Seduction:Her British Stepbrother(6)

His hands dropped from the wall to her waist, tugging on the folds of the towel that barely covered her.

It would be so easy, he could lift my towel up and fuck me right here against the wall. Just one more time, we could …

The towel dropped to the floor.

Tristan's eyes raked over her naked body, and when he lifted his head  and met her gaze, one corner of his mouth slid into a lazy half-grin  that hit her so hard her knees knocked together.

He lifted one finger, pressed it to his lips, and made a soft "Shhh"  before he leaned down to kiss her collarbone. Her nipples pebbled with  the cool air and her building arousal. She stared down at the top of  Tristan's head, noting the way the light brought out hints of copper in  the dark locks. His kisses traveled down in a slow, teasing path to one  of her breasts. When he flicked his tongue against one sensitive peak, a  whimper escaped her.

He is going to kill me. Right here in the bathroom of his mother's house … Holy fuck …

Her hands moved to grip his hair, but he caught her wrists and pinned them against the wall by her hips.

"Oh, God," she panted as he knelt in front of her and glanced up, that  wicked grin curving his lips upward. There was no denying the magnetic  pull of that smile and how it obliterated all of her defenses.

Tristan lifted one of her legs up, putting her calf over his shoulder,  opening her to him. Kat dug her nails into the wall, praying she could  keep her balance. Tristan's lips danced lightly down from her navel to  her mound. His lips settled around her clit, which pulsed hard and  sharp. The tip of his tongue stroked, flicked, and played with the  swollen bud. As he teased her with his mouth, his hand coasted up her  inner thigh before it found her wet entrance. Drawing lazy, slow  patterns in her tender flesh, Tristan tortured her with exquisite agony.  Kat squirmed, writhed, pleaded in little soft desperate sounds for him  to stop, to keep going … to …

"Ahh!" Kat gasped as he licked at her.

The pulsating sense of need, was too great to deny. The explosive climax  hit her hard, and she threw her head back, swallowing her cry of  pleasure when his hands dug into her ass, holding her in place while he  drew out her orgasm, lapping at her folds until she was too sensitive to  do anything but beg for mercy. Currents of desire rippled through her,  not diminished at all by the fact that she'd just come apart with his  mouth on her.

The wicked glint in Tristan's eyes was her only warning that he had no  intention of stopping. He started to dip his head toward her mound again  with a throaty chuckle.

"Please … " she rasped frantically, dying to have him take her. It didn't  matter what happened outside the door, they were here together and he  was going to …

"Kat?" Her father knocked on the bathroom door.

She sucked in a breath, and Tristan's hands, which were stroking her  outer thighs, stilled, his muscles tensing beneath her palms. Neither of  them moved. Neither of them dared to breathe. Her heart pounded so hard  that she couldn't hear anything outside of that thunderous racing beat  in her ears.

"Kat, are you okay?" her father asked, rapping his knuckles on the door again.

Tristan rose silently to his feet to tower over her again. His  blue-green eyes cut through her as he stared down at her. "Answer him,  before he opens the door." It was barely a whisper but she was close  enough to hear him.                       
       
           



       

She cleared her throat, her mouth dry. "I'm fine, Dad. Be out in a few  minutes." She closed her eyes, praying her dad wouldn't break the first  rule of the father-daughter code and come inside without her express  permission.

"Okay, honey."

Her ears strained to pick up on the sounds of his departure. When  several seconds had passed, she sagged against the wall, letting go of  Tristan's arms. Then she dove for the bath towel and flung it around her  body.

"We can't do this again." She met his gaze, surprised at the flicker of anger in his eyes.

His sensual, full lips thinned into a hard line, and his eyes narrowed,  the fire in them dimming. His jaw clenched, and he turned his face away  as though he didn't want to look at her. He was mad, and she couldn't  blame him. They'd lost control right here in the bathroom because the  magnetic pull between them was too strong. Sexual frustration coursed  through her, and she bit her lip, focusing on the sting of pain to get  her mind off of how much she wished she had surrendered to him  completely and how he'd have been deep inside her right now if she had.

He moved away to pull a towel from a rack above the toilet and dropped it on the counter. Then he glanced over his shoulder.

"Mum has asked me to give you a tour of the house so you'll know where  everything is while you're here. I'll meet you outside your room in half  an hour." Then he turned to face the shower.

As he leaned into the stall and flicked the faucet handle to turn the  water on, Kat watched the muscles of his back play in little ripples.  The faintest trace of claw marks still cut across his shoulder blades.  Her marks. Again, that flood of primal desire and animal satisfaction  moved through her. She wanted to make more, to permanently claim this  gorgeous man as hers.

But he's not mine, not anymore. I can't have him because it will put our  parents, and my heart, at risk. That last part was her deepest fear.  She'd started to care about him, to get addicted to him, not just  physically but emotionally. She didn't want to get her heart broken.  She'd grown up watching her father live with a shattered heart and she  didn't want that to happen to her. What if she wasn't strong enough to  survive that level of heartache?

The sound of his pants zipper had her jolting back to awareness and  hastily ducking out of the bathroom. The last thing she needed was to  catch a glimpse of him in anything less than jeans. After how he'd just  gone down on her, she was having a hard time convincing herself she  shouldn't want to return the favor … Her libido and self-control couldn't  handle that. Flushing guiltily, she clutched her towel around her body  and dashed back to her room. How was she going to get through this? With  Tristan sleeping just down the hall, naked, the way he'd told her he  did …

Shit, I'm in too deep here. I want him too much … How am I going to survive three weeks with him being so close?





Chapter 4



I can survive this. As long as I don't think about his perfect abs, or  his tight ass, or his lips … Yeah, no more thinking about Mr.  Sexy-as-Hell.

Kat threw on a pair of jeans and a warm cable-knit sweater and stared at  herself in the mirror. They were eating at home, so she hoped jeans  would be okay. What if there were more than three courses? What if there  were half a dozen different spoons on the table? How would she know  which ones to use?

There really ought to be a list of basic rules or a manual or something.  Ten ways to please your British Bad Boy in bed and impress his mother  at dinner …

Kat leaned toward her reflection in the full-length mirror, feeling  completely stupid as she put on mascara and lip gloss. It was okay to  want to look nice, right? That was what she wanted. It had nothing to do  with Tristan. Definitely not. There was nothing wrong with wanting to  look nice, except … she'd never really cared about it before tonight.  Before Tristan. Kat let out a little hiss of frustration and stalked  over to her bed. She grabbed her backpack and dug through its contents  until she found what she was looking for.

Dropped from the Clouds.

When she'd packed for this trip to London, knowing she'd meet her  father's girlfriend and son, she'd reached for this book first,  relishing the way it felt like a security blanket. Normally she would  have brought her well-loved paperback, but she'd wanted a part of  Tristan with her when meeting Lizzy for the first time. So she'd  carefully wrapped his gift in a vellum cloth and tucked it in a safe  place in her bag, where it wouldn't be damaged.

She remembered Tristan's face when he'd watched her pull it out of the  box that night. Eager anticipation and joy had illuminated his face in a  way that had made him glow. He'd really given thought as to what to buy  her. It hadn't been anything generic or clichéd. No, the man had to go  and be perfect by buying her a book that had meaning to her and proving  he'd listened to her.                       
       
           



       

Touching its gilded cover and tracing the balloon on its surface made  her think of Tristan. As foolish as it had been, she thought she'd be  carrying a piece of him with her, like a shield into battle. But now he  was on the other side.