Stepbrother Unsealed(64)

I know it's Chris before we're face to face, and his lips are on mine. Nobody else puts his hands on me like this, like he already owns every inch of me. Nobody kisses like he does.

“Sneaky jerk,” I whimper, when his tongue glides off mine. “Do they teach you that stuff in SEAL training?”

“Nah. Handling my woman comes naturally. I came ready for you tonight, babe.” He steps back so I can get a look at his costume.

I almost faint on the spot like some goofy nineteenth century romance heroine.

Swoon-worthy is the only word that fits. His clothes cling tight to the hard, tattooed muscle underneath. He's wearing an elegant white uniform that almost looks like a tuxedo, studded with more medals on one side than I can count.

The buttons part his magnificent chest neatly, and when I look up to his face again, I notice the final touch. I can't stop myself from laughing, more amazed than anything else.

“A bow-tie? Are you kidding me? Don't tell me – you added that yourself!”

He smiles and shrugs. “Guess you've never seen a SEAL's dinner dress before. You told me to look like a prince, yeah?”

“I meant something a little less modern.” My hand flows out instinctively, flattening on his chest, slowly creeping down it. “I guess this'll do.”

Yeah. Understatement of the century.

He makes me think of a sailor, a knight, and a classy billionaire all at once. If it wasn't for the tiny splash of ink sneaking out one cufflink, nobody would ever know about the animal underneath, the one I've met night after night, and desperately want to meet again.

“You said prince, beautiful. I figure this shit's about as antiquated as royalty. Not really my style, but orders are orders, and you're the CO of this bash tonight.” He winks.

The heat between my legs officially goes nova.

God. I already want him to rip it off. Something about the thick, formal layers only accent the perfection underneath. It reminds me what he can do when he's got me under him, between his legs, fucking me with those powerful, unforgettable strokes that take me to another world.#p#分页标题#e#

“Shit, woman, sometimes I think you're hornier than I am.” His eyes tell me I'm not the only doing the eye-fucking here.

With a growl, Chris takes me by the hand, and sneaks in a rough pat on the ass. I can barely feel it through the thick dress, but it's just enough to get me moving, gladly holding him by the arm.

The doorbell keeps ringing behind us, letting in more of Marnie's crowd. She handles all the party planning crap. I trust her because she sticks to the good kids, the ones who just like to drink too much and get down with their boyfriends and girlfriends. Nobody truly harmful who'd steal from us or light the house on fire ever gets in.

We saunter into the big dining room off the kitchen. The doors are propped open, leading out onto the pool deck. Frowning, I look through the window, and see several people have already lost their tuxedos and dresses, stripping down to bare essentials for swimming instead.

“That didn't take long,” I say, tugging on Chris' arm and pointing.

He grins and laughs. “What? You expect people to wander around out there in these getups and bake underneath the sun? Stripping to cool off comes with a high summer party's territory, Delia.”

I elbow him gently. I don't like it when he chides me, even though he's completely right. He's so damned bossy and sure of himself. He knows it doesn't take much to get me wet, and I hate it almost as much as I love it.

“Aw, don't give me that sass,” he growls. “Let's stop worrying about everybody else and enjoy ourselves.” Before I can say anything else, he jerks me over to the alcohol, where I let him serve me a glass of punch.

He's strangely lit today, humming to himself as he does. It's like the weight of the world is off his shoulders. Or is it another kind of tension? Something I'm seeing underneath the surface, but can't quite pin down?

It's hard to study his face without feeling everything below my waist go hot. This damned dress makes me like a dozen times more hot and bothered too. It won't be long before I'm begging to lose my panties if this keeps up.

“Drink up. Cool off.” Smiling, he shoves the punch into my hand, and gets himself a glass of beer from the huge keg next to the table. “I want you to loosen up. We're dancing when it kicks off later.”

“No way!” I almost choke, coughing strong punch down the wrong tube. “Chris, I don't dance. Not when I'm wearing this!”

I look down, and he laughs at me again. It's all the signal he needs to grab me by the waist and pull me into him. For just a second, I see that spark in his eyes.

It's not just my imagination. It's different, but I'm not sure if it's because we know we're in love, or because everything we've built is about to come crashing down.