Infatuation:A Rebel Stepbrother Romance(15)

By: Phoenyx Slaughter

The air around us shifts. The breeze off the water turns to a chilling blanket around my shoulders. Cold radiates up from the sand.

“Come on, you’re shivering.” His low voice knocks the fight out of me, and I nod. His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close. God, how I love being close to him.

We don’t speak on the way back to our room. We nod and say hello to guests as we pass them, but we don’t say a word to each other.

Once we’re in our room, there are no words either. He leans forward and kisses me. All the excuses I came up with on the way here wash away when his lips touch mine.

Soft kisses. But so different than the ones I remember from high school. Firmer than before. More commanding and sure.

A groan slips out of my mouth before I can capture it. He answers with one of his own. His hands move to the back of my head, carefully undoing the barrettes holding my hair up.

With gentle, teasing licks, he tastes me and I respond eagerly. My body takes over my mind, silencing all the reasons why this is a huge mistake.

The longer we kiss and touch, the stronger the wave of arousal tugs at me. His kisses turn harder, his mouth more demanding, as he walks me backward until the bed hits the backs of my legs.

His hands turn me, so he can work my zipper down, letting my dress pool at my feet. I step out of it and bend over to pick it up. Flynn takes the opportunity to clamp down on my hips, pulling my ass into his crotch so I can feel exactly how much he wants me.

I toss my dress to the couch and stand up, pressed so tightly against his chest. His hands move up to cup my breasts.

“Ella, you have no idea how many nights I’ve wanted you back in my arms,” he whispers.

It will cost me too much to admit I’ve wanted the same thing.

“Turn around.”

Of course I do it. How could I not?

I watch as he unbuttons his sleeves. Then he works the shirt loose, inch after inch of his firm chest revealed to my greedy eyes.

“You looked good today,” I say.

His mouth lifts in a half smile. “Thanks, sweet stuff.”

Once he shrugs out of his shirt, his eyes meet mine again. I’m struck dumb by the tattoos coloring his chest, shoulders and halfway down his arms. Not thick, frat-boy, tribal arm bands. No, these are beautiful, intricate tribal lines, mixed with woven Celtic knots in shades of blue and black.

“This must have taken forever,” I say, tracing my fingers over the designs.


“You’re such a rebel. Your father will kill you. Isn’t it bad for the corporate image?”

A pained smile flashes across his face. “Not that much of a rebel. I can still hide it under my pretentious suits.”

I pull my gaze from his ink to his face. “It’s a secret, between you and—”

“You and me, Ella. Say it.” The set of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes both frightens and excites me.

“Whatever this is, won’t last beyond this weekend.”

He chuckles, low and dark. A blip of fear skips through me. “Wrong again, lil’ sister.”

I ignore his comment and watch as he works open his belt. My eyes briefly shut. The ticking of his zipper makes me open them. He’s magnificent, even more so than I remember, because he’s a man now. Every muscle and line defined. Snug boxer-briefs hide what I remember was an impressive package.

I’ve been staring at him for so long, I forgot that I’m still in my underwear. He cocks an eyebrow at me, then reaches around to unhook my bra. Before I can protest or give my okay, he drops it on the floor.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

It’s a simple compliment, but it rocks me anyway.

We end up tangled on the bed together, his hands everywhere—in my hair, running over my shoulder, cupping my breasts. Too many places. Too many sensations.

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