My Billionaire Stepbrother (6 page)

My Dad smiles and takes my hand.

“You do not have to worry about
money any more, Kiki: just focus on your studies, if you want to return to
school. The trust money is yours to do with as you choose, whether to use as a
living stipend in the US or mad money for travel or drugs even.”

“Dad!”

“I know you don’t do drugs honey,
I’m just saying, that is the nature of a trust: you use it for what you want
and the money will always be there for you no matter what. We will support
whatever decision you make.”

Diana nods, her face serious. “You
are welcome to stay here or go anywhere in the world: any Wilde Hospitality
Corp property is your home. When I took on your father I took on you too, and I
want you to know that you are a part of the Wilde family now. That comes with
prestige, wealth, and connections. You are not alone anymore, and you will
never be poor again.”

I sit stunned, my coffee-cup in my
hand in mid-slurp. My heart is hammering so loudly I am sure that Remington can
hear it from where he sits beside me.

Can this be true?

Am I suddenly rich?

And not just rich but, like, RICH,
rich?

It seems way too good to be true.

This never happens in real life,
I tell myself.
Fairy godmothers don’t just show up and make you an heiress.
Nothing is this perfect, is it? I must be hallucinating. Somebody pinch me.

“Kiki,” my father whispers, “Just
breathe. It’s real. This is real. You don’t have to worry about money, baby,
and you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

He knows me so well. He knows what
I am thinking. This amazing gift hits me like a ton of bricks and I can’t stop
the grateful, confused, overwhelming tears from falling down my cheeks.

“Oh my god,” I choke. “Oh my god.
No. No, it’s too much. It’s way too much! I can’t take it. I can’t.”

What else can you say when you go
from zero to being a billionaire in one brunch?

I am actually having trouble
breathing.

My Dad gets up and comes over,
hugging me.

“You deserve it, Kiki,” he says.
“You deserve this break. I can’t tell you how good it makes me feel to know
that you’re going to be taken care of for a change. Let us take care of you.”

Diana is up too, hugging me, and I
feel myself sob. I have never felt more confused or shocked in my life. That
seems to be my new normal since coming to this tropical playground: shocked and
confused, confused and shocked.

Wiping my eyes, I catch Remington
studying me, and I almost laugh because his face reflects the same things I am
feeling: confusion and shock.

Seems to be contagious.

“Wow,” Diana says, laughing through
her own tears. “I knew this would be an emotional morning for all of us, but
whew!”

Dad and Remington laugh too in
spite of themselves, then catch each other’s eyes and fall silent, awkward
again.

“I think we have covered all the
bombshells,” my Dad jokes. “And if everyone’s done eating, I think we should
get started.”

“Started?” Remington and I say in
unison, our voices equally wary.

“Yes!” Diana says, clapping. “We
are a family now. Jacques and I love you both, and we love each other, but to
you we are still strangers. We will not rest until we are a real family. So, we
are spending the day together doing all the island’s best activities.”

My mind is whirling. The shock of
my new financial status, the craziness of Diana and Dad’s love story, the
revelation of Remington’s depth of emotion about his Dad – I have so much to
process, I’d really rather be a classic introvert and retreat back to my
bungalow and not come out ever again. Plus, I was really hoping to set up some
Skype meetings with my professors to straighten out my finals.

But Dad and Diana look so hopeful,
so excited.

I can’t say no to them.

I’m actually terrible at saying no.

Remington and I accidentally catch
each other’s eyes, and I read in him the same reluctance and trepidation that I
feel. Oddly, I almost feel like he is trying to base his answer off of mine,
let me lead the way in responding to Dad and Diana. Is he actually being a
gentleman? Giving me the lead?

I’m not sure what it is, but
something passes between us, a current of recognition or grudging empathy or
something. Something shifts. Something opens.

Maybe we are both experiencing the
same tug of war between loyalty to our parent and the impulse to let our
survival mechanisms kick in to deal with all this new unchartered emotional
terrain. Neither of us wants to play family, but both of us look like we’re
feeling pretty guilty about wanting to say no.

“Come on Kiki,” my Dad says,
slipping taking my hand. “It’ll be fun.”

And I find myself smiling back at
him. “Ok,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

Remington shakes his head and
sighs, falling in step beside me. Between him and my Dad, I am totally screwed.

There are some men a girl just
can’t say “no” to.

Chapter Seven

ü
 
Sailing in the Indian Ocean.

ü
 
Nature-walking in a jungle.

ü
 
Snorkeling a coral reef.

ü
 
Screaming underwater and momentarily losing my breathing tube
because I see a shark.

ü
 
Realizing it’s a non-threatening, tiny shark, not dying, and
actually
petting
an actual damn shark.

ü
 
Sob-crying because I pet an actual damn shark.

ü
 
Petting giant tortoises and little baby tortoises; not screaming.

ü
 
Petting sea creatures that I don’t recognize.

ü
 
Accidentally petting Remington’s leg at one point (thinking it
was a sea creature I don’t recognize).

ü
 
Eating a weird enormous coconut thing shaped like a butt, fresh
off the tree.

ü
 
Eating amazing rich people food.

ü
 
Being a rich person.

ü
 
Drinking so many fancy cocktails that my skin feels like it’s
breathing.

ü
 
Eating more ridiculously amazing rich people food.

I can now scratch all of these
things off my bucket list. Diana’s day of “family activities” around the luxurious,
beautiful North Island of The Seychelles has been so packed and so busy that
I’ve hardly had time to feel awkward or shy.

Until now.

Now, to cap everything off, Diana
has us on a sort of a self-guided kayak tour. And by self-guided she means that
she and Remington are guiding us. Because they, you know, are from here. Dad
and Diana have paddled ahead and around a bend of the coast, disappearing from
view.

Which means I am alone with
Remington. In a deserted cove. In a kayak.

Which means that his legs are
wrapped around my hips from behind, and his arms keep reaching around my
shoulders, and I can feel his breath and his muscles move every time he
paddles.

Which means he is so all up on me
that it’s impossible not to notice how good he feels, and impossible not to
fantasize about how much better he would feel if we were naked.

Which means I keep forgetting to
paddle, and we are actually slowly spinning in a circle because I am a
sex-obsessed idiot who can’t focus on anything but her new stepbrother’s
perfect body and infuriating personality.

I can even feel his…you know…against
my ass.

Not that I’m thinking about that.

Nope.

Definitely not thinking about it.

“That’s a pretty spot,” I say,
pointing to the beach.

“Yeah,” Remington agrees. “That’s
the private beach off Villa 1, where I’m staying.”

“Right. In my bed, which you kicked
me out of.”

“In
my
bed, which I invited
you into. Sis.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your
sis. And yeah, group sex parties: not exactly my thing.”

I remember; the sex party, the
fight, the nakedness. The glimpse of his…

Oh god I’m thinking about it.

Worse, I think Remington is
thinking about it too.

“What about private sex parties?”

I blush and try to concentrate on
the scenery, falling silent.

We had been maintaining some
strained chitchat for a while, painstakingly avoiding the topics of this
morning’s brunch and yesterday’s sexual tension. But now that’s a bust. Now
that he’s brought it up I can’t stop thinking about the strange intense
physical reaction I have every time I’m around him, or about the odd twisting
jealousy I experienced seeing him naked in bed with other women yesterday, or
the utter fascination and glee I felt just seeing him naked at all.

Now that I’m thinking about it I
can’t stop thinking about it, and I can’t stop imagining what it would be like
to be with him.

Thinking about it is so good and so
consuming and so palpable that I seem to lose the ability to function for a
minute; I’m literally paddling our kayak in circles and we’ve both abandoned
all attempts at conversation. Behind me, I can feel Remington staring at me,
his attention shifting to my body.

And I swear to god I can feel him
thinking about it, too.

He’s got a reputation as a playboy
for a reason. This heat is unreal, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. He
emanates sex. He radiates sex.

Can’t breathe. Can’t function. Oh
god.

I swear I can feel that same energy
and heat in the air between us that I felt yesterday, a presence of something
between us: a chemistry so palpable and disturbing it’s like a whole other
entity in the air.

That is, if there
were
any
air between us. God, you’d think with the sun setting it would be getting
cooler but I am starting to sweat. This hyper-awareness of Remington’s body is
driving me insane, and I can’t help but remember the flash of seeing him
totally bare and aroused yesterday. I wish I didn’t know exactly what he looks
like or the exact size of his glorious, smooth, huge dick. I wish I wasn’t
thinking about how that particular area is shoved up against me right this
second, so close, so tantalizing, and so forbidden.

So, SO forbidden.

Oh god! That thought isn’t helping.

I shift in my seat to try to make
space between us, accidentally rubbing myself even closer to his body. As the
kayak glides across the quiet water, the gentle tide rocks us against each
other and in spite of my best intentions at self-control I let out a small,
subconscious groan.

Immediately I feel Remington
stiffen – in more ways than one.

The sudden unavoidable awareness of
his arousal freezes me like a deer in the headlights.

Oh god. This is happening. It’s
happening.

“Can you scoot forward please?” he
asks, his voice gruff. “You’re…my…um…”

He sounds irritable and awkward –
the way people do when they are thinking about sex when they aren’t supposed
to.

I decide to pretend that I don’t
know it’s happening.

“Sorry,” I say, and shift again.
“Sorry. Better?”

But there really isn’t anywhere to
move in the kayak besides up and down, which means I mostly just end up rubbing
my ass against his rapidly hardening man parts even more, inadvertently kind of
in the exact motion of a lap-dance.

“Uhh…no, can you...”

“Oh sorry, let me…”

I shift again, faster, accidentally
and unavoidably rubbing again, faster. Now Remington is the one to groan, a low
and soft and deep sound so primal and masculine that I actually feel my insides
gush wet and throb. It makes my thighs tremble together, which pushes my ass
against him even closer. His cock shudders, pressing harder against me.

Holy shit.

“Sorry,” I say again. “I’m sorry.
I…uh…maybe we should paddle to the beach and I can just walk the rest of the
way?”

I feel him try to pull his hips
back away from mine, but it turns into another accidental rub and this time we
both catch our breath and groan at the same time. A tremor works through my
body, curling my toes, and I have to grab on to the side of the kayak for
stability.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Ok, yeah, let’s
get out here. Good idea.”

“Ok. Yeah. Ok. Right. Good. Let me
grab the paddle. I’ll just –”

Leaning forward I reach to where
I’d placed the paddle across the prow, and in doing so I once again unthinkingly
slide the length of my ass against the length of Remington’s cock. The friction
and the pleasure are painstakingly slow and impossible to ignore, the magnetism
between our bodies as strong as gravity. I’m so wet now I am sure he can feel
it through both our pants.

And this time he doesn’t pretend
not to notice.

“God damn it,” he gasps.

A few things happen really fast.

Remington’s free hand grabs my hips
from the side and pulls them back hard and tight against his to create a
forceful pressure as he deliberately arcs himself against me, slowly and
assertively letting me feel him thrust against my ass.

I can feel everything.

I can feel that he wants me.

I can feel
how
he wants me.

I can feel how he’d
fuck
me.

I can feel the hardness of his
erection springing under his shorts, an almost nuclear heat radiating from him.

“What are you doing to me,” he
groans. “Veronique, what the fuck!”

“God!” I gasp. “Oh god please. I…”

He drops his paddle and I vaguely
hear it splash into the water, but I don’t have time to pay attention to it
because his now-free other hand snakes around my body and embraces me, winding
its way around to crush my breasts.

“Oh god,” I moan.

Then, being an idiot, I try to do
two mutually exclusive things; the lower half of my body melts into him, as if
my ass and my sex are literally inviting him in, wantonly begging for the fuck
of a lifetime: but the upper half of my body – you know, the half attached to
my brain – has the opposite reaction of jerking away from his erotic touch in
self-preservation.

My confused body causes the whole
boat to rock. And the confused boat decides like me that it can’t handle all
this, and capsizes.

“Ahh!”

With a startled yelp the world goes
upside down and I am splashing into the bath-warm ocean, wishing it were cold
enough to shock my body back into its senses. But it’s not. The seawater is
warm and sensual, the salty scent enticing, the texture like thick magic
against my skin. And it’s also shallow enough that within a few minutes
Remington and I have found our footing and stand facing each other in the waist-deep
sea.

We are drenched and panting,
staring at each other with hungry eyes. Steam is literally rising from
Remington’s skin where the salty drops of sweat and seawater vaporize into the
air. He’s hot, heated, hard, and hell of dangerous, his face searching mine for
permission.

I recognize this moment; this is
the point of no return.

I can turn away and wade toward the
beach and run away from temptation like a smart person with an actual brain. I
can just
not
mess around with my stepbrother. I can just
not
cross the line.

Or…