Off Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance (16 page)

“I’m sure you’d
be a terrible patient,” she grumbled, still pressing the ice pack
to my head.

I slid my hand along
her waist, fitting it warm against the small of her back. “I’d
take my time healing if you were taking care of me.”

I could feel her
shaking slightly under my touch, quivering at my nearness. She wore a
thin t-shirt and I could feel the warmth of her skin through the
cotton. Her breathing revealed a slight hitch, but she teased me
back, “If it took you a long time to get better that would make me
a pretty bad nurse.”

Leaning down to her,
mouth at her ear, I whispered, “I do like the idea of you being
bad.” With a slow, teasing tongue I licked her ear, down at her
earlobe, then sucked the tender flesh.

“Tuck,” she panted,
hand up at my chest. “We can’t.” She held herself taut, not
melting against me like I wanted, like I could tell she wanted.

With my hand by hers, I
circled her wrist, so delicate and small under my large fingers. She
was so sensitive on the inside of her wrist, her skin so soft and
pale. With my rough, calloused thumb I stroked her and felt her pulse
jump.

“You want to,” I
insisted, husky.

“That doesn’t
matter,” she protested, strained, jaw set, eyes closed.

Her softness, her
breathing, her smell. The swell of her breasts barely touching my
chest, how she’d feel if I crushed her against me. I could grab her
ass, grind into her, take her nipple between my teeth and suck, then
bite. I wanted to hear her cry out, the way she’d made herself as
she’d watched me come.

“You’re killing me,
Jewel,” I growled, low and gruff.

“We can’t.” Her
words came out strangled, forced from her throat. She didn’t want
to resist any more than I did.

But she left just the
same, turned and walked right out of the room. I stood there and let
her do it. Sometimes you had to lose a battle to win the war.

Jewel

He has me up against
the wall. Sweaty and desperate, I’m writhing beneath him, frantic
for more. He’s fucking me hard, pounding, stretching me with his
cock and I’m drenched, mewling and bucking up against him. I want
to grab, claw, clutch him to me closer if that’s even possible, but
he’s got my wrists pinned up over my head. He has complete control
and I’m raw with need and lust.

I’ve never felt so
dominated, so completely taken. My thighs are open wide, my ankles
hooked around his waist. He’s huge and he’s pounding me hard into
the wall, his hand grabbing my ass, positioning me exactly where he
wants me, where he can get the best access, the most depth.

“More!” I scream
and I don’t even recognize my voice, I’m so wild.

“Do you like taking
my cock, Jewel?” he growls, low, dirty and demanding.

“Yes!” I scream. I
want to talk dirty for him. I want him to make me.

“You like how I fuck
you?”

“Oh, Tuck! Yes!”
I’m so close, shuddering, quivering, I can feel the climax build
and grow, the waves of release so close to the surface. Wild, I grind
my pussy onto his shaft, needing this more than anything I ever have
in my life.

My heart pounding, my
body glistening in sweat, I opened my eyes. I propped myself up on my
elbows, disoriented, squinting at the early morning sunshine peeking
through the shades of my bedroom. I was not up against a wall, not
with Tuck. I was alone in my bed, about to have an orgasm from a
dirty, filthy sex dream about my stepbrother.

With a groan, I flopped
back onto my pillows. My sheets were tangled and twisted around my
feet. I was going insane. All this pent-up longing, the heat, the
desire, it was threatening to consume me.

I couldn’t do this
much longer. But I still had five more weeks. And today was our
parents’ last day in L.A. Then, it would be just us, me and Tuck,
alone together under one roof.

Our parents had been
living with us for the past week. I’d barely seen him. Except for
at the fight.

Holy shit, that fight.
Standing pressed up against the wall, my heart had stopped when I’d
seen him enter the cage. He looked so menacing and powerful, all
male. All that energy and aggression, raw passion and prowess, my
breathing picked up the second I saw him. He’d taken off his
sweatshirt, revealing his rippling muscles and tattoos. My pussy had
clenched, wanting his heat, wanting to touch and close the distance
between us. I needed to touch him, taste him, trace every inch of him
with my fingers, my tongue. I didn’t even recognize the person I’d
become.

Back in the locker room
afterwards, he’d looked so bruised and battered, inside and out. I
knew he was a fighter, I’d seen that fire in him, his determination
and drive, so to go all-out for three rounds and then be handed a
draw, it must have killed him. I was pissed off about it. It seemed
so unfair! He’d been wronged! I’d wanted to storm down to the
judges and give them a piece of my mind. Were they blind? Because I
could book them appointments with a good optometrist and hook them up
with some glasses. Then they could actually judge a fight and see who
was the winner. Tuck had won that fight, no question in my mind, from
the second they’d gone at it.

I’d wanted to take
care of him in that locker room in so many ways. I’d wanted to
soothe his injuries, his pain, make him forget, give him a way to
take out his frustrations, a release for that pent-up energy.

But I’d walked away
and so now here I was, sweaty and panting and alone in my bed at 5
a.m. on a Saturday. Wondering how I’d survive once our parents left
town. Tomorrow they were headed off to some resort in Baja. I didn’t
know if Tuck’s father worked. It seemed like he hadn’t worked a
day since he and my mom had hooked up, he certainly never headed into
an office to clock in some hours. I knew he’d been born rich,
inherited the majority of his wealth from his grandfather. I guessed
it was just second-nature for him to play all day.

Leland. Technically I
could call him my stepfather, but that seemed way too permanent for
the arrangement they had going on. Hell, I didn’t even always call
my mom, Mom. Sometimes I called her Candice and she liked that. It
made her feel young, like we were sisters. Totes cute, right? Gack.

No wonder I’d hid
behind my baggy sweats and books. Anything to avoid the desperation
that reeked off of my mother, all the injections and lifts, all the
time and effort with creams and salon treatments, the money she spent
on clothes when we didn’t always have a ton to throw around. With
her it was all about appearances, the external, what was on the
outside was what mattered most. No wonder I’d focused all of my
energy on the inside.

But now, for the first
time in my life, I wondered what I’d been missing. Tuck made me
wonder. I’d been hiding my whole life, worried and scared about
being vulnerable. What should I do now, when I’d met a man who made
me want to let down all my defenses? I wanted to surrender, feel, let
myself go wild, explore physical pleasure. What was all the fuss
about? Now I really wanted to know.

§

“What are you doing
tonight?” I’d heard him come into the kitchen, known without
turning around that it was Tuck. I recognized his footfall, sturdy
and strong. I still started when he spoke, as if I’d been holding
my breath and waiting to hear his voice since we’d last spoken,
after his fight three days ago.

“I’m not sure yet.”
I kept focused on making my breakfast. Yogurt and strawberries. I’d
wash the strawberries, cut off their green tops, then cut them into
pieces. If I kept myself busy enough, maybe I’d manage not to climb
up my giant, hot-as-sin stepbrother and beg him to take me against
the refrigerator. That might not go over so well with our parents,
walking in on that scene.

“You should play
poker with me.”

Oh, how easily he got
me to look up. He looked gorgeous, as usual, his morning jaw scruffy
and unshaven. I bet it would rub up against me if we kissed, rough
against my soft cheek. And I bet I’d like it.

“No.” I shook my
head. I didn’t trust myself around this man, not at all. And our
parents would still be home tonight. Gone tomorrow, though.

“Why, you have plans?
Going out with Mike?” His voice got an edge to it.

“I might.” Mike,
Maria and I had talked about going to see a movie, a new summer
blockbuster. It promised action, disaster, aliens, rescues and all
three of us thought the lead actor was pretty hot. He looked a little
like Tuck, less rugged and more pretty Hollywood, but enough
similarity that I could imagine enjoying watching him on screen for a
couple of hours.

“I think you’re
chicken.”

“Say what now?” I
turned to him, still holding my knife from the strawberries. Didn’t
he know better than to taunt a poker champion such as myself?

“You’re scared.”
He reached out a hand and gave me a teasing shove on the shoulder,
the lightest whisper of a touch. It still made me tingle and shiver.

“I’m not scared.”
My voice came out breathier than I’d intended.

He took a step closer.
“Then show me.”

We stared each other
down. I really could look into his eyes for a long, long time, so
many hues of brown, all melting together, hot and chocolaty. He
couldn’t be more sinfully delicious.

I knew I shouldn’t
say yes, but the problem was I wanted to. I missed being around him.
My body craved him. This past week of avoiding each other, sharing
space with my mother and his father, I physically ached in his
absence. There was a long list of why this all was crazy, not the
least of which was the fact that I didn’t even know if I really
liked him. I didn’t feel like I knew him, yet, the real him. Was he
the drunk, spoiled playboy I’d seen in New York only months ago? Or
this man I’d seen the past few weeks, driving, pushing, entirely
focused on one goal? Either way, I wanted to say yes. So I did.

Then my mother came
into the kitchen and we both went our separate ways. Until that
night.

§

Eight o’clock
Saturday night, I knew our parents had left the house. They had
reservations at some hot spot and plans after that. I had no interest
in hearing about it, how amazing Leland was to have gotten them into
such-and-such restaurant, how so-and-so was likely to be at the party
they were headed to afterwards. How my mom still got excited about
all that crap, I had no idea. You’d think it would have gotten old
for her by now, she’d started modeling at 14 and been around
celebrities ever since. She didn’t like it when I did the math, but
at 38 that meant she’d been running this circuit for 24 years. That
was a long time, lots and lots of drinks and photos and dresses. But
she loved it, ate it up, and I realized she couldn’t wait to show
Leland to all the people in Hollywood who’d written her off as a
has-been. A career come-back was a coveted asset, but snagging a
billionaire? Priceless.

Tuck was already
downstairs when I finally left my room. I’d spent longer than I
cared to admit choosing the right casual outfit. He knew me well
enough to know the kinds of tents and baggy tees I usually chose for
a Saturday night around the house, same as a Saturday night out on
the town. So now I didn’t want to come off as too obvious. But I
also wanted to look good.

I decided on a
lightweight cashmere sweater, something my mother had bought me and
I’d never worn. Light as a feather with a scoop neck, the deep lush
green brought out the vibrant color of my eyes and hair. My mother
really knew how to accentuate assets. It wasn’t until now that I’d
wanted to do it for myself. I still wore yoga pants, I didn’t want
to overdo it, but I did choose a newer, form-fitting pair. In the
mirror, I felt like I’d struck the right balance.

When he saw me, his jaw
nearly dropped. I could see his lips part, the heat build in his
eyes. I guessed he liked me in the sweater, the lines of my bra
slightly visible beneath the light, soft cashmere. I blushed, I hoped
not too deeply, delighting in his response.

“Ready to play
poker?” I asked sitting next to him, trying to seem composed. I had
to keep boundaries up tonight. I’d let myself see him, spend time
with him, maybe close my eyes for a moment every now and then and
bask in his heat, his scent. But this party needed to stay polite. He
was still my stepbrother, and we never knew when our parents would
get home.

“What are the
stakes?” he asked, shuffling the cards with expertise.

His hands were so large
and he used them so well. I cleared my throat. “You don’t want to
play like last time?”

He shrugged. “We’ve
tried truth. How about this time we up it to dare?”

Dare. Huh. That was
more dangerous. Then again, if I won, and of course I would, I could
get something I wanted. Something that might help me survive the
remaining weeks I still had to share with him in this house.

“OK, dare,” I
agreed. “But just one. Best of 15. Winner gets to choose the dare.”

“Best of 7.”

“Best of 11,” I
compromised. “There’s only two of us. This might go quick.”

“Planning on folding
a lot?”

“Talking about
yourself again?”

I could see him smile
at my trash talk as he dealt out the cards. Then he paused. “Let’s
agree on the dares now. I don’t want you welching.”

“Welching!” I drew
my hand to my chest in horror. “Me, welch? I’ll have you know I
always come through on a bet.”

“Good to know.” His
eyes were on my hand, pressed between my breasts. With the sweater
drawn tight against my chest, you could see the outline of my bra.
I’d chosen a lacy one. I couldn’t help myself.

“So, when I win…”
I brought my hands up, clasping them together at my chin. “When I
win, I want you to promise to keep your hands off of me for the rest
of the summer.”