Off Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance (2 page)

I looked up at him,
shy, a nervous, electric tremble running through my body.

“Are you having fun
lurking around?” he asked.

“What?” Shocked, my
eyes widened. Had he seen me?

“I saw you over
there, hiding behind that pillar.” He pointed over to my former
hiding spot. I bit my lip and winced slightly in embarrassment. “What
are you up to?” he continued, teasing. “Are you trying to make
sure you don’t make all the other women here jealous?”

“What?” Apparently
being next to him reduced me to one word and one word only. I
definitely wouldn’t snare him with my witty repartee. But I
couldn’t understand, was he giving me a compliment?

He leaned down to me
and I thrilled at it, he was so tall. At 5’8” I wasn’t exactly
a giantess, but he made me feel so willowy and slender, delicate next
to his massive frame.

“They all wish they
looked like you,” he whispered, conspiratorial. “You look fresh
and young.” He swept one of my errant locks of hair behind my
shoulder, baring my pale skin. “Innocent,” he continued, his
voice low and seductive.

I looked up at him
through my lashes. He had a decidedly more predatory gleam in his
eyes now. Much less bored than before.

“It’s a currency
here in L.A.,” he continued. Gesturing out to the crowd with his
drink, he added, “If they could figure out a way to bottle what you
have they’d do it in a heartbeat. Even if they had to kill you to
make it happen.”

For some reason, what
he said made me laugh. I burst out with it, not at all delicate and
ladylike, more like a peal of laughter ringing out.

“You think I’m
joking?” He looked at me with the hint of a smile. I hadn’t
thought he could look any more handsome, but the sight of him amused
almost took away my powers of speech.

“No.” I composed
myself, a hand to my chest, proud I’d managed to say more than
‘what.’ “I’m laughing because it’s so true.”

“They’re vampires,”
he observed, looking out at the crowd.

“And they would drink
my blood,” I agreed, standing by his side.

Just like that, I went
from outsider to insider. He made me feel special, like I belonged
and I’d just about never felt like that before. We stood together,
surveying the room from our own private world.

He brought a hand to
the small of my back and my whole body responded, a surge tingling
through me. My stomach did a low, slow flip. If he could do that to
me with just one hand, I was in trouble. Gently, he started leading
me back over to the dark corner where I’d been standing. How much
more I’d enjoy the quiet, private spot sharing it with him.

“So, are you here
tonight because of your deep concern for equestrian land
conservation?”

Sarcasm, I liked it. My
native language. “I’m very passionate about equestrian land
conservation,” I agreed in mock seriousness. “As soon as I figure
out what it is, I’m going to become the president of this group.”

“Yes.” He nodded as
if I’d just said something very wise. “So true. The equestrian
industry really needs our support.”

“Is that what we’re
raising money for?” I had to ask.

“I think so.” His
full mouth crooked up at the corner in wry humor.

“Good.” I nodded
back. “The industry matters a lot more than the horses.”

“Who cares about the
horses?” he agreed.

“Horses-schmorses, I
always say.” Instantly, I flushed with embarrassment. Why did I
have to go and say something so dorky when we’d had a nice banter
going, back and forth, making fun of it all together?

But he laughed. “Yeah,
I’m so glad we’re not at a benefit for animals.”

“Please,” I agreed,
as if totally annoyed at the thought.

“And don’t even get
me started about charities that help people.”

“Like refugee
children,” I added, as if the concept were preposterous.

“Ridiculous.”

We were both laughing
now. When I’d first seen him, scowling and dark, I couldn’t have
imagined him doing it, but he now gave me a full smile and I felt
dazzled by it, unsteady on my feet. He brushed another strand of hair
that had escaped my up-do and tucked it behind my ear. I shivered at
his touch.

“Why are you here
tonight?” he asked me, almost sounding astonished at my presence.
In a good way.

“I got dragged here
by my mom,” I admitted. “How about you?”

He shrugged. He gave
new meaning to the word “nonchalant”. I thrilled to his every
move. “I’m spending Christmas break out here in L.A. with my
dad.”

“He lives out here?”

“He splits his time
between New York and L.A. His investments are all over the map.”
How very jet-setting. But I could tell from everything about him, the
tension in his body, the set of his jaw, the tightness in his voice,
he didn’t want to talk about it. I understood that feeling, not
wanting to talk about your parent.

He looked down at me
again in a way that made me feel like it was just the two of us in
the room. Like he’d been waiting all night to meet me. “We should
get together this week.” He swept his finger along my shoulder and
I swore I’d never felt anything so good. I could feel where he’d
left a trail, tingling and hot. In that deep, husky voice he added,
“I bet we could have some fun.”

Me—conservative,
inexperienced, some might even say uptight—me, I had to fight the
urge to bury my fingers in his hair and lick his neck. Standing that
close, apart from everyone else, I could smell his musky, masculine
scent and it made me dizzy. My lips parted. His did as well.

He reached out again to
my hair as if he couldn’t keep his hands off it, taking a strand
between his large fingers, touching it as if it were expensive silk.
“Like fire,” he murmured. I’d always felt embarrassed by my
hair, but he made me feel like a rare, exquisite beauty.

“What’s your name?”
he asked.

“Jewel,” I managed.
My heart raced and I could feel myself start shaking slightly, so
sensitive to his touch. He looked down at me like he wanted to devour
me whole. With a flicker of nervousness, my eyes darted to the side,
as if checking for an escape route. I felt so vulnerable, trembling
next to his massive frame. We were so tucked away, no one could even
see us where we stood. Anything could happen.

“Jewel.” He
repeated my name and made a low, appreciative noise in his throat.
His thumb teased my lower lip. “I want to taste you, Jewel.”

Right there at the
party, behind a pillar in the dimly lit corner of our private world,
he dipped his head down and kissed me. He started warm, gentle and
sure, but then he pulled me closer, deepening our kiss, his mouth
claiming mine. I felt a rumble in his chest as his tongue teased me,
licking, dipping, hot and wicked. I heard a low moan and realized
vaguely that it came from my throat. Pressed against him, my soft
curves were a perfect fit against his rock hard, solid muscle.

Heat grew in my core as
he pushed me back against the wall. My hands snaked up into his hair,
soft and sleek, his hand circling my throat as I tilted back to take
in more of him, his tongue plundering my mouth. My breathing ragged,
I clutched his massive shoulder. An animal lurked beneath that tux.
His mouth searched me, urgent, down at my throat, licking and sucking
my sensitive skin. He cupped the swell of my ass in his large,
powerful hand and forced me against his body. I could feel his long,
steel length hard for me.

“You’re making me
crazy,” he whispered into my ear.

I’d never felt so
wild, so reckless and crazed with lust. Maybe I’d had too much
champagne? But I hadn’t felt drunk until he kissed me.

Panting, I murmured, “I
don’t even know your name.” My hands, feverish, marveled at the
width of his shoulders, worshipped the wall of muscle through his
shirt.

“Tuck.” Rhymes
with… His hands, hot, roamed me as if he couldn’t get enough,
circling my waist, skimming my back as he panted into my neck. My
blood simmered as his hands traveled slowly up my dress, so slowly up
to the curve of my breast. I sucked in my breath, my eyes closing as
he brought his thumb up to lightly tease my heaving mounds.
Instantly, my nipples hardened, two points pushing against the
fabric. His molten eyes drank me in.

“You like that,
Jewel?” His deep and wicked voice, so secret and dirty, he made me
so wet just from the sound of it. The way he looked at me, licked his
lips as he feasted on the sight of my arousal. What would it feel
like to have those full, hot lips on my breasts, to feel his tongue
on my skin, sucking my aching nipples?

In a remote region of
my mind I tried to remind myself that I was still in public, at a
party, and I didn’t do this kind of thing. I was cautious,
reserved. I left parties early, didn’t give out my phone number.
But then he kissed me again and my entire brain lost its reception in
white-hot static.

Owning me, his hands
cupping my breasts, his breath ragged and hot against my throat, he
continued his light, teasing strokes. Heart fluttering, pulse
pounding, I sucked in my breath and bit my lower lip, my eyelids
half-closing as I needed more, more contact, more of his hands, his
heat, his skin on my skin. His gaze stayed on me, mesmerized by my
response to him.

In that sinfully sexy
voice of his, he asked, low and husky in my ear, “Have you ever
been bad, Jewel?”

Trembling against his
hardness, I couldn’t think. My sex clenched tight at his words,
slick heat building within me. I couldn’t process what was
happening. “What do you mean?”

His voice stroked me,
soft as silk, “I get the feeling you’ve always been a good girl.”
His thumb and forefinger found my nipple, aroused, pressing against
the fabric of my dress. I arched my back into his touch, still so
light and teasing. Dark eyes intent on my face, drinking in my
reaction, he pinched. My mouth parted in a gasp and I closed my eyes
in the onslaught of sensations. How could it hurt and feel so good at
the same time? It was as if my breast was wired directly down between
my legs, making my sex throb and glisten with need.

“I think you should
be bad with me, Jewel.” He dipped his mouth down to my sensitive
throat, trailing hot kisses against my skin, “Delicious,” he
murmured as he stopped to lick and suck, swirling his tongue. Pressed
up against the wall, panting and unable to think straight, I felt
like Little Red Riding Hood with the big bad wolf. If the wolf had
been hypnotically sexy as sin.

He ground his hips
against me and through our clothes I could feel his heavy, thick
cock. He was huge. A moan escaped my lips, true, real lust clenching
its fist around me for the first time in my life. I wanted this man.
No, I needed this man. I needed him to do all the things I’d only
read about, right there, right then, up against the wall.

A hot palm down at my
hip, searing me through my dress, so close to where I throbbed but
not close enough, he asked, “Are you getting wet for me, Jewel?”
I panted and twisted under his grasp, wanting more of him, needing
more heat, more pressure. “Right here at the party?” He tormented
me, moving his hand ever so slightly down, then grasping the hem of
my dress to inch it slowly up.

“Naughty girl,” his
dark voice rasped at my ear, his tongue flicking along my lobe,
biting then sucking the sensitive flesh.

Moaning, I arched my
back, pressing my breast into his hand, impatient, needy, wanton. I’d
never been so reckless. I’d never felt so good.

Tuck

There was something
about this girl, some kind of fire running through her veins
underneath her chaste, innocent surface. Something in her lit me up.

She wasn’t my usual
type. Typically, I went for the trashy ones, the girls who wanted a
hard fuck, one and done. Or two or three, depending on the night. But
come morning, no muss, no fuss, it was always over and out.

This girl with her
flaming red hair, porcelain complexion and pouty lips looked exactly
like what usually sent me running in the other direction. The type
who dreamed of doves and poetry, waiting for some swashbuckling
pirate hero to carry her off to lands unknown, reform his ways and
marry her with undying loyalty.

That kind of shit
didn’t happen in real life. In real life, people cycled in and out,
dead set in pursuit of their own goals. My father had been through
two wives so far, and I had a feeling number three was on the way.
He’d asked me to come to the party tonight so I could “meet
someone special.” I knew what that meant. He was considering going
in for round three.

I’d been bored that
night, same old same old. I was getting tired of this shit. Lately,
all I wanted to do was fight. A year and a half ago I’d joined an
MMA gym and it had grown on me. Now all I wanted to do was train. It
felt real, whether I was throwing the punches and kicks or whether I
was getting beat down. Some of both happened. I was figuring it out,
adding in new moves to my wrestling and ju-jitsu background. And I
was starting to find it addictive.

But I was used to
attending bullshit charity events. I’d grown up on them. My mother
had loved that shit, before she’d taken up drinking as a full-time
hobby, married the pool boy and moved to Barbados. My billionaire
father still made the circuit, though. He loved the schmooze. He’d
been born into it himself, his father an oil and steel man who’d
inherited wealth from his father before him. In the Helmsworth family
we made money the old-fashioned way, inheriting and piling up even
more. The best way to make money was to have money in the first
place.

Nothing drove my father
crazier than bringing that up. He liked to pretend he’d pulled
himself up from his bootstraps, that he was a regular rags-to-riches
story. As if heirs to fortunes who’d attended Dalton, Princeton and
Harvard Business School had anything to do with rags. Hell, if he
hadn’t made good with all of the money he’d been handed at birth,
turning a few companies going public into huge wins, that would have
been the surprise. Turning the $750 million that he’d inherited
into a billion? Yawn.