Stepbrother's Secret

“Yes,” I whisper, giving in to the urge to lay my cheek against his tie, inhaling his signature cologne, before remembering we’re stepsiblings. In public. Lord, can I do anything right? With a sound of frustration, I pull out of his hold.

Tristan’s jaw clenches, hands flexing at his sides. Like he wants to haul me back. He starts to speak, but whatever he’s going to say freezes on his lips. His gaze voyages over my face, down my neck and breasts, a soft exhalation puffing from his mouth. “Goddamn it, Cate. You are too beautiful for this world.”

Pleasure and awareness and relief wash over me. Instantly.

“I’m wearing the dress the right way?” I ask, hopefully.

My question seems to baffle him. “Yes, of course you are.”

“Oh good. I thought maybe I put it on wrong. The driver…he looked at it funny.”

His right eye twitches. “Did he now?” He turns, guiding me through the humming lobby with his hand on the small of my back. “I’ll just have to address that with him, won’t I?”

“What do you mean?”

“Shit,” he mutters, dropping his hand away. “Smile, Cate.”

I do as he says just in time for several flashes to go off.

Two reporters with cameras step into our path, calling questions to Tristan, snapping picture after picture of us. Remembering what my etiquette instructor taught me about life in the spotlight, I fold my hands at my waist and attempt to appear serene.

“You know where I’m going to be before I do,” Tristan jokes with the reporters, signaling for me to precede him toward the bank of chrome elevators.

“Who is the mystery woman, Governor?” One of the reporters asks in a suggestive tone, waggling his brows. “Interesting afternoon plans?”

My stepbrother gives them a look of censure. “We’re here for a corporate photo shoot with Andre Bisset. You’re welcome to confirm.”

“Is she the new policy advisor?”

“Look over this way, miss!”

“Excuse us, please,” Tristan practically growls.

The elevator doors open and he shepherds me inside without actually touching me, his breath releasing in a hiss when we’re enclosed inside. “Are you all right, sweetheart? You did very well.”

Pleasure floods me. I can’t help it. “Thank you.”

Tristan pulls out his cell phone, speaking into it almost immediately. “You’re going to be called for comment about my presence at the hotel. The official line is a corporate photo shoot with Andre Bisset. Say no more than that. If they push for details, explain that there will be a press release on Friday evening, given to a select few, and if they want to be privy to the information, they might want to refrain from posting pictures.”

He hangs up, irritation in the hard line of his shoulders.

“I didn’t really understand before. Not completely,” I murmur. “About why you need to stay away from me.”

“The press has wild imaginations. They also have an uncanny sense for knowing when something is real.” His hungry gaze pins me to the wall of the elevator. “The best among them can interpret body language, read lips. Judge intention.” He touches his tongue to the corner of his mouth. “I’ve never needed to fuck anyone as badly as I need to fuck you. Not even close. So I have no experience trying to hide it. But sneaking in and out of your apartment wouldn’t even require them to use any guesswork. They’d know exactly what I was doing.”

There’s a delicious tug between my thighs, brought on by the bold, blunt way he speaks to me. “Sleeping in my bed,” I whisper, swaying toward him involuntarily.

Tristan shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, indicating a mounted camera with his eyes. “We’ll be alone soon, Cate. But not yet.”

I swallow. Nod. “What happens when we’re alone?”

His chest expands along with his pupils. “We’re going to finish what we started on the couch in your apartment. I can’t live another day without getting my cock inside you. I can’t live another day without holding you. Kissing you. Calling you my sweet little girl.” My breasts are fairly swelling over the neckline of my dress, I’m becoming so aroused, emotional, my breath coming fast, fast, fast. “If you can keep our secret, I’ll find ways to get you alone. I’m a bastard for asking. You deserve better than some clandestine affair with your older brother. A governor. Someone who should have control over themselves. But I don’t. I’ve become obsessed with you, Cate. I can’t fucking sleep. Can’t think straight. I need between your thighs.”

Oh my lord.

His intensity shakes me to my toes—and I can’t deny him.

I can’t pass up a chance to have Tristan all to myself. To have him tune the instrument of my body so it plays correctly. This is the man I love. The man who makes me feel safe and wanted. “I can keep a secret,” I vow fervently.