Wicked Stepbrother (Book Two) by Lila Price

Author:Lila Price [Price, Lila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Favor Ford Publishing
Published: 2017-03-11T18:30:00+00:00

CAELI

It was difficult, if not impossible to sleep after what he’d done to me.

The feel of his muscular body, every fiber rock hard and slick with sweat, and the orgasm that had seemed like it had split between our two souls and forged us momentarily into one…was I dreaming or had that really happened?

But then he was holding me close, and I curled into him, feeling his arms wrap around me, and I could see the sinews of his forearm, the ink of his flag tattoo that edged from his shoulder and down onto his upper bicep.

God, he felt amazing. He even smelled amazing.

And those lips. I groaned happily, enjoying this feeling of being held in the night. Even as the wind whipped outside the apartment and rattled the windows of the house, I felt so totally safe and protected.

A hurricane could tear down the walls and I was certain that Zack would hold me and keep me completely safe from harm.

I thought about the way he’d taken care of my cousins earlier when one of them had merely insulted me, swore at me in the parking lot of the restaurant.

Zack had taken them out without so much as breaking a sweat.

And then he’d taken me in, fucked me, made love to me, stared into my eyes and swept me away into a sea of passion I’d never known existed.

But now I knew, and I wanted more of it. I wanted more of him.

It was difficult to fall asleep, even as the adrenaline rush faded and my eyes closed. I could hear his breathing finally slow, and then he was ever so lightly snoring, so faintly that it was difficult to detect.

He was sleeping, his arms still holding me.

I began to drift, too, and a smile touched my lips, a smile of contentment and warmth and safety that I hadn’t felt ever before in my life.

I drifted off, and my sleep was deep and undisturbed for the first time in a long time.

It wasn’t until the yelling that I woke up again.

My eyes snapped open and Zack was already leaping out of bed, pulling on his boxers as the yelling intensified.

Oh my God.

My father was in the apartment—not just in my apartment—but in the doorway of my bedroom. He stood there, looming larger than life, and he was a large man, even though he was in his sixties—he still had the vigor and intensity of a younger man.

Gray hair lay in thick waves across his head, and his bushy eyebrows waggled almost comically as his nose and cheeks flamed red. “What the hell is going on? Who the hell is this in my fucking apartment?” he screamed, his voice booming.

I grabbed my blanket and pulled it up over my bare breasts. “Dad, get out of my room!”

“This is my room,” my father said. “I own this house. Your mother and I own this house, remember.”

“Get out! I need to get dressed,” I said.

He gave Zack a long, crazed look. “You. Outside with me,” he said.

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