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Seduction:Her British Stepbrother

By:Lauren Smith

Seduction:Her British Stepbrother
Lauren Smith

       Chapter 1

Bloody Hell.

Tristan Kingsley was in a dark spiral. Anger and confusion raged beneath  his skin like wildfire. His mother had sent his carefully constructed  plan toppling down like a house of cards when she'd announced her  engagement to an American investment banker.

Her engagement wasn't the worst part of the whole situation. No, the  fucking demons in hell were laughing at him for the ironic twist his  destiny had just 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, two nights ago, they'd rammed his  headboard into the wall so hard, it had left gouges in the wallpaper.  He'd had rough, wild sex before, but with her … She'd been so innocent, a  bloody virgin, but she'd responded like a sex goddess …

I 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  townhouse. The moment she'd come in the door and recognized him she'd  frozen. Her face pale, her lips pursed, and her gray eyes wide as  saucers. She hadn't known this was coming, just as he hadn't.

It was a bloody nightmare.

They'd left Cambridge separately for their Christmas holidays, each  facing the same situation. His mother had told him that she was in a  relationship with 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 and 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 and his world had  changed forever. Kat, a luscious, intoxicating first-year undergraduate,  had walked up to the bar for a drink and they'd talked. Something had  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 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. As a stepsister, a family  relation, she'd be untouchable. Their parents simply wouldn't allow it.  He'd had plenty of encounters with protective fathers in the past when  stories of women he'd seduced had come out in the papers. But Tristan  had always held his ground, had never done the honorable thing and  married any of those girls. It was just sex. This wasn't the Victorian  era. If a woman went to bed with him, that was her choice and no father  could demand Tristan that do anything afterward.

I've never been a saint. I certainly can't be one now, not when I want  Kat as badly as I do. But how was he going to get Kat all to himself if  his mother and her father were watching over them both during the  holidays? He'd have to find a way to keep their relationship a secret.  It was the only solution. And if the paparazzi ever got wind of his  affair with Kat, his father would have him executed in the square of the  London Tower just to make a point.

Kat was completely unsuitable-at least she would be in his father's  eyes. And for the moment, his father still had a firm grip on Tristan's  future, including whom he could date. As an American with no titles, no  connections, and no vast fortune, she offered nothing that his father  would approve of. Tristan clenched his jaw. He despised that his father  had so much control over his life, but that was how it had always been.  As the only heir to the estate, he had a duty to the land and the people  who worked on it to keep things afloat. His father still controlled the  family purse strings, and Tristan knew he couldn't abandon the estate.                       


Knowing his father would never approve of Kat didn't stop Tristan from  wanting her, and it certainly didn't deter him from his intent to sleep  with her again. It simply made him all the more aware that he'd have to  be careful about how he got her back into his bed so that no parents  could discover them.

His mother, Elizabeth, was still standing by Kat, and she made a tiny  gesture with her head, encouraging him to come over to his future  stepsister. All he wanted to do was walk over and kiss Kat senseless … but  their parents were staring at him.

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

How was he going to survive three weeks with Kat under the same roof and not touch her whenever he wanted?

"Tristan, don't be rude. Stop sulking by the fireplace, come over here and say hello," his mother hissed in admonishment.

He walked over to Kat and held out a hand, pretending they'd never met,  never touched, never shared his bed, exploring each other's bodies. It  was harder than he expected to resist reacting to her. He smiled  politely, fighting off the urge to chuckle when her pale cheeks  blossomed with color.

She must be remembering, as he was, how it had felt when he'd pinned her  down and made her beg for him to do a thousand dirty, erotic things to  her. And he had, oh, he had. And that was making it so hard to keep from  reacting with the intimacy he desired. There wouldn't be a scorching  kiss, no stroking of hands. Not while their parents watched them with  hawk-like precision.

"It's lovely to meet you, Kat." He sucked in a breath as she slowly took  his hand and shook it. Sparks of heat burst between their palms, that  undeniable chemistry that drew him like a planet orbiting a star.  Cosmic, inescapable. This was why he couldn't walk away, why he had to  touch her, keep her close to him. She was the first woman that had  fascinated him both in bed and out.

She seemed to be trapped in a daze, their hands still connected. Her  gray eyes were full of desire, but he could see she was trying to  suppress it.

"Hi," she said finally.

He could tell by her ashen face that she was only going to get out the  one word and nothing else. Her full lips quivered, and he longed to haul  her into his arms and kiss her, perhaps bite those lips playfully until  she smiled again.

Why wasn't she like every other girl he'd slept with? They'd been  forgotten the moment they'd left his bed. A parade of pretty faces and  nothing more. But he knew every freckle on Kat's face, every curve of  her tempting body, how her mouth felt as she'd explored his skin, eager,  and yet new to the experience of sex. How could he ever forget being  with her? There was no way he'd give her up, not when there was so much  left to discover between them.

They were both damned now.

"I'll show Katherine to a guest room. You and Clayton can plan the  evening while I see her settled," Tristan offered, needing, hoping for  one minute alone with her.

"Excellent idea, Tristan." His mother's beaming face made his body flood with a dark tide of guilt.

All he wanted was to talk to her. They needed a plan. Neither of their  parents could ever find out they'd slept together. They had to keep  everything secret.

"Follow me, Kat." He almost reached for her hand, but caught himself  just inches from her wrist. Pulling back his arm, he forced himself to  keep his distance.

"Thank you, Tristan." Kat's father smiled, too, curling an arm around Lizzy's waist.

Tristan swallowed hard and nodded, but didn't linger. He didn't want to  endure public displays of affection involving his mother. Too bloody  awkward.

Kat followed him out of the drawing room, closing the door behind her.  The second the door was shut he grabbed her hand, wild inside with the  need to touch her. He knew they shouldn't continue this … whatever it was  between them, but right now, as he held her hand, none of that mattered.

To hell with our parents. I want her.

"Tristan," she whispered, her breath catching as he pulled her down the hall to the stairs that led to the upper floors.