Stepbrother UnSEALed (10 page)

He squeezes me tight as he whispers the last part into my ear, and then releases me. I have to lock my knees not to fall backwards against the wall.

What the hell kind of game is he playing?

“Vegas can be a dangerous place, especially for a young girl traveling by herself,” dad says. Like I don't already know. “He's not there to be your shadow, Cordelia, but we'll all feel better with Chris along if anything happens.”

“Yeah, sis, I can handle all of it. Dudes trying to spike your drink, biker gangs, cartels, mafia card dealers. Just say the word if you're in trouble.” He gives me a wink. “Who knows, maybe I can help you with that project your old man's telling me about. Hang with me in Vegas and you'll find out how SEALs play.”

Butterflies shoot through my stomach. Yeah, right.

Actually, he's being a total dick, teasing me like this, but in the back of my mind, he isn't completely wrong. He's holding out a carrot. I'm still going to come up with a backup idea, but maybe if I hang around watching him drink and gamble, he'll loosen up, and I'll get something I can use for this SEAL psychology paper.

My heart skips a couple of beats, and not just because he's suddenly restored hope in my thesis. He's starting to make me think that maybe – just maybe – he wants to bury the hatchet.

What I can't figure out is why he's so damned enthusiastic all of a sudden. Is it all a show for dad, or did he change his mind about something else too?

Dad gives me a sour look. I'm sure I look like I'm staring at an oncoming train, frozen in my tracks. “Look, I know this is rather abrupt. If you really don't want your stepbrother around, I'm sure we can figure out a compromise, an alternate itinerary for both of you.”

Chris pivots, throwing a thick hand on my dad's shoulder. “Bruce, don't worry about it. I'll give her as much space as she needs. Separate rooms. One good dinner and a few drinks are all I really want with my little stepsister anyway. Believe me, I've got my own plans in sin city. I'm not gonna fuck up hers.”

I shake off the shock and step toward them. “Guys, it's fine. Sorry. It just caught me by surprise.”

I look at Chris as he flashes me his perfect teeth. It's amazing how he's probably evaded death a dozen times, and still has all his teeth set in a smile so good it burns between my legs.

What would that perfect mouth feel like anchored between my thighs? I squeeze my knees together as I wonder, trying to blunt the dull ache in my pussy. It's hopeless.

Jesus, how am I going to survive a week in Vegas alone with this man?

“I'm happy to hear you say that, honey. You've matured so much.” Dad beams, before he looks at Chris again. “Make sure there's time for breakfast before you two leave tomorrow. She always gets cranky traveling on an empty stomach. As for me, I'll look after your mother.'

Chris' face darkens. “It's her own damned business to figure out. Nobody else's, Bruce. Not even yours.”

“She's my wife,” dad says sternly. “I'll do whatever I need to. She always wanted a good family, a tight family.”

My stepbrother snorts. “Oh, is that what she's been telling you? Fucking chameleon. She'll say whatever it takes to keep the coin flowing, old man.”

He rubs his fingers together. I can see my dad's obviously displeased, but he's rarely confrontational. It took him months to come after mom about her affair, when the evidence was all over the house.

Just once, I'd like to see my father show some backbone. He isn't going to start with Chris, though, and I watch him turn and head for the stairs.

“Have a safe flight, kids. Enjoy yourselves while you're young, before things get very...complicated.” He disappears out of sight, leaving us hanging on that word.

Enjoy yourselves.
His words echo in my head, and I try not to let my brain go to sex.

Shit. I realize I'm alone with Chris in the hall, a prelude to a week of god knows what with him in Vegas.

I fold my arms, biting my tongue so I don't let it dart out at him. “I can't believe you're back. What changed your mind?”

“Vegas, baby. It's as simple as that.” He shrugs like it's nothing. “I like you, Delia, even if you're not cut out to ride my dick. You're honest. You're coming up in the world.”

My ears perk up. I can't decide if it's the start of another ridiculous joke, or if he's being sweet and sincere. He steps up to me, and I'm ready to jump away from his grasp before he forces me to confront the lava that won't stop rippling in my veins every time I look at him.

“Besides, babe, somebody needs to come along for the ride and make sure you're not a hot little cocktease for all the wrong guys.” He reaches out, grabs my wrists, and jerks me into him. “I wasn't kidding when I said the city has a dark side. It's not all fun and games. If you've been following the news, you'd have heard all about the new sex trafficking syndicate that's taking chicks without a trace.”

“I'm too old for a fucking babysitter, Chris. I'm not a little kid.” I spit fire in his face. “Besides, I'm more likely to get held for ransom than shipped off for my looks.”

He laughs dismissively and hardens his grip. Raw desire wakes in my veins, churns in my whole system, paralyzing me. He's such a bastard.

I'm not sure what that makes me for wanting him.

And I still do – even after the insults, the humiliation, the total silence.

Just once, I want to be the bad girl. I want to be like Marnie, a functioning, sexually alive woman who's ready for all the things a girl ought to be doing at this age, and the badass with his body tucked around mine reminds me that I'm
not.

“Call me your conscience,” he growls, running his stubble across my smooth cheek, melting my panties in the process. “It's your ride, Delia. Your adventure. No bullshit. I'm just along to keep you safe, make sure you don't get yourself into anything you'll regret.”

Just like that, he lets me go. Every time I fall out of his arms, it's like the earth is crashing back, and I'm having the wind sucked out of me.

I watch him pick up the bag he's dropped on the floor, and sling it over his powerful shoulder. He doesn't even look at me as he walks by, goes into his room, and closes the door.

I'm left on the spot, wetter and more confused than ever before.

I think I just entered a new tier of hell.

It's a busy morning flight. So busy, in fact, that Chris and I are jammed together in our seats, surrounded by yawning, jabbering businesspeople of every race, gender, and creed.

I swear Chris splashed something extra in his coffee while he watched me eat my muffin. Probably whiskey.

Evie took off with dad somewhere this morning before the chauffeur took us to the airport, and I'm too on edge about the trip to care.

I want to have fun. I want to sort this crap out with my quite possibly drunken stepbrother. And I
really
want to forget all the BS that's been plaguing me like the senior thesis and this sadistic crush that won't stop eating my soul.

He's at my side, dozing in his seat. Or so I think, until we're at twenty-thousand feet.

“Goddamn it, Charlie...told you about Kirkuk...I told you, you poor dumb bastard. They're coming. They're armed. Where's our fucking backup?” His hand brushes mine.

My ears perk up. He's babbling in his sleep. He's remembering something awful.

I lean in, holding my breath, careful not to wake him. Then he jerks, making a sound that's way too loud with my ear close to his face.

“The fuck?” he growls, a strange smile on his face. “Do you always watch people sleep, creeper girl, or is the flight just that boring?”

Asshole. I want to punch him in the arm, but the wheels are turning in my head, wondering if he's just given me a piece of his battle trauma.

“You were having a nightmare,” I tell him, picking up my water and taking a sip. “Does being on this plane remind you of something? You must be having flashbacks from all the stress. I can't imagine what it's like being a SEAL. How do you blow off steam?”

“Eh, usually just by fucking with gullible little girls like yourself.” His smile breaks into a huge grin. “I said Kirkuk because I knew it'd get you wet. I know you like the news.”

Bastard!
This time, I do form a fist and smash it into his bicep as hard as I can. It's like hitting a wall of pure muscle, sending sheer force back through my knuckles.

Chris laughs it off like it's nothing. “Come on, babe. Just a little while longer. We'll be in Vegas soon, and you can work that shit out the fun way. You wanna hit the casinos tonight, or what?”

I roll my eyes. “You're guessing I want to do
anything
with you. That's an awful big assumption when you're being a total...dick.”

I hesitate on the last word. Part of me wants to call him a tease, a manwhore, but I don't because I'm afraid of him proving me right. I can't shake the feeling he's still flirting with me, working me over, trying to make me humiliate myself again when I stroke him, or lean in for a kiss.

But why?

That's the part I can't figure out. All I know is when I look into his swirling green eyes, I see nothing but mischief. More damage, frustration, and humiliation in the making.

“You heard what daddy said, Delia. I'm along for the ride to help you out, and I help you find some fun too.. You ever been to this town?”

I shake my head. “Not as an adult. It's a first for me.”

His hand slides up my arm, giving me goosebumps. He perches it on my shoulder and squeezes, then trails his way up my neck, tracing my jawline, my cheek with his fiery thumb.

“Cut the shit. There's more than a prissy, rich little college girl under that sweet face. I've known it since that night on the beach. You're a wannabe wild child.” He leans in, rumbling in my ear, reminding me of the night we were free to be lovers. Everything between my legs pulses hot and wet. “No more games, babe. You want to let the bad girl out, yeah? Take my hand. I'm gonna give her a chance to frolic.”

I
've never changed my mind about a chick before. Strange thing is, I'm pretty damned close by the time our plane lands, and she's snoozing next to me, my dick throbbing each time I look up and down her curves.

I can't believe she's a goddamned virgin. Or my stepsis.

Why is fate such a miserable, cruel bitch?

Maybe it doesn't matter. By the time the plane touches down on the runway and she's rubbing her eyes, I've got my hand on hers, squeezing it, warming her, offering her...I'm not sure what.

If she was any other conquest, I'd have already had her all over my dick. Instead, Delia's a landmine, and one wrong misstep
will
blow my entire world apart, making her collateral damage too.

I don't know what the fuck is going to happen between us in sin city. I'm going to find out.

“We're here, baby. Stop sleeping through your fun.”

She gives me a shy, way-too-fuckable smile. Christ, those lips. They're dangerous competitors with her ass, everything I can't stop imagining under me.

She makes me see sex in broad daylight. I've got her hair in my fist, open mouthed, owning her soft little tongue with mine. I reach for her ass and hold on so tight my knuckles go white, slamming her plush globes with the full might of my hips.

I want to shake her the fuck apart. I want to watch every curve dance and swing for me, rippling to the music I know she'll make when she's coming on my cock.

Half an hour later, we've got our rental, and we're heading into the city. It's been a couple years, but I remember Vegas like the back of my hand. It's a natural spot for rowdy troops looking for fun. I hit the town twice a year ever since I enlisted, but it's been awhile since I got tapped for the SEALs.

I'm not blind to the weird shit Vegas keeps dredging up. When I spooked her on the plane by mumbling about Kirkuk, I knew I was playing with fire, using her nosy little games against her.

If she wants to pump me for info, she's not getting shit. Not really. But when you've relived imminent death in your own head a hundred times from that mission, making a mockery of it's all you've got left.

It's all I can do to keep my sanity together. The brain clings to humor like a desperate fucking lounge girl – or at least if it's a mind as twisted as mine.

Her eyes pop out when she sees the hotel. We've got a prime spot, courtesy of daddy's family fortune. She reaches across from the passenger seat and squeezes my arm, digging her nails in. It shouldn't feel so natural to have her there, but hell if it doesn't.

“Look at this place! Please tell me I've got a window view?”

I smile and nod. “Yup. Your old man wanted to give my mom the finest, for some reason I'll never understand, and we've got his reservation. Oh, and that shit about separate rooms? I lied. We'll be sharing the same suite.”

Her lips twitch and she goes bright red. I pop the door and put my hand on her ass, pushing her inside, leading her through the place we'll be staying for the next week. One good look around, and she forgets all about chewing me out.

The room is built for sex. It's full of sleek edges, polished curves, and about a thousand reflective surfaces. It's meant for beautiful people to watch themselves fucking from every angle, and we fit the bill a hundred times better than our parents.

We'll put it to better use than Bruce and Evie too. The only question is whether I'm going to blister my ego and haul her into bed, or find some faceless Vegas chick to fuck when she's not looking.

Sneaking around with another woman won't be easy when we're sharing a suite, even though it's as big as a luxury apartment, with at least two or three distinct rooms and its own kitchen.

It's also rough when the only hot, wet cunt I want to sink my dick into is Delia's, own her virgin silk, find out how hot she looks when she's wearing a sheen of sweat, about to come for the third time as I slam my balls against her ass.

Fuck.
I wait for her to wash up and try to kill my hard-on, staring out across the city. It's a gorgeous view. The place promises to light up like a maze of palaces and wonders at night, everything I've seen in Baghdad, but better because there's no traces cutting through the air or violent explosions here.