Forbidden Prescription: A Stepbrother Romance (13 page)
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Authors: Stephanie Brother
P
ersonal
: A Stepbrother Sports Romance
He was the sh*t four years ago, and he's the sh*t now, but frankly darling, I don't give a d*mn.
CAT
I don't care how hot he looks or how badly I needed his brotherly rescuing when I was almost mauled by practically a dog in heat at the swankiest industry party I'd ever been to.
Oh I would not give in. I don't care about the thousands of fans who worship him. I don't care that he's rumored to be the number one NFL draft pic. My assumptions were right about him in High School. And he's an a**. Leopards don't change their spots darlin'.
I worked too hard to get where I am to be broken again.
RAMON
I always get what I want and that's just how it's always been. It's what makes a great leader and oh I can lead no matter how many blocks or c*cks try to thwart me.
I broke records as only a Sophomore taking my High School team to state. And we won. In college, I won the Heisman Trophy and now I'm up for the NFL draft. What does that tell you about me? I don't take no for answer. And I will work HARD to reach my goals. No.Matter.What.
I'm not arrogant, I'm just determined. But even great champs make mistakes. And the mistake I made years ago, I'm determined to make it up to her. For every ounce of pain I caused her, I'd make it up between her legs. Oh yard after yard I'd go for her. Until she begs me to stop. This I promise you.
Warning, this 30k sports romance novella gets so hot, you may have to hit the showers. Just saying!
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lick
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A
rrested
: A Stepbrother Cop Romance
He’s a good cop, but a very BAD BOY.
When gorgeous Officer Carlisle pulled me over for speeding, I told him how sorry I was. That didn’t stop him from telling me to step out of the car and making me spread my legs so he could check for offensive weapons.
I wanted to ask him if a hungry kitty constituted an offensive weapon, because damn, mine just wanted to eat him all up!
Those eyes should have been enough to get him arrested, forget those cheekbones and delicious full lips that stayed serious, even when I was sassing him.
And his hands. When he ran those rough palms against the inside of my thighs, I actually moaned.
Then he pulled out his handcuffs and showed me just how well he could wield his night stick.
Okay, that last bit only happened in my fantasies later that night, and pretty much every night since Officer Carlisle told me what a bad girl I was. I thought I was never going to see him again, then Mom tells me she’s getting engaged to her boyfriend and you guessed it, Officer Carlisle just happens to be my sexy new stepbrother!
That should make me think twice about being a naughty girl, shouldn’t it? Except, now my past is coming back to haunt me and Officer Carlisle might just be the only man who can turn this bad girl good.
Officer Carlisle knows exactly how to use his equipment. Read on if you like your cops a whole lot dirty in the bedroom!
1
ALLYSON
Sex is dangerous
.
At least, that’s my experience.
It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. And worst of all, it has the ability to totally fuck up your life.
Panic rushes through me as I press my foot harder on the accelerator, racing through the streets and taking another corner at high speed. It’s just after 1am and this late at night, the roads are deserted. There are no street lights in this part of town and my headlights illuminate only a foot of the world in front of me.
I’m driving dangerously, recklessly.
A fleeting thought that someone or something will dash out onto the road makes me ease up on the pedal as I take the next bend. I know it’s foolish to take risks like this but my heart is racing so hard. Drew’s words run through my mind again and the memory of his threats make my stomach clench. I feel like I have nothing to lose because if he does what he says he’s going to do, then he’ll destroy everything that matters to me.
The steering wheel slips slightly in my grasp and I rub my hands on the skirt of the short black dress I'm wearing. I grip the wheel again so I can pull out of the bend in the road, forcing my car to surge faster. I can't seem to put enough distance between me and the party.
I knew that Drew wasn’t going to take the news well. He’s always had a bad temper and a fragile ego which is a terrible combination, but things couldn't have gone worse. I thought he was unhappy too and I hoped he might listen to reason.
I hoped that he’d let me go without a fight.
I was so, so wrong.
I clench the steering wheel tighter, foot almost at the floor when the interior of my car suddenly turns red and blue. I check my rear view mirror quickly and groan at the sight of the police car behind me.
Fuck.
On top of everything, I don’t need to be losing my license. My already racing heart beats so impossibly fast that I feel the pulsing in my throat and the tips of my fingers.
How much over the speed limit was I going? I have no idea.
I carefully pull over to the side of the road, putting the car in park with my hands on the steering wheel. It’s what I’m supposed to do. I’ve seen enough cop movies to know that. It’s also the only way I can keep my hands from trembling.
Adrenaline’s a bitch.
I try to concentrate on my breathing as I wait for the officer to approach. I've never been pulled over for speeding before and I have no idea what I'm going to say to defend myself. Maybe my clean record will go in my favor? I should tell the officer that if it looks like he might come down hard on me. I know there’s no defense when you're guilty, just excuses or bravado. If nothing else, tonight has already taught me that I’m not the best at pleading my case.
The police car stops about a foot away from my car and I watch through the rear view mirror as the cop gets out of his cruiser. He’s tall and younger than I was expecting, walking with a swagger that immediately gets my back up. Does he think I’m okay with waiting out here in the dark while he ambles around like he has all the time in the world? When he’s about halfway to my car I roll down the window and plaster a smile on my face. I might have no chance at getting out of this but I’d be stupid not to try.
"
L
icense and registration
, Miss," the officer says in a voice that so deep and smooth I’m momentarily taken aback.
He bends to look in the window and my breath escapes in a whoosh. This cop is hot. I should be fearful but when attraction hits, somehow all my sense seems to fly out of the window. Damn, he’s broad. He should look dowdy in his regulation uniform, but it just seems to show everything off. His eyes bore into me with a look of boredom. He must get so tired of doing routine road stops. I bet he does so many he can repeat his warnings in his sleep. I think I must be imagining a slight change in his attitude when his gaze falls on my legs. Short already, the hem of my dress is high up my thighs from sitting for so long. I instinctively move to push it down.
"Of course, Officer," I say, trying to cover the embarrassing pause between us, fumbling in my purse for my license, and the glove compartment to retrieve the car registration. I hand them over and peer at him through my lashes.
He glances at my license then looks at me. "Do you know how fast you were going, Allyson?"
Shit. I have no idea. My only thought was getting away from the party. Away from him. My eyes had been on the road, not on the speedometer.
"Too fast?" I say quietly. He frowns.
"Step out of the car."
Blood pounds in my head and rushes in my ears. This is going badly. "Is that really necessary?" I ask, hoping he’ll let me off the hook. There is a chill in the night air and I’m not wearing suitable clothes for standing around by the side of the road.
"Out of the car." There is no hesitation in his voice. No waver to give me an indication it’s worth pleading any further.
Fear, panic, and denial race through me because life really knows how to kick a person when they are down. I clench my hands on the steering wheel, inhaling deeply. The officer clears his throat impatiently and that’s enough to get me angry. I’ve had enough of men trying to tell me what to do. I refuse to be scared by this pompous lawman. I may have lost control in a lot of aspects of my life but I can have control here. I don't have to let what happened at the party influence what happens next. This stop for speeding doesn't have to result in a ticket or a suspension if I give it all I’ve got.
I turn to take a better look at the officer who has now crossed his arms. He’s getting mad because I’m keeping him waiting but the fury only seems to make him look hotter. He’s still holding my license in his big hand and for a fleeting moment, I wonder how his touch might feel against my skin. Stupid girl, thinking about sex when everything around me is turning to shit. It’s sex that has gotten me into this mess.
Maybe some harmless flirting will get me out of it, though.
"Of course, Officer?"
"Carlisle."
He's still standing in front of the door and I frown. "I can't open the door with you right there," I say. "I don't want to knock you over. My dress will do that I'm sure." I flash him a smile to round off my pathetic attempt at flirting.
His lips twitch but his expression remains impassive. He moves slightly to the right so I can swing the door open safely and I notice, with some small glimmer of hope, that he hasn’t reached for his notepad or ticket book.
I swing my legs out in slow motion taking a deep breath. If I'm going to do this, I had better make it good. Either he'll book me or let me off without a ticket.
My high heels tap the pavement and then I unfold myself out of the car like I'm arriving at a red carpet event. I push my chest out and stand up straight. Though I'm wearing heels, Officer Carlisle is still, at least, five inches taller than me. He peers down at the swell of my breasts and I silently thank Rachel for telling me to buy this dress.
"Officer Carlisle, how fast was I going?"
"Thirty miles over the speed limit, Miss."
My smile falters for a second. Thirty miles over. Was I going that fast? I swallow, trying to recover my cool, and lean closer. "Allyson, please. I like it when you call me Allyson."
I run my hand down his arm. His skin is hot and his muscles flex under my touch. I gaze up into his face and it's still like stone, but his eyes seem to twinkle. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Rugged looking with something so cold about him that it makes me want to warm him right up.
I look down at where his gun and cuffs are stored at his waist and feel a rush of heat between my legs. My hand wants to reach out and touch that cool metal. I know what those handcuffs would feel like wrapped around the tender flesh and bone of my wrists. I shake my head and blink again at my own stupidity.
Is this all it takes to make me forget my resolve?
Men are trouble, whichever way you look at it, but here I am thinking about what Officer Carlisle would look like if his lips curled into a smile. I want to make his eyes twinkle again.
"Very well, Allyson, have you been drinking tonight?" He seems to lean in closer, maybe to see if he can smell alcohol on my breath.
"Of course not." I stop myself from shaking my head. Too much denial will only increase his suspicions and except for that one drink when I first arrived at the party, everything else I'd had was soft. If I tell him about that drink, though, he might make me take a Breathalyzer, or walk a straight line. What if he takes me into the station anyway? Panic threatens to grip me again and I suddenly wish someone would drive by. Any kind of distraction would be good right now. I shove the panic down and take another deep breath, put my hand on my hip and smile at him.
"Really? Nothing." He definitely doesn’t believe me.
"Technically not nothing. I had water at the party."
"I see. Very sensible. You were at a party? By yourself?"
"My friends were there. I had to leave."
No point telling him why I left just when the party was in full swing. I suspect he doesn't care why I was speeding and no amount of excuses would help me. If I can't even get him to smile with my flirting, I see an expensive ticket in my future. A ticket I can’t afford right now.
"I'm going to have to ask you to face the car and put your hands on the hood, legs slightly apart."
His voice is so calm but there’s a rough edge that makes his instruction sound more exciting that it should. I’ve often wondered if other women think about sex as much as I do. Ordinary situations shouldn’t play out in my mind like porn, but they do. Often.
I’m all in with the flirting now. It feels like my only hope. "Sounds exciting, Officer. What are you looking for exactly?"
"Offensive weapons."
I almost laugh out loud. My dress is skin tight so it’s quite obvious I’m not concealing anything. The only weapon I have is the hungry kitty between my legs that wants to eat him all up. Positive I will be taken to the station for confessing something like that, I keep my mouth shut and assume the position. The anticipation of that first touch sends a tingle of awareness through me. I'm trembling now but not from fear or panic, but all out raging lust. The cool night air licks the inside of my thighs.
"You really think a harmless girl like me would have a weapon, Officer Carlisle?"
"We can never be too careful, Allyson."
I love the way he says my name, low and smooth with a little edge of huskiness. I glance over my shoulder to smile at him. His lips twitch again with the hint of amusement but it never fully emerges. I resist the urge to shake my ass in his face when he bends down to start with my ankles.
Strong, rough palms touch the bare skin just above my shoes and slide up slowly. Tantalizingly slowly. He moves higher, taking his time over my calves. Then higher, his hands disappearing under my skirt to feel m
y thighs. I can’t help it. I let out a low moan and then bite my lip, hoping he hasn’t heard me. He pauses for a split second then continues his weapons check, otherwise known as the hottest foreplay I have ever experienced.
This is totally not necessary, in any shape or form. Who carries weapons under their skin? Officer Carlisle is having some fun at my expense, and I guess I’m having some fun at his.
He withdraws his hands and stands up, placing them on my hips. I find myself drifting back slightly as though he were magnetized. He whisks his hands up my sides, barely missing my breasts. Disappointment races through me, as my body comes alive with the anticipation of how much further this could go. The heat from his body seems to radiate into me. He's close, closer than he probably should be for a routine traffic stop that is feeling anything but. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be doing this if I was a fifty-year-old dude.
