Seduction:Her British Stepbrother(12)

"I'm Katherine Roberts. Everyone just calls me ‘Kat.'"

"Kat." Carter laughed. "So you are Tristan's future stepsister?"

How did he know? She shifted restlessly on her bare feet. She was in her  pajamas, and Carter's intense focus made her feel a little vulnerable.

"Er … yes."

The fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You're  one of the undergraduates from the Fox Hill party. I thought you looked  familiar."

Managing a nod, she smiled faintly. "Yeah, I was with my friend Lacy."

He made a little noise that sounded like a stifled snicker as he turned his attention back to Tristan.

"We should get him out of his clothes. He'll be angry if he sleeps in them," Carter said.

"What?" Undress Tristan? That was a terrible idea. Terrible. The last  thing she needed was a reason to put her hands on all those smooth, hard  muscles … such a bad idea.

"Come on, help me." Carter started to lift Tristan up, and Kat moved to  assist on the other side. They pulled off his coat and then his sweater.

The movement must have roused Tristan, because he grinned a little and stared at her.

"Kitty-Kat, my Kat." His sensual, albeit slightly slurred purr made her wince, and made Carter laugh a little louder.

"That's right, ol' boy, your Kitty-Kat." Carter shot her a grin and winked at her.

"My Kat," Tristan whispered, more sweetly, his eyelids dropping. His  near helplessness made something inside her curl up and want to purr  right back. But she had to take care of him; he was clearly way too  drunk to be left alone.

She worked alongside Carter until they got him down to his trousers.

"That's as far as I'll go. You can handle it from here, Kat." Carter started to back away.

"Hey wait! I can't take his pants off!" she hissed so as not to be overhead by the parents down the hall.

"You have to, those are expensive trousers. If he throws up on those,  he'll be furious tomorrow." Carter tossed a slim black smartphone on the  bed. "I'm in his contacts if you need me. I'm staying nearby." He  headed for the door.

"Carter!" she whispered loud enough for him to hear, but he didn't stop.  He exited the bedroom, leaving her alone with a half-naked Tristan.

Great. Just great. This is exactly what I need tonight.

She pivoted around to face Tristan, who was leaning against one of the posts at the end of the bed.

With a slow movement, he reached up to catch a lock of her hair.

"Lovely." He sighed dreamily and tugged the lock gently. "Missed you,  did I tell you?" he said, his words still slurred and a little wistful.

Kat carefully removed her hair from around his finger, fighting the warmth that his confession made her feel.

If I let him win me over like this …
                       
       
           



       
"We're leaving the pants on, that better be okay with you," she  muttered. Then more loudly she said, "Do you need some water or  something?"

He nodded, blinking. "Water, yes."

She stepped back and held a hand up to his chest, touching him firmly.

"Stay right there. I'll get you a glass of water from the kitchen." Then  she dashed out of the bedroom and down the stairs, trying to muffle her  steps as best she could. It was nearly two in the morning, and Kat  didn't think their parents would be pleased to wake up because Tristan  was drunk.

When she got back to his room with the water, he wasn't sitting on the  bed. Her heart jumped into her throat as she scanned the room. Where had  he gone? Hopefully not somewhere else in the house.

The sounds of retching came from the bathroom down the hall.

She found him on his knees, one forearm braced on the toilet seat as he  dry heaved. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing so hard he was  panting. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.

"Tristan! Are you okay?" Kat got down on her knees beside him and rubbed a hand over his back.

Her palm heated the instant she touched his warm skin, and she could  feel the muscles leaping and twitching beneath her palm as he heaved  again.

The tendons in his neck turned taut for several long seconds before he  relaxed, gasping softly. He rested his forehead on his arm and didn't  move for a while except to catch his breath.

Kat stayed there, hurting with him. She rested her cheek on his bare  shoulder and trailed her fingertips lightly along his skin, soothing him  as best she could. It was something her father used to do whenever Kat  had been suffering from the stomach flu. He would sit beside her just  like this, offering comfort.

After about ten minutes had passed, and Tristan hadn't heaved again, she stroked her fingers through his hair.

"I feel … better," he ground out in a gruff whisper. "May I have the glass of water and some mouthwash?"

"Sure." She reached for the glass she'd set on the bathroom counter and held it out to him, then retrieved the mouthwash, too.

He pushed away from the toilet and took the glass, gulping down every  last drop before he set it on the tile floor. Then he tipped back the  bottle of mouthwash and swished it around for several seconds before he  swallowed.

"I don't think you're supposed to-"

"Can't have that taste in my mouth," he muttered with an exhausted sigh.  "Thank you." When he glanced at her, the knot of anxiety in her chest  eased. Tenderness was reflected back at her through those blue-green  eyes.

She hadn't realized how much she needed to see that, his affection for her still burning in his gaze.

He still wants me.

"You're welcome." Kat kept hold of his shoulder, and neither of them looked away.

How did I think I could just turn off my feelings? Because I'm an idiot.  She mentally shook herself. They had to stay away from each other, but  it was clear now that what she felt wasn't going away, not anytime soon.

Tristan tensed as he gripped the edge of the counter and hauled himself  up. He stumbled a step, as though his legs couldn't quite hold him up.

She reacted instantly, catching him by the waist. He didn't hesitate to  curl an arm around her, using her strength for support. He was so tall,  muscled, and strong, yet in this moment, he needed her.

No one had ever needed her before. A secret emotion she didn't want to  confront began to pulse and glow with warmth inside her chest. It seemed  he needed her as much as she needed him. He had so much of the world at  his fingertips compared to her, but he made her feel like she was the  one thing he truly wanted.

As they walked back to his room, she relished the way they seemed to  hold on to each other more than just physically. The connection that  drew them together was hard to break, and tonight, she couldn't leave  him alone.

"Do you need help getting into bed?" Just asking the question made her mouth run dry.

Tristan leaned against one bedpost and stared down at himself, then shook his head.

"No," he said and, with a staggering few steps, collapsed onto the bed.

Kat walked to the open bedroom doorway and lingered, watching his body  as he shifted and then rolled onto his back on the bed. If he's that  drunk, someone should look after him. Just because we can't be lovers  doesn't mean I can't care for him when he needs me.

His head turned her way, and the dim light from the hallway illuminated  his eyes, making them spark and sparkle like diamonds shot through with  electricity.

"You don't have to stay," he whispered.                       
       
           



       

Sighing, Kat closed the door, sealing them in darkness before she padded  over to him and climbed onto his big bed. She lay down next to him

"I want to stay. Get some rest."

She shivered. There was something impossibly intimate about two bodies  in a bed, darkness cloaking them as they whispered to each other. It was  as though she and Tristan were the last two people on earth, no  secrets, no games between them. Just a shared presence in the dark of  night.

He was silent, but after a long second, his body moved toward hers, and  she tensed, expecting him to try to seduce her. All he did was wrap  himself around her and press a kiss to her neck as he nuzzled his face  in her hair. Tristan tucked his head into the crook of her shoulder.  Warm breath fanned her skin, and his body heated hers as he held on to  her from behind, their bodies curved like a pair of spoons. How could  sleeping with him, just sleeping be so calming and wonderful?

It felt right.

Don't think about tomorrow.





Chapter 7



Fucking hell.

A headache slammed against his temples so hard it made his stomach turn over.

The only thing that wasn't hell was having Kat in his arms when he woke up.

It was pure heaven. She felt so good, her lush curves pressed against  him, the scent of her floral shampoo clinging to the rich brown locks of  her hair, which he wanted to wrap around his fist as he tugged her head  back for a kiss. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling that feminine  scent. How could she smell so delicious? He wanted to devour her, to  taste her in so many places, to imprint her scent and taste upon himself  so he could never forget it. Yet, what he felt was deeper, too, had  always been, it seemed, from the moment he'd met her. Tristan couldn't  shake the thought that he would never want another woman again, not  after having Kat in his life.