Page 12 of Stepbrother For Christmas

And I’m trying to resist her.

But she’s making it impossible for me.

Emma blinks. “But—”

“No ifs or buts about it! And you need to stop wearing low cut tops and skirts that resemble belts when you’re around me. I don’t want to look at you. It’s very distracting.” The words come out harsher than I intended, but a dose of reality is what we both need.

Her expression falls a little, but she shrugs it off quickly. “You don’t have to—”

“I mean, I want to look at you—just not in that way,” I add before releasing her wrists. “I like what I see too much. You’re too tempting not to want to break the rules for.”

She stares up at me through her lashes and smiles. “You were my first kiss.”

I blink, confused. “Your first?”

“Well not my first, but my first REAL good kiss. No guy has ever kissed me until I went dizzy and my toes curled.”

I stare down at her lips and instantly imagine her feeling dizzy from our kiss. And then I picture her toes curling and her knees wobbly from the force of her desire. Fuck. The image goes right to my groin, and I swallow hard. “You see what I mean? We shouldn’t discuss things beyond the topic of brother and sister stuff,” I say firmly. But then, unable to resist the urge, I reach over and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But since you brought it up, I need to know why.”

“After my dad died, my mom was really strict raising me,” she admits, her lower lip trembling a little. “So I haven’t had much practice with boys. And I guess…I became a late bloomer because all I did was focus on getting good grades in school.”

Christ, she’s so sweet and sexy.

“You’re such a good girl, but I know you got a bad side. Don’t you?”

She nods, her chest heaving. “It’s only with you that I’ve felt it,” she rasps.

“So, you like kissing me? Did it make you wet?”

“Yes,” she admits, her eyes looking away embarrassed. “I can’t wait for a guy to kiss me like that again.”

Another guy?!?

Ice floods my veins at the thought of her kissing other guys. “When?”

“Someday, I hope,” she breathes.

Anger and possessiveness surge through me. “No never,” I growl, gripping her chin tightly and locking her gaze to mine. “Don’t hope for that.”

She puffs out a frustrated breath. “Oh gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. How else will I get any practice?”

Hm. So our kiss was practice to her? “Actually, I have an idea,” I say, the wheels turning in my brain.

“What?”

“What if you only got kisses like that from me?”

She tilts her head to one side. “Do you mean like for practice?”

I’m a bastard for suggesting this insane plan. “Yes, you need lots and lots of practice. Don’t even think about kissing another guy. Only me.”

Her eyebrows rise. “For how long?”

“As long as you’re staying in my old bedroom, you have to play by my rules. And rule number one is “practice makes perfect.”

Excitement lights up her eyes. “And what’s rule number two?”

“Rule number two is you can’t tell anyone about this arrangement. We can’t risk our parents finding out about this. So you have to promise me that you’ll keep this between us.”

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