The Other Brother Part 2: Taboo: Stepbrother Billionaire Romance, Page 2

  But now I’ve tasted the forbidden fruit, to use the most horrible of clichés. And there’s no going back.

  I dreamed of her last night. Her eyes, her breasts, her glorious ass, all different shades of pink and red from my hands.

  It serves me right. I’d been furious that she’d been in that club at all, that she’d put herself at the sexual mercy of a stranger—a stranger—for her first time. And more than that, I’d been absolutely incensed at the notion of another man with his hands on her.

  And I’d acted like an ass. No—I was an ass.

  But I shouldn’t have tried to put the blame on her. If any of the girl I once knew is still in there, she’ll use my fuckup as a weapon the next time I see her. And I will see her again.

  Like I said, I never would have touched her without the setup being what it was. But now that that barrier has been crossed?

  I want her. I’m used to getting what I want. And maybe, just maybe, in the process I can make some kind of amends for what I’ve done.

  I know I should just jump on the next flight back to New York. Forget about my stupid plan. Forget about Theo. Forget about her.

  But last night in my inbox there was a very interesting piece of information from my assistant—Theo had been released ahead of schedule.

  So even if I wanted to leave, I just can’t.

  I’m through the wall of pain now, my breath coming a bit easier, endorphins easing the pain in my muscles. It’s been a good run, and once I round the next corner, I slow my pace.

  The two-story house across the road looks pretty much the same. There is a new coat of paint on the door and trim—a sunny yellow instead of the rusty orange that used to be there. I remember standing on that stoop for the first time, thinking about how incredibly ugly that paint was—anything to dissipate the nerves I’d had about being accepted into my mom’s new family.

  At the end of the long driveway I can see the garage, the windows above it that belong to my old room. No lights are on in there, or in the house at all, at least that I can see.

  Allegra’s room is in the back. Well, it was—I wonder if she’s still in the same one. I wonder a lot of things about her, actually.

  I know how her wet heat feels clenching around my fingers, but I no longer know exactly where she sleeps. For someone who thrives on control, it’s infuriating.

  I have on black sweatpants and a dark zip-up sweatshirt, the hood up just in case anyone looks out the window. All anyone will see if they happen to look is some random guy jogging at five in the morning. Still, there’s only so long that I can linger in front of the house before a neighbor sees me loitering and calls the police.

  I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, anyway. It’s not as if I’m going to go ring the bell and have a nice chat with Sam or Allegra or, Christ, with Theo, who I bet is now cozily ensconced in this suburban dream.

  I’d had no intention of visiting the house at all, but seeing Allegra seems to have shattered all my original plans to pieces.

  I’d consider myself far more of a sadist than a masochist, but sometime during the night I’d decided that I needed to see the old house. To see the setting for where my life spiraled so spectacularly into disaster.

  You’ve had your look, Thorne. Shaking my head at my uncharacteristic melancholy, I pick up my pace, trying to find my stride again. I glance at the house one last time as I round the corner to the next block. It’s barely dawn, the light dim, and I don’t see my fellow jogger until I collide with him. We literally clunk heads and I stumble backwards.

  “Jesus Christ, watch where you’re going.”

  I know that voice. I know that scent—sugary sweet, even mingled as it is with healthy exertion.

  I look up to see—yep, there she is. Allegra glaring at me, which I’m starting to understand is going to be a pretty familiar sight.

  I scowl at the notion. She rubs at her forehead and growls.

  Growling?

  That’s when I notice the leash in her hand and the big-ass pit bull by her side.

  “Seth?” Incredulity paints her face, and I wince inwardly. Damn it. The one person I really didn’t want to know about my little run by the house is now in my face, and I can see in her eyes that she’s not going to let it go.

  “I suppose I’ll let you call me that instead of Sir. Since we’re not in a… more intimate setting.” I don’t know why I say it—well, yes I do. Sexual domination allows me to be in control. And if we assume the same dynamics we did last night, it will force Allegra to relinquish that same thing.

  The look of astonishment she casts my way tells me I’m an asshole. This is not news to me. But that’s not the only thing I see.

  My comment has made her cheeks flush, and her breath start to come just a little bit faster. Like it or not, she responds to me—responds to dominance.

  And since I’m an asshole, the realization makes me smirk.

  “You sonofabitch.” She grabs my arm, and I can barely hold back the wince as she squeezes. I know she’s been working out with Tristan, but damn it—she’s gotten strong. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m running.” I narrow my eyes and smile, and she snarls.

  “Right by my house?” She cocks her eyebrow, sarcasm heavy in the gesture.

  I just continue to look at her. It’s not like I can say anything in my own defense.

  “Why are you here? Are you following me?” Her voice is heavy with suspicion, and more than that, with frustration. If it was just sexual, I’d relish making her feel that way.

  Knowing the issues that lie behind it though—it has guilt swirling in my gut.

  “No, I’m not following you.” What I don’t tell her is that I have, in the past, had people do just that, just to check up on her, to give me updates on her life.

  She’s waiting, so reluctantly I continue.

  “I just wanted to see…” I lick my lips, unsure how to proceed, “…the house.”

  “The house? You came all this way to Galveston to see a house you lived in for less than a fucking year?”

  I wince; the barb has hit home, making me feel like an instant outsider. Which I was. I am.

  Allegra shakes her head, and then gestures at the dog. “Bailey. Foe.”

  The stocky black dog barks, and then starts to growl menacingly in its throat. I don’t move, but my fingers twitch.

  “When did you get a dog?”

  “He’s not mine. He’s Mrs. Diaz’s. I take him out when I go for a run in the morning.”

  Bailey. Right. I remember this guy. A big slobbery teddy bear once he decides he likes you.

  Giving in to the urge, I slowly crouch down in front of him. He snarls again, hackles up. It’s probably not the smartest decision, but I hold my hand out for him to sniff.

  He does, then plops down on his butt. Head cocked, he eyes me, confusion and curiosity on his goofy doggie face.

  And then he pushes forward, nuzzling his head against my palm, tongue out and ready to lick.

  “That’s right. You remember me, buddy.” Grinning, I scratch his head and around his ears. He whines in canine ecstasy as Allegra looks down in disgust.

  “Bailey,” she repeats, voice firm. “Foe. I said foe.”

  Bailey flops down to the ground, rolling over to show me his graying belly. Allegra huffs out a sigh of exasperation.

  “Since when do you go running?” I rub both hands over Bailey’s belly. He whines when Allegra tugs on his leash and pulls him back by her side.

  “You don’t get to ask questions.” My former stepsister casts me the evil eye, but beneath her agitation is something I wasn’t expecting—weariness. “Please, Seth. Please just get the fuck out of here.”

  “Allie, if I could just…” I’m not used to begging. But then Allegra has always brought unfamiliar parts of me out into the light.”

  “I said please. Seth. Go.” Something in her voice clues Bailey into the fact that she’s upset, and the dog who was just my
best friend presses against her side and eyes me with decidedly more attitude than he had when he was showing me his belly.

  I put my hand up, letting her know that I surrender, that she doesn’t have to let the dog chow down on my balls, which I’m rather fond of. “Look. I just want to talk. And I want to apologize for last night.”

  Her cheeks flush, and I know she’s remembering how it felt to be under my hand. It’s a struggle not to push the issue, to grab her in my arms and taste her mouth.

  “Fine.” Her expression suggests that if I try, she’ll cut off my balls herself, rather than letting the dog have a crack. “You’ve apologized. Now go before I let Bailey have his morning snack.”

  “Let me take you out for dinner. Tonight.” I don’t sound desperate, but for the first time in a long time I feel it. It’s killing me not to use my dominant nature as a weapon against the submissive that I’m still surprised is lurking inside of her.

  But that’s not fair. And I want her to come to me on her own terms. Well… mostly. I suspect I’m still going to have to do a hell of a lot of convincing.

  “No fucking way.” Her laugh is sarcastic, mocking. I kind of like her mean streak, though I hate that it was probably me who put it there.

  “I’m staying at the Tremont. Room 303. If you want to talk you can find me there.” Normally I wouldn’t ask a woman to have dinner with me—I’d tell them what we were doing. And they would happily do it.

  “Oh, the Tremont. La dee da.” She wields that sarcasm like Captain America’s shield, though she probably doesn’t know how cute she is while doing it. “You’re just a big man now, aren’t you?”

  “It’s a shame that last night you didn’t get a chance to see just how big.” I smirk. Okay, asking isn’t working. I’m going to have to shock her.

  But she’s interested. If she wasn’t, she would have walked away by now.

  “You know what, on second thought, I’ll just pick you up at seven. I’ll be outside your work. You will be on time.”

  She gapes at me. “Are you for real? How do you know where I work?”

  “I have a lot of money, Allegra.” I arch an eyebrow when she rolls her eyes. Most women simper. “Enough to keep tabs on you.”

  “You’ve been stalking me?” Her pitch raises a few decibels, and I wince.

  “You’re going to wake the neighbors. And call it what you will…” I can feel the chill frosting my voice as I recall the last time I saw her as a teen. The words I said then echo in my head.

  Theo will never hurt you.

  “How very high-handed of you, Mr. Thorne.” Allegra’s temper is up. She takes a step forward, Bailey sticking close to her side. “That dominant alpha male bullshit doesn’t work with me.”

  “I think we both know that’s not true.” I let my lips curl into a faint smile, and this time her mouth actually opens in shock. While she thinks on that, I again reach out for Bailey, keeping my movements slow. I like that he’s protective, that he’ll guard Allegra against threats.

  But I’m not one. At least, not in the way either of them likely think.

  Bailey sniffs, then whines and I pet his head. “Good boy.”

  “Traitor,” Allegra murmurs to the dog. She doesn’t look at me, but I want her to. Need her to.

  “Not a traitor. He just has good taste.” She’s still not looking, instead rolling her eyes at me again.

  “If you roll your eyes at me one more time—and believe me, I will know—then you might as well take your panties off before I come pick you up.” There—there. She’s gaping at me as if she can’t believe what I just said to her.

  I swallow a laugh. It always was hard to one-up this brilliant, beautiful girl.

  “I can’t—you can’t—you can’t say things like that!” she stutters, and I smirk. I don’t reply, instead turning and again starting to jog. I cross the street at a nice, even pace.

  It takes everything within me not to glance over my shoulder to see if she’s watching me.

  Chapter Three

  ALLEGRA

  I work at The Cheesecake Factory. Yup, just like the girl on The Big Bang Theory. Usually it’s packed, because apparently Texans like their chilled dairy desserts. But of course, because I want the place to be busy, to keep my mind off of Seth, it’s almost dead.

  He’s going to be here in a few minutes. It’s not like I have to go with him. But if I really didn’t want to, he wouldn’t be coming to pick me up.

  He threatened to make me go without my freaking panties. My panties.

  And even though I want to kick his ass, I’m… excited. It’s not news that I’ve never gotten over him—it’s what sent me to The Velvet Underground in the first place. But after last night…

  I can’t stop thinking about him.

  What the hell is he doing in Galveston, anyway?

  An elbow lands in my side, startling me from my thoughts. Turning, I glare at my coworker and friend, Mattie. He flashes me his one-hundred-watt, lady-killer smile. I’ve honestly never seen whiter teeth than in this guy’s mouth.

  Also, it’s not ladies he’s trying to kill.

  “Little afternoon space trip, sweetcheeks?” He grins again, and I’m almost blinded by the light.

  “Maybe.” Considering, I wipe the table I’m standing beside again. I’ve already cleaned the varnished surface three times, but figure one more time can’t hurt.

  “Maybe, nothing. Somebody’s having man problems.” He snatches my cleaning rag from my hand and dangles it above my head.

  “I am not.” There’s no point in trying to grab the cloth; Mattie’s at least a foot taller than me. Instead, I stalk off to refill the ketchup bottles. He follows me, because he is a relentless cad and rejoices in making my life hell some days.

  “Oh, so you are.” His pale-blue eyes light up with mischief. “Tell me. If it’s one thing I know, it’s men.”

  I roll my eyes. “Please. You’ve never kept a guy around longer than a week.”

  “Exactly.” He gives me the cheesiest smile I’ve ever seen, batting his eyelashes. “I’m an expert.”

  I can’t help but laugh. Mattie is the best perk about this job. In fact, he might be the only perk, because it’s definitely not the pay or the hours. He talks nonstop but has the best stories. All of them involve some sort of sexual escapade. Or penises.

  Lots of penises.

  And I can totally understand why those penises are drawn to him. He’s hot. Tall, lean, dark-haired and blue-eyed. A very manly beard, brightly tatted-up arms, and a decidedly bad-boy biker vibe.

  He’s also completely gay. Like, not even a curious bone in his body.

  Sigh.

  “I’m waiting, Allie Cat…” Mattie’s voice is singsong, high enough that a table of high school age boys turns to look. I shush him with a flapping motion of my arms.

  “Be quiet!” I hiss, and he just laughs. “I don’t kiss and tell, unlike some perverts around here.”

  “So there was at least some kissing.” He grabs my hands and swings me into a wild dance. There’s a maniacal gleam in his eyes. “Now you have to tell me.”

  Damn it. I’ve stepped in it. He’s not going to let up until I spill. And it’s not that I don’t trust him… it’s more that if I say it out loud, it’s real.

  In for a penny, and all that.

  “Six years ago, I had a stepbrother…” I take a deep breath, a perverse part of me savoring the way his eyes widen. Ha. I’ve managed to shock the king of unshockable.

  He put his hand up to stop me. “If this involves sex, I’m going to have to get a drink of vodka first. I mean water. Vodka that looks like water.”

  I slap at him. “Mattie, I’m not telling you now.”

  His attention has already wandered. He whistles under his breath, staring past me to the door.

  “Well now, there’s a piece of prime rib.” He whistles again, and the table of young guys again turns to stare, making me huff with exasperation. “Hmm. I’m just going to go
see what flavor he is. If he choosse right, he can be on my menu tonight.”

  I turn to see who he’s talking about, and squeak a little when I do. Seth is standing just inside the front door of the restaurant. His eyes are locked on me, his stare so intense that I can’t believe I didn’t sense him come in.

  When he sees that I’ve noticed him, he smiles, long and slow. I almost swallow my tongue.

  “Damn it.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Mattie turns to me, incredulous. “That is story boy? And you’re claiming to have man problems? Sweetcheeks, that right there is not a problem. That is a gift from above.”

  If only he knew. And if he knew, if he knew all the sordid details of my past, he’d never look at me the same way again.

  If I go through with this, if I go with Seth, I’ll never look at me the same way again.

  “Fuck.” Turning, I head back to the kitchen. My skin is flushed, and I stick my head over the ice bin.

  “Sweetcheeks, I was only kidding.” Mattie follows me, right on my heels. “What do you want me to do? Tell him to go away?”

  I shake my head, inhaling the crisp air above the ice. The thought of sending him away makes me sick. I wish it didn’t. I wish I still had a firm grip on my anger.

  “Just… seat him or something.” I flap a hand over my head, still sucking in the chilly air. “I’ll figure it out in a second.”

  “Anything for you, sweetie.”

  I trail behind him. I’m partially hiding because I’m trying to compose myself, but even more, I want to see big, tough Seth’s reaction to the ridiculously flirtatious Mattie.

  Damn it, I can’t hear. But Mattie’s grinning, showing off those toothpaste-commercial teeth; his hand is on Seth’s arm flirtatiously, and he’s turning on the charm.

  Seth does a lot of nodding and then some laughing. A vivid streak of something that is decidedly uncomfortable flashes through me, scalding hot.

  Surely I’m not jealous? Of Mattie?

  No.

  Finally, Mattie leads Seth into the bar then comes back to me. I try not to hop from foot to foot as he approaches, a smirk on his lips.