Sean: A Stepbrother Romance (Coded for Love 3)

“You thought about making me strip while you were lonely in your cell…” Amused sarcasm rang through her words, but she felt heady with power. She put her hands on her hips. Lust had pooled heavily in her groin, dampening her. “I suppose I should be flattered by that?”

He didn’t respond. Instead he folded his arms acros

s his chest, staring over at her deliberately. His mouth lifted at one side.

“What?”

“It’s hard to believe, but you’re even more beautiful.”

I’m not beautiful, she silently objected. I’m too weird to be beautiful. Her mouth opened to deliver the denial, but no words came. She just stared at him. Sean was here, really here, and he wanted her.

Then he was beside her, his mouth closing over hers with a kiss that was gentle to being with, but evolved as she met him, moving from tenderness to passion. His arms closed around her and her fingers moved to latch around his neck.

One kiss melted away her last shred of resistance. It was so familiar, like a memory come alive, and it was so seductive and convincing it absolutely absolved her from any blame.

He rolled her onto her back, easing her back gently with his hands.

The pillows gave softly under her. In the distance she could hear the faint strains of Nan’s favorite soap opera theme tune reaching them through the floorboards and the rugs, but she was hardly aware of it, because she wanted his hardness against her, wanted it with every atom of her being.

Sean rained kisses over her torso, taking his sweet time, kissing and tasting each and every part of her, his hands stroking the length of her arms while he pinned them down to the bed.

Each touch set off a frenzy of sensation under her skin, her nerve endings electrified. She arched up beneath him, his attentions making her even more eager and desperate. “Sean, please…at least switch off the light, so they think you’re asleep.”

He lifted his head in response to her whispers and smiled down at her. “No, I want to see you.”

God he was gorgeous. Was it any wonder she’d fallen for him, when he’d rolled into her life, all that time ago. No wonder he’d haunted her dreams, day and night. It was as if she was programmed to crave him and now he was here it overwhelmed her.

He moved to get undressed.

Breathlessly, she watched as he stripped off, glad he hadn’t switched off the overhead light, because she wanted to see him too. His body, so familiar, yet made different by his time away, all bulging muscles and rock hard abs. The sight was impossible to ignore, sheer masculinity being unveiled right there in front of her.

When he shoved his jockey shorts down, his erection bounced free, so hard and ready for her it made her ache to discover every inch with her fingertips, to kiss him just as he kissed her—like a promise to every inch of her.

She sighed aloud. So much for keeping him at arm’s length. This was her last chance to make a bolt for the door. Nope, denial wasn’t going to cut, not tonight. Call it a final fling, for old time’s sake, she told herself. In the morning she could tell him straight, take him aside and tell him she couldn’t give a damn why he’d called on her. Tomorrow she’d say goodbye, on her terms.

Then he came back to her side, naked—his body ready for her in every way—and the ability to think and reason dissolved into mist. Only acute arousal remained, her pulse racing wildly, between her thighs the skin damp and hot with expectation.

Climbing over her, he eased himself between her legs.

He rose up on his arms and looked down at her.

His stare was too much and her head rolled against the pillows, her eyes closing, a whimper escaping her throat. His hard cock was against her, right where she wanted it, and it made her moan aloud with need. Her clit leapt, the contact making her legs thrash wildly.

“So eager,” he murmured, pushing her loosed hair back as he looked down at her with curiosity in his expression.

Had he doubted she’d still want him?

It was there, ever so briefly, in his eyes. He hadn’t been sure.

A sense of victory plumed in her—and then he was nudging inside her and thoughts vanished into sensation.

Silently she screamed: so good!

Being filled by this man—who she’d loved so desperately—was even better than she’d remembered during all those nights of tossing and turning. It didn’t matter if it was a day or a year or three of dreaming, there was no memory or dream as stunning as the feeling of being suddenly filled, his hard cock claiming her right to her center. Then he hit home, brushing her sensitive places, stretching her to capacity, and she moaned loudly—couldn’t keep it inside—and lifted up under him, her back arching, her rising up from the surface of the bed.

“Oh yes,” he murmured, and kissed her mouth. Suddenly she didn’t care if he was smug about it. It didn’t matter that he was thrilled—and he was—because she was too. All that pent up regret and longing, all that frustration poured right out of her, and she locked eyes with him and ground her hips to meet his.

He thrust deep inside her, over and again, whispering her name, whispering encouragement, arching over to kiss her face.