THROTTLE: (A Stepbrother Romance) (4 page)

9

He’d walked
away.
 
She’d given it everything, tried
every argument she could think of to convince him, but he hadn’t listened.
 
It was worse than she’d thought.
 
Instead of him being disgusted with her he
was disgusted with himself.
 
When he’d
called himself a monster she’d wanted to cry.
 
He was her savior, her rock and her love.
 
She couldn’t bear to think he might despise
himself for the very things she was most grateful to him for.

They’d
been through something so terrible together, but it had proven to her things that
most women never had confirmed about the person they love.
 
Jared had gone all the way to protect
her.
 
He’d committed a terrible crime—patricide—throttling
the life out of the man who’d given him his.
 
He’d sacrificed eight years, and now he was trying to sacrifice himself
again.
 
She knew he’d lay down his life
for her, and for that she was prepared to give him hers.

As
he stalked across the car park she’d called out to him, hoping he would turn.

She’d
said, “Come to me tomorrow night.
 
I’ll
be waiting for you.
 
This is our time now
and there’s been no one else, Jared.
 
I’ve waited for you.
 
Come and
take what you’ve been waiting for.”
 
In
the middle of her pleading he’d stopped.
 
Maybe when he’d realized what she was saying, that she was a virgin and
that she’d kept herself for him.
 
He’d
flexed his hands and then turned to look at her with blue eyes so filled with
fire they seemed to flash in the half light.
 

Then,
after a moment of tense silence, he was gone and she was none the wiser as to
how he was feeling.

But
she was hopeful, which was why she was standing in her bedroom, dressed in
pretty cream satin and lace pajamas, hair in soft waves and the barest hint of
makeup, waiting for a man that might never come.
 
God, she hoped he would come.
 

There
was a knock at the door.
 
It was
him.
 
It had to be him.
 
She said a silent prayer on her way down the
stairs and when she looked through the spy hole Jared was there, face lowered
and covered by the bill of his cap.
 
When
she opened the door his eyes raked over her with a desperation and hunger that
sent shivers up her spine.
 
He seemed to
inhale, nostrils flaring slightly as he tried to remain in control.
 
At least, that’s what she hoped.
 

She
was panting, her breath coming shallow and faint.

And
then he was on her, pressing her against the wall as the door swung shut behind
him.
 
“Don’t say anything." He put
his hand over her mouth and Emma had half a mind to bite it, but his eyes were
frantic and pleading and she waited as he seemed to war with himself.
 
“Just let me think,” he said in a voice so
gravelly she shuddered.
 
He was trembling
too.
 
The hand on her shoulder seemed
conflicted as his fingers dug into her flesh and then released.
 
When he released her she struggled out of his
grip to stand defensively in the hall.

"What’s
going on, Jared?” she demanded, glaring at him as he stood with his legs apart,
braced for an argument.

"Too
many things to count," his gaze never left her, heated and dark as he
looked her over. Advancing slowly, he followed as she backed down the hallway,
her heart beating erratically. There was a wild look in his eyes that sent a
shot of adrenaline coursing through her.

 
"You told me to come and take what’s
mine.”

"I
did,” she said, wondering what he was thinking.
 
The man in front of her wasn’t the Jared she’d held last night.
 
He seemed aggressive but still just as torn,
as if the very act of coming to her had broken all of his thinly controlled
restraint. His gaze flicked over her again, his scrutiny intense.

“Look
at you,” he said, almost reverentially, removing his cap and dropping it to the
floor.
 
“Where’d that girl go?”

“She’s
still here, inside.”
 
Emma touched her
hand to her heart and his eyes followed, looking at the curve of her breasts in
a way that hardened her nipples.
 

He
advanced on her again, until she was backed against the far wall of the living
room.

Emma
stared up at him, feeling the hairs on her arms rise straight up at his proximity.
The look in his eyes lit a fire in her blood.
Breathe,
she had to remind herself. Were her fingertips trembling?
She balled her hand into a fist to contain the movement.

"I’ve
been waiting for you for so long," she whispered, turning away as he
leaned closer to her, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer size of him and the
burning heat that raged between them. The tip of his nose touched her ear,
moved over her hair as he inhaled her scent. She breathed him in too, realizing
it was the same manly fragrance that lingered on the paper of every letter he’d
ever sent her.
 
Smoky and masculine, it
got to her like some kind of drug.

"Waiting
for what?" he asked softly. The warmth of his breath teased across her
ear, a delightfully sensual caress.

"You
know."
 
She swallowed heavily,
leaning back against the wall.
 
Jared’s gaze
was so intense, but she didn’t look away.
 
The timid fifteen-year-old that she’d once been was long gone and he
needed to know that, to really believe it in his heart so there was no guilt in
their union.
 
After seconds that felt
like minutes had passed he chuckled softly, bracing one arm over her head as he
reached with his other hand to begin unzipping his jacket.

"Suppose
I don't," he said. Another tug and it was loose. His hand trailed up her
front, barely grazing over the fabric of her camisole, until he reached her neck.
 
She shivered, thinking about what those hands
had done for her.
 
In court, the
pathologist had listed the severe bruising they’d caused to his father’s neck,
crushing his windpipe in fury.
 
She knew
what Jared was capable of, but she felt no fear as he tilted her head slowly
back to face him.
 
"Tell me."

Emma
wasn't sure she could breathe, let alone speak. His touch was gentle, almost
reverent, fingertips feather-light against her skin. The pad of his thumb came
to rest below the line of her jaw, just over the throbbing pulse-point in her
neck.

Strength
radiated from his fingertips, his dark-eyed gaze unrelenting.

"Tell
me," he insisted, lingering close enough to brush noses lightly.

"I
already did," she whispered. In letters it was easier to confess such
things, and confess them she had; every forbidden, illicit desire that passed
through her mind, her nearly feverish yearning to be reunited with him and to
finally embrace him as a lover.

Why
did he persist in tormenting her?

"Emma,"
he growled, and his fingers flexed briefly against her throat. "My sweet
girl; tell me what you want.
 
I have to
hear it from you."

His
mouth pressed against her temple, a chaste, heated kiss as he brought his other
hand down to trail over her hair, watching as the silken strands slid smoothly
beneath his fingers.

"Jared,
please." She looked at him with the same ardent longing that'd she knew
had been etched on her face during his trial, all the passion of youth still
vibrant in her.

"Not
until you say it," he whispered. His mouth was close enough to graze her
skin, the lightest of touches that sent a tremble rolling through her.

"I
want you," she said, reaching up to lay a hand on his shoulder. Her
fingertips ran over the soft leather, the fine stitching. "I was waiting
for you."

The
rest of her response was silenced by the press of his mouth against hers.
Gentle at first, he caught the soft gasp from her parted lips, the tip of his
tongue reaching out to tease along her teeth. Threading his fingers through her
hair, he cradled the back of her skull in his hand, encircling her waist with
his other arm.

She
groaned, leaning into his arms as her hands slid beneath his jacket. Warmth
radiated from his chest, hot against her palms through the fabric of his shirt;
she could feel his heart beating strong and steady.

Lord,
she'd wanted him for so long. Now that he finally touched her, she could barely
control herself. Every shred of passion within her seemed suddenly to spring
alive. She hungered for the hot press of his lips against hers, sought his
mouth and met his kiss with more than equal fervor.

The
palm of his hand slid beneath the fabric of her camisole, the bare contact
between their skins sending a jolt down her spine.

A
sensation like liquid fire coursed through her veins as she felt the swell of his
cock in the confinement of his jeans, and more when he pressed his knee between
her thighs to tease her with the pressure.
 
He felt big, bigger than she could have imagined, and she was suddenly
nervous of what was coming, and how it might hurt when he first pushed to get
inside her.

"Every
day I thought of you," he said between layered kisses across her
cheekbones, over her eyelids, the ridge of her brow. "Your letters, the
memories of before. The first thing I wanted to do when I got out was come to
you and take what’s mine."

"You
shouldn’t have waited so long," she panted.

Pulling
back slightly, he looked down at her, his eyes tracing every contour of her
face.

He
ran one hand up the smooth, bare skin of her back, reaching ever higher beneath
the fabric of her camisole, teasing across the sensitive skin of her belly,
fingers dancing over her ribcage. Hot and fervent, he dominated their kiss with
his teeth, first nipping lightly, and then soothing her reddened lips with the
tender touch of his tongue.

"You've
no idea the things you do to me,” he growled between kisses.

Emma
didn't respond, only caught his lips again in another searing kiss. She had a
very good idea just what sort of effect she had on him. From the hard press of
his erection to his ragged breathing, his arousal was evident.
 

Kissing
and grappling with one another, they stumbled into the living room proper,
practically falling onto the worn couch. Eight years seemed to have filled them
both with an almost violent urgency to touch, to taste, and to join in the most
intimate of ways.

Every
light caress and hitched breath fueled her desire for him. Emma worked Jared’s
jacket from his shoulders, then reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it
over his head.
 
His body took her breath
away, skin so tanned from time spent in the exercise yard, muscles so defined
they rippled as he moved, and a tattoo she hadn’t seen before licking over his
shoulder like fire.
 
He was everything
she’d fantasized about and more.

"Don't
stop," she panted, gripping him by the loops of his jeans as he sat back
on his knees. She'd wrapped her legs loosely around his and tried to pull him
down.

"Patience,"
he chastised her softly, catching hold of her hands by the wrists and pulling
them gently from his waist. “We’ve waited so long.
 
It’s only going to happen once, coming
together like this.
 
I
wanna
take my time.”

She
was impatient for him, but his intentions made her flush even more with
desire.
 
She understood the need to draw
out their pleasure and relish it.

He
stared at her with hungry, passion-clouded eyes. "More than eight years I’ve
waited for this, thought about what it would be like to finally have you in the
way I’ve been craving."

"Don’t
make me wait any more,” she whispered.

“Emma,"
he groaned, leaning down to kiss her lightly. "I’m going to give you
everything that I am."

His
words went straight to her heart, sending warmth through every part of her. She
struggled against his grip but her efforts were in vain; Jared held her fast,
her wrists pinned to the couch beside her waist. His lips caressed hers again,
one hand releasing her to grip her by the hip.

"If
you only knew how your letters tormented me," he whispered. “Every night,
sometimes for weeks, months, years on end. All I could think about was the sensation
of your fingertips on my skin.
 
Those
memories were like shadows creeping into my dreams and torturing my sleep.”