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13
SHILOH
For maybe a few seconds,I’m lost in the daring brush of Dom’s lips, the scrape of his stubble over my skin.
Then, all at once the truth of what’s happening crashes into me with the force of a semi truck. I shove against his chest with a yelp, leaping up from the couch and stumbling back several paces.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand, my voice shaking far more than I’d like.
Dom’s eyes seem to glint dangerously as he leans back, sprawling in the armchair like it’s his throne. His lips curl up in that mocking smirk that somehow makesmefeel ashamed.
“Come on, Shy Girl. We both know you wanted that as much as I did,” he drawls, his voice taking on a husky tone that tells me exactly where his mind is at. “It was written all over your face.”
I shake my head violently enough to bruise my own brain, desperately willing away the flush I can feel creeping up my neck.
“That’s insane! I wasn’t–I don’t…You’re mybrother, for fuck’s sake!”
A low chuckle rumbles from Dom’s chest as he slowly stands, like a predator unfurling its muscles before it launches into an attack. “Stepbrother,” he corrects, taking a deliberate step in my direction. “And barely that. Don’t lie to me, Shiloh, I’d bet good money those pretty panties of yours are drenched right now.”
“You’re sick,” I spit, but even to my own ears, the words lack conviction. My face is burning hotter with each passing second, betraying me. I take another hesitant step back, until I feel my spine hit the wall.Trapped.
Dom’s dark eyes rake over me like he has all the time in the world to devour his prey. It’s like he’s removing each piece of my clothing one by one, without even lifting a finger. I squeeze my thighs together, desperately trying to ignore the traitorous heat that’s pooling between them.
“You will never touch me,” I seethe, summoning every ounce of venom I can muster. “We’re siblings. This is so wrong. On every level!”
His answering grin is pure black magic. “Have it your way.”
His gaze never leaves mine as he reaches over to where he draped his coat on the back of the couch. I watch in horror as he pulls on each of his leather gloves, the soft creaking of the buttery fabric almost deafening in the silence between us.
“I don’t have to touch you to make you scream.”
He advances on me again. I should run. I should scream. I should do anything other than stand here, pinned by his heated stare like a butterfly on a corkboard. But my muscles won’t listen to me, my voice locked away in some safe I can’t crack open.
This is Dom, my stepbrother. The same insufferable monster who used to taunt me mercilessly, and made my life a living hell any chance he got. So why does my body thrum at the promise of him claiming me? Why does some treacherous part of my soul hunger for him to pin me down like he did so many times when we were younger?
As if the last eleven years never happened, I’m right back to drowning in confusion. Desire warring with disgust in a violent battle where nobody wins. Dom towers over me now, close enough that I can feel his breath warm my already burning skin.
He raises one gloved hand slowly, as if trying not to spook me, and grasps my jaw between his fingers and thumb.
“Stop fighting yourself, Shy Girl. You don’t want to fight anymore, remember? Kiss me,” Dom commands.
At some point, between the closeness of his lips and the strong grip he has on my face, I stop thinking altogether. My body seems to move of its own volition, my hands fisting in his shirt and wrenching him towards me.
His deep groan tangles with my helpless whimper as our lips meet for the second time. He wastes no time plunging his tongue in my mouth, asserting his dominance in a way that’s so utterly him. But rather than fight against it like I tried to do for so many years, I let it overpower me. My knees start to shake until it’s possible only his hold on my jaw is keeping me upright.
He tastes like red wine and forbidden fruit, and I drink him in greedily over and over again.
Dom’s other hand slides up to cup my breast over my shirt. Even through layers of fabric, the heat of his touch brands me in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to erase. I immediately arch into his palm, shamelessly desperate for more.
How long has it been since a man touched me like this? Since I felt this wanted, this fiercely desired? In this moment I can’t recall ever being touched at all. Dom kneads my flesh roughly, until I’m squirming and panting in his gloved hands.
I should be disgusted. I should push him away again. But God help me, I can’t bring myself to end this.
My own hands are still fisted in Dom’s shirt, trapped between our bodies where I can feel the press of his solid chest. Clearly hungry for us to be closer still, he shoves his thigh between mylegs, and I don’t even have to command the movement before I’m wantonly grinding against it, chasing some friction to soothe the fire blazing in my underwear.
Dom’s lips finally leave mine, he trails them along my jaw before grazing his teeth down my earlobe.
“That’s it, Shy Girl,” he growls. “Show me how bad you want this. Youneedit.”
