by Misti Murphy
"I’m not. I know what I want," I whisper. Heat fills my cheeks, and scuttles down my neck. "And it’s not him."
It’s true. Henley means nothing to me. I don't know how I ever thought he and I would make a good match. I don't know why I said yes when he asked me to marry him. Probably because I wanted to believe in the values he stood for. Values that don't hold near as much weight now. Not when I’m looking up at the man who makes me want to throw them all away.
"All right," he says. His mouth hovers so close to mine I can feel his warm breath on my skin. My lips burn to close the gap, and I have to suck the bottom one in to wet it. He glances down to watch.
I'm so close to getting what I want, or at least starting what I want between us. If I don't act now he'll move away and I may never get to find out what kissing Razer Bennington would be like. I can't let him go without knowing the real deal. All my daydreams and fantasies of him and I are no longer enough. I surge up on tiptoe, destroying that tiny space he manages to keep between us, and then... Oh, I am so freaking naive.
I thought after his first two kisses I knew what to expect. I’d seen enough kisses, had enough practice to take on a man like Razer. But nothing prepares me for the way this man wields the weapon of his mouth.
"Claire." His voice is a groan against my lips, tracing them with his own, so soft we practically melt together. Then his arms bracket me against his chest, while he tilts my head and applies the sweetest pressure, parting my lips beneath his and touching the tip of his tongue to mine. It's almost worshipful the way he explores every inch of my mouth.
Something inside me tightens. Something I don't think I ever knew was a part of my physiology. It starts low in my belly and curls through me like tendrils of smoke, leaving me hazy with its rightness. I lean into him with a whimper, my foot curling up behind me. I always laughed at that in movies. The way they portray a great kiss as toe curling. But I get it now. I understand how intense it can be. When he darts his tongue against mine again, I meet him with my own. We're dancing now, hovering on the edge of something incredible and I find myself becoming bolder as he lets me take the lead. My fantasies are a poor man's imitation of the real thing and I can never go back.
His grip on me tightens, crushing me close. He's all heat and hard muscle, especially the part of him that pushes at my belly. He's big, I think, as I press against him. Not that I’ve got much to compare it to, but the way his erection bulges against his zipper leaves me with expectations.
I smooth my hand down the curve of his bicep, and over the plane of his abs. I can feel the dips and ridges of his six pack, corrugated beneath my palm. But I’m braver than that, aren't I? This plan of mine involves far more than letting him kiss me into a melted puddle of desire at his feet, and I really want to know exactly what he's packing below.
Sliding lower, I pass the waistband of his jeans. He groans and captures my wrist between two fingers before breaking our kiss. "You need to stop, Little Bit."
The use of my childhood nickname, shared between my brothers and him equally, is like having a bucket of ice water thrown over me. I pull in a breath and reel when I realize I’m still shaking from his kiss. But that's more than he ever planned on offering me. Razer is putting me back in the box he keeps me in. Best friend’s little sister, and for one moment, I consider stamping my foot and yelling at him like I used to when we were children. But I’m not a child anymore and I won't behave like one. "Please don't call me that."
He crosses his arms against his chest, scowls down at me. "Why? You used to like it when we were kids."
"We're not anymore. I don't want you to think of me like that."
“You need to understand something, Claire.” He emphasizes my name while he grips my chin between his fingers, and my heart stutters. He’s not as adverse to me as he wants to be. Then he dips his head and slides his lips over mine one more time before he trails a line of hot, wet kisses along the line of my jaw and up to my ear where his breath tickles my skin. “You think you know what you’re doing, but you don’t. I see through you, baby girl. You’re still a good girl. Don’t play games.”
My breath hitches, and I dart my tongue out over my lips. “I’m not playing with you, Raze.”
“Sure you are.” He lets go of me. “But you’re just my friend’s kid sister. That’s all you ever can be.”
Razer
I shouldn’t have kissed her, but she keeps pushing my buttons. Shouldn’t have let her get to me, but the way her gaze holds mine, her eyes widening, pupils dilating... I can’t get it off my mind. She’s such a fucking prick tease. Whether she’s trying to be, or whether it’s just that I’ve been fantasizing about her so long, I don’t know. But one thing’s for sure. Every look, every touch has me hard as a fucking rock.
After that kiss I clear out. Can’t stand being in the house with her and not be able to do a damn thing about how worked up she makes me. I meet with the contractor out at the old house and spend a couple hours checking out the land before a meeting with the lawyer Tom suggested. But there’s still a whole lot of afternoon where it’ll be just her and I in the house, and I can’t afford to let her get under my skin again today, at least not until I’ve worked out some of my frustration some other way.
When I walk into the gym, Tom’s talking to a couple of guys by the side of the center ring. He grins as I stalk across the room. “Come to get your ass handed to you?”
“Get me some gloves. We’ll see about that,” I say.
It doesn’t take long before we’re both slipping between the ropes and facing off. Tom gets in the first couple jabs, then I land a punch, dancing around the ring, sweaty and driven like there’s a devil on my tail. A sexy, tantalizing, untouchable devil.
“What’s got you so riled up?” Tommy blocks another hit, but I get a low sweep kick in and take his knees out from under him.
“I got the quote for demolition.”
“That bad, huh?”
I shrug and circle him while he gets back on his feet. “I’ve got it covered.”
“So what’s the problem?” He drives his fist into my gut.
“I was supposed to be in Lanston by now.”
“Nice. You got itchy feet? Or just can’t handle being around family this long?”
“A little bit of both.” I grin, flashing the mouthguard he made me put in before we started wailing on one another.
I don’t see his hook punch until he boxes my jaw, and my head snaps to the side. “So what’s keeping you here?”
“Your little sister.”
Tom roars, shaking with laughter. “Asshole, she’s your little sister, too.”
But she isn’t. She isn’t my sister. She’s just some girl I’ve wanted to get my hands on for a very long time. Not that any of them will see that. I touch her and I’m dead to them.
“Nah, it’s good you’re here.” He taps my arm with his glove. “You’re a good distraction from her problems. She hides it, but she’s fragile.”
I know he’s right, so why the hell couldn’t I keep my mouth off her this morning?
Because she’s irresistible when she looks at me the way she does. It’s fleeting, almost a brush off of sorts. Like she could care less that I exist, except…there’s a heat in them. It burns through my skin, sears my blood with the warmth. Maybe she doesn’t even realize that those bedroom eyes of hers do the exact opposite of making me want to keep my distance. And then she taunts me. Practically dares me to do what I want to her. And it’s almost impossible to stay away from her.
But I should stay away. That much is clear. Even if she wasn’t family. Even if her brothers wouldn’t have my balls for touching her, there was a timidity in the way she kissed me back, almost as if she’s never really kissed a man before. But I know that can’t be true. She was going to get married. That’s a pretty serious step to take. No, she can’t be quite as innocent as I remember.
“So Lanston? Does that mean we’ll see more of you?” Tom tosses a couple light jabs at my m
idsection.
“Anything’s possible.” I uppercut his jaw, and bounce around on the balls of my feet, crowing, “But then, you should have seen that coming.”
“Whatever. I gave you a free hit.” He shifts on his feet, stretching his head from side to side. “You want to quit now, or are you ready to find the mat with your face?”
The round doesn’t end until we’re both flat on the mat, neither one willing to admit defeat.
***
Claire isn’t home when I get there. It’s just me and Lucky. She stares at me with these big brown eyes that beg for a run, so I take her. I still need to burn off excess energy. Maybe if I’m exhausted I’ll be able to keep my hands, my mouth off Claire. I certainly can’t keep her out of my mind. When we get back, Lucky goes straight outside to lap up some water from her bowl before slinking under the shade of the trees at the far end of the yard.
Sweaty from my workout with Tom, and the run, which hasn’t quite taken the edge off the ache in my balls, I strip and jump into the shower, letting her overrun my mind.
Tom’s words interject as I press my forehead against the damp, steamy glass of the shower stall. She’s fragile at the moment because of some prick.
I’m a distraction. That’s all this is. And I took advantage of her fragile state. “You’re a bastard, Bennington,” I mumble under my breath. “You have more control than this. She’s family. You have no fucking right.”
I grit my teeth while the water runs down my back, and I put my head under the stream trying to cleanse her from my mind, but it doesn’t work. If anything I do my best thinking in the shower, and right now she’s the only thing I want to think about. My cock hardens as I replay her mouth beneath mine, and the way she shyly opened to my demands before her tongue mingled with mine so softly I’d thought I might lose my ever loving mind. How her hands caught at my shirt, shakily as she climbed them up to my shoulders. Even now I can feel them there, her fucking hand prints tattooed into my skin like a brand.
Reaching between my legs, I fist my cock and let her fill my imagination the way she has so many times before, only this time it’s more intense because my body remembers her in a way it hasn’t been able to until now. The soap I lather myself with is hers. It smells like her. All honey and vanilla, and I want that. I want her scent surrounding me, filling my senses while I reminisce on how her body fit to me, her hips pushing against mine, my erection pressed into the curve of her belly between us.
I glide my hand up and down my shaft in long lazy strokes, not eager to get off in a perfunctory kind of way. Enjoying the intimate time with her that I can only ever find in my fantasy world. Where I can lay her out like the goddess she is and worship her. I want to taste every part of her, the sweetness of her mouth adding to the ferocity of my hunger. I’d fall at my knees if she’d let me, press my mouth to her sweetest parts. Leaning against the cold tiles, my hips rock into my hand, tighter, faster.
The smallest noise alerts me I’m not alone. The squeak of a hinge that needs a smatter of oil, but it’s enough to set me hyper alert. I freeze for a fraction of a second, open my eyes just enough to peek through my lashes. I sense her before I see her. Her gaze locking on my hand from where she stands just inside the door. Shit!
Wide violet eyes take in what I’m doing, and I think she’s going to run as fucking far and as fast as she can.
But she doesn’t.
Instead she moves closer. Not much. One step inside the door, her throat tensing and relaxing as she swallows and drags her tongue over her bottom lip. If I thought the sensory memory of her was the hottest thing I’d ever get with her, I was dead fucking wrong. My cock throbs, the head surging in her direction, begging for what it really wants. Not my hand, not a supplement, but the real fucking deal. I clench my teeth and groan as I pump into my tight grip, wanting it to be her, her mouth, her tight inner muscles. Whatever part of her she would give a brute like me. But that isn’t going to happen and this is the perfect moment to make her absolutely certain I am not the one she wants.
I pin my gaze on her. A feral growl rips from my throat as I lock her into what I’m doing because of her. Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her like this since I got here.
She still doesn’t run from the room. Her lips part, her hand moves to her throat and runs a trail along where I touched her earlier, as she glides closer. Her thighs are pushed tight together, clenched. I’m so close to getting out of this damn shower and dragging her in with me. I want to take her apart with my mouth, my hands, my cock, and then put her back together by holding her long after I’ve done the vile things my fantasies have revolved around for so long.
She halts right in front of me, only the thin steamy barrier between us, and then she presses her fingers to the glass where I’m fisting my cock, her lips parting in a way that has my balls tightening, drawing into my body. My orgasm explodes through me, spurting in quick hard pumps onto the glass. Her gaze flies to the floor as soon as I’ve cum. She’s trembling, and my chest tightens. With my pulse pounding in my ears so hard I can barely think, I turn to wrench off the water and grab a towel. By the time I wrap it around my waist and turn to confront her, she’s no longer standing there.
“Fuck.”
Chapter Seven
Claire
“Oh my…” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence while I scramble for an appropriate response to the intense experience in the bathroom. I slam the door to the bedroom shut, my hand shaking so much I almost can’t turn the lock. “Oh my…wow.”
He’s hung like a linebacker, or a horse. It’s damn near a fire hose. Not that I know. I’ve only seen pictures on the internet. Maybe that’s the terrifying normality of a male adult dick, but compared to Henley’s junk I’d say Razer got far more than his fair share. I thought I could do this seduction thing, but now I’m not so sure. The schematics alone have my mind jumbled in knots. I shake my head. Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me. That’s all. Surely.
My heart is beating so fast it might explode out of my chest. It thrums in my temples and at the base of my jaw. I swallow hard, my mouth dry as I slump against the door and clasp my hand to my throat. I wanted to seduce him. To make him see me as something more than the little sister I never was. When he kissed me, he’d been so intense I’d almost cum from anticipation, and the demands his lips made of mine. But that was nothing compared to the way he trapped me with his stare while he palmed the length of his cock.
I cross the room, parched, desperate for water to put out the fire raging in my core. The glass beside the bed is empty. There’s nothing that can halt this burning deep inside me, except him. I need to have him so bad my body sings and my palms itch. I should have slipped into the shower with him. He wouldn’t have pushed me away. Not then, not while he was busy getting off to the connection between us. I dart a glance at the door. It’s too late now. The shutters came down in his hooded gaze the moment he came. His muscles had bunched in his back and across his shoulders as he’d turned away from me. He was probably disgusted that I’d watched him, but he’d been so beautiful, so perfectly bared to me.
I sink down on the mattress, crossing my legs, and fan myself. I’m still burning up, still tortured by graphic erotic images. I may be a virgin, but I’m far from dead.
“Claire,” he yells through the door, thumping on it with his fist. “Open up the door right fucking now.”
The unforgiving wood rattles under his assault, and for a second I don’t expect the lock to hold.
My breath pants in and out in little bursts. I could open the door to him. It’s what I want. I’ve fantasized over it for so long. He’d scoop me up, ravage me with his mouth like he did this morning, while his hands explore the intimate areas of my body. A moan escapes my lips with the sweet tortured clench of my clit. I’m across the room with my hand to the door before I even realize I’ve gotten off the bed.
“Let me in, Little Bit,” he slaps his palm against the door.
“Shit, sugar, I can hear how needy you are in your voice.” His tone drops low and throaty, sliding over my skin like silk and smoke. “You need to cum, don’t you?”
Even if I’d been able to ignore how turned on I was already his words send waves of sensation coursing through me. Pressing my back to the panel, I slip my hand inside the waist of my skirt and under the lace of my panties to press a feather light touch to my clit. A whimper escapes me from that slight contact. My clit throbs, swollen from how he affects me. “Make me cum, Razer?”
There’s nothing but silence, and the slow bump of my hips against the door. I imagine his hands aren’t pressed to the other side of the door but pressed to my fevered skin, slipping around my waist to slide over my own hand and dip beneath my fingertips where he wants to touch me more than anything.
“You can’t open this door. You open it, I won’t be able to control myself.” He slams a hand to the wood with a groan. “I want you so fucking bad.”
“You do?” I want to hear him say it again. I want him to admit that we’ve been dancing around each other, with him pretending he doesn’t want me when I know it’s a lie.
“Oh God. I’m losing my fucking mind,” he rumbles. “I want to put my hands on you so bad, want to slip my fingers inside you and feel how wet you are for me before I rip your panties down your sexy legs and put my mouth on your pussy. I bet you taste sweet, sugar.”
