Raging Hard: A Stepbrother SEAL Romance (With bonus novel Based!) (33 page)

I cocked my head. “Wait, what? He’s going to be around for good?”

“Sure. He’s not going back to Europe.”

That was news to me. Lincoln hadn’t mentioned anything about not going back. I had assumed that his time at home was only a temporary thing until he was back on his feet.

“Why not?”

Dad moved his hand and screwed up his face. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

He sighed. “I’m not sure he wants people knowing this, but you’re family. The doctors told him that he can never jump again. They said the impact would likely destroy his legs again.”

I gaped at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I was there when he got the news.”

“But isn’t jumping his whole life?”

“Yeah, sweetie. It was.”

“What about all that physical therapy?”

“That’s mostly to make sure he can walk without too much pain for the rest of his life. He took a really, really bad fall, Brie.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Lincoln’s entire world must have been shattered to pieces; not just his legs, but his future and his career were completely gone. Not to mention the only thing he seemed to really give a shit about was snatched away. And yet he was still working his ass off to get better. No wonder he seemed a little angry.

“Okay, I’m going to go unpack. Keep what I just said between us, yeah? Don’t want to upset the poor guy.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure, Dad.”

He smiled again. “It’s good seeing you, sweetie.”

“You too.”

He turned and walked off, heading upstairs.

I can’t even fathom what he’s going through,
I thought. All that time spent jumping off buildings, risking his life for something I never understood, but something that mattered to him more than anything, was gone. It was all gone in a single instant. I knew he was lucky to be alive, but I couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about that.

I was seeing him in an entirely new light. He was cocky and gorgeous and my stepbrother, but he was also broken. Actually broken. And we had no way of knowing if he could ever put the pieces back together.

Numbly, I walked toward the steps, wanting to take a shower and get changed. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Lincoln, the tattoos that ran up his arms, the way his muscles flexed when he moved, the way he pretended not to be in pain when he sat down next to me.

And whatever it was that drove him to keep pushing on despite everything holding him back.

I
pressed back against her, hard, our skin slick and close together. I grunted in agony and joy and pushed harder, closer, feeling her breath on my neck. I thought I caught a moan but wasn’t sure. Our limbs were tangled together and I couldn’t remember which part was me and which part was her.

I kept pushing. I wanted to get there. Wanted to reach all the way and finish.

“Is that all you have?” she said.

“Fuck, not even close,” I groaned.

“Come on. Push harder.”

“I’m fucking pushing.”

“Harder!”

I reached out and grabbed her feet and then fell onto my back, panting. Tracy, my physical therapist slash torturer, stood up and laughed at me.

“You big baby. We’re just stretching you out.”

I wanted to snap at her, but the cameras were running. And honestly, I was too tired to think of a comeback without sounding like a child.

“Long day,” I grunted instead.

“Yeah, I bet. You did good.”

She reached her hand out and I took it, struggling to my feet. My legs were shaking, but I didn’t fall flat on my face, which was a big step forward. Well, more like a pained, shuffled step forward, but whatever.

She handed me my cane and I leaned on it, my white shirt drenched with sweat.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asked.

“You know it.”

“You’re doing awesome, Lincoln. Seriously. Most clients I’ve had don’t work nearly as hard as you, and none progress like you have.”

“Thanks, Tracy.”

She smiled and then walked over to her stuff and began to towel off her skin, taking a drink of water. I watched her for a second but then looked away, not interested. Sure, she was blond and thin and had amazing tits, but there was something boring about her.
I wouldn’t have thought that a week ago,
I realized.

Aubrie had changed all that.

I couldn’t get my damn stepsister out of my mind.

I glanced over at Jess and then walked over to my stuff and toweled off, drank some water, and got changed. The cameras followed me, of course, since that was what they were there for. But for some reason, they were pissing me off, and I really wanted just one damn second to catch my breath without having to pretend like I wasn’t in excruciating pain every second of my life.

“Jess, do you mind?”

“What’s that, Lincoln?”

I looked at her. “Do you mind? Just give me a second.”

She cocked her head. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m tired. Can I have a second without the cameras?”

I knew I should shut up and ignore them like I always had. I knew they would probably cut this moment up and make it look like I was struggling and having some emotional moment. But I couldn’t help myself. I was annoyed and I was human. At least I wasn’t breaking shit.

“This is part of it, Lincoln.”

“I know. Just, give me a second.”

She sighed. “Fine, okay. We’ll take five.”

I nodded at her as the crew turned off their cameras and dispersed, probably heading outside to smoke or whatever. Jess stayed behind and walked over to me.

“What’s the matter? You’re usually a lot calmer than this.”

“Nothing. Just a bad day.”

She frowned and stood close to me. “Anything I can do to help?”

I raised my eyebrow at her. I recognized that voice. I had heard it plenty of times before from plenty of other women. It was the “can I fuck your pain away?” voice, and usually the answer would be yes.

But I really wasn’t in the mood.

“No. I’m good. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll catch up with you guys after.”

“Okay. Sure I can’t help?”

I stared. Her lips were parted slightly, and although she was always so stiff and stuck up, she was actually pretty attractive. Long dark hair, bright blue eyes she kept covered with glasses, and just a hint of cleavage. All of which did absolutely nothing for me.

“Positive.”

I gimped my way out of the room as fast as I could, not bothering to look back at her.

A shower meant I had fifteen, maybe twenty minutes at best. I made my way upstairs, losing a few minutes on the slow climb, and made my way down the long hallway toward the far end of the second floor. I opened the very last door on the left and walked inside.

The room was mostly empty, with hardwood floors and a baby grand piano standing in the middle. Back in the day, it had probably been the music and dance room, but it obviously didn’t get much use anymore. I sat down at the piano’s bench, flipped open the key cover, and began to play.

I felt instantly better. Ever since the accident, the only thing that seemed to calm me down was music. That and banging the shit out of the pinball machines downstairs. I wasn’t the best musician, but I had taken lessons as a kid, and I picked it up again when I was living in Helsinki for a few months. A friend of mine was a pretty talented mountain climber who also gave piano lessons on the side to make extra money.  He taught me a lot, made me confident enough to play in front of people at least.

But in that moment, I didn’t want anyone around. The only thing was the music pouring from the keys, the tempo and the noise, my feet tapping and working the pedals despite the pain.

It was my only solace. And I kept it carefully separated from the documentary. I couldn’t imagine mixing the two worlds. They caught me on film playing pinball, but I wasn’t about to let them catch me playing piano.

As I finished the song, just a simple concerto Soren had taught me, the door creaked open. Instantly, I let the sound die off, and I turned around.

“Lincoln?”

Framed in the doorway was Aubrie, her hair wet from the shower. She was wearing a tight black tank top and short jean shorts, and I could see her bra strap standing out from behind her top. A black frilly bra. I could feel my cock begin to stir at the thought of her in nothing but a black bra and matching panties.

“Hey, Brie baby,” I said.

“What are you doing?”

“Jerking off.”

She made a face. “Gross.”

I shrugged. “You asked.”

“Seriously, was that you playing?”

I nodded, a little embarrassed, though I wasn’t sure why. “Yeah, it was.”

She walked farther into the room, her arms crossed. “I didn’t know you played.”

“I dabble. Why, does playing piano not fit in with ‘Based’ Carter?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, yeah, but I was just surprised.”

I grinned at her, loving how easily it was to fluster her. She frowned.

“Relax, I’m messing with you.”

I turned back to the piano but felt nervous all of a sudden. I hadn’t felt nervous in a long time. I felt her eyes on the back of my head as I began to play a slow song.

“That’s pretty,” she said, and walked over.

I gestured at the bench. “Take a seat.”

She sat as I continued playing. “What is this?”

“It’s a song by Nick Cave called ‘Into My Arms.’”

“Love song?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Does it have words?”

“It sure does.”

She smiled. “Sing it for me.”

I laughed. “You sure you want that?”

“Please?”

“Is this your favor?”

“No. I just want to hear the song.”

I sighed. As the song turned around and came toward the chorus, I sang.

I stopped, suddenly too self-conscious to keep going. She was staring at me with this weird look, her sexy fucking mouth hanging half open, and her body was pressed close against mine on the small bench. I could feel her warmth and the soft skin of her leg against mine. I had no clue what she was thinking, but I realized how weird I probably looked.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“No, there’s a lot more.”

“Finish it.”

“I can’t,” I said. “I forgot it.”

She frowned. “It’s really pretty.”

I laughed. “Yeah, well, listen to the real thing sometime.”

“Nick Cave?”

“Yeah. The Dark Prince of Rock ‘n’ Roll.”

“Weird name for a guy that writes love songs.”

“You should hear his other stuff.”

She laughed, and I started playing another simple concerto. “So what are you doing here, Brie?”

“What, I can’t talk to you now?”

“You can. You’ve just been avoiding me for a few days. I figured you were still pissed about the interview.”

“I am. I mean, I guess I’m getting over it.”

“Good. Think more about what I said?”

She paused. “Did you know my dad’s back?”

I stopped playing suddenly. Nobody had told me Cliff had come home. He was pretty much the last guy in the world I wanted to see, especially considering it was his fucking fault that I was stuck doing some pathetic documentary.

“No, I didn’t hear.”

“Yeah. I saw him downstairs.”

“That’s good.”

She paused again and looked like she wanted to say something else, but I started to play again. Distracted, she watched as I moved through the song. I made a few mistakes, but I wasn’t sure she noticed them. I wasn’t usually so self-conscious, but there was something about the way she looked at me and the way her body made me feel that made concentrating on the music pretty damn hard.

It was the opposite of calming. It was distracting. Finally, the song ended, and I sat back.

“You’re good at that,” she said.

“I had a good teacher. In Helsinki.”

“Helsinki? You lived there?”

“For a while, yeah.”

“Based Carter. Such a cool guy.” She laughed.

I grinned at her. “Damn right I am. I’m the only guy that can make a cane look sexy.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

I shifted closer to her and smiled. “You’re not sneaking a peek at me every time I limp by?”

“Definitely not.” She blushed and looked away.

“I’m sure you’re not, Brie baby. Wouldn’t want to do anything wrong.”

Her face snapped back. We were inches apart. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

She was clearly struggling with her temper.“Don’t be an asshole, Lincoln. I was about to tell you that Dad convinced me to do another interview for your movie.”

I blinked, surprised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Jess is going to be psyched. You sure you want to?”

“Yes. I mean, no, not at all. But Dad made some good points, and you did too, and I don’t know.” She paused. “I’ll give it one more shot.”

I laughed, surprised by how quickly she changed her mind. She shifted away and stood, crossing her arms again and looking down at me.

“But you have to promise not to pull that same shit from last time.”

I smiled innocently. “What shit?”

“You know what I mean.”

I laughed. “What, rile you up?”

She gave me a look. “Yeah, dick. That.”

“But it’s so easy.”

“Do you want me to do the interview?”

“I can take it or leave it, honestly.”

She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Okay, fine. I won’t mess with you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. No bullshit.”

She gave me a long look, and I wanted to pull her back into my lap and bury my face in her full tits. I wanted to bite her lip and feel the soaking wet spot between her legs. I wanted to fuck her up against the piano and let it crash to the ground as I made her come.

Instead, I said nothing as she nodded her approval. “Okay. Let me know when you want to do it.”