Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!) (53 page)

I retreat without even thinking about it, until the hard wall is against my back. He stalks after me, fencing me in with his arms. Damn it, Cassie. This is too much. She threw me to the freaking wolves.

Gavin smiles, white teeth flashing. Not a wolf, a shark. “Let me guess, little girl. You’re off to college soon, and...” he draws it out before he continues. “And your best friend thinks you should go take a walk on the wild side before you get there. And now she’s left you with me.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. He’s eerily close to the mark. “You do this a lot?”

“Babe, I can show you things you’ve never even known to dream about.” He leans in, so close I can smell him. He’s all testosterone, all masculinity. “I’m good.” He trails a finger along my jaw. “I’m the best.” He’s also arrogant as hell.

Trying to look around his massive body, I search for Cassie, but while I’m sure she’s watching gleefully someplace nearby, I don’t see her. How did I let her talk me into this? God, this is crazy.

“Eyes on me, babe. I want to get lost in those gorgeous brown pools.” The sheer intensity of him scares me. I can’t tell how much of his interest is real, and how much is just love of the chase. “I want to see them beneath me as I slide into you.”

My sex clenches in spite of my misgivings. Okay, so I want him. He’s full of himself, but there’s no denying he’s hot. This was the plan, right? Now I just have to follow through with it.

“I guess it’s your lucky night. Just like, tone down the macho a little, alright? My bullshit meter doesn’t go to eleven,” I say it with a confidence I don’t feel, and I’m sure he can tell. But what should he care so long as he gets laid, right? It doesn’t matter if I like him, so long as I don’t let down Paul when we finally do it.
Do it.
Hello again, middle school.

He laughs softly and studies my face. “You know what? Never mind. You’re not ready. Go swim in the kiddie pool a little longer. I’ve got better things to do than babysit.” Turning away, he puts his hand up in a dismissive wave as he walks off.

What? I finally worked up my nerve, and he turns me down? No freaking way! That’s unacceptable. Forgetting that five minutes ago I didn’t know him, and two minutes ago I wanted to run away, I charge after him, grab his arm and pull. It’s like wrapping my fingers around warm steel.

When he looks at me, his eyes are shrewd and narrow, and that infuriating smirk is still plastered on his face, like he was expecting my reaction. Is he playing me? I don’t even know why I want him anymore, other than that he’s thrown down the gauntlet and it’s now or never. There’s no way I’ll work up the courage to go through this again.

I glare at Gavin, daring him to contradict me. “I am
so
ready.”

He arches a single, skeptical eyebrow, but he nods. “Alright. If you say so. I’ve got a place around the corner. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” His smug words taunt me, like he still doesn’t believe I’m up for the challenge.

I’m sure he’s playing me, but I’ll play him right back.

T
he elevator takes forever, and it’s really awkward. At least for me. I don’t know him, but I’m going to have sex with him, and he’s standing there like he doesn’t have a care in the world, leaning against the wall with his big, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. Meanwhile, I have to force myself to stand still, my legs wanting to pace the little space we have.

I focus on the yellow lights that slowly tick away our progress towards the thirty-third floor. It’s the penthouse, and I’m pretty sure this is the tallest building I’ve ever been in. Even under the circumstances, I’m amazed at how long the freaking elevators take. I’m probably just a little antsy. Okay, a lot antsy.

Finally, the bell dings and the doors open into a well-lit hallway. It’s short, with only three doors, one to either side of us and one straight ahead. Gavin heads for the one on the left, taking the lead. We still haven’t said a word since we got in the elevator, but I guess neither of us are here for conversation. It’s not like this is a date.

He unlocks it, his heavy key chain rattling. Standing behind him, I admire his broad back, rippling under his tight shirt even at those small movements. I feel small and vulnerable next to him. God, he could break me.
Angie, you’ve better not have screwed up.

He gives the door a push and gestures for me to enter with a suave but over the top flourish. Praying that I haven’t just done the stupidest thing in my short life, I step forward, drawing a sharp breath as soon as I see the large floor to ceiling windows. Across the room, the whole city sprawls out below us like a quilt made out of neon.

Without thinking about it, I run right up so I can see better. My knees shake with a touch of vertigo, but it’s too beautiful to look away. Red and yellow lights glide along the streets far below, like glowing ants scurrying around a giant anthill. Looming over the streets, the buildings are shadowy forms spattered with glowing yellow rectangles showing where someone’s home, or working late. I can see the harbor off in the distance, and a large ship’s setting out, a floating tower of tiny bright squares. It’s amazing. I’ve never seen a view like this.

Catching my breath, I turn and look around the room with wide eyes while Gavin waits patiently behind me, an expression of amusement on his face. I bet I’m not the first one to come in here and need a moment. Whatever bachelor hovel I’d expected him to have, this isn’t it. All of the floors are solid hardwood. Everything is chrome, glass or polished wood, except the large leather couch that faces the biggest TV I’ve seen in my life. While the windows dominate the whole wall behind me, the others are covered in paintings and artsy photos in fancy frames. Almost every single one features nudes.
That
I might have expected.

Behind the couch, a black marble island separates the living room from a state of the art kitchen that looks like it’s hardly been used. No clutter in sight, and there’s not a stain or scratch anywhere. I bet if I open the fridge, there won’t be anything inside.

The whole place is neat and tidy, like a model apartment that no one lives in.

I don’t know who Gavin really is, but he’s money and that somehow makes me even more nervous.

There’s a large fireplace in the corner that flares up when he hits a switch on the wall, filling the room with silent, flickering light. “I like the real wood ones better.” It’s the first thing he’s said since we left the club. “Gas is convenient, but it’s just not the same sound and smell, you know?”

Right, like I’m the type of girl who has opinions on decorative fireplaces that probably cost more than my car. I turn to him. This is all too much. I just need to get it over with. I haven’t changed my mind, but it makes me a little sad to think that my first time has turned into something to
get over with.

When I speak, I hear the tightness in my own voice. “Where’s the bedroom?”

He chuckles. “Well, aren’t you all business tonight? Fine, this way, babe.” Crossing his arms over his torso to peel his t-shirt off as he walks, he casually throws it aside while he leads the way to a closed white door.

I’m glad his back is to me, because while his shirt didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, I didn’t expect all the ink that covers his massive torso. Abstract designs made with sleek edges and sharp points wrap themselves around his left shoulder and arm. A pair of Chinese dragons in full color spew fire across his back, undulating as he moves. A single lone dove decorates his right side.

Do they mean anything? I want to ask, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not here to get to know this guy. He’s just taking my cherry. I don’t need to know anything about him except that he’s good in bed, and something tells me he will be.

As soon as we enter the room, he turns, putting me face to chest with his massive inked pecs. He’s chiseled like a Greek god, a masterwork even Michelangelo would’ve been proud to show off. I get the urge to touch him, to trace the designs on his skin with my finger, but I don’t. It feels too personal.
Unlike sex.
This
is
crazy.

Putting his finger underneath my chin, he lifts my gaze to meet his. It’s smoldering, his hazel eyes deep and intense. The flecks of color seem to change in the flickering light from the fireplace. Mine feel almost plain in comparison. No matter what he’d said about my eyes earlier at the club, I think I’m the one at risk of getting lost.

He leans close, and I barely get my hands up onto his powerful chest before his lips claim mine. I hadn’t meant to kiss him. For some reason it feels more intimate than just
doing it
, but suddenly there’s a current running through us, raising all the little hairs on my arms into tingling goosebumps. I don’t push him away. Hell, I even kiss him back. God, he feels good.

His hands drop to my shoulders, then slide softly down my back, gliding over the skin exposed by my dress. Experienced fingers find the zipper and tug, sliding it smoothly down towards the small of my back.

Oh crap. It’s finally happening. I’m really doing this. Closing my eyes, I try not to think about it too much. I’m doing this for us. For me and Paul.

Right? I couldn’t really want this arrogant jerk. He’s just a means to an end. My thoughts flit back to Paul and I almost stop right there. Am I doing the right thing? The obvious answer is no, but then I already know that.

I stop thinking. Instead I explore Gavin with my hands, running my fingers across his silky skin, his tight abs, tracing the inky designs that cover him. His body’s so hard, so strong. He can do anything he wants to me and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. I’ve put myself right into his power, which is both incredibly scary and ridiculously sexy. There’s intense heat building inside me, making me want to get out of my suddenly too warm clothes.

He’s happy to help, sliding my dress off my shoulders and down my arms before letting it drop to pool around my ankles. I’m standing here in just my underwear and heels, vulnerable and terrified, yet shivering with need. How does his touch do this to me so easily? If I’d felt this with Paul, there’s no way I’d have been able to wait. It seems so wrong. I shouldn’t be wanting Gavin more than my actual boyfriend.

His hot fingers trace across my skin, sliding over my sides and down to my hips, then cupping my ass and pulling me closer. He’s still wearing his pants, but the large bulge is unmistakable as it presses against my stomach. I shiver in fear, or anticipation.

Tracing a path along my jaw and down into the crook of my neck, his soft lips kiss and nibble their way across my skin. With one hand still holding me close, he glides his other up my back until he reaches the catch on my bra. I draw a sharp breath, holding it.

The lacy garment gives, going slack around me as his clever fingers release it with a practiced ease. My breath comes out in a shudder while he hooks his finger between the cups and tugs. That infuriating smirk still covers his handsome face, but his eyes are dark with desire. I’m not the only one affected.

Heat rushes to my face and down my front as my breasts are exposed. My nipples could cut glass, they’re so hard. When his hand starts at my stomach and strokes upwards to cup a breast, I let out a moan. Cassie insisted that first times are supposed to be awkward and terrible, except this is anything but. And if first times can be good, should I even be here?

I find his belt buckle and tug, suddenly eager to move on to the main event. I’m liking this too much, and that’s not the point. That can’t be the point. Gavin’s nothing more than a one night stand to build my confidence, not... whatever this is.

The buckle gives, the fly next. Tugging on his zipper, I work it down until his pants come loose and slide down his thighs. They catch halfway, but he lets go of me long enough to work them down. He never stops kissing my neck, and once his hands are back on me, his lips slide lower, approaching the swell of my breasts.

I’m hyperventilating. I’m going to boil over. His hands are all over me, stroking, squeezing, caressing, making me feel like there are two of him, even three. Expertly, he makes me tingle and shiver under his touch, building my anticipation until I think I’ll explode.

Just as he takes a nipple in his mouth, he hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties, and as he swirls his tongue around the hard point, he tugs, exposing parts of me that no man has ever seen.

The first brush of air against my sex drives home the reality of what I’m doing, and it washes over me like a bucket of ice water. I have a boyfriend
. And I'm cheating on him
. Letting another guy see me naked before Paul ever has. So maybe Paul’s never made me feel like this, but that’s no excuse. I was crazy for thinking this was a good idea.

“Wait.” I take a step back, my nipple slipping out of his mouth with a soft pop, and my panties still halfway down my thighs. “I—I can’t do this.”

“Hey, it’s alright, babe. I’ll be gentle.” He slides his hands along my sides, his touch slow and seductive. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I swallow, trying to ignore the tingles his talented fingers create along my skin. I repeat myself with more conviction. “No, I mean it. I can’t.”

He stares at me, his face—and other things—, hard. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re saying this now?”

I rip my eyes away from the huge bulge in his black underwear. “I’m sorry. I really am. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry,” I repeat pathetically, yanking my panties back up as fast as I can, and hurriedly picking my bra up off the floor, unable to look him in the eyes. “I shouldn’t be here. Damn it.”

“Seriously?” He’s incredulous, and I don’t blame him. I’m angry at myself for thinking I could be okay with this. “Little Miss Let’s Get This Over With?” He tugs his underwear down, and my eyes go wide at the sight of his huge dick springing free. He gestures at it with a sneer. “Not even a sympathy blowjob? I’m sure a cocktease like you has had plenty of experience keeping guys out of your pants. You owe me that much.”

My cheeks burn, but I catch myself licking my lips. What’s wrong with me? I pick up my dress as quickly as I can and run for the door. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” As I snatch my purse off the leather couch, I feel my chest tighten and wet tears form in the corners of my eyes. I’m such an idiot.