Obsessed (Hostile Takeover #1) (3 page)

I came home empty-handed but stuffed full of Starbucks. After seeing the prices of those bags in the store, I’d decided I didn’t need one that much. But I’d allowed myself one small luxury. I’d indulged in an overpriced coffee to see if it really was worth all the hype.

It was.

Java Chip Frappuccino.

Holy.

Freaking.

God.

There was a heaven.

I brought home an extra drink, along with a bag full of brownies and chocolate chunk cookies for later. The drive home was delicious. I slurped and munched as I sailed down the freeway, singing along to my favorite tunes.

How strange was it that my life, and my mother’s, had taken such a drastic and unexpected turn? Here I was, whizzing along I-94, heading back to my step-bro’s mansion while my mom was out on some tropical island somewhere saying her I-do’s to a man I’d never met.

Not in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined something like this happening. Dirk Payne had to be something special to convince Mom to trade in her bachelorette card. Very, very special, since she’d told me lots of times how much she’d loved my dad and even he hadn’t been able to drag her down the aisle.

In an excellent mood, thanks to the caffeine and chocolate, I flounced back into the mansion with a spring in my step. I kicked off my shoes at the door and returned to my room to empty my hands and check my phone. Nothing from Ransom. I was beginning to think she wasn’t really sick but was just trying to blow me off. I hoped that wasn’t what was going on, but she’d done it to me before. I texted her then stared at the wall.

Bored. I was bored.

My sky-high mood sank.

I clicked on the TV.

Blah, blah, blah. Infomercials. Blah, blah, blah. Reruns. Old, stupid movies. Nothing worth watching.

Crap. This sucked.

Having lived on campus for over three years, I was used to constant activity, noise, parties, friends. Sitting on my bed, the only sound I heard was the soft crinkle of something that had fallen into the air duct, blowing when the heat kicked on. I couldn’t handle the silence. I tuned the cable to a music channel that played current hits. I loved music as much as the next girl. But, that didn’t amuse me for long either.

I was so freaking far away from my at-home friends—the few that I hung out with during school breaks. What would I do for a whole week and a half? If only Mom had had enough money for me to go with my school friends to Mexico. If only. I knew what my friends were doing right now. Drinking, partying, sleeping on the beach, having sex with guys they didn’t know…having a freaking blast.

But not me.

While I wasn’t crammed in Mom’s crappy old apartment, I wasn’t exactly living
la vida loca
. I had money I didn’t dare spend, since I knew I would need it desperately at school next semester. The weather was typical for Michigan in early spring. Wet. Freezing. Cloudy. Miserable. Doing anything outside, including splashing around in the massive in-ground pool I saw in the backyard, was out of the question.

What else was there to do?

I thought about driving to my old neighborhood, but with Ransom down what would I do once I got there? If Mom had already moved out of her place, I would just be stuck turning around and driving back. That would be a huge waste of gas.

Ugh.

In the interest of keeping myself from going into a boredom coma, I started meandering through the house.

I had never been a snooper. I’d never had any reason, or opportunity, to wander around a stranger’s home—at least, not without a real estate agent tailing me and blathering about the lovely bathroom fixtures or the high-end appliances in the kitchen. But with nothing better to do, I found myself doing just that--snooping. I checked out the public rooms first, living room, kitchen, media room with the ginormous movie screen and surround sound setup. Those areas were all very tastefully decorated. In particular the living room had some very expensive-looking things in it. It, like much of the house, had a masculine vibe. The wood finishes were all dark and sleek but the shelves uncluttered, displaying one well-chosen item. Expensive-looking artwork hung on the walls. I knew nothing about art, outside of what I’d seen in art books. But as a general rule I did like it.

However, I wasn’t all that impressed with this art. Every painting was abstract and had lots of black. Every piece was…somber. That was the mood I got from the paintings. Same as the whole house. Somber. It wasn’t the home of a man Kent’s age, in my opinion. It was much too serious. That was probably why I’d thought it belonged to his dad.

Once I’d thoroughly investigated the kitchen—and discovered Kent had a love affair with protein powders--I risked trekking into more personal territory, starting with what looked like an office. In that room framed photos were arranged on the massive floor-to-ceiling bookcases flanking either side of an impressive fireplace. In one photo I saw Kent, standing next to a handsome but older version of himself—his father, Mom’s new hubby, I presumed. They were both knotted up in suits and ties for some kind of formal event. Their identical smiles stretched across faces that were both tanned and perfectly proportioned. I had no idea it was possible for there to be one, let alone two, men so insanely gorgeous.

“That was taken at a charity event,” a low voice said behind me.

Busted.

Moving slowly, because my hand was trembling a little, I set the silver-framed photo back in its place before turning to face the man who owned it.

His eyes were narrowed, jaw set.

Oh crap.
“I’m sorry for snooping. I was just looking for…” The rest of the sentence just kind of caught in my throat. What was I supposed to say? That I was so bored I’d resorted to digging through his personal belongings like some kind of stalker?

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I wasn’t. But I nodded anyway. Was he that forgiving? If so, he really was an angel.

“I brought dinner,” he said.

“Thanks.” I followed him back to the kitchen, where I discovered he’d not only set out the take-out food but also set the table with plates, napkins, glasses, and silverware. There was even a bottle of wine open and ready to pour. “Wow,” I said, wondering how long he’d been watching me snoop. “The food smells wonderful.”

He pulled out a chair and waited for me to sit then took a seat across from me. “I hope you like Thai food. I don’t have your cellphone number so I couldn’t call and ask.”

“I’ve never had Thai food, so I wouldn’t have known what to tell you.”

“Good, then I get to be the first to introduce you to the pleasure of
Pad Ped
.” His expression turned downright wicked.

Yay, he wasn’t just forgiving me for snooping, but he was flirting with me. Flirting!

I liked it. Every part of me. Especially my inner parts.

I flirted right back, saying, “And what other pleasures do you intend to introduce me to?”

One perfect brow rose.

Oh yes, he’d gotten my intended message.

“Did you have anything in mind?” He picked up the wine and poured, his gaze locked to mine.

My mind went blank.

At school I loved to flirt with the boys in my dorm. I also loved to flirt with the guys in my classes…and on campus…and in restaurants…and…well, anywhere. When a guy hit on me I was always quick with a comeback. But that was as far as I ever let it go. It was as far as I’d ever wanted to let it go.

Until today.

Kent was nothing like the boys I went to school with—I emphasize the word,
boys
.

He had this way about him, a confidence and maturity that both intrigued and intimidated me. After what I’d seen him do with that woman yesterday, I knew he was far more sexually experienced than me. Hell, just about everyone I knew was more sexually experienced than me. I was the sole virgin holdout, the one girl, at least among everyone I knew, who hadn’t had sex yet.

But I’d known I didn’t want my first time to be with some drunk asshole in a crappy old dorm room. That was how my roommate had lost her virginity. She’d cried about it for a week afterward because the next day the guy acted like nothing had happened.

Jerkoff.

I had vowed then and there that I would wait for the right time, the right person.

Had I just discovered my right time and right guy?

Yes.

No. No. No!

Maybe?

Of course not.

Ugh!

This wasn’t so simple. Kent, the angel with a killer bod, was my stepbrother. Ohmygod, what would my mom think?

Flirting. That was all this could ever be. Innocent flirting.

This sucked! I liked him. I really did.

If only…

After filling two glasses, he handed me one then lifted his. “Shall we toast?”

“Sure.”

One side of my mouth lifted into a panty-melting lopsided grin. “To discovering new pleasures.”

My face burned hotter than a nuclear reactor. And my girl parts got even hotter. I clicked my glass to his and took a sip of the wine. It was very good, so good I could have easily drained every drop. But I refrained, not wanting to get stupid or silly tonight.

I had to keep my mind clear.

We engaged in small talk as he ate and I picked. Many tense silent moments elapsed, where our gazes tangled and the air thinned and I sat breathless, sure I’d pass out from the heat blazing through me. All we were doing was sitting in a dining room, sharing a meal. But it was the most intimate and exciting meal I’d ever had. I decided it was a good thing Ransom hadn’t been able to visit. I wanted Kent to myself. All to myself. Even if it probably wasn’t a good idea.

Eventually he tipped his head, indicating my plate. “You don’t like the food?”

“No. It’s delicious. It’s just that…well, I lied earlier. When you asked me if I was hungry. This afternoon I went to the mall and kind of gorged on Starbucks. I’ve never had Starbucks before.”

“Ah, that I understand. Starbucks can do that to you, especially the first time. Be careful, their espressos are extremely addicting.”

“Actually, I had a frappuccino. And a brownie. And a cookie. Okay, I had two frappuccinos and two brownies and two cookies,” I confessed.

He laughed and I adored the sound, how it echoed around me, vibrated inside me. “It’s no wonder you can’t eat.” He scooted his chair and stood. “Maybe you’d rather work off some of those calories?”

My heart plummeted.

Did he think I was fat?

He must have read my expression because he shook his head and reached for my hand. “That came out wrong.” He tugged, coaxing me to my feet. “What I meant to say is if you’d like to use my home gym this week, you’re welcome to it.”

“Thank you, I think,” I said, giving him a confused look.

“Or don’t use the gym. You are absolutely perfect as you are.”

I giggled. “I’ve always enjoyed watching people backpedal.”

“I do too. Though it’s not as fun when it’s me doing the backpedaling. What I meant to say is how about a walk?” Without waiting for my response, he led me outside, and to my surprise it wasn’t terribly cold and windy like it was earlier. We strolled across the deck, his fingers lightly curled around my hand as if he didn’t want to hold it but didn’t want to let go either.

I felt the same way.

I glanced at his profile. It was so freaking striking. I had never been around a man who was so gorgeous before. Yes, there were plenty of guys at school who were good looking. But I didn’t even exist in their worlds. I could stand two inches in front of them and wave my arms and they wouldn’t see me.

But Kent. He saw me.

He made me feel special. He gave me aspirin when I needed it, even though I’d been a total idiot.

And, oh yeah, he was also totally off limits.

Ugh.

We climbed down the deck stairs and stepped into the garden. At this time of year the trees had buds but no leaves, but the grounds exploded with brilliant color. Red, yellow, purple, white. Tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths grew along both sides of the winding stone path. This wasn’t a formal garden, with everything growing in straight rows. But it was no less beautiful.

I inhaled, drawing in the sweet scent that lingered in the air. Hyacinth, such a pretty smell, not very different from my favorite flower, lilac.

“This is gorgeous,” I stammered as I took in my surroundings. The path led around a line of tall shrubs into a private little oasis with a pond and seating area.

“It’s nice to have someone to share it with.” He pulled me toward the comfortable settee. While he let go of my hand, he sat so close his thigh rested against my leg. The proximity made me feel jittery and alive.

What was happening?

What would happen next?

What might happen…if we weren’t freaking stepbrother and stepsister?

“What about friends?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. I didn’t want this to end, this connection, this moment. “You have friends, I assume. And your father.”

“He doesn’t come out to the garden much. And friends…yes, I have friends. But most of them don’t have an interest in the garden either. The pool yes, the bar, yes. But not the garden.”

I looked left. I looked right. I looked at his beautiful face and said, “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“It’s even nicer in the summer. You’ll see--when you come back.”

When you come back. He assumed I would be back this summer, after I graduated. He
wanted
me to come back.

For some reason that made me ridiculously happy. My heart soared.

“I’m looking forward to it, only because of the swimming pool, or course,” I teased. “And the bar.”

Our gazes tangled.

The air squeezed out of my lungs. I couldn’t inhale.

His gaze flicked to my mouth, and my heart did a somersault in my chest.

Was he going to kiss me?

He couldn’t!

He shouldn’t!

Oh God. But I want him to.

A breeze carried the smell of flowers and man to my nose. A lock of hair fluttered across my face. I reached up to capture it but he lifted a hand and smoothed it back, behind my ear. “You look like your mother,” he said, his voice very low.

Was that meant to be a compliment?

“You look like your father,” I told him with my heart in my throat. He was still staring at my mouth, this beautiful, mysterious man. It was wrong, so so wrong, but I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to find out what it would be like to be kissed by a man who knew how to kiss. I wanted to be touched by a man who knew how to touch a woman.

He didn’t move, just remained fixed in place as if he was trying to decide whether he would kiss me or not.

And so I made the choice for him. I leaned in and sealed my mouth to his.

His lips were firm at first, unwelcoming. But I knew he wanted me. I didn’t back off. I arched my back so my breasts barely brushed against his chest and moved my mouth slowly, softly over his.

The smoldering kiss continued for a million racing heartbeats, maybe more. I completely lost track of time, of space, of everything. Until there was a deep rumble, like thunder.

And then lightning struck. Somewhere out there. In the distance.

And also between Kent and me.

Kent grabbed my shoulders, pulled until my torso was flush with his. His mouth claimed mine. It was the kiss I’d been waiting for my entire life. It was soft and rough, thrilling and scary. It was a question and an answer.

It was a conquering.

And I surrendered.

I was his. His to claim. His to touch. His to take.

My body molded to his. My mouth opened. His tongue swept inside, and I savored his intoxicating, sweet flavor.

Heavy need pounded between my legs. I writhed. I whimpered. I welcomed his invasion.

I felt him shifting beside me and then he was above me, and I was angling back, my shoulders supported by a strong, thick arm. My head rested on the seat and he climbed over me, breaking the kiss.

I pulled in a gasp. My head was spinning. All I saw was Kent, his face…and the desire burning in his eyes.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered as he kissed me again. His kiss was tender. It was thorough. It was oh,
so,
good and yet not enough. The burning between my legs was becoming unbearable.

“Please,” I begged, arching my back so my breasts brushed against his chest. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was the delicious pleasure pulsing through me. He couldn’t stop now.

“Shayne,” he murmured, cupping my cheek. His thumb traced my lower lip and I quivered from head to toe. Did he know what his touches did to me? What his kisses did? I was so hot I felt like I would combust. And the burning was the worst
down there
, between my legs. I wanted it to stop...and I didn’t.

My hips rocked back and forth, back and forth. The friction against my center felt so good but even that wasn’t enough. I wanted to tear my clothes away, to feel his skin gliding over mine. To feel his wet, warm mouth on my nipple.

“Your mother is trusting me to protect you,” he said, voice husky. Even as he said those words, his hand slid down, fingertip tracing a line along the pounding pulse in my throat. The gentle touch made me whimper.

More, I needed more.

As if he could read my thoughts, his fingertip ventured lower, along my collarbone, lower, angling toward my ample cleavage.

Yes, oh yes. Keep going.
He had to keep going.

“But you’re so fucking beautiful. I can’t stop staring at you, wanting you.”

Ohmygod, I couldn’t believe he was saying that. This gorgeous, strong, successful man. He thought I was beautiful, so beautiful he couldn’t stop wanting me.

I felt sexy. I felt powerful.

But there was a problem. His hand had stopped moving. It was resting now on my stomach. It either needed to move up or down. One way or the other.

I placed my hand over his and pushed, moving it up toward my right breast. When the heat of his touch covered it, I had to bite back a cry of relief.

“Shayne, I can’t do this with you,” he murmured.

I didn’t want to hear that.

“Yes, yes you can. We won’t tell anyone.” I arched my back higher, pushing my tender breast into his hand.

He groaned and tipped his head, biting my nipple through my clothes. Sharp blades of pleasure-pain pierced me, making me whimper.

To stop now would be cruel. Inhuman. He couldn’t.

He tugged at my clothing, pulling my top up to expose my bra. And in a blink my right breast was spilling over the cup, pushed down, out of the way.

“Your tits are absolutely perfect.” He flicked his tongue over my nipple and I practically climbed the walls. The need blasting through me became unbearable. I had never craved a man’s touch like this before. I’d always been afraid, intimidated. But not with Kent. He made me feel so special and beautiful that I wasn’t afraid of what might come next.