Wearing Him Down

Seemingly hundreds of stones wink back at me in a platinum setting and it’s so elaborate, my hands fly to my flushed cheeks. “Oh my gosh. Grant. You just gave me a diamond tiara for my birthday last week.” I shake my head vigorously. “That can’t be for me. I get in trouble and you bring me jewelry?” I lower my voice to a hushed tone and run a finger over the splendor within the case. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

“You don’t get in trouble. And spoiling you is how I work.” He takes out the necklace and fastens it around my neck, settling his hands back on my hips. “You’re too goddamn beautiful. It doesn’t do you justice.”

“This necklace is really mine?”

Grant’s eyes flash with amusement over my question. “Of course it is, Sienna. And the matching earrings are on your bed at home.” His humor fades, replaced with concern. “Why did you fall asleep in class? You were tired yesterday, too, when I came to your room.” I watch his burgundy tie rise and fall on a heavy breath, feel his hands knead my hips in a delicious rhythm. “Is something keeping you awake at night, princess?”

Unable to lie to Grant, I bite my lip and nod. “Yes. But I don’t really understand it.”

He steps between my thighs and inhales deeply at the crook of my neck, his grip tugging me closer to the edge of the desk, up against that big, swollen part of him, grinding it there gently. Almost as if by accident. “Tell me and I’ll fix it.”

Oh, I would love him to fix what’s wrong with me, because I suspect he’s the only one who can. Giving my explanation out loud is embarrassing, though, and my face burns as a result. “It’s um…my body,” I whisper, watching his midnight blue eyes sharpen. “I feel achy sometimes. And hot. It gets so bad I can’t sleep.”

Grant’s voice is a deep thrum when he responds. “Poor princess. Where are you achy?”

I clamp my mouth shut, refusing to answer. I’ve already said enough.

“If I guess correctly…” he asks against my ear. “Will you nod?”

“Yes.”

In a move I never could have expected, Grant’s hands close over my breasts, massaging me through my blouse. “Here?”

My breath leaves me in a sob and my thighs open wider on the desk. Involuntarily. His thumbs tease my nipples and I arch my back, pinpricks of light flashing in front of my eyes. Oh God. Oh God. It feels so good. Remembering I’m supposed to nod, I bob my head up and down.

“Is this the only place?” Grant asks hoarsely.

“N-no.”

The tiny muscles between my legs spasm when Grant’s hands rake down my front, gathering the hem of my skirt, his chest starting to heave faster, faster, faster. “I’m going to lift this and check your panties. If they’re wet, we’ll know the source of the ache.”

Already knowing what he’s going to find—and suddenly needing my stepbrother to know how I’ve been suffering—I scoot my legs wider and lean back on the desk. My nipples jut out indecently beneath my blouse, diamonds twinkle up at me and Grant is touching me. Life can’t get much better than this, but I wish the constant throb inside me would stop.

It’s too much to bear.

Grant wipes away the sweat on his upper lip with a swipe of his wrist, then he lifts the hem of my skirt, his usually stoic face contorting with pain. “Fucking Christ.”

“A-are they wet?”

Grant licks his lower lip. “They’re saturated, Sienna.”

I try to draw my knees closed, but he blocks me with his hips. “Is that bad?”

“God, no. You’ve just started to crave a man sooner than I expected. Six days too soon,” I think I hear him mutter. His open mouth traces a line up the side of my neck, his fingers toying with the edge of my panties, making my writhe on the hard wood desk. “Trust me, I’ll make sure you sleep very well tonight, princess.”

My eyes almost cross at the implication. “You will?”

His jaw flexes. “Don’t I always take care of you?”

“Yes, Grant. Always. In every way.”

He makes a harsh sound. “Seeing you in this kind of need is torture.”

This kind of need. I’m not even sure what he means, only that he knows more details and I want them discussed. Want the mysterious hunger taken away.

Lord, I want him to touch my breasts again. I want him to kiss me. And what does it mean that he’s touching me in ways he never has before? Is Grant just helping me figure out what’s wrong with my body, or does my stepbrother…want me? It seems impossible. He could have any woman he wanted. A woman who isn’t related to him. Couldn’t being with me hurt his reputation? I would rather die than cause him more problems.