Single Daddy (The Single Brothers 1)

Chapter Three

Hale let himself into his apartment late that evening. He’d only nursed a couple of beers while he’d played pool with his buddies, but his head was still pounding as though he’d drank a keg by himself. Stress. Self-denial. Had to be.

What the fuck was he thinking when he’d invited Zoe to stay here? Had it been some kind of test of his will power? Congratulations, moron, you failed. If it had been some attempt to prove to his dad that he was worth allowing back into the family, that was probably going to fail too.

With a small sigh, he saw she had contorted herself onto the loveseat rather than take a section of the king-size bed. Zoe snored softly, but her head was at an awkward angle. She looked damned uncomfortable, and he couldn’t just leave her there like that. What kind of brother would let his sister sleep that way?

“Stepbrother,” he muttered aloud, acknowledging the critical difference. The key element that had fucked up everything and made such a mess of his life the past three years. Professionally, he had kicked ass and taken names, but that was because he’d had nothing else to focus on, aside from some friends and getting over his forbidden attraction.

Bomber hissed at him when Hale gently pushed the cat off her lap and to the floor. Ignoring his old friend’s outrage from the displacement, he bent down to lift her. She was tall and willowy, but she somehow curved against him as though she were a petite little thing built just to fit in his arms.

“Dangerous thoughts, Hale.” His whispered admonition made her stir in his arms, and she turned her face into his neck. He nearly dropped her when she exhaled against the sensitive spot that revved his engine like no other. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered as he carried her to the bed and laid her on one side.

The faint scent of sex lingered in the air, and he briefly wondered if she had fucked some loser in his bed. His head throbbed with anger at the thought, before he dismissed it. A slow smile broke over his lips as he remembered leaving the bathroom earlier and being hit with the sweet perfume of what he could have sworn was her arousal.

Had she been in the living room touching her pussy while he’d been in the shower stroking himself? He’d been unable to resist the urge for a quick jerk-off after enduring the pleasurable torture of being so close to her during dinner but forbidden to touch her. Had she been imagining him in the shower, or were her thoughts of some other guy? Had she been in a similar state of arousal from their closeness, or had she just been randomly turned on?

The thought that she had been as aroused by him as he was her should have raised a dozen red flags. An alarm klaxon should be blaring in the back of his mind, reminding him why he had to put distance between himself and his tempting stepsister, but only the soft chuffing of satisfaction buzzed in his ears.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, forcing himself to turn away from Zoe and go to the bathroom. He’d have a quick wank, get his filthy thoughts under control, and try to grab a few hours of sleep. With any luck, he’d be up and out of the bed before she ever woke up.

He supposed the chivalrous thing to do was to sleep on the loveseat, but hell with that. It wasn’t just to avoid a painful crick in his neck or lower back pain all day. No, he was going to seize the only opportunity he’d probably ever get to sleep in the same bed with Zoe. He wasn’t going to touch her, but just being near her would be enough. It had to be, because anything else was out of the question.

***

Zoe woke feeling warmer than she ever had. It was like being pressed against a furnace. A warm, fleshy furnace with sinewy muscle and a hard-on.

Her eyes snapped open, and she turned her head to find the source of even breathing from her left. Her mouth dropped open as she saw Hale’s head on her pillow. Or was her head on his? They had rolled together into the center of the bed, limbs tangled. His skin pressed against hers wherever they weren’t separated by fabric.

Glancing down, she swallowed a small gasp at the sight of the impressive bulge tenting the front of his plaid boxers. The cotton hid any skin from inspection, but she could see the general shape and outline, not to mention feel it poking against her hip. Hale was seriously blessed, based on her modest experience.

When she looked upward again, heat flamed in her cheeks as her gaze locked with his silver-blue orbs. He gave her a lazy smile that oozed sex appeal, and she squirmed. “Morning, sweet Zoe.”

“What…how…why am I in bed with you?” Her voice was somewhere between a timid squeak and a shrill shriek.

“You looked so uncomfortable on the loveseat.” He lifted a shoulder. “The bed is huge, so why not share?”

“This is why not.” She gestured to their bodies, still pressed together. Realizing they were touching, she scooted backward to separate them. “It’s wrong to sleep with your brother.”

“Stepbrother.” He reached out to push a strand of hair out of her eyes. “We aren’t really related, Zoe.”

“No, but our families…I mean…it’s complicated.” She trailed off, closing her eyes as his fingers stroked down her cheek. When he brushed his thumb over her mouth, she opened them again to stare at him. “I need to get going, or I’ll be late.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“Oh.”

“There’s no reason you can’t just spend a lazy day in bed, right?” His words were innocent, though his expression was anything but. “We could put on a movie and just veg out.” His fingers drifted down her neck as he spoke.

She tried to focus on his words and block out the sensual stroke of his fingers. “I…” Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I can’t. Things to do.”

“Like what?” He traced the scooped neckline of her tank, but his fingers didn’t dip beneath it.

“Groceries. We’re running low on rutabagas.” She winced, having seized the first word that came to mind.

His lips twitched. “I guess we are, since I’ve never bought them. You really like rutabagas, huh?” His index finger sneaked just under the satin ribbing of her tank.

“I love them.” Her voice was a breathy whisper.

“I’m more of a fruit man. Apples…” His hand slipped lower, his fingers gliding over her breasts above the fabric. “Bananas.” As his palm rested lightly over her taut nipple, he gave her a wicked grin that was hot enough to make her panties disappear in a puff of smoke. “Melons.”

Her throat was dry, but she somehow managed to summon enough saliva to respond. “How crude of you, Hale. I thought you’d be much smoother than that.”

“I’ll be smooth later.” He scooted closer, his mouth getting nearer to hers. Wiggling his hand made his palm rub against her nipple, and his eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

As his lips almost brushed hers, she moved her head back. “We can’t, Hale.”

“Why not?” His breath blew across her lips.

“I really have to go.”

Before she could roll out of bed, he put his arm around her waist, holding her against him. “Don’t you wonder what it would have been like?”

“What what was like?” Her stomach quivered under his arm, and it took every bit of concentration to focus on his words and not his proximity.

“That night, three years ago.” He took a handful of her hair, rubbing the silken strands between his fingers. “The night you came home crying because some idiot insulted your gorgeous body, and I hugged you.”

“It was for comfort.”

“It started that way.” His fingers traced lazy patterns on her hip. “But you looked up at me, your lips trembling, and the pain in your eyes so real that I wanted to crush that idiot boy.”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

“Liar,” he whispered. “You were finally in my arms, and I was about to kiss you. Don’t you wonder how it would have felt?”

The memory swept through her of her disastrous blind date with a friend’s boyfriend’s cousin. The guy had been clearly uninterested and was rude enough to say bluntly in front

of her that her chest was too flat, and her curves too nonexistent, for him to have any interest.

She’d come home crying to find Hale in the kitchen preparing a sandwich. Her stepbrother had hugged her, whispering sweet words to her as he coaxed the story from her. She still remembered the intensity in his eyes when he had spoken to her. “You’re beautiful, and don’t let any fuckwad make you think differently.”