The shoot ran long and she’d skipped breakfast and lunch in an effort to look as toned as possible. It was her first major gig—a four-page spread in a national fitness magazine with a photographer who made careers. All she had to do was show off the hours she’d spent at the gym and she’d be one step closer to making it. One step closer to having a career.
She should be thrilled, bouncing up and down and popping some champagne. But all she could think about was Tate. How he’d stared into her eyes when she’d told him her secret. And how he’d turned on her and run away.
It didn’t make sense. If he’d been grossed out or shocked, he could have just said so. Unless it hit him deeper. Struck a chord. Jessica finished the box of leftovers and wiped her hands. What secrets are you hiding, stepbrother?
Walking out of the kitchen, she made her way down the hall, standing at the door to his bedroom. She had no idea when he’d be back. But she could take a quick glance, poke around in his room for a minute without getting caught, right?
Pushing the door open, she slipped inside, taking in his huge four-poster bed with thick, square posts and crisp gray sheets, the simple dresser in matching dark wood, and a mirrored closet lining the entire far wall.
It screamed masculine and elegance and Jessica wanted to slip underneath the covers and breathe it all in. She never knew Tate had such a cultured side—that he cared about details and craftsmanship and style. She’d always thought of him as frozen in time, stuck as a rebellious teenager.
He’d changed way more than his body. She walked around the bed and ran her hand over the dresser. Did men keep their secrets in the top drawer? One way to find out.
She pulled it open and chuckled to herself as rows of boxer briefs and socks came into view. It seemed so naughty to rifle through his underwear, trailing her fingers over the cotton, imagining her hands running over his firm muscles instead.
Pushing his things to the side, she explored the back of the drawer, hunting by feel but coming up empty. Huh. Nothing. She shut the drawer and turned around, worrying her lip with her teeth as she thought about where else to look.
Glancing at the bed again, she spotted it. Bingo. The mattress sat on a platform with drawers. Jessica kneeled on the floor and pulled the first drawer open. Oh my god.
A wave of arousal washed over her as she stared at her stepbrother’s secret stash. Knotted ropes dyed in deep reds and blacks, leather cuffs with metal buckles. With trembling fingers, she reached out and picked up a rope, pulling the smooth silk knots through her hand.
She could imagine the cord wrapped around her wrists, pulling tight and rendering her helpless. How would it feel to have a man in complete control? Someone bigger, stronger, tying her down and fucking her. Tate.
Her breath came in little gasps and she parted her lips to get enough air. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be in here.
Panic bubbled up inside Jessica and she set the rope back in place. But she couldn’t get up. She couldn’t will her legs to work and propel her out of the room and away from his secrets.
All she could see was Tate, shirt off, ripped abs heaving as he tied her to the bedposts. The lust in his eyes as he slipped a blindfold over her head.
The feel of his hands sliding up her naked thighs—teasing, tempting, torturing her until she begged him for it. Crying out as he spanked her naked ass. Screaming in ecstasy when her shoved her legs apart and made her his. Coming around his cock as he fucked her senseless.
God, it was so damn wrong. She shouldn’t be thinking of him that way. What would her mother think? Or her stepfather? It was shameful. Wicked.
But all she felt was fire and clawing desperation. The first man who’d ever shared her passion—her need for more than just a guy on top of her grinding away—and she couldn’t have him. It was so unfair.
Jessica groaned and ran her fingers over his stash, pausing as she brushed over a folded strip of satin. A blindfold. She pulled it out and the black fabric slipped through her fingers, caressing her naked skin and drawing out a moan.
Without stopping to think, she held it up to her face, slipping it over her eyes and tying it behind her head. Blackness. Silky, smooth blackness turned off the world and heightened her senses.
The carpet pricked her bare knees, the air conditioner hummed in the background and her breathing scraped the humid air. Her nipples pebbled beneath her cotton dress, rubbing against the fabric and turning her reckless.
She wanted the rush of sex in the dark. Of foreign hands using her body and taking her places she’d never been. Her clit throbbed for release and she ran her hands down her sides, bunching up her dress to slip her fingers beneath her panties.