A Baby for My Military Stepbrother 1
Cassandra Zara
Published by Lost Innocence Publishing, 2015.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A BABY FOR MY MILITARY STEPBROTHER 1
First edition. April 6, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Cassandra Zara.
Written by Cassandra Zara.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About this Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Will I end up giving a baby to my military stepbrother? Keep reading...
Want More Sexy Stepbrothers?
Check out my other stories!
Further Reading: A Baby for My Billionaire Stepbrother
About the Author
About this Book
“Don't worry, I'll be gentle to start...”
When I stumbled toward my parents' home after a night of drinking, the last person I wanted to see was him. With huge muscles able to help me into his car, most people would have been happy to have Ian save them. I wasn't. I knew that my stepbrother would never let me live it down.
I hadn't seen Ian since his last Tour of Duty with the Army, but I had grown up quite a bit. Sure, I was still a virgin, but I was no longer a little girl.
I knew that Ian only wanted one thing in life and that it pained him to not have it. He covered it up with his duty for his country and his honorable service, but I knew better. And what better way to thank my troops and make my own dreams come true than to give him exactly what he wanted.
A baby.
***
Ian turned the engine off and we both sat in the car, unwilling to break the silence. A strange tension, an energy that we couldn't fight, permeated the interior of the car.
A raindrop fell from Ian's hair, tracing down his cheek, to his jaw and then down his throat. I wished I could lick it off. Taste the rain on his skin.
Something inside of me snapped. The want was just too much to handle. If I didn't kiss him, I would explode and regret this moment for the rest of my life. If I didn't kiss him, I would die.
He turned, opening his mouth to say something, and I took my moment and kissed him.
He didn't pull back. God, he tasted good. Better than I could have hoped for. I kissed him harder, afraid that he would pull back and laugh at me at any moment, or pull away in disgust.
But he didn't. Instead, he tangled his fingers in my hair, his tongue questing for mine. I opened my mouth, and he filled it. His kiss was raw and primal.
Gasping, we broke apart. My body ached for more, trying desperately to override my too-cautious and currently freaking out brain.
“We can't do this,” Ian whispered. This man who had withstood enemy fire, mortars, and bombs going off inches away from him was trembling. Because of me. Because of a once-skinny little brat who couldn't stop herself from kissing him.
“We shouldn't,” I whispered back. My fingers clung to his wet shirt and his were still tangled in my hair.
“You're right.” He nodded, not releasing his grip on me.
He tugged, pulling me into another kiss. I whimpered with pure desire. Every nerve of my body was alive with need. I'd never wanted anyone like this. My brain said this was wrong, but my body knew it was right. So right. His tongue caressed mine, and he nibbled on my lower lip. I whimpered again, consumed with pure and utter lust for him.
“Maybe we should just get it out of our systems,” he murmured...
***
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Chapter One
I was drunk.
Not just tipsy, or slightly inebriated, but going-to-make-bad-decisions-and-wake-up-with-a-hang-over drunk. Everything was a little blurry and my feet were taking about three seconds to respond to any command I gave them. At least I was too drunk to feel the ache in my feet from wearing too tall heels and walking around.
And I had no idea how to get back to the bar.
Thunder rumbled overhead, but I wasn't worried. The storm had swept through earlier in the evening, leaving everything wet and clean, and the thunder was on its way out. The afternoon thunderstorms this time of year could be brutal and violent, but once they passed the weather would calm and be beautiful until the next late afternoon shower.
I stared up at a street sign, trying to sift through blurry memories of the local streets on how to either get back to the bar or to get back to my parent's house. I had left the smoky bar to get some fresh air, thinking of the elementary school playground just a few blocks away. There was a swing there that my drunken brain had decided was the best place to be in the middle of the night. Only, now that I was outside, I couldn't remember where anything was.
“Oak Street or Oak Avenue to get to Oak Elementary?” I said out loud into the dark night. Whoever had come up with the names for our small town sucked. Seriously. There were enough tree names out there that they didn't need to double dip on Streets, Avenues, and school names. With a shrug, I picked Oak Avenue and stepped into the street to continue looking for the playground.
A car with incredibly bright headlights screeched to a halt in front of me. How had I missed those coming my way? I was more drunk than I thought. Instead of moving out of the road like a sane person, I stood in the middle of the road blinking at the headlights like a deer.
The driver's side door opened, creaking slightly and finally making me jump and move out of the way of the car. It was only thirty seconds too late to actually save me. I really hoped whoever this driver was would just yell at me and maybe point me back in the direction of the bar.
“Hayley Hemingway?”
Anticipation, lust, regret, and disgust all settled in the pit of my stomach. I knew that voice. It was the voice that haunted my secret dreams. It was the voice that I imagined when I was alone in my bed with no one to tell me it was wrong. It was the voice that I shouldn't want to hear, yet I couldn't stop my body from responding to.
It was my stepbrother's voice. Ian Jackson's voice.
“Hayley? Is that you?” The driver's door slammed shut and he stepped in front of the light. All I could see was his silhouette against the bright headlights. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. Tight ass.
He hurried over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. Now that he was closer, I could see his features and I stared up at him. I hadn't seen him in months, but he looked exactly the way I remembered. The way he did in my dreams.
He had a strong jaw with just the hint of stubble, a slightly crooked nose from being hit by a football in high school, and dirty blonde, military-styled hair. But it was his eyes that drew me in and made me forget everything. They were so blue that I knew the sky had to be jealous of the hue. And right now they were mad.
“What the fuck, Hayley!? Are you okay?” He moved his hands from my shoulders down my arms, checking for broken bones. He must have been coming home from the military base because he was still wearing his ACU's, but he had forgotten to put on his hat in his rush to get to me. “What are you doing in the middle of the road?”
My reason for being out here suddenly seemed very, very stupid. Especially when Ian was looking at me and touching me. “I... I got lost.”
“Lost?” He dropped his hands immediately and I suddenly realized how cold it was out here in the dark. He looked around an
d up at the street signs. “You've lived here your whole life, and you got lost?”
“I haven't lived here for three years, okay?” I replied defensively. I didn't know how he did it, but he had the ability to rile me up without even trying. He was the only person that could get under my skin. “I was looking for the elementary school.”
Ian crossed his arms across his broad chest and motioned his head in the complete opposite direction I had been heading. “Oak Elementary is three blocks that way.”
“Oh. Well, that explains why I couldn't find it,” I said lamely. As soon as he said it, I figured out where I was. I felt like a complete idiot. Especially in front of Ian.
I took a step toward the elementary school, determined to at least attempt to play it cool, but the heel of my shoe wiggled, throwing me off balance. Ian's strong hands were on my shoulders, steadying me before I even had a chance to fall. His touch made my heart jump into my throat. It didn't make any sense, but I had this strange idea that if he touched me, he would know how attracted I was to him.
His grip tightened slightly. His skin was hot against mine, burning straight into me. He pulled me closer, dipping his face toward mine. For one fraction of a second, my drunk brain thought he was going to kiss me and my heart thrilled.
I shouldn't want him. I shouldn't feel this way. But I did.
I closed my eyes and waited for heaven.
“Hayley, how much have you had to drink tonight?”
That was not what I was expecting. My eyes fluttered open to find his blue eyes intent on mine. His lips curved up in a self-satisfied smirk. I wasn't sure if it was because he was going to get me in trouble or if it was the fact that I was primed for a kiss.
“Not that much,” I informed him. I reluctantly pulled away from him, wrapping my arms around myself. To be honest, I wasn't actually sure. How many shots did I have? Five? Seven?
I had turned twenty-one just a few days before coming home, so now that I was back, all my high school friends had met me at the bar to celebrate. They kept buying drinks for me, and since I wasn't paying for them, I had lost count.
“Hayley.” Ian's voice was stern. One eyebrow lifted and he crossed his arms to mirror my pose. “How many?”
I fidgeted slightly. He had no reason to grill me. None. I wasn't actually his sister. We had only been “related” for three years, and had only lived under the same roof for about six months. If our parents hadn't married, he would have absolutely no reason to even acknowledge my presence. Yet, here he was, seemingly taking a perverse delight in grilling me.
“Not your business,” I snapped, trying to turn and wobbling again.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he said, grabbing my arm to keep me from falling. He had been ready to catch me, yet again. The fact that he was so eager to rescue me made my stomach do flip flops, but for right now, I didn't want him here. I wanted to go back to the bar and drink some more. My buzz was starting to wear off.
“No,” I told him, pulling away. I looked for something to distract him so I could get away. “You don't have your hat on, soldier.”
His hand flew up to his bare head, realizing his mistake but obviously also realizing that it wasn't his biggest problem right now. “Who fucking cares, Hayley?” He focused those blue eyes on me. I'm sure they got the men under his command to do anything he wanted. Hell, they had gotten half the girls in school to do what he wanted, but I wasn't about to back down. “Get in the car, Hayley.”
“Or what?” The sass in my voice surprised me. I rarely pushed him.
He took a step in closer. Close enough for me to smell him. He smelled of uniform and aftershave, strong and protective. My mind flashed to one of my fantasies, the one where he bent me over his knee and then pushed me up against a desk, teaching me a lesson in that uniform of his, and I had to press my thighs together just to stay upright.
He towered over me, filling my senses with his strength and masculinity. He opened his mouth, leaning forward slightly. My heart-rate sped up, waiting for him to lower the last few inches. Oh, god how I wanted to kiss that mouth. Taste him.
“This.” In one smooth motion, instead of kissing me, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.
Chapter Two
I made an undignified squawk and tried to fight him, but he held on. He carried me easily to the passenger side door of his jeep, even though I was kicking and pounding on his back. My skirt was riding up and his hand was on the back of my thigh. Having his hand on such a personal, sensitive area was sending way too much heat coursing though me. If he shifted his hand up just a few more inches, he'd feel the effect he was having on me.
“PUT ME DOWN,” I yelled, beating uselessly on his back. It was like fighting a mountain.
“You're coming home,” he informed me, opening the door and setting me down on the seat with a gentle thud. “Put your seat-belt on, or I'll put it on for you.”
I thought about it for a moment. The back of my thigh was still hot from his touch. I want him to do it, but I looked up at his blue eyes. My stepbrother's blue eyes. I'm sick. I shouldn't want him like that.
I pulled the strap down and across my lap with far more force than necessary. Ian watched for a moment and then shook his head before getting in the driver's side door.
“Do we need to stop at the bar and pick anything up?” he asked, turning the ignition back on.
“Like more drinks?” I mumbled. He shot me a glance that told me that wasn't going to happen.
“No, like your ID, Princess. You don't have a purse on you. Or did you loose it?”
I hated it when he called me Princess. Hated it. Drove me crazy. If I didn't have my seat belt firmly in place, I would have walked out of the car right that second. Instead, I reached into my bra and pulled out my ID.
“I'm smart enough to carry my crap with me, okay?” I tucked it back into place. “How dumb do you think I am?”
He wisely chose not to answer that question. Instead, he just started the short drive home. I made a little whimper noise as my stomach was not pleased about moving.
“Puke in my car and you will seriously regret it,” he warned. I swallowed down the burning liquid trying to creep up my esophagus, hoping I could keep it down just a little bit longer.
We drove in silence down the dark streets of our town. I looked straight ahead, trying to ignore him, but his gaze cut sideways to my exposed knee for a second before refocusing on the rear-view mirror. I shifted in the seat, hyper-aware of how short my skirt was and just how low cut my shirt was cut.
I had dressed to kill to go out to the bars, not for my stepbrother to look at me. Even though I wanted him to. I knew that if I had known he would be looking, I would have worn far less. That thought disturbed me. I shouldn't want him to look. It was wrong.
We turned onto the road leading to our parent's home and I caught him looking at my leg again. Embarrassed at my own desire for him to see, I looked everywhere but at him. He looked everywhere but me. I felt a little bad. He was a guy- he was hardwired to look. He swallowed hard and focused on the road, trying to ignore the woman in the short skirt beside him.
“When'd you get into town?” he asked, hands tight on the steering wheel.
“This afternoon,” I replied, looking out the window. I was home for the summer since I graduated my art program early and all my roommates had moved out. There was no reason to pay rent when my parents had offered me free rent for the summer so I could grow my photography business.
“That's nice.” The conversation quickly stalled with both of us trying to look anywhere but each other.
A hamburger place's neon lights filled the side of the road and my stomach growled. “Ian, can we get something to eat? I'm starving.”
“Nah, you'll be fine,” he assured me, continuing on to the house. “There's food at home.”
I watched the receding neon lights sadly. There was healthy food at home. Not greasy, perfect drunk food. I happened to know that he was a regula
r at the burger joint- especially on his late nights coming home from the military base. No, I was not a stalker, but that didn't mean I couldn't notice things. If he were by himself, he would be stuffing his face with grease right now as a reward for a hard day's work. Not going was just to annoy me.
“I hate you, you know that right?” I said suddenly.
He turned and smiled broadly at me. “Aw, sis. I knew it was going to be nice having you back.”
I made a disgusted noise and rolled my eyes. I looked out the window at the darkness outside as the jeep purred down the road. He'd had this jeep since I was in high school. He bought it after his first tour in Afghanistan, but back then it was a piece of junk.
I closed my eyes as I remembered the jeep slowly taking shape in our driveway my senior year as he turned it from scrap to something to be proud of. I still had dreams that fueled my fantasies about him coming out shirtless and covered in grease, his muscles flexed and ready. Not only that, anyone who could fix a car had to have skilled hands.
I shook my head to clear the memories. My stepbrother always made me feel conflicted. Too many emotions. Too much heat.
“So, you're back in your old room?” I asked, just saying something to fill the silence. I had seen his cleats by the door to his “apartment” when I put my stuff away. He had the room above the garage that was almost like a separate apartment from the house, except it shared a wall with my bedroom. It had made my stomach do weird things to think of living with him again. Listening to him in the next room again.
“I hate living on base. Besides, it frees up space for other soldiers since I'm leaving in a month,” he said with a shrug. My chest tightened a little bit. He was leaving for another tour in Afghanistan in a month. I knew he was good at his job, but it still made me tense with fear to think of him over there with bullets flying around him.
“Jenny told me you were leaving.” I crossed my arms, but it was more of a self-hug than anything else. He was a military man through and through. Honorable. Dependable. Strong. But that didn't change the ache that him leaving filled me with. “She's pissed that you volunteered.”
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