it’s a big city, so I’m sure you can find anything you want here.”
“I don’t think I’ll have to go far to find what I want.”
His gaze centered on my lips, and his pupils dilated with I moistened them with my tongue. The sensual undertone in his voice made me squeeze my thighs together, and I was about two seconds from leaning forward to kiss my stepbrother.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I shook my head, unable to explain I had wasted the best part of my teenage years pursuing academic perfection instead of having sex. I’d been an idiot. “Do you have a girlfriend?” My voice was husky, and I sounded like I had laryngitis.
Declan shook his head. He didn’t seem to notice or mind as he shifted sideways a bit, putting his arm across the back of the couch and lightly against my shoulders. “No boyfriend is good news.”
“It is?” I didn’t think my eyes could get any wider as his face moved closer to mine.
“It is. There’s no one to object to me doing this.”
I knew what he planned, and I did absolutely nothing to prevent it. At least I didn’t swerve in to meet him, so perhaps I could hold that as a hollow moral victory. In the end, it didn’t matter whether I engaged or held passive. His mouth was on mine a few seconds later.
I tensed at the first tentative brush of his lips against mine. I’d been kissed before—I wasn’t that pathetic—but the few boys preceding him had all swooped in and tried to devour my mouth. I guess it was to show how much they wanted me, but it always made me think of that zombie movie where the guy is kissing the girl as she turns into a zombie, and she bites off his tongue. So not sexy.
This was different. His lips explored mine, coaxing a response. I softened against his mouth, and his tongue slipped inside to stroke mine. I sighed and leaned closer, grasping handfuls of my dress to suppress the urge to touch him.
He did enough touching for both of us, cupping my face in one of his large hands. His thumbs and finger pads were calloused when they moved over my smooth face, reminding me he played guitar.
His other hand grasped my hip, gently urging me to turn more into his embrace. I wanted to, but somehow, I managed to summon the strength to pull back and sit up straighter. “We can’t do this,” I whispered.
He gave me an assessing gaze that seemed to probe my insides. “Why not, Lia?”
“We’re related.”
Declan scowled. “We aren’t related. Our dads getting married doesn’t make us fucking relatives, Lia. We’ve known each other a few hours. That’s longer than some of my relationships. Under other circumstances, we’d be fucking right now.”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t do that, especially with my stepbrother.”
He gave me a cocky grin. “We’ll see, sis.” After tucking a stray strand behind my ear, he completely removed his hands from me. “I’ll have you underneath me in no time.”
“You’re already beneath me,” I said haughtily, making his mouth tighten. I hated I had chosen the easy path of disparaging him by illustrating our economic differences. “I’m sorry.” Damned manners again. “That was thoughtless, and I didn’t mean it.”
He shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine, Lia. I don’t mind being beneath you. Sometimes, I’m going to be on top too. Either way, I’m going to be inside you.”
I shook my head, but I knew there was a decided lack of resolve in my automatic response. His words had made me imagine all sorts of deliciously erotic acts that had heretofore remained in the realm of fantasy instead of reality. If he weren’t my new stepbrother, I probably would have jumped on him by now. Why did life have to be so complicated?
He leaned toward me again, this time brushing his cheek against mine before standing up. “Good night, Lia.”
I stood up and walked to the door without a parting. Actually, I kind of ran the best I could in heels. I had just put my hand on the doorknob when he spoke again.
“Don’t go back to your room and touch yourself while thinking of me, babe.”
Mouth open, I couldn’t resist staring at him as the shock of his words sank in.
“All your orgasms belong to me from now on, and I want to see each one.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ll know if you do.”
Too angry for words, I managed a strangled sound that I hoped conveyed some of my ire as I opened the door and slammed it behind me with a resounding thud. Still angry, I marched back to my room, kicked off my shoes, and pushed up my dress.
I laid on the bed and spread my thighs. How dare he tell me I couldn’t masturbate while thinking about him? Anger propelled the first few strokes of my fingers over my mound, but it wasn’t long before that emotion faded, and another swept through me. Desire. I ached for the infuriating bastard I barely knew and had only just met. Pushing aside the crotch of my panties, I massaged my clit in earnest.
As I touched myself, I relived the kiss and the way it had made my entire body feel hot and tingly. I imagined his large hands and rough fingertips on my breasts and tugged my own nipple through my dress and bra.
It didn’t take much imagination to picture him lying on his bed in a similar position, cock in hand as he stroked himself to completion while thinking about me. The idea that we were both masturbating to thoughts of the other doing so sent me into a powerful climax that made me moan and clench my thighs around my hand. At that moment, I’d give anything for it to be his hand. Or, even better, his cock inside me instead of my own fingers.
As the bliss faded, sanity returned along with a hearty dose of shame. I jumped up from the bed and righted my dress, careful to avoid seeing my reflection in the mirror. I was a wanton slut, and I would have to be on my guard if I was forced to interact with Declan. With a large estate and myriad servants, at least it would be easy to avoid him, which was the safest strategy.