His Naughty Stepmother (ePub)

Will can't stand his stepmother. Summer is a gold-digging tramp, and after his father dies, he doesn't want anything to do with her. But when he has to spend spring break at home, the two opposites begin to feel their attraction to each other grow. Before long, Will is under the spell of "His Naughty Stepmother!"

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

"I miss things, too," Summer said. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, her arm moved from around his waist, her hand settling on his right butt-cheek. Before he could do more than give a gasp, she gave it a good, firm squeeze.

He jumped as if he had been stung. Spinning in place, he gaped at her. "Summer. What the holy hell are you doing?"

"Grabbing your butt," she replied. Twin spots of hectic color shone high on her cheekbones. "It's a nice one, and I wanted to know what it felt like."

"And?"

"And it's nice." A fluid shrug, which made her body ripple fetchingly under her blouse. "A bit bony, maybe, but we can work on that."

"We can work on that?" He took a half-step toward her, his fists clenched at his sides. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm not some horn-dog in a crappy club that you can pick up and screw, no questions asked."

"If you were," she replied steadily, unfazed by his open anger, "I wouldn't be interested in you."

"You," he said hollowly. "Interested in me." He laughed mockingly. "Cut the crap, Summer. What is this? Revenge for me being a jerk all those years? Fine. Have your laugh. But don't try to trick me into believing you actually care about me. I know you don't. The only person you care about is yourself."

"You're wrong."

"Prove it." Suddenly, they were face to face. He loomed over her, desperately hoping for...what? For her to admit that it was all just a game?

Or for her to tell him it was no game at all?

The very thought made his breath grow heavy and labored in his chest.

Summer raised her chin. "I'll let you do anything," she said. Her voice was quiet, but her words were crystal-clear. "Anything at all." A faint sheen of sweat, glinting in the strong sunlight of this unusually warm April day, was visible at her throat.

"Summer." His hands twitched. "Please. Don't...don't push me." Inside himself, he could feel a raging need, always denied, baying for release.

"What's the matter, William?" Summer's voice was faintly taunting. "Scared, now that you have a real woman in front of you?" She smirked nastily. "I should have known better. That tramp you were banging down in Carbondale didn't teach you a damn thing." A shoulder shifted, the first move in turning away from him. "I thought you were a real man. But you're just a scared little boy after all."

At that, something snapped in him. "Really?" Quick as a snake, his hand snapped up, gripping Summer by the hair at the back of her neck. With a twist, he turned her face up, bending down so he could lock eyes with her. Her lips were pink and plump and somewhat parted, and as he neared her face, he could feel the rapid pants of her breath.

With his own heart hammering in his chest, he kissed her, tasting her mouth for the first time.

"I'm not a boy," he snarled, when he backed away. Inside his shorts, worn for a day of golf, his shaft was an iron bar. "I'm a man."

"Oh? Then prove it."