Stepbrother Studs: Preston

by Selena Kitt

  “Fuck…” he swore under his breath, and then he grabbed her, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. “Lara, I can’t… I just can’t resist you. Maybe I’ll be damned to hell for this, but it can’t be any worse than living without you for the rest of my life.”

  Her heart soared at his words and her mouth found his. She put everything she felt into that kiss—years of missing him, wishing for him, wanting him back. Her elation was bigger than the both of them—and so was her desire. Preston tried feebly to push her off when she climbed into his lap—she straddled him, squeezing her thighs against his hips, mouth slanting across his—but it was no use. Lara knew what she wanted and he wasn’t going to deny her anymore.

  Her blouse was already undone and his shirt was off as they got tangled in the sheets on her bed. Lara’s hair caught in her locket and she smiled, slipping it off over her head to put it on the nightstand. She never took it off—the picture of him she’d put in it, along with her mother’s, meant the world to her—but he was here, now, with her, flesh and blood. Preston kissed her down onto the mattress and she gasped as her hands moved to his waistband, finding a holster there.

  That’s when a voice from the doorway sent Lara backwards in time—suddenly, she was fifteen-years-old again, vulnerable, helpless, trapped.

  “Get off her.”

  Preston did, grabbing his shirt and yanking it on—but not with any shame. He was up in an instant, facing his father, the two of them toe-to-toe. Lara buttoned her blouse, covering herself with shaking hands as she saw them squaring off.

  “You won’t ever touch her again.” Preston’s voice was low and full of hate. “Never. Again.”

  Lara saw her stepfather’s mouth move into a grim smile as he looked from Lara to Preston and back again.

  “She’s mine, son,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can do whatever I want.”

  “Not anymore.” Preston’s hands were clenched at his sides. “We’re leaving. And if you don’t get out of our way, I’m going to kill you.”

  Those words made her go cold all over. It was the very thing she’d always feared would happen—and she knew Preston meant exactly what he said. He was a full-grown man now, and her stepfather didn’t have the strength he used to. Sizing them up, she knew who would win that fight, but in this case, winning meant losing. Preston might kill his father, but he’d lose his freedom. He’d spend the rest of his life in jail.

  “Why don’t we let her choose?” Her stepfather crossed his arms, looking over at her, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Lara?”

  Fuck you, she thought, her limbs going cold. She was looking at him with so much hatred, she knew he had to feel it. He was really going to make her choose between them?

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head, shooting Preston a desperate, helpless look.

  I choose you, she thought, meeting her stepbrother’s eyes—but she couldn’t say it.

  Preston had come here to save her—and now, she was going to have to save him from himself.

  “You decide.” Her stepfather’s smile grew wider as he took a step back, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “If you want to leave with him, that’s your choice.”

  She knew he was lying. He would never let her go. The instant she stood beside Preston, he would attack. There was no way out of this, she realized. If her stepfather won, Preston would be dead—for real this time. If Preston won, she’d lose him again, because he’d be spending a lifetime behind bars.

  Lara felt herself begin to drift, her consciousness floating somewhere above her head. It happened a lot when she was around her stepfather. It was as if she left her own body, like she was watching a movie—of someone else’s life, someone else’s pain.

  “Lara,” Preston said, holding his hand out to her. “Come on.”

  She wanted to cry but she couldn’t. Most of all, she wanted to go to him.

  I choose you.

  That’s what she’d said.

  And now she was going to have to betray him.

  Don’t do this.

  Her mind screamed at her but Lara’s body wasn’t her own anymore.

  She stood, crossing the floor, and went to stand beside her stepfather. His arm went around her shoulder and she glimpsed the light in his eyes, a smug smile spreading over his face, before she dropped her gaze to the floor.

  I love you, Preston, she thought, feeling his gaze on her but unable to meet it. Now you can really be free.

  “See?” her stepfather said. She could hear him grinning. “She’s mine.”

  “No, she’s not.” Preston’s voice was low but sure. “And neither am I. We’re not your property. And when I tell the authorities where I’ve been—you’re going to jail.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Her stepfather laughed and Lara closed her eyes, full of dread. “But you are. One phone call—and you’re going back.”

  Back where? Lara wondered, looking between the two of them, but she didn’t have any more time to wonder as Preston sprang at his father.

  Lara screamed, “No!” trying to get between the two of them.

  Her stepfather shoved her out of the way, hard, and she fell into the bureau, catching herself on the edge.

  “Lara!” Preston called, getting her attention. She whirled around to look at him, locked in a tussle with her stepfather. “Run!”

  Run? She didn’t want to leave him—not now. Not ever.

  “Go!” Preston yelled, dodging a blow and throwing a left-hook that left her stepfather reeling.

  She ran. Blindly at first, then heading for the wide, curving staircase. She slipped twice, nearly tumbling down the stairs, but caught herself. At the bottom, she stopped, trying to catch her breath. The Christmas tree towered beside her, lights blinking merrily, gifts stacked beneath it. The fact that it was Christmas Eve seemed very strange and faraway now.

  Standing in the foyer, she looked around, wondering what to do, where to go.

  Then she heard the shot. She’d been hunting with her stepfather enough to know what a gun sounded like when it went off.

  “No,” she whispered, hearing someone running down the hall upstairs.

  Lara gripped the stair rail, her heart lurching in her chest.

  She sighed with relief when Preston appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying her suitcase.

  “Is he—?” she asked, looking up at him coming down the stairs.

  “Wounded.” Preston pulled her into a one-armed hug. Her heart began to beat again. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her stepfather dead—but she wanted Preston’s freedom more.

  “Let’s go.” He steered her toward the front door.

  They almost made it.

  She shrieked when the bullet shot past her ear, shattering the glass in the ornate front door. Preston whirled, putting her behind him.

  “You open that door and I’ll kill her.”

  Lara couldn’t see much around Preston’s body, but she glimpsed her stepfather’s leg, his pants bloody.

  “She’s mine. Do you understand me? And I’ll kill her before I let you have her.”

  Her stepfather’s words, coming closer as he made his way down the stairs, made her shrink against Preston’s back, trembling with fear. She had no doubt that he meant it.

  “Lara,” Preston said, his voice quite low. “I want you to run the first chance you get.”

  She shook her head, clinging to his jacket. She didn’t want to leave him, not again.

  “Lara!” Her stepfather boomed, and she felt her knees buckle. If she hadn’t been holding on to Preston, she would have fallen to the floor. “Get over here!”

  Once again, she felt herself drifting. It was like an autonomic response now, like breathing—she floated up, looking down at the scene from above. She could see Lara, hiding behind her stepbrother. It was her, but not her.

  “Don’t make me say it again!” Her stepfather’s voice was full of anger, but also full of pain. He’d been shot—w
ounded.

  Her hands moved around Preston’s waist and she felt it—the gun was cold and hard.

  “Lara,” Preston said, his hand moving down to catch her, but he was a second too slow.

  “Goddamnit, Lara!” Her stepfather’s voice was closer now as she stepped out from behind Preston.

  When he saw her appear, he holstered his gun, holding his hand out for her. She saw the triumph in his eyes, the smile spreading wider on his face. She was his property and he wasn’t going to ever let her go. Tears flooded her vision.

  “I don’t belong to you.” Lara raised the Glock and fired.

  Her stepfather staggered, howling in pain, holding his shoulder as red bloomed across his pristine, white dress shirt underneath his clutching hand.

  She swiped at the tears falling down her face—only so she could aim better—and it was the only thing that saved her stepfather from a bullet to his heart. Preston quickly disarmed her, pulling her behind him again and keeping the gun trained on his father.

  “We’re leaving,” Preston informed him. “Don’t try to follow us—or next time, you’ll get a bullet to the head.”

  Her stepfather sank down, sitting on the stairs, looking defeated.

  Preston opened the door, broken glass crinkling under their feet, and he shoved her suitcase out with his foot. He kept the gun aimed at his father until he had Lara out the door, shutting it behind them. Then he holstered it, grabbing her bag and her hand, and they began to run.

  It had been snowing all day and there was more than a foot on the ground. The service had come to shovel the walk and plow the drive just a few hours ago—even on Christmas Eve, her father could buy whatever he liked—but another few inches had already blanketed the concrete.

  Preston hurried her to the driveway, which would lead them out to the gate.

  “Where are we going?” she panted, glancing back to see if they were being followed.

  “Airport.” He pressed her in front of him, keeping his body between her and the house. “I hid my car down the road.”

  “I’m amazed you made it up the mountain in a car with all the snow.” Lara shivered, hugging herself against the cold. She hadn’t had time to grab her coat.

  “It’s just a foot or so—we’re supposed to get more, though.” Preston noticed her chattering teeth, stopping to slide his jacket off. “Here.”

  She accepted it, letting him put it on her. It was when she went to pull her hair out from under the collar that she realized it was missing.

  “My locket!” she cried, clutching at her throat. “I left it on my dresser.”

  “No!” Preston reached for her but she was already running up the drive. “Lara, no!”

  “I have to!” She couldn’t leave it—it was the only thing she’d had of her mother, and of Preston, for so long. She was sure she could get in and out without him seeing her. Besides, he was wounded. She headed toward the side of the big house, not the front. “Don’t worry, I’ll go up the back stairs. I’ll meet you at the gate!”

  She heard him give a low growl and head after her. Glancing back, she saw him gaining, and she knew, if he caught up to her, she’d never see her locket again. He would never let her back inside the house.

  But she had to have it. It had been her mother’s, and leaving it behind felt like losing a limb.

  Lara skidded on ice as she neared the side entrance, gasping and barely catching herself on the door handle. She heard Preston swear—he’d hit a patch of ice, too, but he didn’t have anything to hold onto. Instead, he went down onto his hip, putting a hand out to save himself a head injury.

  “Are you ok?” she called, pushing open the side door, hearing him cursing her as he made his way to standing again.

  “I knew you’d come back.” Her stepfather’s voice, greeting her at the door, made her bladder spasm and her legs feel suddenly numb.

  She couldn’t see him very well—it was dark inside—but she did see the glint of his gun. Then his hand shot out and he grabbed the front of her blouse, yanking her into the house.

  Lara screamed. “Preston!”

  He was just outside the door—she heard his feet in the snow.

  Then her stepfather raised the gun and brought the butt of it down against her head so hard that Lara saw stars. Bright flashes of light appeared behind her eyes as they closed and she sank, slowly, into darkness.

  ~ Present Day ~

  “You got my locket.” Lara turned it over in her fingers. It was the only thing she was wearing, Preston spooned behind her in the darkness. It was real dark now, not just her own personal darkness. Outside the window, the night sky was filled with stars.

  “Barely.” Preston’s voice was thick, but it was slowly coming back.

  “It was a fire, wasn’t it?” She couldn’t remember much past when her stepfather had hit her—her memory was spotty after that. She’d been dreaming of hell and had woken to find she was tied up and everything was on fire. Then he’d hit her again. There was nothing at all after that. “In the drawing room.”

  “Yes,” was his gravelly reply.

  The smoke had damaged his throat, but not permanently. Just like her eyes.

  She hesitated a moment before asking, “Did you kill him?”

  “I left him.”

  Lara thought it was fitting that her stepfather had died in a fiery blaze that she’d mistaken, in her hazy state, as hell itself.

  “I’m sorry. I was so stupid.” She let her locket fall between her breasts with a sigh. “If I hadn’t gone back…”

  “Shhh.” He kissed the top of her head.

  Lara’s gaze moved around the room, as familiar to her as home, now that she could see.

  They were in the cabin in the mountains, the one they’d hiked to, like Hansel and Gretel lost.

  But they weren’t lost anymore, she thought. They’d finally found each other.

  Out the window, the snow continued to fall. She didn’t have to ask him why he’d brought her here, carrying her up the mountain. The roads would be impassable by now and, without Phillip, neither of them could fly the helicopter. They would have to wait here together until the storm passed. Then they would go down the mountain and face whatever was down there, together.

  She turned toward him in the dark, so they were lying belly to belly. He pulled the covers up over her cool skin, kissing her softly.

  “Preston…” She could feel his heart beating as she pressed her cheek to his chest. “I don’t want you to hurt your throat… but… when he said… when he said he was going to send you back… what did he mean? Back where?”

  There was silence for a long time, and Lara said, “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

  Preston’s arms tightened around her and he whispered, “Labor camp.”

  Labor camp?

  Her mind didn’t want to accept this, even though she knew he was telling her the truth.

  “Russia?” she asked, although she already knew, before he nodded.

  Her stepfather had always done business internationally, traveling all over the world. And he was a hard man—much worse, after he’d lost his wife.

  It didn’t surprise her that he had the ability to make one phone call and send some perceived enemy to an eternally dark, Eastern European labor camp to live out the rest of his days.

  But that he would do his to his own son—his only son—made her blood run cold.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, pulling him to her, cradling him as he pressed his cheek against her breast.

  She stroked his head—his hair was just beginning to grow back in.

  “They shaved your head?”

  He nodded as she stroked his neck, his back, feeling the scars there.

  “They beat you?”

  Another nod.

  She couldn’t imagine what he’d had to endure the past four years.

  It would have been a lifetime, she realized with a shiver, if Preston hadn’t found a way out.

  S
he didn’t know how he’d done it, but he had.

  “You escaped…” She lifted his face so she could kiss him, tasting the salt of his tears.

  “I love you,” he whispered against her mouth and she let her own tears fall.

  “You’re free,” she said as they parted. “You set us both free. You can go anywhere you want. Do anything you want.”

  “I want you.” He pulled her into his arms, and she settled herself there, back where she belonged.

  This man was all she had left in the world—but he was all she’d ever wanted.

  Now that she had him back, she knew that she would never let him go again.

  The End

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  ABOUT SELENA KITT

  Selena Kitt is a NEW YORK TIMES bestselling and award-winning author of erotic and romance fiction. She is one of the highest selling erotic writers in the business with over two million books sold!

  Her writing embodies everything from the spicy to the scandalous, but watch out-this kitty also has sharp claws and her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.

  When she’s not pawing away at her keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company (excessica.com) and bookstore (excitica.com), as well as two erotica and erotic romance promotion companies (excitesteam.com and excitespice.com) and she now runs the Erotica Readers and Writers Association.

  Her books EcoErotica (2009), The Real Mother Goose (2010) and Heidi and the Kaiser (2011) were all Epic Award Finalists. Her only gay male romance, Second Chance, won the Epic Award in Erotica in 2011. Her story, Connections, was one of the runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic short story of “exceptional literary quality.”