Stepbrother Thief(104)

I reach my hands up to Gill's cheeks, pressing my palms against either side of his face.

“Somehow, no matter what else happened, I knew tonight was going to include a quickie,” I whisper as my back presses up against something hard—the trunk of the tree that's currently providing us shelter and hiding us away from the rest of the world. Thank God. With the dark and the rain, I don't think anyone can see us here.

At least, I hope they can't because this is happening.

I brush some dark, wet strands of Gill's hair off his forehead and study his expression. He looks right back at me, moving his tattooed right hand to my face, trailing his fingertips over my cheek and across my lips. There's a look of wonder there, a flicker of light that is all me and nothing else. I'm not trying to be arrogant here or overplay my own importance, but it is what it is.

For better or worse, I want this.

For better or worse, Gilleon Marchal is mine.

I gasp as Gill pushes up the lace skirt of my dress, a smile curling the edge of his lip. On the street behind him, a car rumbles by, lights flickering in the rush of rainwater. The danger of getting caught, it's all mixing up with the danger of Gill, the unknown, the infinite possibilities that a new start will give us. It could be good, great even, but there's always a risk—just like there is right now. I shouldn't take it … but I'm going to anyway. Why is it that the things that make you feel most alive in the world are the very same things that can bring you to your knees?

“Are you sure about this?” Gill asks as I drop my hands to the button on his slacks. I'm not sure if he's asking about the sex or about getting back together. Either way …

“Yes.” Easy question, easy answer. “Now let's do this before the neighbors call the cops.”

Gill grins; I'm sure he of all people doesn't give two shits about the cops.

His lips drop to mine, hot tongue darting into my mouth, tasting me as I free his dick from his pants, sliding my hand down the long, hard length of him. His wet fingers slide away from my bunched up skirt, down the sensitive flesh of my bare thighs, drawing my right leg up. Thank God I wore tall heels today. Certainly makes things a lot easier in this department.

I release my hold on him, switching my fingers to the back of his neck, curling them together in a tight grip. Without skipping a beat, he pushes my panties to the side and drives into me, filling me up until we're pelvis to pelvis, gasping and squinting at each other in a deluge of rainwater. The skies crack open and come down hard, raindrops sticking his dark hair to his forehead, blinding me with heavy wet strands of blonde.

I raise my lips to Gill's again, tasting the wet and the autumn cold and his body's natural warmth. We move together, grinding our bodies tightly against one another, probably committing some sort of felony (or at the very least a misdemeanor). But I don't care, not right now. Right now, all I give a shit about is Gilleon.

In that moment, in the freezing rain, my breath frosting against his lips, I feel more alive, more awake than I have since the moment we first met. Our chests tight together, I can feel his heartbeat pounding against mine, like the sweet sonata of a new beginning.



My lips are tingling so bad, I can't resist touching them, scraping my fingertips against the tender flesh. Even though I know they aren't, my hands feel rough, like sandpaper. Gill glances over at me from his position behind the wheel and smiles knowingly.

“I was just thinking,” I say, grabbing my purse and withdrawing a tube of lipstick, “that it seems like a good time to reapply.”

“Sure it is,” he says with a warm chuckle. He's a mess; I'm a mess. We're both sopping wet, hair tangled and dripping, my makeup melting down my face. But at least I have my fresh pair of panties … Gill, at least, had the good sense not to laugh when I switched them out and shoved the wet ones in the glove compartment. Hopefully one of us remembers to clean those out before he turns the rental in. Wouldn't that be embarrassing …

“I'm glad we're still going to dinner,” he says and I nod.

“Me, too.” I slide my hands down my dress, the fabric clinging to my body and emphasizing the gentle swell of my breasts and hips. Gill notices and swallows hard, like he's already ready for round two. I can't blame him, I guess, since I was there about two seconds after we finished.

“We really need to start having sex in beds more,” I say, reaching back to pick a leaf out of my hair. I'll be lucky if my designer dress doesn't have any holes in the lace. At least it was all worth it—so, so worth it.

“Speaking of,” Gill begins, clearing his throat and tossing me a grin, “are you going to let me move into the master bedroom?” I open my mouth to protest, but … if I'm going to do this, then I might as well go all the way.