LUST (A STEPBROTHER ROMANCE)

“Sandra,” he whispered, “we shouldn’t do this…”

“I know,” I told him, my lips aching for another kiss. But it wouldn’t be right—not like this. Not when I was still assigned to his case and sworn to protect him. I couldn’t do that if I was compromised by my feelings. I’d broken things off with Nathaniel Hale for a good reason, and I had to keep a professional distance no matter what my body was telling me.

I stood up, liberating myself from the circle of his arms and wiping my eyes with the back of my wrist. Every cell in my body screamed for me to return to him, but I couldn’t let my heart overrule my head. I couldn’t put Nathan in potential danger by letting myself get distracted, and after what I’d just done, I couldn’t bear to sit there and take another bite of dinner.

“I’m going to bed,” I murmured, ignoring the longing pulsations between my thighs. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Nathan nodded slowly. I could see his rippling muscles bunch up like he was ready to pin me to that couch and fuck away every bad feeling and thought threatening to destroy me. I could almost feel the weight of him on top of me, pushing me down, sinking into me as he made me his again. I could taste his lips again, or feel the flame of his tongue darting against my own. I could almost feel his flesh beneath my nails.

But no. Not now. Not yet. Not until I knew he was safe.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice strained as he watched me pull the screen around the couch so I could change into my pajamas.

“Goodnight,” I echoed, slipping under the blanket I’d brought from home. As I listened to the sounds of him cleaning up the table, I tried desperately not to touch myself and drifted off into a restless night’s sleep.

5

Morning came far too quickly for a girl who’d spent the evening entrenched in nightmares.

I’d been dreaming about Jenny, of course, and my mother, too. I’d dreamt their corpses were in our old living room, stuck with the thousand needles they’d used to keep their demons at bay. They were bloated and bruised, but all smiles, with teeth too bright for dead girls.

And all the while, they kept asking how I was, if I had made myself a hero yet. And in my dream, all I could do was say, “No, Mom,” and “No, Sis,” like some shameful little girl, and they laughed and laughed and laughed.

Why the hell did you kiss him? I thought to myself, pondering my own stupidity as I sat up on the smelly couch. I guessed the only good thing about last night was that the department was fighting a budget crisis and probably didn’t have any ears in this room.

“Stupid,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure if I was talking to myself or to the man still entombed in a sea of Egyptian cotton. We’d told Nathan to pack for a week, and he apparently used most of his luggage space to stow away miles of white sheets with an almost impossibly high thread-count. No sleeping like a commoner for that man.

I didn’t need this. I didn’t need any of this. My life was complicated enough without trying to jump back into bed with someone who’d probably cut himself on cheap toilet paper. I’d learned my lesson once, and I didn’t need to be reminded.

Did I want to do it anyway? Yes. Was I going to? Hell no.

The sun was coming up, and he was still sleeping as I began my little ritual. I spent five minutes at each window surveying the ground, taking note of everything worth noting. Cars parked in the lot by make and model, loitering individuals with their general descriptions, places someone could hide… Captain Pierce would expect an update with his morning coffee, and I wanted to be the detective on top of this case, not the woman who spilled her heart out and kissed the star witness.

And there was a problem out there. There were at least a dozen men posted about in unusual places. Not police, that much was certain. I could spot an undercover from a mile away, but these men were different. I spotted another one out on a little patch of grass on the edge of the property, his back leaned up against a tree, hands in front of him and his head slowly turning from one side to the other as if searching for something—or someone. A moment later, a pair of men came rounding the block again, walking calmly down the sidewalk. That was the third time they’d passed.

They were ex-military. No question. If I could see twelve of them, there were probably a dozen more being a little less conspicuous. With the entire apartment being too small to allow me a quiet place to make the phone call, I decided the little area that doubled as a living room was probably best. I lifted the phone to my ear.

“Detective, I expected this call ten minutes ago.”

Captain Pierce was being his usual rosy self.

“I have eyes on some men downstairs. At least twelve, well trained. They appear to be holding position around the building.”

“Yes, Sandra. Mr. Hale insisted on private security. We have a few trusted officers posted in the building, but we can’t afford to throw an entire squad at this problem. The world doesn’t stop being a bad place when a rich asshole needs protection. Mr. Hale has invested a small fortune in protecting himself since your little visit to his house,” the Captain replied gruffly.

“And you’re going to tell me these men can be trusted, and that they aren’t potentially compromising this entire operation?” I asked indignantly. How in the world could the Captain be okay with this? Mercenaries were in it for the money, and if there was one thing Mr. Wallace had in abundance, it was money. We were supposed to be running a low-profile operation, not informing every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the tri-state area of our location.

“How’s Mr. Hale holding up?” the Captain asked, changing the subject without answering my question.

“He’s settling in,” I replied, staring over at the lump under the sheets.

“Excellent. Stay put

and try not to worry, Candy.”

I cringed, biting my tongue and trying not to give the Captain my what-for. He knew what he was doing. I could practically see the sneer on this face, could practically hear him biting back a chortle in his tone. This was going to be a long day…

“Morning, sweetheart.”

I jumped two feet into the air, smacking my head squarely on the slowly rotating ceiling fan that hung perilously low in the shitty little living room. My head thrummed with pain as it came down into the half-wall, half-counter that separated the efficiency, and my vision dwindled into a tunnel as I hit the floor.

Click… Click… Click…

The sound was aggravating. It wouldn’t stop, just an incessant noise that was keeping me from enjoying this moment of rest. I blinked, staring through hazy eyes at the ceiling, the rotating blades spinning round with a lopsided motion and causing the metal chain that operated the fan to smack against the lighted glass dome.

Click… Click… Click…

“Are you okay?” Nathan asked softly. His face appeared above me, a look of concern painted across it.

The fog was still lifting from my freshly-concussed brain, but already I was identifying things that were wrong with my current situation. For one, I was laying on the dirty-ass floor. For two, my eyes were locked on a rather enormous and exceptionally erect penis. It had been awhile since I’d stopped my little visits to Mr. Hale, and even longer since I’d been with a man. For a brief moment, I considered doing something about that.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked, his balls jiggling as he moved.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, put some clothes on!” I shouted, sitting up and rubbing my head. “Were you…? What the hell were you doing over there?” I said, inadvertently glancing back at his erection.