Lace and Bullets(60)
Mia was finally home.
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Want more steamy romance? Flip the page for a bonus novella, Bound.
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Bound
A Stepbrother Romance
Sometimes the only one you need is the one you shouldn’t want.
Bound, blindfolded, and willing. That’s how I want her. When I caught her going through my things—black cord, cuffs, more—I almost took her right there. But I can’t. She’s off-limits. We might not have grown up together, but our parents are married. She might be my stepsister, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t walk away.
He’s everything I want—handsome, assertive, sexy as hell. The only catch? He’s my stepbrother. I should say no. Run as fast as my prim little feet can go. But I’m tired of being the good girl. I want it dirty and wicked. Tied and blindfolded and at his mercy. He’s the only man who can set me free.
1
Jessica slipped her sweater off and stuffed it in her bag. Breaking a sweat after five minutes outside didn’t bode well for her shoot the next day. The makeup artists would hate her.
“So is it always this hot here?”
“Yeah. Welcome to Miami, sweetheart. It’s summer year round!”
She smiled at the cab driver in the mirror and turned to watch the palm trees flit by. It was a far cry from her chilly New York spring. Girls walked down the street in bikini tops and shorts, guys hung out on the corners in sunglasses and tank tops. She could see why Tate moved. All the sun, the party atmosphere and sexy people. What more could a DJ want?
The cabbie turned off Ocean Drive and wound his way through the Art Deco district, pulling up in front of a small, stuccoed walk-up with hand-crank windows and a tiled front entry. It was cute. Inviting. Qualities she’d never associated with her stepbrother.
After paying for the cab, she grabbed her duffle and headed up to the front door, scanning the buzzers for his name.
Tate Winston. Apartment 204. Bzzzz.
“What?”
Still charming apparently. “It’s Jessica. Let me in.”
The front door unlocked and she yanked it open, squeezing herself through as it slammed shut behind her. Damn. Somebody needed to fix that.
She stomped up the stairs and made her way down the hall to 204. It’s just a weekend. You can play nice for a few days. Even if he is a jerk. With a deep breath, she reached out to knock, but the door swung open. To abs.
Seriously ripped abs that flexed into a washboard she could use all night long. And they wouldn’t even wreck her nails. A shot of heat flashed through her and she smiled as she looked up.
Oh my god. “Tate?”
“Hey, Jessica. You’re early.”
“You’re not wearing a shirt.”
He snorted and stepped back, leaving the door open as he walked away. “Like I said, you’re early.”
He disappeared into his bedroom and came out a second later with a t-shirt in his hand. “So you gonna come in, or you just wanna stand in the hallway all day?”
As he pulled the shirt over his head, Jessica stole a final glimpse at his sculpted body and tried not to blush. Last time she’d seen Tate, he’d been a scrawny, gangly nineteen—gracing their parents’ wedding with a cameo before leaving for Miami.
He definitely didn’t qualify as man candy back then. But he sure as hell did now. Jessica gave him a small smile and stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind her. She needed to get it together.
“You…um…look good.”
“Yeah. So, you’re here for what, three days?”
She frowned and set her bag on the floor. His looks might have changed, but his attitude hadn’t. “Mmm-hmm. Thanks for letting me crash here. I tried to find a hotel, but everything I could afford down here was booked solid.”
“Whatever. All I’ve got is the couch. You can sleep there. I’ve got a gig tomorrow, so I’ll be home late, I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve got to make a call. Unpack or…something. There’s beer in the fridge.”
“O-kay.”
He walked into his bedroom and shut the door, leaving Jessica standing alone in the middle of his apartment. She didn’t know Tate very well, but from what her stepfather always said, she’d never gotten the impression he was this much of a jackass. Maybe he hadn’t had lunch.
She shook off his snarky attitude and looked around, taking in his sleek, modern furniture and framed art. The apartment looked so…grown-up. And a ton nicer than hers. She still had do-it-yourself furniture and a mattress on the floor. Only two years older and he outclassed her by a mile. Well, his apartment did at least. His attitude stunk.