Seduction: Her British Stepbrother Page 3

  If she ever learned of his interest in Kat, his mother could upset all his plans. She would swoop in and carry Kat away to safety, far out of his reach. She’d never been blind to his activities. Along with most of London, she’d seen him in the papers and knew his levels of debauchery.

  “You know,” his mother paused, “you should give Kat a tour of the house tonight.” His mother rose from her chair, resting one hand on the top of the wingback. “I want her to feel comfortable here. After we get married, they’ll be moving in, since Clayton’s flat is too tiny for all of us. Besides”—his mother sighed wistfully—“I love this house. It’s a relief Clayton doesn’t mind my choosing my place over his.”

  Tristan wondered how Kat would feel about moving in here during the school holidays. He remembered that night in Kat’s dorm room when she’d explained why she loved books so much and how she’d never had a place to settle down for long. They were friends she could take with her, she’d said, friends she’d never had to say good-bye to. She’d confessed this in the dim, warm confines of her little bed that first night, when they’d slept together without sex. Even though he’d wanted to bed her more than anything, he’d bided his time, enjoyed feeling her in his arms, controlling their first foray into the land of pleasure without actually getting inside her body the way he’d wanted most.

  He’d wound his arms around her, and something deep in his chest had twisted painfully as he listened to her open her heart. It hadn’t lessened the raging lust to possess this girl, but it had softened that animal hunger, deepened it…He’d held her closer, tighter, wanting to ease his ache and her own. Unable to resist getting close to her, he’d shared with her his love of maps, and the way stained glass filled him with strong, powerful emotions.

  Yes, there was much he and Kat had yet to learn about each other, but he would make sure they would have the time.

  He’d never wanted to be with just one woman before, but he was starting to see the appeal of having a relationship of some kind with her. The more he learned about Kat, the more she learned about him, the more intense their bed play was. He craved the way bedding her made him feel. Powerful, exhilarated, uninhibited, and completely free, yet bound to her at the same time.

  I need to be careful. My taking Kat to bed could ruin my mother’s happiness.

  Tristan sat up on the couch and studied his mother. When his father had left the pair of them alone for weeks at a time while he’d seen to his duties on the estate or handled matters in Parliament, she’d brought Tristan to Fox Hill. After he’d grown up, she’d started spending more time in London at the town house she’d acquired after the divorce. It offered her a way to stay in the middle of town and not feel so isolated while she rebuilt her life.

  He’d grown to love this house and Fox Hill as much as she did. For his mother to suggest that someone besides him would live here was her way of opening up and showing the world she was ready to live, now that love was back in her life. Tristan couldn’t help but admire her.

  “Promise me you’ll be nice to Kat. Clayton says she doesn’t have many friends because they’ve moved so often. Neither of them are used to this way of living either, with cooks, servants, and drivers. As her older brother—”

  “Stepbrother,” he cut in. That distinction was vitally important, given what he planned to do to her in his bed.

  “Er…yes,” his mother nodded. “Stepbrother. She would benefit from having someone like you to show her London and introduce her to people. It would be perfect during the holidays to take her to see all the sights.”

  “I think that is a lovely idea, Mum.” He grinned so broadly that his cheeks hurt as he leaned back into the couch and crossed his hands behind his head.

  Take Kat about London? His mother had unwittingly provided him the perfect way to slowly entice Kat back into his bed. He’d have to pretend he had no intention of seducing her, though. He would play the polite, friendly stepbrother she wanted him to be. For now.

  You will be mine again, sweet Kat.

  * * *

  Kat had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body when she heard the doorknob rattle.

  “Just a minute!” It was probably her dad trying to check on her.

  The brass knob rattled again.

  “Almost done,” she said as she tucked the towel more firmly about her body, mentally smacking herself for forgetting to pack her long robe.

  When she unlocked the door, it flew open instantly. A shirtless Tristan stood there, holding a towel, looking down at her with those hypnotic blue-green eyes.

  Her eyes, without approval from her brain, swept down over his body: the sculpted abs, the indentations of his pelvic muscles, and the way his jeans hung low on his hips. Hips she’d held and dug her nails into the other night as he’d pounded into her. Her lower body twisted and clenched with sudden desire at the mere memory of his raw, powerful possession of her. She couldn’t forget the feel of his body, pressing her down, his cock filling her until she couldn’t breathe. The way he’d owned every part of her.

  Damn. How had she convinced herself that avoiding him was a good idea? Right now she wanted to drop the towel and beg him to take her, damn the consequences.

  “Are you finished?” His tone was pleasant. No hint of fire, no branding scorch of his gaze…just politeness. He was doing exactly what she’d asked him to do. Treat her like a stepsister he’d only just met. Before today’s awful revelation of their parents’ engagement, he would have smirked at her, teased, and tried to steal the towel…A pang of longing for the playful part of him swept through her. God, she missed that.

  What would it take to win one little smile from him, one that was meant for her, and not tempered by his polite distance.

  I asked for this. It didn’t make her feel any better.

  “I’m done.” Heat rushed to her face from embarrassment at her inner thoughts. Thankfully he had no idea how conflicted she was feeling right now. Or how her body was reacting to being so close to him and being denied his touch. Like a thirsty woman crawling across a Saharan desert and glimpsing an island oasis only to discover it was a mirage.

  He made a low, gruff noise, not exactly a response, but it sent shivers through her. She couldn’t forget the sounds he’d made in bed two nights ago. He’d been half-animal, growling, nipping, showing her a rough side to passion, one she knew she would always crave. Tristan had pierced a dark part of her sexual side, exposing it to the light, and she couldn’t deny that it existed, nor did she want to.

  He slid past her, their bodies brushed in the narrow space of the doorway. Heat exploded through her, and she froze, trying to control her reaction to him.

  Tristan froze, too, their bodies pressed close. His warm breath fanned her cheeks and his natural masculine scent enveloped her. Memories of their night together came flooding back, no matter how she tried to keep it out.

  He lifted his hand to her cheek, pausing a second before he would have touched her. She met his gaze, her breaths shallow as his lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. Then he brushed his knuckles over her skin. Fire rippled in the wake of that “barely there” caress. Every part of her was aware of him and his closeness.

  Would it be so hard to keep a relationship between them a secret from their parents? Maybe they could…

  “Please…” she begged, unsure of what she really wanted.

  “Please, what?” he replied, in that dark, low tone that made her purr inside like a cat in heat. He slowly backed her into the wall next to the shower, closing the door behind him. He placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her in, and lowered his face to hers.

  A feather-light, teasing kiss. A nip at her bottom lip. She clenched her thighs together, feeling the rush of wet heat in response to his subtle aggression. How could he affect her like this? His touch, his kiss, sent her body into riotous waves of longing for him.

  He nuzzled her neck, licking and nibbling on the sensitive spots that sent ele
ctric pulses from her head to her toes.

  Kat grabbed his shoulders, digging her fingers into his hot, bare skin. The towel around her body stretched against her breasts as she struggled to control her breathing.

  His hands dropped from the wall to her waist, tugging on the folds of the towel that barely covered her.

  It would be so easy, he could lift my towel up and fuck me right here against the wall. Just one more time, we could…

  The towel dropped to the floor.

  Tristan’s eyes raked over her naked body, and when he lifted his head and met her gaze, one corner of his mouth slid into a lazy half-grin that hit her so hard her knees knocked together.

  He lifted one finger, pressed it to his lips, and made a soft “Shhh” before he leaned down to kiss her collarbone. Her nipples pebbled with the cool air and her building arousal. She stared down at the top of Tristan’s head, noting the way the light brought out hints of copper in the dark locks. His kisses traveled down in a slow, teasing path to one of her breasts. When he flicked his tongue against one sensitive peak, a whimper escaped her.

  He is going to kill me. Right here in the bathroom of his mother’s house…Holy fuck…

  Her hands moved to grip his hair, but he caught her wrists and pinned them against the wall by her hips.

  “Oh, God,” she panted as he knelt in front of her and glanced up, that wicked grin curving his lips upward. There was no denying the magnetic pull of that smile and how it obliterated all of her defenses.

  Tristan lifted one of her legs up, putting her calf over his shoulder, opening her to him. Kat dug her nails into the wall, praying she could keep her balance. Tristan’s lips danced lightly down from her navel to her mound. His lips settled around her clit, which pulsed hard and sharp. The tip of his tongue stroked, flicked, and played with the swollen bud. As he teased her with his mouth, his hand coasted up her inner thigh before it found her wet entrance. Drawing lazy, slow patterns in her tender flesh, Tristan tortured her with exquisite agony. Kat squirmed, writhed, pleaded in little soft desperate sounds for him to stop, to keep going…to…

  “Ahh!” Kat gasped as he licked at her.

  The pulsating sense of need, was too great to deny. The explosive climax hit her hard, and she threw her head back, swallowing her cry of pleasure when his hands dug into her ass, holding her in place while he drew out her orgasm, lapping at her folds until she was too sensitive to do anything but beg for mercy. Currents of desire rippled through her, not diminished at all by the fact that she’d just come apart with his mouth on her.

  The wicked glint in Tristan’s eyes was her only warning that he had no intention of stopping. He started to dip his head toward her mound again with a throaty chuckle.

  “Please…” she rasped frantically, dying to have him take her. It didn’t matter what happened outside the door, they were here together and he was going to…

  “Kat?” Her father knocked on the bathroom door.

  She sucked in a breath, and Tristan’s hands, which were stroking her outer thighs, stilled, his muscles tensing beneath her palms. Neither of them moved. Neither of them dared to breathe. Her heart pounded so hard that she couldn’t hear anything outside of that thunderous racing beat in her ears.

  “Kat, are you okay?” her father asked, rapping his knuckles on the door again.

  Tristan rose silently to his feet to tower over her again. His blue-green eyes cut through her as he stared down at her. “Answer him, before he opens the door.” It was barely a whisper but she was close enough to hear him.

  She cleared her throat, her mouth dry. “I’m fine, Dad. Be out in a few minutes.” She closed her eyes, praying her dad wouldn’t break the first rule of the father-daughter code and come inside without her express permission.

  “Okay, honey.”

  Her ears strained to pick up on the sounds of his departure. When several seconds had passed, she sagged against the wall, letting go of Tristan’s arms. Then she dove for the bath towel and flung it around her body.

  “We can’t do this again.” She met his gaze, surprised at the flicker of anger in his eyes.

  His sensual, full lips thinned into a hard line, and his eyes narrowed, the fire in them dimming. His jaw clenched, and he turned his face away as though he didn’t want to look at her. He was mad, and she couldn’t blame him. They’d lost control right here in the bathroom because the magnetic pull between them was too strong. Sexual frustration coursed through her, and she bit her lip, focusing on the sting of pain to get her mind off of how much she wished she had surrendered to him completely and how he’d have been deep inside her right now if she had.

  He moved away to pull a towel from a rack above the toilet and dropped it on the counter. Then he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Mum has asked me to give you a tour of the house so you’ll know where everything is while you’re here. I’ll meet you outside your room in half an hour.” Then he turned to face the shower.

  As he leaned into the stall and flicked the faucet handle to turn the water on, Kat watched the muscles of his back play in little ripples. The faintest trace of claw marks still cut across his shoulder blades. Her marks. Again, that flood of primal desire and animal satisfaction moved through her. She wanted to make more, to permanently claim this gorgeous man as hers.

  But he’s not mine, not anymore. I can’t have him because it will put our parents, and my heart, at risk. That last part was her deepest fear. She’d started to care about him, to get addicted to him, not just physically but emotionally. She didn’t want to get her heart broken. She’d grown up watching her father live with a shattered heart and she didn’t want that to happen to her. What if she wasn’t strong enough to survive that level of heartache?

  The sound of his pants zipper had her jolting back to awareness and hastily ducking out of the bathroom. The last thing she needed was to catch a glimpse of him in anything less than jeans. After how he’d just gone down on her, she was having a hard time convincing herself she shouldn’t want to return the favor…Her libido and self-control couldn’t handle that. Flushing guiltily, she clutched her towel around her body and dashed back to her room. How was she going to get through this? With Tristan sleeping just down the hall, naked, the way he’d told her he did…

  Shit, I’m in too deep here. I want him too much…How am I going to survive three weeks with him being so close?

  Chapter 4

  I can survive this. As long as I don’t think about his perfect abs, or his tight ass, or his lips…Yeah, no more thinking about Mr. Sexy-as-Hell.

  Kat threw on a pair of jeans and a warm cable-knit sweater and stared at herself in the mirror. They were eating at home, so she hoped jeans would be okay. What if there were more than three courses? What if there were half a dozen different spoons on the table? How would she know which ones to use?

  There really ought to be a list of basic rules or a manual or something. Ten ways to please your British Bad Boy in bed and impress his mother at dinner…

  Kat leaned toward her reflection in the full-length mirror, feeling completely stupid as she put on mascara and lip gloss. It was okay to want to look nice, right? That was what she wanted. It had nothing to do with Tristan. Definitely not. There was nothing wrong with wanting to look nice, except…she’d never really cared about it before tonight. Before Tristan. Kat let out a little hiss of frustration and stalked over to her bed. She grabbed her backpack and dug through its contents until she found what she was looking for.

  Dropped from the Clouds.

  When she’d packed for this trip to London, knowing she’d meet her father’s girlfriend and son, she’d reached for this book first, relishing the way it felt like a security blanket. Normally she would have brought her well-loved paperback, but she’d wanted a part of Tristan with her when meeting Lizzy for the first time. So she’d carefully wrapped his gift in a vellum cloth and tucked it in a safe place in her bag, where it wouldn’t be damaged.

  She rememb
ered Tristan’s face when he’d watched her pull it out of the box that night. Eager anticipation and joy had illuminated his face in a way that had made him glow. He’d really given thought as to what to buy her. It hadn’t been anything generic or clichéd. No, the man had to go and be perfect by buying her a book that had meaning to her and proving he’d listened to her.

  Touching its gilded cover and tracing the balloon on its surface made her think of Tristan. As foolish as it had been, she thought she’d be carrying a piece of him with her, like a shield into battle. But now he was on the other side.

  She plopped down on the bed and tried to read a few pages, but her mind kept drifting toward that encounter with Tristan in the bathroom. What if she’d let him seduce her right there, take her against the wall of the bathroom, with their parents so close? The forbidden track of her thoughts made her shiver. His large hands had played with the folds of her towel, teasing, as though he’d planned to tug it from her body.

  The man loved to get her naked. She remembered how he’d stripped her out of her clothes at Fox Hill, peeling her dress off her body with a deliberately slow pace, heightening her hunger to be taken by him. The arousal then, just as in the bathroom today, had built to a point where she hadn’t been able to think…only to feel what he did to her. Being with him was like a drug—it robbed her of all control

  She wasn’t aware of how much time had passed before someone knocked on the door. Glancing at her watch, she flinched. She’d been staring at the wall for the last thirty minutes, completely distracted. Before Kat could respond, the door cracked open and Tristan’s face appeared. His eyes darted across the room, then settled on her.

  “Ready for the tour?” He nudged the door fully open with one shoulder, revealing the long lean lines of his body. A body that made her hungry to rub against it and…

  Damn. Kat swallowed hard.

  He wore a black V-neck sweater and dark blue jeans that hugged his legs enough to show off the muscled thighs she couldn’t get out of her head. His dark hair was still slightly damp and curling at the edges. She cursed silently as her fingers twitched with the memory of how silky the thick strands of his hair had felt when she’d threaded her fingers through them and tugged.