Sean: A Stepbrother Romance (Coded for Love Book 3)

by Saskia Walker

  Jesus, even now he could feel the longing that’d pumped inside him, and how it did bad things to them both. He’d wanted to hold her down, to capture her and experience her wild nature in forbidden ways. Turned out she loved that too. She was kinky as fuck. He quickly learned which buttons to press to send her whirring out of control. His blood pumped hot and hard as he remembered.

  Was she still with that guy he’d heard about? Declan. Had she found someone else who knew how to bring this crazy girl to their side and keep her satisfied? Only one way to find out.

  Bracing himself, he pulled the address out of his pocket and stared down at it.

  He knew where the house was. He’d been there once, three years before. Aunt Gladys’s fences had come down in a storm. His dad had sent the lads, Rory, Draco and himself, round to secure the fences. They had a laugh while doing it, and made a pretty good job of it. Gladys had fed them with bacon and sausage sandwiches to keep them going. It was a good afternoon, then she’d told them they should start their own business mending fences, and they all got the hell out of there.

  What was so wrong with mending fences? It would be an honest living.

  The problem was when you could hack into major businesses doing something so mundane seemed like a jail sentence. Unfortunately, he now knew what that felt like, and mending fences seemed like it would be a hell of a lot better. This past year, he would have given anything to be that Irish lad who’d stayed, the one with an honest trade and no one breathing down his back.

  No sense of responsibility—that was the ticket to failure he’d carried with him back then. Life had quickly shown him just how important it was to have a sense of responsibility. Now he was back to face up to emotions he’d tried to bury. It was time to make Rowan his own, if she would have him. Climbing on the bike, he pulled out into the traffic, and sped along the coast road to Prestatyn.

  By the time he drew up in front of the house it was raining heavily, and the streetlight barely lit the path. He secured his bike and looked up at the house. A tall Victorian home with three floors and a gabled attic window. This is where Rowan lived now, with her Nan and Great Aunt Gladys. At least she wasn’t living in a semi-detached up the road with some bloke called Derek and three kids in tow. That might have been a bit more problematic, although Sean’s mind was made up. He was thoroughly prepared to break down any barrier between him and Rowan, whatever it took to do so. When he looked up as far at the attic room window, a curtain twitched.

  He pulled off his helmet as he strode up the steps to the front door, holding it in one arm as he lifted the heavy brass door knocker.

  Lights flickered on in the hallway.

  “Sean Rattigan, is that you?” It was Rowan’s Nan who spoke. She opened the door wide and peered up at him. “Oh my, you’ve changed.”

  The door swung wide and Aunt Gladys was there too, the pair of them peering out at him, smiling. The ladies, as they all called them, hadn’t changed at all, as far as Sean could tell. Maybe a few more wrinkles.

  “What a lovely surprise,” Aunt Gladys said, and nudged her sister sharply.

  “Yes, wonderful surprise,” Nan repeated and pushed the door wide open. She reached out and ushered him in. “Come in, Sean, it’s so lovely to see you.”

  Sean stepped into the hallway and glanced around. Yes, he did remember the hideous patterned carpet and the array of weird wall plaques, and there was a peculiar little table with a built-in seat and a telephone directory shelf.

  Once he was inside, he found his motorbike helmet taken from his hand by one of the women. It was Aunt Gladys, and she dried it with her apron then set it down on the telephone table seat. Nan was behind him, trying to take off his leather jacket. Since she barely reached above his elbow, it was no easy task. He shrugged it off, and the jacket quickly disappeared into a cupboard under the stairs.

  “I guess you heard I was coming?” Sean smiled wryly. So much for keeping it secret. Mind you, if the secret had been broadcast, where was Rowan? Then he remembered that twitch of the curtain on the attic window. These two couldn’t have legged it down from the third floor in time, so it must have been Rowan.

  That decided, he stared at the stairwell expectantly.

  Nan hurried back to him from the under stairs cupboard and grasped his arm, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “Rowan will be down in a moment, I’m sure.”

  Aunt Gladys walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted. “Rowan, you have a visitor!”

  Sean smiled. It’d been a long while since he’d done so, but these two altered that. He’d forgotten how determined and bossy they were.

  “We’ve prepared the spare bedroom,” Nan said, looking up at him assessingly, “and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,”

  “A bed for the night would be great—”

  He was about to say more, meaning to comment he could see she had a full house already, he could get a B&B for the night, but a squeak on the stairwell silenced him. He looked at the stairs expectantly.

  All three of them did.

  He saw her hand on the rail as she turned the corner on the staircase. Glossy, purple nails, multiple silver rings on her fingers. Heavy bangles chimed against the banister. Then there she was, standing on the landing. All woman, fierce and strong, hot and seductive.

  Skinny black jeans and a heavy studded belt at her waist revealed her curves. She wore layered tops, a black one with a multicolored Egyptian symbol tied under her bust. Around her neck multiples chains draped into the soft skin of her collarbone. Thick black hair tumbled over one shoulder, streaked here and there with purple and blue. She had more piercings than he remembered and her right forearm was covered in a full sleeve tattoo.

  Curiosity throbbed through him. And the rest. He wanted to know every detail, everything. He wanted to examine her from top to toe. Touch her, kiss her. But all he could do stand in silence and stare, soak her in. Couldn’t think straight. Just enough to register she was hot and sexy as ever, but somehow more gorgeous. If that was even possible.

  She eyeballed him through narrowed eyes. There was a distinctly mistrustful look in those eyes. And a warning. Sean broke into a grin. That was Rowan all over.

  Surprise registered in her expression when he grinned. She hid it just as quickly, eyelids lowering, then strolled down the remaining stairs.

  “Flying visit?” she addressed him sternly when she reached the hallway, folding her arms across her chest.

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Sean.” It was Nan who spoke, and Aunt Gladys nodded her head, smiling.

  He searched for the right thing to say, but what he really wanted to do was scoop Rowan up and steal her away so they could be alone, for a long time. However, he didn’t want to offend the ladies. No way.

  Before he had a chance to give a vague reply, Rowan emitted an audible huff.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Her gaze filled with warning.

  Sean laughed softly, he couldn’t help it.

  The icy stare intensified, but a flush appeared on her cheekbones.

  Oh yes, it was still there between them. Her cool attitude was just an attempt to put distance between them, where he wanted none, but the resistance he felt emanating off her only made his blood heat more. She was all fire and it thrilled him. He wanted her to open to him, to melt into his arms, to lie down on her back rather than glaring at him. If he gained a few scratches from those talons of hers along the way he’d only savor them.

  It would happen. Soon. He was sure of it.

  Chapter Four

  Rowan had seen the headlight as the Harley pulled off the main road onto their street. She watched from her room in the attic, peeping through the curtain into the rainy evening, wanting to know when he arrived, and yet determined not to make a fuss about it.

  Clearing the mist from the window, she saw him unfurl his massive frame as he climbed off the bike. He reached back and unlatched his pannier bags, then looked over at th
e door to the house. Rowan’s breath caught. Each and every move she witnessed made her body tighten with anticipation.

  He looked up, as if sensing he was being watched.

  She let the curtain drop, darted over to the door, and listened.

  There amongst the excited voices of her family-of-women she soon caught the sound of him—that deep and resonant Irish male voice she’d yearned to hear, the one she knew so well. Sean Rattigan, her first love—her stepbrother, the forbidden one—was in the house. Rowan would have paid to keep him away, even though she dreamed about him endlessly—day and night. She didn’t need him, never had. But he was a temptation she’d found it hard to say no to. It simply had to be different this time. Chill, she urged herself.

  Quickly deciding to stay up there for at least ten minutes, she paced the room. Then her name was called.

  Her skin prickled with self-awareness and anticipation. She barely got down the stairs without her legs giving way under her. Rattled, she barely managed to breathe while they sized each other up in the hallway. And now he was staring at her as if he expected her to drop her panties for him, right there on the spot.

  “Lookin’ good Rowan.” His voice was gruff and intimate, and the comment seemed to make her skin race. But she didn’t need him to tell her that. She’d spent the last three hours getting ready on the off chance he turned up, but it was self pride that made her do it, that’s all. Why then, did her heart beat faster in response to his nonchalant comment? Why did her traitorous skin tingle under his scrutiny?

  She nodded. It was about all she could muster. Why? She was shocked, that’s what it was. He looked different. What the hell had happened to him? He’d always been a big guy, tall and rangy, but Rowan’s knees nearly buckled when she got a look at him. The guy had been working out, big time. He was built.

  Dressed in boots and faded black jeans, his T-shirt outlined the breadth of his shoulders and the lean line of his waist and hips. His hair was shaved close to his scalp making her fingers tingle with the need to explore. His hair used to be long, shaggy. He used to hide his eyes behind it when he glanced her way. Now there was no shielding his bold stare—and it was bold, blatantly hungry and expressive. There was no doubt he remembered what had gone down between them. Then there were his shoulders, which were enormous. Why did that make her feel so unsteady?

  Maybe she’d expected him to be skinny after all those days in a cell. Instead he looked like a man with purpose, a man who knew what he was about. Sean had always looked sure of himself though—confident to the point of arrogance—but this was something else. There was a sense of grim determination about him, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer. The idea of it gave her a huge buzz. Because she knew for sure he wanted her. Badly. He’d meant the world to her at one point. Back then she’d have given anything for him to stay by her side. Not anymore, but it would be fun putting this great hulk of a man in his place—out in the cold.

  But why not toy with him a while, a little devil whispered in her ear, reminding her of the things she tried and failed to forget. Those intimate moments. Just then she noticed a tattoo peeping out from his t shirt sleeve, coiling down his arm. It was some sort of tribal symbol. How far did it go? The tail of the design was visible of his collar bone, creeping around his neck. Even under a shirt collar it would be visible, and that rebellion sparked recognition in her. As teenagers they’d talked about tattoos, sharing daydreams.

  And now here they were three years later, even though they’d moved forward without each other. With a wry smile, she acknowledged things that had drawn them together kept them loosely connected, even now. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she was sure she could handle it. She’d been alone long enough to be sure. Sean wouldn’t shred her resistance with a click of his fingers the way he once had. She wouldn’t let him.

  “You changed your hair,” he commented.

  “I change it every month, and that’s not all that’s changed.” She meant it as a warning, but he lifted his eyebrows suggestively in response, as if he wanted to hear all about it.

  Her grandmother was clucking around Sean like a mother hen, and both ladies were dressed up, Aunt Gladys in her best pink hand-knitted twin set—the one she normally kept for church services—while Nan had her best frock on. “Have you eaten?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Sean didn’t take his eyes off Rowan as he replied, and she had to make a supreme effort to walk around him—rooted to the spot as he was at the bottom of the stairs, like the side of a house.

  “Is your record clean?” Gladys asked. “I mean, now that you’ve served your time?”

  “Rest assured you aren’t harboring an escaped criminal under your roof.”

  Rowan noticed the ladies were thrilled to bits with him, but Sean suddenly looked awkward as hell when they closed in on him. That tickled her.

  The ladies could be tough interrogators when they went in double-handed, and he probably anticipated that. They worked together in silent agreement. They’d attack on two fronts, cornering their victim. Fine, Rowan figured, amused. Let it happen. She could just sit back and watch him squirm. She just had to stick to the plan.

  What was the plan again? Ignore him. Let him see what he’d missed.

  “You better get comfortable,” she suggested, and waved him into the sitting room. “Might as well sit down for the duration of the interrogation.”

  She strolled past him in the narrow hallway, attempting to seem nonchalant and offhand. What she didn’t account for was a lightening fast reaction on his part, the sudden movement closer and the resulting brush of his arm against hers.

  “Oh.” The static charge from the point of contact took her by surprise and she faltered for a brief moment as he closed in behind her. The bulk of his body at her back sent her deeper into a state of self-awareness.

  With a faltering intake of breath she pressed on, and pointed out a single lounge chair in one corner, indicating he take it. Folding her arms across her chest she waited until he sat down where she’d directed, nodded sternly, and then turned away. Striding past him deliberately, she perched on the edge of the piano stool, choosing the spot because it was further away from the other chairs, close to the door. She wanted her exit clear. If she chose, she could simply walk out and leave them to it. Yeah, that would be the best way to indicate how little of a damn she gave. Smiling inwardly, she anticipated the moment, pleased with her strategy.

  She took a quick scan around to make sure none of Pixie’s toys were still lying around. Pixie was fast asleep upstairs. She’d been kept busy all afternoon and mostly slept through the night now. Rowan wanted it that way, and the ladies had agreed. They babysat most evenings anyway, while she was at night school. Nan had the baby monitor in her pocket and it would vibrate if Pixie woke and called out. She and Aunt Gladys said they’d take it in turns to check on her so Rowan wouldn’t have to worry. Sean was oblivious to the fact she even had a child. She’d sworn the entire family to secrecy. It was only a matter of time until he found out. She wouldn’t be able to hide the fact for long, but she didn’t want him to know just yet, and under no circumstances would he find out who the father was. He’d be gone soon enough, with his ‘bed for the night’ attitude, so he might meet her. It was important to get a handle on him first—and use it to keep him in his place.

  “It’s just the same, cozy and welcoming,” Sean commented, looking around. “I missed you guys.” The comment was directed at Nan and Gladys, but his gaze sidled over to meet Rowan’s.

  He’d changed. It hit her fast and hard. There was a level of seriousness about him she didn’t expect to see. He’d always been a dark horse, brooding and watchful, but this was a new level of intensity, and it was damned sexy.

  “You missed the place..?” Rowan retorted. “In that case why didn’t you come back to visit? You’ve only been in jail for the last year. What about the two years before that?”

  “There was a lot going on. Doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it. W
e all have regrets…don’t we?” He met her stare directly, letting his question hang in the air between them. “Had a lot of time to think when I was inside,” he added, and his gaze raked over her, suggestively.

  Damned cheek, she silently fumed, but her pulse reacted, speeding out of check. One glance at Nan and Gladys only annoyed her more. They were sitting on the edge of their seats, eyes bright with interest.

  “You’re avoiding my question. Why didn’t you come home at some point during the first couple of years, or were you too busy having fun…hacker boy?” She made sure her tone was filled with sarcasm

  “I’ll be honest—”

  “Yes,” she interrupted. “Why don’t you.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be welcome.”

  Both of the ladies exclaimed, disagreeing. “That’s simply not true, young man,” Gladys stated. “You’ve always been welcome. We made that clear. When your patents married, we all loved having you here with us. You’re family.”

  Inwardly, Rowan sighed. They were family. That was part of the problem. He was thinking the same, she could tell. For a moment, there was no stopping the silent acknowledgement between them. For the most part they’d kept their relationship secret. Parents and elders had made it clear, Sean and his brother Rory were their stepbrothers, and for Rowan that meant the boy she had the hots for was to be treated as kin. Trouble was, they wanted to be more than kin. When it had eventually come out that they’d become intimate, all hell broke loose.

  Over time Gladys and Nan had mellowed somewhat, but Rowan never shook off their disapproval, the rejection they’d both felt, the wall that had been built. Then Sean took off with Rory and her full brother Draco, without a word. She and Sean were both rebels by nature, and they’d been in it together. Emo kids who were forbidden lovers. Deeply committed. Or so she thought.