Hot for Pepper (2 page)

She drew ragged a breath. “I’m afraid of hurting Andy. And…we shouldn’t…this.”

“Andy.” Tension coiled in his chest, his arms, even the hand on her stomach. He spoke the word in a flat, neutral tone. If she hadn’t been pinned to him, shoulder to knee, she wouldn’t have picked up on his anger. This close, though…this close, she felt everything.

“Tell me about Andy,” he said, too calm. His lips traced the shell of her ear. “Are you fucking him?”

Her eyes popped open. “What?”

Mitch released her. Clinging to the edge of the pool, Pepper turned to stare at him. He bobbed backward, allowing a measure of space between them but not so much that she could just climb out of the water and leave him there alone with his scowl. Water lapped at his nipples and darkened the dusting of hair across his chest. She fixed her focus firmly on his face, on the narrowed green eyes studying her with so much simmering emotion.

“Did you,” she asked, enunciating carefully, “ask me whether I’m involved with Andy?”

“No.” The tribal pattern tattooed around his biceps flexed when he clasped his hands behind his neck. “I asked whether you’re fucking him. He tells me you’re days away from a big, glittering rock. Is he presenting it? Or someone else?”

Her face heated. Nobody ever spoke to her in such a direct, crude manner. Neither Carlton nor Andy, the men with whom she had the most regular contact, would have even thought to utter the F-word in her presence, let alone accuse her of doing it with someone. Carlton and Andy…she wouldn’t say they sheltered her, but she would say they afforded her a certain status. She was a member of “the fairer sex”, and both treated her with a measure of delicacy.

But not Mitch. Mitch met her stare head-on, holding her gaze and holding his ground.

Pepper straightened her spine. “I’m not going to answer that question because it’s none of your business.”

He shook his head slowly and lowered his arms. “You’re going to answer, sweetheart, or you’re going to spend the rest of the night right where you are. Tell me.”

She inched toward the lane marker. Mitch matched her attempt at a retreat and grasped the rope, biceps tight and defined as he held it steady. She’d have to dive beneath in order to get into the next lane. The idea of being so vulnerable—unable to breathe, unable to see, caught between a determined man and unyielding ceramic tile—stayed her from that escape route.

“Andy is my brother. And you
know
he’s gay. And my affairs are none of your business,” she repeated. “You have no right to ask.”

“Pepper.” He murmured her name, abruptly gentling. Long fingers traced a path along her upper arm, across her shoulder. She turned her face away and Mitch tucked wet strands of hair behind her ear. “If you’re not fucking him, why did you put his name between us?”

God, there he was at her ear again. She drew her shoulders high, protective of the oversensitive spot. Too late—the shivers were already working past the heat of the water—but…maybe…no. Mitch denied her the protection. He stroked the side of her neck and enveloped her shoulder in his large hand, petting until she relaxed. And she did. Her body melted for him, from tense to limp with a few slick glides of his wet skin on hers.

She licked salt traces from her lips, trying to hold her ground. She’d come a long way since her twenty-third birthday, when she finally acknowledged her attraction to Mitch was screwing up her attempts at relationships with other men. Now, at twenty-four, she wasn’t about to let him undo the hard work she’d put into talking herself out of him and into someone—anyone—else.

She sent a silent thank-you to her therapist and gave herself a mental shake. Absolutely no sense in throwing away a year of progress just because she was a little scared and a lot turned-on.

Meeting his eyes again, she said, “You know why. You and Andy…you must know about his feelings for you. And even if you don’t, I don’t appreciate that you threw that word at me.”

Confusion creased his brow. “What are you talking about? Fuck?”

She adopted what she hoped was a stern expression. “Yes. That word. It’s impolite and you’re in no position to say it in front of me. I’m not some…some street woman or something.”

Mitch barked a laugh. “Do you think I regularly talk to ‘street women’?”

“I think you’re forgetting your manners. We aren’t in boot camp or in a bar and I’m not… I’m your sister.”

His mirth died abruptly. “You’re not my sister.”

Pepper averted her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Candace is my sister. You are a woman I know through a man my mother married. We don’t share any blood. We never shared bath tubs or birthday parties. Hell, we’ve never even drank from the same glass. We’re not related, Pepper. We know each other. We
barely
know each other.”

He crowded closer, forcing her head back. The hardness she felt earlier came up against her stomach. Mitch rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip and tipped her chin higher, bringing her eyes to his. The low register of his voice stroked her skin like soft fur. “But I’ve never gotten hard while thinking about my sister. You’re not her, Pepper.”

She’d managed to repress the heat but now it blazed full force. Mitch lowered his head until his breath fanned her parted lips. His face was too close. She couldn’t see his eyes anymore, could only feel the firm brace of his free hand curling around her upper arm. Velvet-warm, he touched the tip of his tongue to the bow of her lip. Pepper’s weight gave way and she bobbed in the water. Mitch caught her other arm and lifted her against his chest. With no more warning than a low growl, he covered her mouth.

Salt from the pool sharpened the flavor of his kiss, which was otherwise soft. Startled, expecting something more brutal, she wasn’t sure what to do. Recoil? Indulge? Her instincts knew—they stretched toward him, opened her mouth for him to claim.

The edge of the pool bit into her back as his tongue delved past her teeth and he pinned her to the wall. A half pained, half yearning whimper rewarded his advance. Pepper spread her fingers across his chest and up until she could lock her arms around his neck. Wet and thick, his hair slid beneath her wrists. She cradled the back of his head and pressed closer—lifting herself up, pulling him down.

Mitch cupped her bottom and angled her hips to receive the press of his erection. Drugged by the slow swirl of his kiss, she parted her legs and raised her knees. With her ankles crossed at the small of his back, she could feel every outline of muscle and rib between her thighs. He was a hard man in every way, chiseled by the demands of his service career, drawn taut by arousal. For her.

Her eyes popped open. Mitch’s eyelashes were dark, spiky half-moon slashes against his skin. Pepper released her hold on his hair and cupped the sides of his head, traced the crescents with her thumbs, and pushed.

Mitch raised his head a fraction. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re hard,” she said, bemused. “For me.”

“Yeah, I am. You’re the hottest redhead I know.” He bent his knees slightly and ground his hips against her. Strong hands squeezed her buttocks, tilted her lower body. The minor adjustments drew her attention to the rigid length between them. Mitch rocked against her, his erection grinding into her flesh with slow, subtle motions. The rhythm threatened to pull her under. Her mental buoyancy faltered.

Grasping at something, anything to keep her afloat, she said, “But Andy—”

“Don’t,” Mitch interrupted. He reclaimed her mouth, less tender than the first kiss. Pepper opened for him anyway, searching for an imitation of the press and withdraw between her legs. Mitch drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked hard enough to make her gasp. Punishing. He was punishing her. She wrapped her hands around his neck and tilted her head back, offering more for him to discipline.

Beneath the surface of the water, her body flashed hot. Mitch somehow worked his fingers beneath the fabric of her suit. Skin on skin, his touch stoked the blaze into an inferno. She should be looking for a way to extinguish the fire but couldn’t remember why.

Andy. Andy was why.

His voice, sharp and hard, penetrated Pepper’s rush of lust. “What the hell are you doing?”

Mitch, instead of letting go, clutched her bare buttocks harder. He raised his head but didn’t turn toward the other man, who stalked the length of the pool toward them.

“You’re interrupting,” Mitch said.

“Just in time. Get your hands off her. Pepper, you should’ve called for help.” Anger seethed in his raspy words.

Pepper closed her eyes, battling with arousal, shame, and a very strong inner voice that advised her to refuse explanation for her actions.

“She’s not under attack.” Mitch’s even words betrayed the tension Pepper felt in the rigid wall of his abdomen, pressed so close to hers.

“You have her trapped against the wall.”

Swallowing, she opened her eyes and forced herself to look at Andy. He stood at the side of the pool and she had to tilt her head back, leaving her feeling more vulnerable than she already did. His jaw was hard, clenched with the fury she rarely saw from her less volatile stepbrother. He’d stood out on the lawn and faced Mitch down with the same expression. Years ago.

“I’m fine,” she said, not quite able to make herself meet his eyes and witness the shadow of his emotions. Andy wanted a man who wouldn’t have him and she felt like she’d betrayed something by accepting Mitch’s kiss. “You’re misunderstanding the situation.”

“The situation is you’re out here alone, mostly naked, pinned to the side of the pool with no means of escape. Give me your hand, I’ll pull you out.” His wristwatch flashed as he extended his arm.

Pepper sighed. “I’m not trapped.”

Thankfully, Mitch loosened his hold and eased off. Even before she said the words, she feared he would prove her a liar by standing his ground in the face of the other man’s anger. Freed, she turned and flattened her hands on the pool’s edge so Andy could have visual proof that she was under her own will. Meeting his eyes was easier without Mitch’s still-strong erection wedged between her legs.

“I’m… You are interrupting.” She bit her lip. A flash of something resembling pain crossed Andy’s features before he assumed a neutral mask.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at her. “This isn’t a wise decision. You know that. Have you forgotten about Robert?”

Robert. Pepper bit her lip. No, she hadn’t forgotten about her casual social relationship with the other man, a young member of Carlton’s country club. But she’d like to forget about his increasingly frequent pushes for a commitment. “I’m not making any decisions you need to worry about. Can we talk about this later? I’ll come find you when I’m dry and dressed.”

Andrew’s throat worked. Behind her, Mitch stood silent in the water. Pepper’s shoulders itched, a sensation that had nothing to do with the wet ends of her hair. Andy’s eyes narrowed and his focus shifted past her to Mitch. “If Carlton finds out, your welcome will wear very thin.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Mitch said flatly.

Pepper’s throat constricted and she croaked, “You won’t tell him.”

He breathed a snort of disgust. “I’m not a child but this house is full of servants. Just…hell. Be careful with the choices you make, Pepper.”

Andy turned abruptly and strode away. Pepper dug her fingertips into the gritty surface beneath her hands. Good sense told her to leave the water while she had the opportunity and excuse, but her sense of honesty knew that retreat would be a lie. She didn’t want to escape from Mitch.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said in a low voice. “Andy is very protective of me.”

“Unless you’re going to tell me you’re fucking him and I should stop, don’t talk about him right now.”

She turned to find Mitch inches away. How did he move so smoothly in the water? A man his size should make a few waves. Rivulets of water trailed down his chest. Pepper moistened her lips. “Please stop using that word.”

“No.” One more step and he caged her again. He dipped his head and licked the line of her jaw, drawing a path to her ear. Pepper shuddered and spread her toes on the floor of the pool, trying to find focus in textures.

Mitch nosed into the wet hair at her temple. In a warm, tickling whisper, he said, “Say it for me. Just once.”

Her eyes closed on her own and her back arched. He was so hard against her breasts. Focus was a concept she rapidly forgot the meaning of.

“Say it,” he urged.

She swallowed. Tried to concentrate while he stroked her lower back, teased the line of her suit bottom. “What? The f-word?”

Mitch nodded. His teeth closed over a tendon in her neck.

She dug her fingernails into the muscle padding his shoulders and tried not to shake too hard. Mitch bit, though, gentle and slow, and the pleasure-pain spiked to her nerve centers. She couldn’t control the tremble that shuddered down her back.

“Mitch,” she whispered.

He spoke against her skin. “Say it. Use it in a sentence that tells me you’re not doing Andrew. Or anyone else. What was his name? Robert?”

Anger of her own rose to the surface, temporarily hotter than her want. Tilting her head away, she evaded his mouth. “No.
No
. I won’t say it. But I’m not sleeping with anybody and I’m insulted you ask.”