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Stepbrother Romance 3 - Addicted: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance, страница 1


Stepbrother Romance 3 - Addicted: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance

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Stepbrother Romance 3 - Addicted: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance



  Tawny Taylor

  Books by Tawny Taylor

  Wild Knights

  Wicked Knights

  Wanton Knights

  Wild, Wicked & Wanton

  Dark Master

  Decadent Master

  Dangerous Master

  Darkest Fire

  Darkest Desire

  Claim Me

  Wicked Beast

  Prince of Fire

  Girl Enslaved

  Dirty Little Lies

  Triple Stud

  Enslaved by Sin

  Double Take

  Behind the Mask

  Plays Well with Others

  Lust’s Temptation

  Wrath’s Embrace

  Burning Hunger

  Torrid Hunger

  Everlasting Hunger

  Slave of Duty

  Flesh to Flesh

  Compromising Positions


  Pleasing Him

  At His Mercy

  Ties That Bind

  Yes, Master

  Make You Mine

  BEARed to You


  Darkest Ecstasy

  What He Wants (My Alpha Billionaire, 1)

  What He Demands (My Alpha Billionaire, 2)

  What He Craves (My Alpha Billionaire, 3)

  What He Needs (My Alpha Billionaire, 4)

  What He Desires (My Alpha Billionaire, 5)

  RAW A Dark Romance

  My Bad Boys, My Stepbrothers

  Stepbrother Romance 1 Obsessed

  Stepbrother Romance 2 Consumed

  Stepbrother Romance 3 Addicted

  F#ucking Jerk (Alpha Billionaire Bad Boy 1)


  STEPBROTHER ROMANCE 3- ADDICTED A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance

  And now the sizzling conclusion of STEPBROTHER ROMANCE

  I love him. I can’t live without him. But he doesn’t love me.

  Kent Payne is one of those guys. You know the kind. Easy to hate. Hard to love. The kind that crawls under your skin and turns you into a babbling idiot who thinks of nothing but which parts of your body you want his hands on next. Yep, that’s my stepbrother, Kent. And lucky me, I’ve fallen in love with him.

  He could crush my heart into a million broken pieces, but you know what? I don’t care. We can’t keep our hands off each other. We’ve tried. So we have a few minor (major) things to work out. It’ll happen.

  It’s do or die for both of us.

  Because our lives are about to change…

  NOTE: This is the third and FINAL story in the STEPBROTHER ROMANCE serial. It is best enjoyed if the books are read in order.

  Books in the STEPBROTHER ROMANCE serial:

  Stepbrother Romance 1 Obsessed

  Stepbrother Romance 2 Consumed

  Stepbrother Romance 3 Addicted

  Genre: Romance, New Adult/College


  For fans of Stepbrother Dearest and Stepbrother Billionaire

  I hate him. I want him. I’m so effed.

  Kent Payne is one of those guys – with a panty-melting body and an ego bigger than his…you get the picture. But he’s also a total tool and an irritating, arrogant pain in the ass. I was an idiot during spring break and handed him my V-card. And now it’s summer and things are worse than before. Even though the womanizing prick is a reckless a&&hole with women, whenever he comes near me, my body burns for his touch. Even though I know it’s stupid, I ache for the feel of his arms around me and I long for his kisses…

  Until I learn he’s kept a secret from me. A very big secret that will change everything…


  “If you wanted me gone, all you had to do was tell me,” I growled. “You didn’t have to buy me a fucking house.”

  “I don’t want you to leave me.” He yanked, jerking me flush to him. His heat seared my body, blazing through my clothes. “If I had it my way you would stay in my house forever, and sleep in my bed every night. And I would make sweet love to you whenever I wanted, for as long as I wanted. And your belly would swell with our child. But none of that can fucking happen. I despise even the thought of you leaving. It makes me crazy.” He smashed his mouth on mine and kissed me until no words remained in my brain, until I’d forgotten where I was, what we’d been talking about.

  My bones turned to rubber, melted by the blood boiling in my veins. My body didn’t care that the man I was kissing was now my stepbrother. It didn’t care that it looked bad for both of us, and our parents, if we had sex. Or god forbid, if I got pregnant.

  All that mattered was the heavy need throbbing between my legs, the ache blooming like a beautifully dark and rare flower. My body craved this man. Every inch.

  I clawed at his clothes, desperate to feel his warm, velvety skin gliding against mine just one more time, to smell the decadent scent of his skin, to taste the salty product of his need seeping from his erection. Only one more time. If that was all I could have, then it would be enough.

  It would.

  I prayed.

  I swallowed the deep growl he uttered, quivering as it vibrated through my body. His need amplified mine. It was as if we were in tune to each other, as if our bodies worked as one, always striving to return two pieces to the whole in which they belonged.

  I felt his desire escalating. His kiss deepened. His tongue stroked mine, stabbing and claiming and dominating. His hands gripped my hips forcing me backward until I was trapped between a wall and his rigid frame. His thigh wedged between mine, and I whimpered, thankful for the pressure against my center.

  As he ravaged my mouth, I slid my hands down his torso until I found the fly of his pants. It was hard concentrating on what I was doing while being kissed to oblivion, but somehow I managed to unfasten his pants and pull his throbbing erection free.

  His groan filled both our mouths as I curled my fingers around his velvety length and squeezed. Breaking the kiss, I slowly sank to my knees, my gaze locked on his thick girth and the droplet of wetness shimmering on its tip. My mouth watered as I parted my lips, pulling the slick head into my mouth.

  Delicious. I swirled my tongue around and around. Kent curled his fingers into my hair, holding my head in place. His hips eased forward, forcing his rod deeper into my mouth, and I opened to him, welcoming the invasion and trusting he wouldn’t push too deep. My throat muscles relaxed and he slipped deeper, into my throat. “Oh God,” he muttered. “Must stop this. Now.”

  Stop? The thought was horrifying. Devastating. I couldn’t let it happen. Clasping him at the root with my hands, I took him deeper yet, his skin gliding over my flattened tongue inching down my throat.

  Using my hair, he pulled my head away and back. He slid from my mouth. “Look at me,” he commanded, and I obeyed, my hungry gaze taking its time moving up from the thick, throbbing appendage that I’d just swallowed.

  His gaze was sharp, his jaw clamped so tight the muscle twitched. “We can’t do this. We can’t. It isn’t that I don’t want you. I do. I want you. Oh god, do I want you bad. But there are a million reasons why this can’t go on.”

  I knew he was right. But I didn’t want to stop. It wasn’t fair that my mother could be so fucking happy with a man she clearly adored, but I had to pretend Kent meant nothing to me.

  It simply wasn’t fair.

  Chapter 1

  Whatever I’d done to deserve this karma, I really needed to undo it. Pronto.
It seemed that no matter what I did, or how hard I tried to stay away from Kent, our paths kept crossing. And when they did, shit exploded.

  The end results weren’t pretty.

  I knew throwing myself at a married man was wrong. I’d been raised with solid enough values to know that. And I also knew that being sexually involved with a family member—even if said family member wasn’t blood—was also a really stupid idea. Not to mention Kent had cheated on his wife… though, under the circumstances I could hardly blame him. After all, he’d provided a home for his currently pregnant wife and the father of her child, her live-in-boyfriend, for years.

  Kent Payne was, like his life, complicated. He was gorgeous. He was arrogant. He was sexy. And he was dedicated and selfless and generous.

  If only he wasn’t so extremely hard to love.

  And was in love with him. Fiercely. Madly. Deeply. When he was near, my brain simply shut down, and I forgot all the valid and very solid reasons why I should run. And instead of a woman who did the smart and safe thing, I turned into a quivering pile of goo that begged for him to take her.

  More than once since I’d met him, I’d wished time would put an end to my insane obsession with that man. So far, my wishes had gone unanswered.

  And so, in the interest of retaining some small piece of my sanity, I had thrown myself into a huge project, intending to stay busy. For the time being, I needed to stay as far away from my stepbrother as I could. But every day that dragged by without him was a day that lacked sunshine. A day that lacked air. Since I had left his house three weeks ago, I felt like I was a zombie, the walking dead. My heart was beating, but so slowly my blood was turning to sludge.

  It didn’t help that my best friend was barely speaking to me, and Mom was gone on her big Alaskan excursion. I was alone. Painfully alone. And, despite the fact that I was living in my dream house, I was indulging in one hell of a pity party.

  It was time for me to put an end to it.

  The first thing I needed to do was go see Ransom and her baby.

  Standing in front of the crusty antique bathroom mirror, looking at my reflection between the grayed-out spots, I gave myself a mental pep talk. Ransom was my best friend. She was a new mom. With a newborn baby to take care of, she needed my help and support now more than ever.

  Anxious, because I knew I would be facing a very hurt and angry best friend after what had happened when she was in the hospital, I slurped down a quick cup of coffee and headed out. Hopefully Ransom would answer her door. I didn’t want to call ahead of time and give her the chance to blow me off again. Guaranteed, she would just dish up some pathetic excuse for me not to come, like she had the last few times I’d tried. No, this time I wasn’t going to give her the chance.

  The trip to Ferndale was long and tedious, thanks to an accident tying all the eastbound freeway traffic into knots. When I got to Ransom’s I saw there was only one car parked in the driveway—Ransom’s. John’s was not there. Either he was at work or he’d left her, like he’d told me he was going to. At this point there was no way for me to know which one it was. During our extremely brief phone conversations the past couple of weeks, Ransom hadn’t mentioned John once.

  I knocked on the door with my heart in my throat and waited. Would she answer? Would she pretend not to hear me? After several painful hours (okay, it wasn’t hours… it was probably less than two minutes), the door swung open and I was finally face-to-face with my bestie.

  She looked like death.

  Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Deep purple shadows stained the skin under her eyes. The healthy glow her skin had gained during her pregnancy was gone. Now, despite the fact that it was summer, and she would normally be sporting a deep tan, her face was the color of milk—except the grayish-purple smudges under her eyes. “Hi,” she croaked, standing at the door and glaring.

  Not a friendly greeting, but I hadn’t expected one.

  “I came to see how you’re doing,” I said.

  “How thoughtful of you.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I finally get the baby asleep and actually lay down to try to catch a few minutes of rest, and here you are. Great timing.”

  Crap. I hadn’t considered that when I’d planned my surprise visit. “Sorry I picked a bad time.” I took a giant step backward. “I can come back later.”

  She grimaced. She sighed. She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “No, that’s okay. She doesn’t sleep long, day or night. She’ll probably be up in a few minutes. You might as well stay. You can change her diaper.” She motioned me in and shuffled to the couch. “Forgive me if I don’t play happy hostess. I haven’t gotten more than two hours of sleep in a row since I got home from the hospital.”

  That was weeks ago.

  “That’s awful. I had no idea it was so hard to take care of a newborn baby. I mean, all they do is eat, sleep, and poop, right?”

  Ransom tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair then finger-combed the strands. “It’s more eat, poop, puke, and cry. It’s especially hard when you have to do everything all by yourself.” She coiled her hair into a neater bun and wrapped the ponytail holder around it again.

  All by herself.

  John had left.


  My exhausted best friend blinked bloodshot eyes at me, once, twice, and then tears started flowing like the Mississippi, and I ran to her and threw my arms around her shoulders.

  She sobbed while I called her useless husband every insulting name I could think of. That asshole left her? Just like that? Correction, he left them—his wife and his newborn baby.

  The bastard!

  The tool!

  The…the…I’d run out of insults.

  The bottom line was John was not the guy I thought he was. He wasn’t the guy Ransom had thought he was either when she’d said, “I do.” God, I felt bad for her!

  “I am so sorry,” I kept saying, over and over, as I stroked her back. There was nothing I could do or say to make this better. I felt so lost and helpless. Useless. What would she do? How would she pay her bills with a newborn baby at home to raise? How would she work?

  My insides churned, bubbling and boiling like a witch’s brew. This was so wrong, horribly wrong.

  I had to do something to help her. But what?

  Mom was so right. Men were nothing but trouble.

  Single. Married. Young. Old.


  Several hours later I was back at my place again. Alone. And feeling like a wrung rag. Poor Ransom. She’d been a real pain when she was pregnant. She’d been moody and even a little mean.

  But she didn’t deserve this!

  I’d already tried talking to John, weeks ago. I’d even left Ransom’s house, hoping to stay out of the way of their happiness. Turned out to have been a total waste. John left a week later without a reasonable explanation. He’d just told her he ‘couldn’t do this anymore’and walked out. Bastard.

  He was paying child support. Hefty child support. At least there was that. It would be enough money to allow Ransom to stay home and take care of baby Johnette (who was now—for obvious reasons--going by her middle name, Claire) until she was old enough for school. But Ransom would have no money for extras. No sleep. No sex. And no social life.

  After a long talk, Ransom understood why I left her house the day she came home from the hospital, and she was grateful for what I’d tried to do. To further patch up our friendship, I offered to watch little Claire once a week, so Ransom could get some essentials done—showering, shopping, sleeping, whatever, starting today.

  I couldn’t fix her marriage. But at least I could give her a little help.

  Then, I learned firsthand how exhausting it could be taking care of a tiny human being. That cute mini-person was one huge bundle of need. She needed food. She needed diaper changes. She needed to be rocked. She needed to be burped. She needed to be held… and bounced… and sung to… and fed again… It was a never ending cycle.
  After just a couple of hours, my arms were sore and I’d seen enough baby poop for a lifetime. It amazed me how someone so cute could produce something so disgusting. And then there was the puke, too. It was a wonder the child didn’t die from malnourishment. What didn’t come up went right through her and shot out the other end.

  That couldn’t be normal. But when I repeatedly voiced my concerns to Ransom, she insisted the doctor had checked little Claire from head to toe and confirmed her daughter was totally healthy. Far be it for me, who’d never touched a baby, to tell her otherwise.

  Now, at home, I clicked on the TV in my bedroom and flopped onto my bed. Didn’t even bother to change my clothes, even though there was baby vomit all over my shirt. I reeked like sour milk. But I was too tired to care.

  I wasn’t too tired to care, however, when my TV went out. I fiddled with the remote then checked the other rooms in my house. The power was out in all of them. I opened my front door to see if my neighbor’s front porch light was on, like always. It was. The yellow glow illuminated the semi-dark porch.

  So, it was just my house that didn’t have electricity? Why? I’d paid the bill.

  I grabbed a candle, lit it, and went down to the basement. The weak candlelight barely illuminated a path to the electrical panel which, of course, had to be at the very back of the very dark basement. I grabbed the little ring on the door to open it and got burned.

  I was no electrician, but I knew the panel’s door shouldn’t get that hot. Something was wrong.


  It probably wasn’t safe to stay in the house, in case of a fire. Thankfully I had a key to Mom’s place. With Mom and Dirk being gone on their big Alaskan adventure, I could stay in the carriage house for a few days. She’d told me they were having some work done on the place, to repair the damage from the fallen tree. But I figured I should be able to stay on the first floor. That part hadn’t been damaged during the storm…much.

  Hopefully it wouldn’t take longer than a day or two to fix whatever the problem was at my house.

  After donning some thick oven mitts, I checked to make sure the main breakers were tripped to try to avoid any catastrophes while I was gone then cautiously made my way back upstairs. I changed into a clean tank top and pair of knit shorts, packed up a couple days’ worth of clothes, and shuffled out to my car.

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