Bastard SEAL: A Bad Boy Forbidden Baby Romance (Contains bonus book Based!) (26 page)

T
he ceiling fan
in my room was busted, which meant I kept tossing and turning in bed, trying to get to sleep despite the heat. I was practically drenched in sweat, which was pretty gross, but it would have been fine if I could at least pass out and deal with it in the morning.

Instead, I kept thinking about Lincoln. I kept thinking about my stepbrother’s smile, his body, and the weird darkness that was behind everything he did. On the surface, he was cocky and carefree and happy, but I was beginning to sense something else lurking below everything he said and did. Worst of all, I kept obsessing about the way he made me feel when I was around him, the tightness in my chest, the excitement running up along my spine.

And when he began to play that song, singing it sad and loud and slow, it felt like he was singing right to me. That was stupid, I knew, since it was a love song, and who sang a love song like that to their stepsister?

Still, there was something . . .

I rolled over with a huff, frustrated. I grabbed my phone: two in the morning.

“Fuck,” I said out loud to nobody and sat up. I was already going to be a mess. Might as well get some water and maybe do some reading until I finally passed out.

I climbed out of bed and pulled some light cotton shorts over my panties and pulled a black T-shirt on over my head. I liked to sleep naked, or mostly naked, and was so used to walking around my apartment back at school without getting dressed. I was going to have to be careful of that.

Out in the hall, I headed down toward the kitchen and stopped suddenly. I stood deadly still in the middle of the pitch-black hallway and strained my ears, struggling to catch the noise in the distance. For a second, I thought I might be going insane, but suddenly it started up again.

There was no doubt about it. Someone was playing the piano again.

What the hell is Lincoln doing up right now?
I thought to myself as I crept toward the music room. I stood outside the slightly ajar door and listened as he played softly. I gently pushed it open a bit wider and caught sight of him sitting at the bench, shirtless, his hands roaming along the keys, illuminated by a single weak desk lamp.

I was totally entranced. How often did he get up in the middle of the night to play? I figured the piano thing was a rare occurrence, but maybe he was more into music than he was letting on. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his muscular torso, the tattoos running down along his skin, and the skill with which he moved his hands. It was almost unreal, Lincoln alone in the room practically glowing in the soft light, and I suddenly felt bad for staring at him. It was clearly something private he did, and there I was barging in on him again.

As I went to move away from the door, the playing stopped.

“You might as well come in.”

I froze, a tingle running up my spine. He turned around and grinned at me. Sheepishly, I took a step inside.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought it was you.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m playing. Couldn’t sleep either.”

I took another step closer. “Too hot in your room?”

He shook his head. “No, not really. I’ve just . . .” he trailed off for a second and seemed to consider me. “I’ve just been having some shitty dreams, ever since the accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He laughed. “You going to come in or just stand there like a creep?”

For a second I was torn. Being alone with Lincoln in the middle of the night, especially when he was shirtless and I was wearing minimum clothing, was probably pretty dangerous. As it was, I had a hard time not staring at his muscular chest and perfect lips. But something about his look compelled me, and I took a few more steps inside, shutting the door behind me, and sat down next to him on the bench.

“What are we playing tonight?” I asked him.

“Any requests?”

“Piano Man.”

He laughed. “No way. Too cliché.”

“You don’t know it, do you?”

“Yeah, there’s that too.”

I laughed. “Okay then. Surprise me.”

“How about this, you probably know it.”

He began to play something upbeat that I didn’t recognize immediately, until it turned and began the chorus. I had no clue what it was called, but it was a classic, old-timey show tunes type song, something I had heard a million times. I couldn’t help but laugh at him playing it. There was a huge disconnect between the badass, muscular based guy covered in tattoos and the corny piano music he was playing. Finally, after about a minute, the song ended.

He laughed along with me. “I love that one. Always a crowd pleaser.”

“What’s it called? I’ve heard it a million times.”

“‘The Entertainer’ by some guy named Joplin. I forget the first name.”

“What else can you play?”

He began to play again. Immediately I recognized the song: ‘Für Elise’ by Beethoven.

“I love this one,” I said.

“Yeah, it’s great,” he replied, still playing. “It’s so easy but it sounds so impressive. I read somewhere that Beethoven probably wrote it to pick up chicks back in the day. Probably named it ‘Für Linda’ or ‘Für Tammy’ or whatever the girl’s name was at the time. He could play with one hand while drinking with the other.”

“No way that’s true,” I said, laughing.

“I don’t know.” He leaned closer to me, still playing, and gave me this cocky smile. “I call this ‘Für Brie baby.’ How wet are you right now?”

I made a face and laughed. “Totally soaking. You’re amazing.”

“It’s all Beethoven. He knew his shit.”

I laughed again as he finished the song and stretched. As he did it, I couldn’t help but look at his body again, and I felt a thrill run through me. I caught every detail of his tattoos and the muscles beneath them, but I also noticed a few scars. He may have been funny and talented, but he was still dangerous and gorgeous.

I would never tell him, but I was beginning to get soaked thinking about what he could do with those nimble fingers on my body.

“What’s with the scars?” I asked, the words tumbling out before I could distract myself more with thoughts of Lincoln’s body covering mine.

He looked down at himself. “I forgot about them.”

“They look like surgery scars.”

He pointed at one near his ribs. “Yeah, this one is surgery.” He pointed at another, near his abs. His ripped abs. I glanced away. “This one is from the car’s windshield. Actually, most of them are from the glass.”

“That most have been horrible,” I said, looking back.

“I blacked out pretty fast, honestly. The worst part was the uncertainty.”

“What do you mean?”

“With the doctors.” He began to play again, but softly. “They kept saying one thing and then contradicting it. At first, I was never going to walk again.”

“I can’t imagine hearing that.”

“You’d be surprised at what you can handle, if you have to.”

I blinked at him, surprised by the serious expression on his face, but it didn’t last long. He was back to his cocky grin seconds later.

“Having a hot nurse helped the recovery,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “I was waiting for something like that.”

“I figured. Can’t keep the fans waiting.”

I paused a beat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been wondering. Why are you doing this documentary and recovery here, in this house?”

“Seems weird, right?”

“Yeah, it does. I mean, not that I mind you being here and all. Or well, I mean I hate the cameras, but you know what I mean.” I shut my mouth, realizing I was babbling.

He grinned. “Right. I know you love having me around. The truth is actually pretty shitty, though.”

“What, my dad blackmail you or something?” I asked jokingly.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Are you kidding?”

“It’s complicated, Brie. Why do you even care?”

“I’m just curious. What did my dad do?”

“Nothing really. The building I jumped from, it wasn’t exactly legal. We had to break in to get to the top. I was arrested and almost went to jail again, but your dad showed up at my trial and begged for leniency. Said he’d take me into custody, watch over me personally. The judge ended up giving me probation under the condition that I live here for the duration of it.”

“I had no idea.”

I couldn’t believe my dad would do that and not even mention it to me. Bringing my injured stepbrother home to serve his probation was a huge deal, and yet my dad hadn’t even considered telling me. That was typical of our family. If it didn’t need to be said, then it would never get mentioned, no matter how important it might end up being.

“I’m not surprised he never mentioned it. When we left the courthouse, your dad told me that he was going to film my recovery.” He paused for a second and stopped playing. “I said no, but he reminded me that my probation was contingent on my being able to stay at his house.”

I stared at him, shocked at what he was saying. “So my dad really did blackmail you?”

He looked at me. “No, not really. It’s complicated.”

“Sounds simple to me.”

“It’s not. This entire PT thing is expensive, and yeah, I could afford it, but the documentary budget is helping out with that, too. And it’s keeping me out of jail.” He started playing again. “Plus, I’ve fucked up enough. I can at least do this for your family.”

“Still, Lincoln. If you don’t want to do this thing, just don’t. I can talk to my dad.”

“No. I don’t need that.” He gave me a look that nearly took my breath away. It was intense, ferocious, and sexy all at once. “Don’t say a word to him about this. It’s my problem to deal with. I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I can help. I mean, I can try to help.”

“You don’t need to. I’m fine, Brie.”

I lapsed into silence and watched him play, my mind a mess of conflicting emotions. I didn’t know much about my father; he had always been a distant person, always so wrapped up in business when I was younger and then his films as I got older. But I never thought that he was a bad person or was remotely capable of forcing someone to do something they didn’t want to do.

“I just can’t imagine my dad doing that.”

“There’s more to it. I owe your dad a lot.”

I shook my head. “What could justify this?”

“Back when I first left, your dad supported me. He used his industry contacts to help make some of my early videos. Basically, I wouldn’t have a career without him.”

I let that sink in. “I had no clue.”

“He didn’t want to bother you.”

“Telling me about my family is bothering me?”

“You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I do. Distant.”

“Must suck.”

“It really does.”

He stopped playing and looked at me. I blinked as he put his hand on my leg, and shivers ran down along my spine. I found myself staring at his body again, imagining his tongue along my skin.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “The film isn’t that bad. Sorry to unload on you.”

“It’s okay. I just want to help.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

There was a moment where neither of us spoke, and his hand lingered on my skin, only inches away from my soaking underwear. I wanted him to cover that space and play my pussy like he played the piano keys, but I knew it was wrong. Or maybe not wrong, but people would talk.

He wasn’t really my brother. But he was my stepbrother. It was really hard to think straight with that strong hand on my skin and that gorgeous face looking at me intently.

And then he pulled his hand away. It shook me out of whatever fantasy I was having, and I quickly stood up, awkwardly stumbling away from the bench.

“What, did I scare you away?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m just tired.”

“Look, keep this shit between us, okay? I must be fucking crazy from exhaustion for telling you all that.”

“Okay. I promise. And the offer to talk to my dad still stands.”

He grinned. “Thanks, Brie baby.”

I turned to walk away, my heart hammering in my chest. As I got to the door, he spoke up.

“By the way”—I turned and looked at him—“your ass looks fucking fantastic in those shorts.”

I blushed and looked away. “Keep that to yourself next time, dick.”

“Nah. Close the door on your way out.”

I huffed and walked out, shutting the door softly. My breath came heavily and tingles were running along my skin where his hand had touched my skin. I leaned my back against the door for a second, gathering myself, as the music started up again. I knew on the other side of the door, Lincoln’s shirtless, perfect body was swaying softly as he played, and I wanted nothing more than to go in there, slam the piano’s lid shut, and let him fuck me until I screamed.

Instead, I went back to my room and tried not to dream about him.

T
hin cotton T-shirt
and loose short cotton shorts, her hair messed up from sleep, her confused expression when she saw that I was awake.

I couldn’t get her out of my head, even as the usual sweat-inducing nightmare began to fade and the pain in my legs began to climb. She was still there, lodged in my skull. She was so fucking sexy, and she seemed to have no clue what she did to me. I’d had to constantly shift on the bench while she was next to me to hide the raging hard-on threatening to give me completely away.

After she left, I couldn’t help myself. I was way too worked up thinking about the feel of her skin and those sexy lips. I slipped my hand down my shorts and rubbed one out right there in front of the piano, thinking about her mouth wrapped around my dick’s tip, sliding her tongue along my shaft, and grabbing onto her hips as I fucked her rough from behind.

Did I feel guilty, jerking off to thoughts of my stepsister? Yeah, maybe a little bit. But we were barely related. And besides, I was Based Carter. People expected that sort of shit out of me. And even though I was doing it for nobody but myself, it was nice to have an excuse to justify it.

I grunted and climbed out of bed, grabbing my cane. The usual fuck morning routine. Easy for most people, excruciating for me. The pain usually subsided a bit as I worked the kinks out of my muscles, but until then it was fucking torture just standing still.

I made my way downstairs dressed in my usual workout clothes, ready for another day of grueling and embarrassing PT. Part of me wanted to avoid running into Brie, and part of me hoped she was still wearing that same outfit from the night before. Truthfully, I knew I should avoid her as much as possible, since apparently I could barely control myself around her, but that was exactly the problem. Logic and reason meant nothing when I saw Aubrie’s body and my desire threatened to drown me all over again.

Thankfully, the kitchen was empty as I grabbed some cereal and wolfed it down as fast as I could. The less I saw of her, the fewer stupid personal things I would admit to her. I was like a whiney kid, telling her about all my problems. And mentioning the deal with her dad?

Fuck, I was an asshole.

Fortunately, I didn’t have too much time to mentally berate myself, as the camera crew began to filter into the kitchen and Jess went through the list of shots she wanted to get done. I nodded at her, barely listening.

The only thing I could think about was Brie.

I grunted, lowering the ten-pound weight with my legs. Ten pounds was nothing, babies could lift ten pounds, and yet the muscles in my legs were screaming with every rep.

“Come on, Lincoln. You can do this,” Tracey said.

I growled at her, drenched in sweat. Down and up, down and up. Pain and more pain.

I wanted to give up. I wanted to stop. But I wanted to jump again more than I cared about the pain and the suffering.

“Five more and you’re done. Give it to me, Lincoln.”

I concealed my grin. I’d give it to her, all right.

Down and up. Down and up. I grunted, hands clenched on the bench, body covered in sweat. I could practically feel the crew tightening up on my face, getting every ounce of sweat in super detail. Jess was probably imagining the inspirational music she’d play over the scene as I busted out the last three reps.

“There you go!” Tracey said as I let the weights drop onto the ground, panting.

“Fuck, that shouldn’t be so hard,” I said.

She laughed. “Actually, you shouldn’t be lifting these at all. You’re way ahead of schedule.”

“What can I say? I do nothing half assed.”

“There you go. Full ass everything, always.”

I laughed and grinned at her. Even though she was basically my full-time torturer, Tracey was pretty cool. And I had recently found out that she was gay, which meant I didn’t have to worry about her secretly pining for me or some shit. Maybe that was really conceited, but I’d had too many cool girl friends end up in my bed over the years and too few of those friends left. I didn’t need to alienate my physical therapist too.

Then again, it would probably make for some awesome footage for Jess.

“Cut. That’s good for now.” I looked up as the crew started switching off the equipment and Jess walked over to Tracey and me.

“Done early?” I asked.

“Taking a break. Cliff wants to talk to you.”

I had expected to hear from him a little sooner, but I knew I couldn’t avoid at least one conversation with Brie’s dad.

“Who’s Cliff?” Tracey asked.

“Man of the house,” I said.

“And my boss,” Jess added. “Also something of a hippie.”

I laughed. “He’s an L.A. hippie, which basically doesn’t count.”

“Hippie with a huge bank account,” Jess said.

“Isn’t that a yuppie?” Tracey asked.

I shook my head. “Different thing.”

“Anyway, good work this morning. I’ll see you later.”

It was like being back in high school playing football again: two a day every day. “See you then, coach.”

She laughed and walked off to get changed and to do whatever she did with her off time. I looked back over at Jess.

“When’s he want me?”

“Now, I think. He’s out by the pool.”

I sighed. No rest for the wicked. I stood up with some effort and shrugged off Jess’s attempt to help me. She handed me my cane and I began the trek outside, a towel wrapped around my shoulders.

“Have a good break, guys,” I said to the crew. Despite the fact that they shoved cameras in my face all day every day, they were decent people.

I gimped my way out through the kitchen, taking my time. Part of me hoped Cliff would get sick of waiting and head out to do whatever he did with his ample time and money, but I wasn’t so lucky. He was sitting out by the pool, dressed in his usual khaki pants and green collared shirt. He waved as I approached, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

“Lincoln Carter, how the hell are you?”

I made a face. “Walking, more or less.”

“That’s really, really good to see. Last time I was home, you were still in the wheelchair.”

Cliff hadn’t exactly been around much during my stay, even though he was supposedly watching over me during my probation. Still, I didn’t give a shit what he did, so long as he kept calling my case officer and didn’t fuck over my mom.

“PT’s going good. I like Tracey.”

“I’m really glad to hear that. She came highly recommended.”

I struggled to sit in the chair next to him. As much as I hated it, I couldn’t help but let the pain show on my face as I stretched my legs out in front of me, working the kinks out of the muscles.

“She deserves a raise.”

“Maybe she does.” He looked at me for a second. “How’s the shoot?”

“Ask Jess. She doesn’t show me the footage.”

“I’ve talked with her and seen some stuff, but I wanted to get your perspective. This is your brand and your journey, after all.”

“Not sure what you want from me, Cliff. I didn’t want to do this to begin with.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have an opinion.”

I clenched my jaw, getting annoyed. It was bad enough that he was forcing me into the film, or reality show or documentary or whatever the fuck he was calling it, but I didn’t want to give him any help in shaping the damn thing. As far as I was concerned, it was his project, and I wanted as little to do with it as possible.

“So far it’s just a bunch of shots of me grunting and sweating and some interviews about my life. Can’t imagine anyone will find it interesting.”

Cliff laughed. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“So why keep doing this shit?”

“Trust in me and Jess. We know what we’re doing.”

“You asked for my opinion, and my opinion is that this whole thing is a waste of time.”

He smiled. “Okay. Noted.”

“That all you wanted?”

“Have you been seeing much of Aubrie?”

I paused, taken off guard. I hadn’t expected him to ask me about her.

“Not really. We live in the same house, so as much as you’d expect.”

“That’s good. She seems okay?”

“I don’t know, ask her.”

“You know kids her age,” he said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t want to talk much to her dad.”

Probably because you’re an asshole,
I thought. Out loud, I said, “She’s not exactly opening up to me, either.”

“I want you to do me a favor, Lincoln.”

“More favors?”

He laughed. “Just a small one. Don’t get close with Aubrie.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“I know you guys are stepsiblings, but do me a favor and keep your distance from her.”

“Why the fuck are you saying this to me?”

He sighed. “Please, you’re a smart person. Don’t take this personally.”

“How am I supposed to not take that personally?”

“Look,” he said, taking off his sunglasses. “Aubrie has a lot going on. I didn’t know she was coming home, or else I would have made other arrangements for you.” He paused and locked eyes with me. “You have a certain reputation. You can’t deny that. I know you’re a decent kid, but it’s the truth.”

“And you don’t want me to taint your perfect angel?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Asshole.”

“I know. It’s hard not to take personally. But appearances and reputations matter, regardless of how true they are. I know you’re not a bad guy, but the world doesn’t. Aubrie has an incredibly bright future ahead of her, but I’m worried being associated with someone of your reputation might damage her chances of landing her dream job.”

“Jesus, Cliff. This is like a shitty movie. This is the plot of
Dirty Dancing
.”

He laughed. “Except you two are related.”

“Yeah, which makes it weirder.”

I realized that my fists were clenched, and I wanted to punch his smug face until he bled.

“I get it. I’m sure you think I’m being a huge asshole. But regardless of what I know about you and who you really are, how people see you is more important than anything else. I don’t want to jeopardize Aubrie’s future because she’s associated with Based Carter. Even if Lincoln Carter is a good guy.”

I nodded, my hands gripping the chair, my whole body tense with rage. The piece of shit had the audacity to show up out of the blue and to ask me to stay away from his perfect little daughter, as if I were some piece of fucking trash. And yet he was perfectly fine working with me and raking in the cash together.

Fucking hypocrite. Any regrets I was feeling over telling Brie about her dad blackmailing me into the film were completely dissolving.

“Whatever you say, Cliff,” I managed to say through clenched teeth.

“Thanks, Lincoln. I’m not saying you guys can’t be friendly. Or even friends. Just keep it away from the cameras and the press. Keep it private.”

“I hear you. We done?”

“We’re done. I hope you’re not going to let his affect our professional relationship.”

I struggled to my feet as the range of responses played through my mind. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, break every contract I’d ever signed with his companies, but I knew that I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t go back to jail. I knew I needed him to get through my PT, to get my fucking legs back, to get back into the air.

One day, you fuck, when I’m healed and away from you, I’ll make you pay for this, I vowed to myself.

“I won’t let my reputation get in the way of her future.”

“Thanks. That means a lot, you saying that.” He paused and smiled, his fake fucking L.A. sleazy smile. “Good luck with your PT.”

I turned and gimped away, wishing I could move faster. The fuck’s eyes were burning a hole into my back.

As if my life weren’t complicated enough.

Dip down and repeat. Dip down and repeat. Tracey pushed up against me, sweat and camera lights, repeat. Tracey encouraging. Jess trying to get a better shot. Dip down and repeat.

My legs were on fucking fire, but it didn’t matter, I had to dip down and repeat until Tracey said stop. Everything in me wanted to quit, wanted to walk away and stop, but the memory of flying through the sky kept me down on the ground. Kept me working harder than I had ever worked before. I dipped down and repeated. Dipped and repeated.

That’s how my day went. Pain and hard work, sweat and more work and more pain and more sweat, and cameras all over the place, and Aubrie. And the thought of my cock pressing deep inside her and the gasp she’d make. Fucking her until she came on my hard dick.

After the reps and the pain and the frustration, I limped away, the cameras broken down and stashed for the night. Tracey had left an hour ago, and I had spent that hour in front of Jess answering mindless question after question about my rehab.

I was finally rid of them. I limped out down the hallway, past the kitchen, and headed into what I called the game room. It was about as big as the kitchen and was dominated by a pool table in the center with vintage pinball machines lining the walls around it.

I always ignored the pool table. I was there for one thing and one thing alone: an old 90s Batman pinball machine. It was my nemesis. I had set high scores on every other machine, but for some reason I was having trouble with the Dark Knight. I grunted as I leaned up against its cabinet and hit the button to drop a new ball and start a new game. Fortunately, Cliff had made the machines free.

That was my routine. After PT, no matter how exhausted, I’d go into the game room and play a few balls. At first, Jess wheeled me in there and left me parked in front of a machine, barely able to see down into the cabinet. As time went by, though, I was able to play on my own strength.

I worked the flippers and the ball zoomed all over the place. Lights and sounds flashed as I worked the machine. I lost myself in the game.

And just as I really started getting deep into the flow, I heard a cough behind me. The ball plunked off a flipper, bounced back toward me, and zoomed in between the flippers.

Game over.

I turned around. Aubrie was leaning against the pool table, smiling at me. I stared at her body and mentally cursed. It was like she was trying to get me hard. She wore a sheer white tank top with a red bathing suit top underneath it, her tits practically spilling out of the thing, and those sexy cotton shorts that I loved. Her hair was slightly damp but drying, and I figured she had been swimming.