Sean: A Stepbrother Romance (Coded for Love 3)

That hurt. Badly. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” he stated.

She understood, he sensed that, but she was far from happy.

She folded her arms across her chest, tightly. “That bloke you were talking to on the beach in Rhyl. He was something to do with this stupid hacking gig, doesn’t he?”

It was pointless denying it. It would only give her more to complain about. “Yes.”

“Pixie was there. I’ll never forgive you if you put Pixie in danger.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.

“I’ll never forgive myself.”

Her eyes widened.

“I’m only doing this job to keep you all safe, to protect you.”

Explaining was not helping. Her expression told him that much.

He stepped after her.

She backed away, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare come near me.”

He reached out, he couldn’t help himself.

But she’d turned on her heel and was gone.

Chapter Sixteen

Rowan darted up the stairs to the bedroom Sky had shown her earlier in the evening, and when she got inside she went to lock the door. There was no key.

Grumbling in frustration she stood with her back against it, silently cursing Sean Rattigan, daring him to try to get in. If he did, she’d kick his sorry butt all the way to Wales and back.

When she realized she was about to pass out from holding her breath, she sighed and turned sideways, listening at the door. The distant strains of a TV reached her, and the sound of her own erratic pulse rushed in her ears, but that was all. Otherwise, silence. The quiet was ominous.

Why on earth had she come here, she berated herself for bringing herself more humiliation. Seeing him standing there had confused her though. All the time she’d spent planning her speech over the course of the journey here. Her principles had forced her actions, but physically and emotionally she longed to be held by him again. Her lips still tingled from the pressure of his firm, handsome mouth on hers. When she pressed her lips together to quell the sensation, it only made it worse.

The feeling of his mouth on her neck had all but stolen her legs from under her. He could play her like a fiddle, and she’d felt weak from lust and dizzy with confusion. It was still the case.

She had to battle the urge to fling open the door, run down the stairs and throw herself at him. She forbade herself. She simply couldn’t fall under his spell any more. Instead she walked across the room and threw herself on the bed. As soon as she did, the tears let loose. She’d tried to hold them back while they’d argued, but now she was alone the wall came tumbling down.

Fear tapped on her shoulder as well.

She hadn’t been afraid, not until he’d said he would never forgive himself for putting Pixie in danger. Sean would never make a statement like that if there wasn’t good cause. Overcome with confusion and the desperate logging to be close to him she buried her face in the pillow.

It didn’t help, because Sean had slept in this bed the night before. Tensing, she realized what she’d done. The knowledge and the scent of him was torture, sheer torture. Rolling away from the pillow she stared across the floor. That didn’t help either, because there was a T-shirt on the floor and she just knew it was his.

Snatching it up she squeezed it tight to her chest.

Why couldn’t she be strong, forget him? There was no way around it. She’d always loved him, and three years of failed attempts to forget him had proven it. She longed to be with him, even while they’d argued, but she refused to give him any encouragement, any tiny sign he could read as approval,

And his warnings had scared her.

It was even worse than she could possibly have imagined.

He’d said he was going to do the job to protect them. What had he brought to her door? He’d only explained that much because he had to. Broken promises littered her train of thought, and the situation he’d outlined only made her realize how little she knew him. It broke her heart.

Fuck him, she decided.

Minutes later she was under the sheets, lights out. But her pulse still raced and her body was humming with need, as if electrified by some invisible connection to the hunk of male testosterone in close proximity. She squeezed her thighs together, but that only made it worse. Cursing, she rolled from side to side, punching the pillow trying to get comfortable. None of it helped. There was nothing wrong with the bed.