Bad Boy's Baby (42 page)

Her pleasure would boil the pool.

But I felt her get hotter before. Inside. Deep. Right where my cock ached to bury.

God damn, this woman was perfect. She knew how to writhe, how to tremble, how to come hard enough to rock through me with just a touch.

But now she struggled against the jet that trapped her body in sensitivity. I hated to let her go, but, at least she knew where she could get more.

So much more.

I’d worship the fucking ground she walked on. Kiss her toes, lick her skin, devour her pussy, suckle her nipples, nip her throat, and claim her lips with every passion I could offer.

If
she’d let me.

If
she’d stop hating me for just a minute, just enough time to prove I wasn’t the jerk she thought I was.

I wasn’t a pervert who wanted to sex his sister. I was a red-hot, testosterone-fueled man who fell too fucking hard for a beautiful face and harder for the frustrating woman who hid her passion, her happiness, and her fears behind a forced responsibility and layer of guilt. It wouldn’t bring her father back or fix whatever relationship they had. It made her hate herself and the fortune that she inherited.

I had to show her it was okay to be vulnerable.

Even if I couldn’t be.

But Shay moved before I could, squirming from my hold. She groaned—and not a good sound. I helped her to sit on the side of the pool. She tried to rise to her feet, but she stumbled as her strength still paddled in the water with me.

Shay was the type who needed to lay for a while, post-bliss, to recover. She was probably the only woman I had ever let cuddle me.

And I’d be the last. Next time it happened, she’d suffocate me with a pillow.

“Completely. Inappropriate.”

She scolded me, but she panted, satisfied, out of breath and ragged with pleasure. Usually how I preferred my women.

“It’s just a swimming lesson.” I grinned. “You did very well for your first attempt.”

“Don’t.”

“Wait until I show you my favorite stroke.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“That’s what I hear.”

She seized her towel and wrapped it over her curves. Not that it mattered, I still felt the heat where she bucked against my chest.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “You didn’t even let me show you how long I can hold my breath under water!”

Shay grabbed her things with trembling fingers, though her body swayed and shifted now, more relaxed. I’d get that stick out of her ass yet—and replace it with something better.

“I think we’ve had enough poolside fun for one day.” Shay swallowed. “Probably a lifetime.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She brushed her hair behind her ear, but her smile hadn’t returned. “Yes. I do. I’m sorry, Zach, I never should have let you…we can’t. Okay? You’re my step-brother. I don’t trust you here, I don’t trust you with the inheritance, I don’t trust that you won’t run around and find some other mermaid to…teach to swim.”

“Give me a chance.”

“Let’s do ourselves a favor and forget everything ever happened,” she said. “Save us the heartache, okay?”

She didn’t let me answer, and I didn’t know how to fight to get her back.

My stomach dropped.

Here I was, pissing with her, craving a chance to fool around, having some fun, and sneak beneath her sheets.

She thought it was something more?

Save us the heartache
?

She hurried in the house.

I hadn’t moved. Couldn’t, not when she dumped the entirety of the pool over my head and froze it.

Was she
falling
for me?

I grinned, watching as she slammed the door the patio behind her.

She could hide from it all she wanted, but one thing was clear. Shay wanted me more than she let on.

And I wasn’t letting her get away.

Chapter Eleven - Shay

Lesson plans.

Safe, innocent lesson plans.

They were time-consuming. They were boring. They were due at the end of the week so I could present something to the school where I’d be observing.

But teaching kids their A-B-Cs wasn’t taking my mind off of S-E-X.

I was new to teaching, but I knew
that
would get me fired quicker than if I revealed my step-brother was the object of my forbidden desire.

I groaned. Who was I kidding? I used the
step-brother
excuse to stay away from Zach. If I forced myself to believe what we did was wrong, then I wouldn’t end up in his arms again. That humiliation was the only thing preventing me from grabbing a pen-knife and notching his bedpost for him.

Zach was a player. He was an asshole. I had to watch my every word around him or he’d twist it into something sexual and promising.

Except he had the prowess to justify his teasing.

And he knew it.

Lesson plans
.

I meant to focus on my lesson plans.

I bit my lip. I loved the education program, the prospect of teaching, and the thought of working with kids. But unless I was huffing the glue I reminded myself to buy, no way could I use phonics lessons to forget what happened in the pool.

I sighed. I once thought the shower attachment was divine. Now every morning I eyed the Jacuzzi tub.

Bad idea. Just
bad
. Humiliating. Regretted.

Delicious.

No one touched me like Zach. No one stirred me like him.

No one nearly drowned me in literal pleasure and whispered innuendoes in my ear until I collapsed in his arms.

And no one was idiot enough to bolt from the pool, lock myself in my room, and pray the bikini hadn’t fallen off as I bounced to safety.

But, for Christ’s sake,
one
of us had to be responsible, and I wasn’t talking double-checking to ensure I took my pill in the morning. We had to be adults. We had to forget all about the sex. Since Zach was a meathead who spent every available hour harassing me, training, or eating, I’d be the one to take charge.

We had to end it.

Whatever
it
was.

The games. The flirting. It was time to make a plan for him to move out as soon as he deployed so we could get on with our lives. I had four months until I graduated and received my trust, and they would be spent fully-clothed and respectable. If we had to act more like strangers than family, so be it.

But, of course, I checked my makeup before I went down the stairs. And my hair. And I wore a sweet little pair of panties I tried to convince myself matched my outfit.

You know, like how any girl would prepare to talk to her step-brother.

Zach hung out in the theater more often than
should
have been fair, but I let him have the room as I mostly occupied the library. Zach wasn’t watching TV or playing a video game. He laid in the dark and quiet, dressed in the t-shirt and shorts he used to work out.

He collapsed over the couch. His long, toned legs kicked out over the arm.

I hadn’t made an effort to hold a real conversation with him since the incident with the pool jet. I didn’t even know what to say.

Hey, so
that was better than drowning!
Or maybe
I don’t normally hump inanimate objects, but for you, I’ll make an exception.

I owed him an explanation. I knew we needed to hash it out like adults.

Hell, I probably should have thanked him for the mind-blowing orgasm.

Instead, I said the stupidest thing I could think of.

“Don’t sit on the furniture with your shoes on.”

Zach didn’t move his arm from over his eyes. He grunted and kicked the tennis shoes off his heels. One nudge of his legs dropped the shoe to the floor. The other he decided to launch into the nearby lamp.

“Oh, that’s great.” I stood the floor-lamp up, brushing the dust from the shade. Uh-oh. There was quite a bit. “Now we have boot-prints over everything.”

“Hire a maid.”

His voice muffled over his arm. He didn’t look at me while we talked. Fantastic.

“Do you
really
want a maid here?”

“Yep. And a personal chef. And a landscaper. What are you waiting for?”

“It’s…in the process,” I shrugged. “I have to figure out how my dad managed all this.”

“Easy. Open wallet. Pay butler. Let him oversee the estate.”

Couldn’t he see how weird that was for me? I wasn’t throwing money at a problem to make it go away.

…Unless it was him and the inheritance I planned to buy back.

That didn’t count. It was completely different.

“I haven’t decided on anything yet,” I said. “We can do something temporary.”

“Temporary?” Zach snorted. “You can’t take care of this house. It’s a full-time job, and you have the money to hire the army it needs to stay in shape.”

“But if I sell it—”

“
Sell it
?”

I flinched. “Well, yeah.”

He sat up. His profanity was a sharper bite than usual. “Why the fuck would you sell this place?”

He asked that question while sitting in one of the fifteen leather recliners and sofas positioned around an auditorium-styled room, complete with full-sized movie screen, projector, and arched buttresses decorating the ceiling.

“Because…it’s
ridiculous
?” I said. “Because I still get lost in the east wing? Because the upkeep on this place is insane?”

“You’re a
billionaire
,” he said. Then the asshole spelled it out for me, letter by letter. “This house is nothing to you. You should have two more like it in other places in the county, plus a vacation spot in the Maldives for kicks.” 

“Don’t sass me.”

“This house is an
estate
. Size matters. It’s meant to be large and obscene.”

“You would know that best.”

He swore. Damn it. I waved a hand, collapsing on the chair beside him. He didn’t make room for me. In fact, he scowled.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I’ll take the compliment anyway.”

“I’m sure you would.” I picked at the couch. “I don’t know what I want to do with the money or the house. I mean, technically? I don’t even own it yet. His estate is paying for everything. My bank account has about five hundred dollars in it.”

“You’ll manage.”

“Probably. I did before. But this isn’t me. And I don’t think it’s you either.”

He snorted. “And so you can’t accept it? You can’t take the help?”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re crazy.”

I grimaced. “What do you care? You should be in the exact same spiral of shame that I am.”

He laughed. It wasn’t his normal, carefree chuckle. It almost sounded…angry.

“Please, Shay. Go ahead. I’ve heard it every day since I came here. Tell me why I should be ashamed of myself.”

“What the hell is wrong with you today?”

Zach groaned as he sat up. “I’m waiting to hear how I’ve fucked it up this time.”

“Why don’t you get it?” I asked. “How don’t you see that this inheritance is all bullshit?”

“It’s
legal
.” A grunt accompanied his words. “You want to screw me out of what an attorney said is rightfully mine? Be my guest. Find a judge who’ll side with you. We’ll get it over with.”

“I’m not talking about
you
!” I pushed from the couch only to pace the room. “For Christ’s sake, Zach. I’m talking about me.
I
got all this stuff—the house, the cars, the school, the
billion freaking dollars
—all from a man I didn’t know!”

“He was your father.”

“He was
never
a father to me. He ran around on my mom, left my family when I was a kid, and only checked in on my birthday and holidays to give me money. He never
loved
me. He tried to buy me off so he could have a life without me.”

“So? What’s the problem then?” Zach shrugged. “Take the bastard’s money. He screwed you over for twenty-one years. Least you can do is get what’s yours.”

I gave up. “You don’t understand it.”

“Then
tell
me.”

There was nothing to tell. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say anymore. I didn’t know what I wanted. Suddenly, an entire freaking estate was too damn small, and Zach’s presence entirely too big.

“Forget it.”

He called after me before I made it to the doorway.

“You make it seem like you’re the only one who lost someone.”

I stopped. His voice embittered, but I didn’t blame him. Not when he was absolutely right. He stood, gripping the couch with a trembling hand.

He didn’t look okay. Was he sick?

“Do you think you’re the only one who had a shitty parent? Think I wanted to be hauled house to house, date to date, man to man? You’ve never asked where my real father is.”

No, I hadn’t. “Where is he?”

“My mom said he was dead. A soldier. Died in Desert Storm.”

I swallowed. “Is that why you…?”

“Became a SEAL? Yeah. Felt like it was in my blood. Serve the country. Do some good.” He arched an eyebrow. “Except I’m twenty-four years old, and Desert Storm ended twenty-five years ago. Mom was never good at math.”

“Oh.” I softened my voice. “Did you ever find out who he was?”

“Don’t know. He was probably just some screw she had. She was good for fucking around like that. She tossed herself man-to-man looking for someone to take care of her. She married three times before shacking up with your dad.”

“Wow.”

“Six years ago, I came home from basic training and she tried to hide a black eye. I kicked my step-father’s ass from one side of the house to the other, but
she
defended him. Took her three more months of him beating on her before the money ran dry. I got her out of there, she met your dad, and the rest…” He shrugged. “At least he never hit her.”

“No. He wouldn’t have.”

Zach held my stare. “Don’t pretend like you’re some lost little lamb in the world. You want to feel guilty? Feel guilty. You want to feel sad you didn’t know him better? Fine. But don’t front a holier-than-thou attitude, Shay. I’m not in the mood.”