Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)

by Loren, Celia

  The corners of his lips twitch, but again, I can't tell exactly what he's thinking. The silence goes on for second after second as he stares into my eyes, and I feel a knot of worry begin to form in my stomach. Did I completely misread this situation?

  "So after we land, we go our separate ways?" he finally asks.

  "Exactly," I reply.

  "That sounds...perfect," he finally murmurs. His eyes dart once toward the bathroom just behind our row. "Only thing is, this bum leg has left me...somewhat less than acrobatic."

  "Ah. Well, the size of the first class bathrooms makes that a bit less of a problem," I reply with a smile.

  "Everything's better up here," he says, and pauses again. I hold my breath, though I try to maintain a cool, confident exterior. "I'll meet you in there in two minutes."

  I try not to seem too excited. "Perfect," I reply instead with a coy smile. I reach into my purse and discreetly tuck a condom into the sleeve of my cotton shirt. With a glance around to make sure that no one's been watching us, I nonchalantly stand up and turn to the back of the first class area where the bathrooms are. Most everyone else in the cabin seems to be sleeping, as the flight is nearing its end and the sky outside is dark, though there are a couple people toward the front illuminated by the glow of video screens.

  I let myself into the bathroom and then close the door behind me, turning the lock. I quickly examine myself in the mirror: under-eye bags a bit better after the nap, hair slightly greasy but fine...how's my breath? I breathe into my hand and then turn on the faucet, leaning my mouth under the stream of water and then gargling before spitting it back out.

  I give a quick glance over my body. I might not have been working out in a gym while in Paris, but I did walk everywhere. Had to, considering how many pastries I was eating at the bakery. I wish I were wearing cuter underwear beneath my yoga pants, but I didn't really consider the possibility of a quickie on the plane.

  There are two soft knocks at the door. I take a deep breath. I'm regretting my decision to stop drinking at the beginning of the flight rather than the end. A few vodka sodas would really take the edge of my nervousness right now. In fact, I can't remember the last time I had a one-night stand sober. The thought strikes me a bit funny, but I don't have time to really turn it over in my mind. I reach forward and undo the lock, then step back against the sink.

  He steps inside and snorts as he looks around. "You weren't kidding." He closes and locks the door behind him, leaning heavily on his left leg. I swallow hard. Standing next to him for the first time, I can see how far he towers over me. He must be as tall as my brother, nearly six foot three or four. "There's actually space in here for a lot of things," he says musingly as he steps forward until he's just inches away from me. "But since we should probably make this fast..."

  His arm flies out and snakes around my waist. He pulls me against him hard, taking my breath away. I look up at him wide-eyed, feeling my heartbeat pounding. My breasts pillow against his chest, covered in a long-sleeved army green shirt. I freeze. I haven't felt this turned on in ages.

  "Having second thoughts?" he asks with that infuriatingly hard-to-read expression.

  I smile and slide my hand across his broad thigh and over his hardening cock. "Nope. You?"

  His answer is to lean down and cover my mouth with his. I melt into him as our lips open at the same time and our tongues explore against each other. His mouth tastes like mint, but his scent up close is smoky, like charred wood. I'd love to take my time, but he was right about the need for speed.

  I grudgingly pull away and whip my shirt over my head. He looks momentarily surprised and then grins. He must not have noticed before that I wasn't wearing a bra, which I stubbornly refuse to do on flights longer than a couple hours. He wraps one arm back around my waist and palms my right breast in his other one. My head sags back as he gently twists my nipple, and I gasp as he takes it in his mouth with a firm suck.

  I reach out my hands and push his shirt up to the bottom of his pecs, running my hands over his etched abdominal muscles. He can't be bothered to stop his tongue action on my breasts long enough to take off his shirt, and I'm certainly not going to force the issue. Leaving the shirt halfway off, I move my hands down to his fly, tugging the zipper down and reaching inside his boxer shorts. I'm not surprised to find that the size of his cock more than matches the rest of his body. I wrap my hand firmly around it, moving up and down as I pull it out of his pants.

  He releases my breast and takes my chin in his hand, holding my face as he kisses me again. I open my mouth completely to him, wet with desire as he uses his other hand to pull my pants and underwear down to just below my ass. Just as suddenly as he pulled me toward him, he now turns me around, pressing my thighs up against the counter holding the sink.

  He places his hands on the sides of my waist and then draws them upward along the sides of my ribs. I look up to the wide mirror above the sink and see that he's watching me. My lips part as he moves his hands under my armpits and keeps going, pulling my arms up and out. As his hands reach mine, he presses mine against the mirror. I leave them there, knowing that's what he wants me to do.

  His hands move back down. I watch as he spreads his fingers across my breasts and then down over my stomach. I realize I'm shaking with desire as he presses his cock up against my bare ass. The fingers of his right hand move into my thin sliver of pubic hair and part my lips. I moan as he slips a finger over my aching, wet clit. Oh fuck, I could come right now.

  Reading my reaction, his eyes flicker over to the condom, sitting on the edge of the sink where I left it. He picks it up and tears it open with his teeth with an animalistic grunt. I'm practically panting now, my whole body thrumming with the desire for completion.

  His hands reappear at my hips, grasping them firmly and tilting them upward slightly. I arch my back and feel his tip pressing at my opening. I wince as he thrusts inside me. Damn, he must be the biggest I've ever had. He slows down, eyes glued on my facial expression in the mirror. I relax my muscles around his length, but now I'm trembling. He eases back out and then slowly presses back in. I bite my lip to hold back a moan. He's stretching me so far open, and the feeling is so exquisite that I'm not sure how much more I can take.

  He moves one hand around and sinks a finger back against my clit. My body almost crumples as he flicks it back and forth and simultaneously draws his hips back and thrusts in again. I force myself to keep my hands on the mirror, wanting to feel more and more even though I'm already overwhelmed with pleasure.

  He begins to pump inside me faster. My mouth drops open as my awareness of everything else but the feel of him inside me and against me falls away. It's just him and me, moving together, building...my pleasure spikes suddenly, launching me into an orgasm. My hands fist against the mirror as I struggle to keep my cries quiet. I hear him grunt behind me as he releases himself at the same time, our bodies pressing against each other a few more times as we eke out every last moment of the experience.

  Chapter Four

  I feel his head fall against the back of my neck. The hair of his beard tickles my sweaty skin as he softly brushes a kiss on my spine. As he stands back up, I raise my head and slowly open my eyes. I feel like I was just transported, and am surprised to be seeing that I've been in this airplane bathroom the whole time.

  I blush as he locks eyes with me in the bathroom mirror, surprising myself. I'm not ashamed of what's just happened, but I'm feeling oddly vulnerable. He pulls out, and I grab a tissue and hand it to him, taking one for myself. My mind is a blank, and I can't think of anything to say, which is quite unlike me.

  "What?" I finally say as I catch him looking at me.

  "Nothing. It's just been a while since I've met someone like you."

  "Well, haven't you been in a war zone?"

  He lets out an abrupt bark of laughter. "Good point. Ladies first," he adds sweeping his arm toward the door.

  I check myself in the mirror. I'm certainly flushed
, but the cabin is dimly lit now anyway. I unlock the door and close it behind me. No one looks my way as I sit back down in my seat. Outside the window, I can see the lights of the Florida panhandle below us. Almost home.

  Next to me, I hear the veteran's limping walk as he returns to his seat. I don't turn my head, and a frown creases across my forehead. I was hoping to get men out of my system for a while with this last fling, but right now, all I want is a second round with this one. And a third, and a fourth...

  I usually can't orgasm with someone I've just met. The sex will still be fun and all, but usually I have to be in a long-term relationship for the comfort level I need to orgasm. And not to mention, that orgasm was one of the best I've ever had. Maybe the best. OK, definitely the best. I feel like my head just popped off my body.

  No. No, no, no. This guy, this fling, this whatever, is no different from the others. I do this every time. I become immediately infatuated and lose myself and all perspective. And with every one, I tell myself that this one is different. But it never is. This just confirms that I was right to swear off men altogether.

  Outside, the engines make a whooshing sound, and the flaps on the wings change angles. The seatbelt light turns on and Luc comes down the aisle, peering into every row. I fasten the belt over me, and Luc smiles as he passes me. I can't tell if he's just being polite, or if he saw me go into the bathroom with the stranger. I'm sure we're not the first people to join the mile-high club on his watch.

  "It was a suicide bomber."

  I turn my head toward him. He said it so quietly that I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. He's staring out the window past me, eyes glazed.

  "I know you didn't ask. But you're the first person I've actually wanted to tell. We were training members of the Afghan army, and one of them had a vest on under his clothes. Got four of our unit, including my best friend."

  He looks up at me, though his mind is somewhere else behind his eyes. The thousand yard stare. I've heard of it but never seen it before, though somehow I recognize it immediately. I want to reach across the console and take his hand in mine, but something stops me.

  "Maybe you're right. Maybe there's safety in being strangers," he murmurs. "Hell, most of the time I just want to head out into the wilderness and never come back."

  I smile sadly and nod. See? I was right. The other shoe always drops. I always manage to be attracted to the completely unavailable men. This one's so damaged he doesn't even want to be a part of society anymore.

  "I'd say I'm sorry, but I know it's not pity you're looking for," I murmur. "Whatever it is, though, I hope you find it."

  "Hope," he repeats. "Hope," he murmurs again, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. I leave him to them, turning back to the window.

  The plane begins its descent in earnest. Soon the pilot lowers the landing gear, and we make a smooth touch down. As the plane taxis to the gate, the passengers around us undo their seatbelts and turn their cell phones back on. I reach under my seat for my purse and stand up as the jetway is attached. Luc appears at our row with the man's crutches.

  "You go ahead," he says.

  I nod and step around him. I'd like to say something, but with Luc standing there and the other passengers walking past, it feels awkward. I turn back, and all I can do is smile. He nods, and I follow the rest of the passengers into the terminal.

  I walk quickly, trying to shake off any lingering emotions and leave them on the plane. This is the start of my new chapter, and I can't be bringing a bunch of emotional baggage with me. Physical baggage, though, is a different story.

  I wait for my suitcases at the carousel. It takes a while for them to be unloaded from the plane, and I grab a trolley to help me carry them out. Finally, the alarm sounds, and I spot the first piece of my luggage, followed closely by the second and third. I heave them onto the trolley and pull it out toward the pickup area.

  I take out my phone and scroll through my emails, searching for the one from my dad's assistant, telling me the make and license plate of the driver's car. I told him I could just take a taxi, but he was quite insistent, and he got his way as usual.

  "Ms. Stratton?" a voice says. I look up to see a short, balding man smiling obsequiously at me. He gestures behind himself to his stretch limo. "May I take your bags?"

  "Um, sure," I murmur. "Wait, no," I say, as I find the email. That car's been sent for me, actually." I nod to a burly man in a dark suit standing by a similarly dark Escalade. I double-check the license plate, and give him a wave. "How did you know my name, though?"

  "Recognized you from the society pages. My client missed his flight, so..." he trails off with a shrug.

  "Ah, gotcha." I turn toward the Escalade. Hi! I'm Lex," I introduce myself to the large man and shake his hand. He almost breaks mine with his monster grip.

  "Ma'am," he says formally. "Let me get your bags." He loads them into the trunk as I hop in the backseat. When he gets into the driver's seat and shuts the door, I lean forward.

  "What's your name?"

  "Roger Gleason, ma'am."

  "You don't have to call me that. You can call me Lex." He pauses, seeming to waver. I glance out the tinted window and spot the veteran. He's got two duffel bags slung across his wide chest and is still walking with his crutches, glancing around, probably looking for the taxi line. And I'm the one who gets a driver. I know we said we'd go our separate ways, but I can't just leave him struggling like this.

  Roger starts to pull away. "Hang on a sec," I tell him, and roll down the window. "Hey, stranger! Need a ride?"

  He glances up. "I can handle it."

  "Alright, then let's just say I want the company." I turn to Roger. "Help him with his bags, will you?" I murmur. Roger hops out and takes the duffels. The veteran frowns, but lets him. He stares at the car for a second, then walks toward it. I shift over to the other seat so he can take the closer one, and push the door open for him. He lays his crutches on the floor and then hops in. Roger gets back in the front seat and looks in the rearview mirror.

  "Where to, sir?"

  "Um, one second. I'm not sure of the address," he replies, taking out an old flip phone and scrolling through his texts.

  "Not going home?" I ask as Roger finally pulls the car away from the curb.

  "Well, I guess it's home now. My mom's getting remarried, and this is her fiance's house."

  "Oh, that's funny. My dad's getting remarried," I remark. As I hear the words come out of my mouth, my heart skips a beat. It can't be... He's still looking down at his phone. I lower my voice. "What's your last name?"

  "Thought we were doing this whole anonymous thing."

  "Your mom is getting remarried. My dad's fiancé just moved into his house with her daughter," I recap. His eyes widen.

  "No. Oh, fuck," he swears. "Is your last name Stratton?"

  "Yep," I answer shortly, leaning back in my seat with a grimace.

  "Fuck," he repeats.

  "What exit should I take?" Roger asks from the front seat as we speed along the highway.

  "It's just going to be one stop," I reply. "Turns out this is my future step-brother."

  Chapter Five

  The ride back to my house, our house, is awkward to say the least. I have to ask Roger to turn the radio on because the silence is so deafening. If only the music could quiet my thoughts. I can't stop berating myself for making yet another stupid decision. I need some kind of very specific life coach that will take over all the decision-making when it comes to men.

  So much for staying strangers. I'm going to be living with this guy! Carter is his name, I remember from my brief talks with Jack. Now that I think about it, I do remember him saying that the brother was in the military, but I thought the brother was the younger sibling, so I was picturing a fresh-faced private, not a bearded, full-grown professional soldier.

  I steal a glance at Carter. It goes without saying that we're going to keep this a secret, right? My instinct is that I don't have to worry about him. He see
ms like he'd be discreet, barring his one confession toward the end of the flight. I wonder if he regrets opening up to me now. Oh, shit. I told him the truth about what I've been doing in Paris. Perfect. Just perfect.

  At the security gates to our private neighborhood, Roger leans out and flashes his ID. The guard takes his time looking it over, and for the first time, I notice Carter shifting around in his seat. He's been completely still ever since we figured out the truth of our...relationship.

  Finally, we're let in, and I glance out the window at the passing homes, glaringly bright even in the darkness. The measure of opulence is so different here. In Paris, it was quieter, a whisper. Here, people are shouting about their wealth from the rooftops of their gilded mansions.

  Roger pulls into the circular driveway and stops at the front door. As he hops out and goes to the trunk for our luggage, I lean over and whisper hurriedly to Carter.

  "We first met when we were coming out of baggage claim and you have no idea what I was doing in Paris, OK?" He nods in agreement and I hear the trunk open. "And my name's Alexa. Lex."

  I hop out of the car and look up as the front door opens. A very attractive woman with her dark hair worn in a long bob opens the door with a welcoming smile. Anne, I presume, my father's fiancée.

  "Hi," she says. "I'm—" she breaks off as she glances to the other side of the car where Carter is stepping out onto the paving stones. She gasps, tears springing to her eyes. She runs toward him, catching him off-balance as she flings her arms around his neck. He rubs her back as she sobs against his chest. I avert my eyes, wanting to give them some privacy. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" she says, leaning her head back and slapping him on the shoulder.