Seduction:Her British Stepbrother(7)

She plopped down on the bed and tried to read a few pages, but her mind  kept drifting toward that encounter with Tristan in the bathroom. What  if she'd let him seduce her right there, take her against the wall of  the bathroom, with their parents so close? The forbidden track of her  thoughts made her shiver. His large hands had played with the folds of  her towel, teasing, as though he'd planned to tug it from her body.

The man loved to get her naked. She remembered how he'd stripped her out  of her clothes at Fox Hill, peeling her dress off her body with a  deliberately slow pace, heightening her hunger to be taken by him. The  arousal then, just as in the bathroom today, had built to a point where  she hadn't been able to think … only to feel what he did to her. Being  with him was like a drug-it robbed her of all control

She wasn't aware of how much time had passed before someone knocked on  the door. Glancing at her watch, she flinched. She'd been staring at the  wall for the last thirty minutes, completely distracted. Before Kat  could respond, the door cracked open and Tristan's face appeared. His  eyes darted across the room, then settled on her.

"Ready for the tour?" He nudged the door fully open with one shoulder,  revealing the long lean lines of his body. A body that made her hungry  to rub against it and …

Damn. Kat swallowed hard.

He wore a black V-neck sweater and dark blue jeans that hugged his legs  enough to show off the muscled thighs she couldn't get out of her head.  His dark hair was still slightly damp and curling at the edges. She  cursed silently as her fingers twitched with the memory of how silky the  thick strands of his hair had felt when she'd threaded her fingers  through them and tugged.

Would she ever be able to erase the memories of their night together?

No. His voice was in her head with that low, all too seductive chuckle that melted her panties right off.

"Kat?" He rested a hand on the doorknob, staring at her.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," she muttered and carefully set her book  on the bed beside her. His gaze flicked to the bed and back to her, but  he didn't say a word. Tristan led her down the hall. Any stray looks at  his ass were not her fault. Some men were just too … yummy, as her best  friend Lacy would put it, to avoid gawking at them.

"I thought I'd let you see my favorite room. This is our library."  Tristan was grinning as he opened a door that looked more like a part of  the wall. Instead of a latch or a knob, a circular gold ring was set  into the paneling, which could be lifted to reveal and open the "hidden"  door. Tristan had to duck his head as he entered ahead of her. She  gasped when she came in behind him.

The library. It was beautiful. A row of stained glass windows lined one  wall. The center panel depicted St. George slaying a dragon. The two  windows flanking it portrayed other scenes from the battle. The sheer  mastery of the colored glass was astonishing. Such detail, the emotion  on the subjects' faces, gave her goose bumps.

She moved without thinking to the center window, touching the emerald  glass of the dragon's head beneath St. George's armored boot. The  creature's cat-like eyes gleamed at her and seemed to be alive. It was  so startling that she blinked, half afraid it might blink back. Stained  glass moved Tristan to tears, just as butterflies did her. A little  shiver worked up her back as she remembered him standing next to her at  the bar in the Pickerel Inn pub, whispering his secret to her.

Only then did she understand what she was seeing. A little boy in this  library watching the dragon, feeling small and all alone, taking heart  in St. George's valiant victory. Sorrow gathered around her own heart  like a black shroud. Poor Tristan.

"The stained glass," she whispered, and glanced at Tristan.

He was leaning against the closed library door, his focus on her. His  gaze impossibly intense, a dozen emotions flashing so fast across his  eyes that she couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

"Kat … " The feral desperation in his tone made Kat go very still, like a  wild animal hearing a predator move past it in the underbrush. He was  close to the edge, just as she was. They had to keep their distance,  otherwise one of them would break and the other wouldn't be far behind.

"We can't go on like this," she whispered.

"We can't," he agreed as he came toward her. There was no stopping it,  just like in the bathroom. He stopped inches from her, and that tiny  space between them hummed with energy and the promise of what was to  come.                       
       
           



       

She lifted her head just as he lowered his so their lips met. The  scintillating caress turned molten-hot as he thrust his tongue inside to  play with hers. Tristan's hands gripped her hips, tugging her flush  against him. Unable to stop, her body rolled against his, and that  irresistible urge to get as close to him as possible was all she could  think about. He owned her with that kiss, possessed every part of her.  Bursts of sexual hunger began to build in her lower abdomen, and she  curled her arms around his neck, clinging to him.

He slid one hand down the back of her left thigh and lifted her leg to  curl it around his hip. Kat rubbed herself against him, her mouth still  locked with his. She shuddered with little bolts of pleasure as she  found a way to grind herself against his muscled thigh.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a gruff whisper. "Ride me, love."

"Hmmm," she whimpered in excitement as she bit his bottom lip and tugged  on it, playfully. It felt too good to be with him, too wicked and  wonderful.

One of his hands slid down her back beneath her jeans and panties to cup  one ass cheek. The sensation of his hot palm on her bare skin as he  pressed her that much harder against his thigh … it was all she needed to  come apart.

Sparks burst forth between them, and she kissed him savagely, gasping  against him as her nerve-endings between her thighs came to life, and  her clit pulsed hard enough to hurt. Her inner muscles clamped on the  emptiness, and she cursed softly, wishing he'd been inside her. Panting,  she sagged against him, her hands still around his neck. They'd just  dry-humped like a couple of teenagers in a closet, and it wasn't  enough … She could never get enough of Tristan.

"Steady on, darling." He nuzzled her cheek, and she could hear the smile  in his voice as he simply held her close, embracing her body as it  pulsed with little quivering aftershocks.

It took a minute, but when she was strong enough to stand without his help, she shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

"What-"

"No, we can't, Tristan. We just … " She choked on the words. "We can't."

Her entire body vibrated with the flood of emotions. They'd already gone  too far too fast. First at Fox Hill, then today in the bathroom when  he'd gone down on her, and now here. There was too much fire between  them, and it was going to burn them both.

She closed her eyes, blinking away the sting of tears. "I can't be with  you." It's too much of a risk, but he'll never understand. He doesn't  care about me, not like I do about him. It's a game for him, and right  now he's upset he's not getting what he wants. But my heart's on the  line. So much for the two of them behaving like rational adults about  this.

For a long second neither of them spoke, but finally he severed eye  contact and let out a slow, measured breath as though drawing in upon  himself and exerting that control she didn't seem to have. Then he spun  on his heel and strode across the room, back to the door. His long legs  ate up the floor, putting a universe between them.

She rushed to keep up with him and, just as they both reached the door,  Kat caught his arm. He glanced down at her hand, and she hastily  withdrew it.

After what seemed like forever, he spoke. "Come on. I've much to show you before dinner."

Kat followed on his heels, keeping a respectable distance between them. Not that it made a difference.

He took her through the rest of the house before bringing her downstairs  to the kitchen on the way to the dining room. She met the cook, Mrs.  George, and a few other members of the household staff. The kitchen was a  warm, cheery part of the town house, with pots hanging from a central  rack over the main marble island. Fresh basil and rosemary grew in small  pots on a windowsill, catching the winter sun. Kat loved how friendly  Mrs. George was when she shook Kat's hand in greeting.

"So happy to meet you, dearie. Your father is quite a man, we're all  happy he's here. It's been good for Elizabeth." Mrs. George's nose  turned a little red, and her eyes were shining with a hint of tears.

Tristan slid an arm around her waist for a brief instant, steering her  toward a plate of fresh cookies on the counter. Heat blossomed from that  brief caress, and she fought the instinct to lean into him.