Forbidden: Her British Stepbrot - Lauren Smith Page 0,66

taken. Because five minutes ago, Katherine Roberts had walked through the door with her father, Clayton.

My Kat . The girl he’d ruthlessly pursued and sweetly seduced until she’d succumbed and let him take her to bed. The girl he’d fucked so hard she’d had trouble walking the next morning. The girl he’d opened up to about things he’d never shared with anyone. And he still hadn’t had enough of her to satisfy his obsession.

My stepsister. Future stepsister . And they’d rammed his headboard into his wall two nights ago so hard, it had left gouges in his wallpaper. Why the hell that thought made him instantly hard, he didn’t know. He’d had rough, wild sex before, but with her…She’d been so innocent, a bloody virgin, but she’d responded like sex goddess…

Can’t think about her anymore. How her body felt underneath me—skin-to-skin. How perfect she tasted. How she screamed out my name when I exploded inside of her…

Kat hadn’t moved from the doorway to the library of his mother’s town house. The moment she’d come in the door and recognized him she’d frozen. Her face pale, her lips pursed, and her gray eyes as wide as saucers. She hadn’t known this was coming, just as he hadn’t.

It was a bloody nightmare.

They’d both left Cambridge separately for their Christmas holidays, facing the same situation. His mother had told him she was dating someone, and Kat’s father had told her the same. Neither he nor Kat could have guessed that their parents had met in London and started dating. Or gotten engaged. It was a strange, and now damnable coincidence. Of all the eligible men in London his mother could have met and fallen in love with, it had to be Kat’s father?

At twenty-five years old, while working toward his Master’s in business, Tristan could afford little time for distractions, aside from the string of nameless girls he’d slept with before Kat. He had classes, and the pressures of his father’s estate looming over him. That was the price he had to pay for being the future Earl of Pembroke.

Until he’d walked into the Pickerel Inn pub one night outside Magdalene College, and his world had changed forever. Kat, the luscious, intoxicating first-year undergraduate student had walked up to the bar for a drink, and they’d talked, and something seemed to pull them together, like invisible strings. She’d leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. The way she’d felt in his arms, her lips melding with his…In an instant he’d gone from a man who could have any woman he wanted, to a man who wanted only her. She was only nineteen, and so inexperienced, yet he wanted to drag her back to his bed and never let her leave until he’d shown her everything he knew about the art of sexual pleasure.

My obsession, my erotic fantasy. Mine. All mine.

At least she had been until his mum had blown his plans to hell with the news that Kat was going to be his stepsister. It was bad enough she was American and completely unsuitable in any true sense, given his position in society. But as a sister, a family relation, she’d be untouchable. Their parents simply wouldn’t allow it. And if the paparazzi ever got wind of his affair with Kat, his father would have him executed in the square of the Tower of London just to make a point. Well not really, but he’d devise some scheme of punishment that would leave Tristan begging for a quick death at the Tower.

I ought to get out of here before I make an arse of myself.

But he couldn’t. He’d promised his mother he’d stay here for the holidays and he wouldn’t go back on his word.

How was he going to survive three weeks with Kat under his roof and not touch her?

The problem was, he wanted to be around her. Clayton and his mother would be watching them closely to see how they handled the news of the engagement. If their parents discovered any hint that something existed between him and Kat, that wouldn’t be good.

He’d had his share of affairs with unsuitable girls, but sleeping with his stepsister, an American no less, would be a scandal he’d likely not recover from in the social arenas of London But he didn’t care. Tristan wanted Kat, had to have her.

“Tristan, don’t be rude. Stop sulking by the fireplace, come over here and say hello,” his mother hissed in admonishment just loud enough for him