Wild Child Page 4

  Zoe visibly relaxed. “That’s okay, then. It might be nice to have a night out.”

  “She knows you’re my stepsister.”

  “Oh.” She frowned before a bright smile replaced the grimace. “Ring her back and tell it like it is.” She propped up on her elbow and checked the alarm clock. “Right after we have a morning quickie. My shift starts at ten.” She jumped him, moving with a speed that took him by surprise. Her shriek of laughter when she wound her arms around his neck was contagious.

  His lips quirked into a smile as he allowed her to pull him back onto the bed. Their lips clung together, nibbled, tasted. But at the back of his mind, he worried. No matter what Zoe thought, Matt sensed Marisa would prove difficult.

  “Are you thinking about Marisa?”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” he deadpanned.

  “Humph.” Zoe flung herself back on the pillows. “You will be my slave. Your punishment.” She clicked her fingers in an imperious manner. “Slave, I desire a glass of juice, some freshly sliced pineapple and papaya, and once you’ve prepared my repast, come back and pleasure me. I wish an orgasm.”

  He stood and bowed from the waist. “Will her majesty return the favor?”

  “You’ll have your turn to call the shots tomorrow, Matt. Whatever you want.”

  “Anything?” He stared at her lips. Luscious. Plump. And very talented. His cock hardened into prominence.

  “I promise.” Her brown eyes danced with mischief. She reclined against the pillows again and made a shooing motion with her right hand. “Slave, please hurry. I find myself eager to taste some sensual treats.”

  He shook his head and stepped across the bedroom floor, picking his way around the clothes they’d discarded the previous night.

  A few minutes later he returned with two glasses of orange juice and a plate of fresh fruit cut into chunks. She was making snuffling noises again, her sprawled, naked body taking up more than her share of the bed. She’d kicked the pastel blue sheet off and he had an unimpaired view of her physical delights. He set the tray aside, deciding he’d tease a little and wake her at the same time.

  He plucked several cubes of pineapple from the plate and carefully balanced them on her body—one in the indentation of her belly button and another between her breasts. When she didn’t stir, he decided to get adventurous and placed chunks of pineapple on her mound and pieces of papaya between her sprawled legs. When all but one piece of the fruit from the plate decorated her body, he stood back to study his handiwork.

  One last touch required. He picked up the last piece of pineapple up from the plate and squeezed it so the juice trickled over her breasts. After discarding the piece of fruit, a grin spread across his face.

  Breakfast was served.

  Matt leaned over her body and licked the slope of one breast, following the trail of juice as it trickled into her cleavage. She stirred. He glanced up to see her eyelids flickering.

  “Are you awake?” he whispered.

  “No,” she said.

  “But breakfast is ready.”

  Her eyes flew open fully. As he watched, they widened, then glinted with amusement. “Not quite what I had in mind, slave.” She pulled a rueful face. “I feel sticky. And…what have you done? There’s fruit in my—”

  “Arranged breakfast to my satisfaction.”

  “This is my fantasy,” she complained, but he saw the gleam in her eyes. Her acceptance humbled him.

  “Since you fell asleep, I decided a takeover bid was in order.” He tapped the side of his nose in a superior manner. “I didn’t go to accountancy school to eat my lunch.”

  A snort emerged. “I know there are lots of extracurricular activities at university. Eating lunch isn’t one of them.”

  “Ah, you’re speaking of sex.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You realize if I hadn’t practiced a little beforehand, you wouldn’t be enjoying yourself as much as you are now.”

  “Humph. All I feel is sticky. Nothing pleasurable about that.”

  “Patience is a virtue.” He smirked at the cross little frown between her brown eyes. He licked the dried juice from the base of a breast and worked his way up to the areola. Her nipple reacted to the stimulus, but he didn’t linger. Instead, he swiped his tongue across her rib cage, pausing to nibble at a piece of ripe papaya.

  “Yummy.” He smacked his lips.

  “What about me? I’m hungry.”

  He grinned and picked up a piece of pineapple. He held it above her mouth and squeezed lightly, enough for a little juice to drip onto her lips. Her pink tongue darted out to collect the juice. He watched it avidly, his cock lengthening as desire increased. He pushed the pineapple between her pursed lips before nuzzling the soft skin beneath her ear. As she chewed on the fruit, he kissed a path to her breasts. Bypassing the full mounds, he lingered at her belly button, nibbling at the pineapple cube he’d left there. She shivered. Moving lower still, he parted her legs and sat back on his haunches to survey his handiwork.

  “You look like a fruit bowl.”

  Zoe suppressed a grin. “Humph!” The look in his eyes made her heart leap into a gallop. She watched his eyes darken until they resembled the color of the sky just before darkness fell—a deep bluish black.

  He pressed his lips to her inner thigh, the dark stubble at his jaw abrading her skin. Her breath caught. A flame licked through her body when she imagined his mouth moving higher. The wretch had stuffed fruit in places that didn’t normally house food, and it felt a bit weird.

  Definitely kinky.

  His fingers traced across the soft, delicate skin of both inner thighs. She waited in a frenzy of body-tingling apprehension. What was he going to do?

  The tick-tock of the alarm clock seemed louder than normal. The scent of ripe fruit filled the air. She could practically feel the blood rushing through her veins. The passion he’d kindled with his touch flamed higher when his fingers slid between her folds. He tugged on her legs so she shot down the bed and ended up with her lower limbs dangling over the edge. He knelt between and nibbled at a piece of fruit. Her hips jerked with each quick flick of his tongue. Desire, liquid and molten, held her in thrall. Long, luscious strokes of his tongue went dangerously close to her swollen clit. She swallowed, wondering how he could drive her so high so quickly. One long finger pumped into her pussy. Deliberate, probing strokes in counterpoint to the lashes from his tongue.

  “Matt,” she protested, her hips jerking while her pulse raced like a crazy thing.

  “Hungry? Have some more fruit.” He shifted to pluck a piece of papaya from her belly with his mouth, teasing with tiny bites. When he pressed his mouth to hers, the sweetness of the fruit contrasted with the faint taste of her cream. Juices spurted from the ripe papaya when she bit down. Delicious.

  He collected the juices from her chin, the wet rasp of his tongue bringing a shudder of awareness. Their gazes held. A rough growl vibrated in his chest as she chewed and swallowed. He feasted on her mouth, crushing lumps of pineapple and papaya between them before lifting his head. “Still hungry?”

  “For you,” she murmured, wondering what he would do next. The anticipation was part of the fun.

  “Good. Time to satisfy those hunger pangs.” He swept the remaining fruit on her belly aside and grabbed a condom. Seconds later, he drove into her heated flesh. He pistoned his hips, thrusting hard and deep. She gripped his shoulders, a haze of pleasure rushing through her body with each stroke. Raw need grew. Her hips jerked and her climax broke over her in long, pleasurable waves. He groaned, a dark sound, before he stilled, his cock pulsing for long moments.

  Finally, he moved, slipping from her body and discarding the condom. Squashed bits of fruit clung to her chest and littered the rumpled bedcovers. He grinned down at her. “Maybe we should take a shower?”

  “Together?” Her pulse rate did a distinct cha-cha-cha.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “We can get int
o lots of mischief or we can shower. Your choice.”

  “Hmm,” she said, pretending to ponder. “I always did enjoy multiple-choice.”

  Chapter Five

  The atmosphere inside the interior of the car was tense. Partly his fault, Matt acknowledged grimly while he navigated the streets leading to Marisa’s apartment block.

  “I don’t understand why you haven’t told her yet,” Zoe said, an expression of hurt shining in her brown eyes. “I’m starting to feel you’re ashamed of me. Of us.”

  “You have to admit the situation is a little weird.”

  “From where I sit, it seems perfectly normal. I want to go out with my boyfriend and be treated as part of a couple.”

  “Zoe, I’m sorry. I’ve tried to reach Marisa all week. Her flatmate said she had to go on a buying trip for her boutique.”

  She snorted. “She’s dodging calls on purpose.”

  Matt glanced across the dim interior of the car. He could see her sullen pout in the light shed by the street lamps. He knew he’d handled the situation badly. Everything had happened so quickly—the tumble from stepbrother and stepsister to lovers. Hell, his brain was having trouble keeping up. Or maybe that was the problem. He hadn’t thought this through properly. Telling Marisa about Zoe would be bad enough, but telling his mother and John…

  “This is Marisa’s apartment. I’ll go and let her know we’re here, and tell her the news.”

  “You can even say it. We’re lovers. L. O. V. E. R. S. We share a bed. I refuse to be pushed aside at your convenience,” she snapped. “Either we’re together or we’re not.” Her chest heaved beneath the skimpy red dress. She’d assured him she wouldn’t burst out at an appropriate moment, but after eyeing her cleavage, he wasn’t so sure.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” he said, climbing from the car and slamming the door before she had time to comment.

  For once, Marisa appeared immediately, meeting him before he reached the ostentatious entranceway to the modern apartment building.

  “Oh, good,” she said, throwing herself into his arms and pressing her lips to his before he could say a word.

  Matt was uneasily aware of the silent time bomb ticking in his waiting car. “I have to talk to you,” he said, grasping her upper arms and forcing Marisa away from him. Marisa struggled to move closer, but he was determined. “We have to talk.”

  “We can talk in the car,” she said gaily, and hurried around to the front passenger door. Marisa wrenched open the door before coming to an abrupt halt. “Oh. I thought you’d sit in the back.”

  “Think again,” Zoe said sweetly.

  “It’s not far to Joey and Kate’s.” He rounded the rear of the car and opened the door for Marisa. God, this was his fault. He was such an idiot.

  A scowl marred her forehead, and she slid inside the vehicle with clear temper. Matt’s gut churned as he strode back around the car to the driver’s side. He opened the door and slipped behind the wheel. The tension inside made his gut lurch even more. Hell.

  Marisa spoke first. “I’m so glad we could go to the party tonight. I have a buying trip next week. I’ve booked a room for the weekend at the Malamba Resort. I thought we could make a long weekend of it.”

  “A long weekend,” Zoe mocked. “Sounds like fun.”

  “Not you,” Marisa declared. “This is for couples.”

  “Marisa.” Matt heard the warning note in his voice, and he knew Zoe heard too, because she straightened in the passenger’s seat.

  “Yes, I know. You want to talk, but surely you don’t want to discuss our private affairs in front of Zoe?”

  “Matt’s been trying to talk to you all week,” Zoe said.

  “Zoe,” Matt said sharply. “Be quiet.”

  Marisa leaned forward and caressed his shoulder. “This has nothing to do with you, Zoe.”

  Zoe cast him an arch look before turning a smug expression on Marisa. “Oh, no?”

  “Zoe.” Matt’s stomach cramped as he calculated the damage two women could cause to each other in five minutes. He pressed down on the accelerator. The wheels screeched as he took the corner onto the road where the party was taking place. He pulled up behind a SUV. “Zoe and I are living together,” he said.

  Zoe winced, and he realized he’d need to do a bit more explaining.

  “Of course you are. It makes sense. You’re brother and sister.” Marisa opened the door and climbed out. She poked her head back in for an instant. “Come along, Matt. Zoe, everyone is very friendly. You won’t have any trouble making friends with the youngsters.”

  Matt cut through Zoe’s incredulous grumbling. “We’re lovers.”

  “I don’t think she heard.” Zoe jerked her head toward Marisa who was sashaying to the open front door. “Why didn’t you just tell her instead of skirting the truth?” She shoved open the door and climbed out.

  “Where are you going?” Matt demanded, guiltily acknowledging she had a right to her anger. He should have told Marisa straight away. He cursed, hating being at odds with Zoe. She meant more to him than Marisa ever had. Shit, a fine mess he’d made of this.

  “I’m going to introduce myself around, just like Marisa instructed. I might even meet a man with a spine.” Anger and disappointment warred inside Zoe as she stomped up the path edged with a knee-high box hedge. She stormed into the crowded party and detoured around Marisa and the couple she presumed were their hosts. No point speaking to Marisa at the moment since Zoe didn’t think she could control her tongue. Not with fury simmering through her body. And Matt. Zoe’s mouth firmed. He’d treated her as someone he was ashamed of. She sniffed and forced her thoughts to happier ones, refusing to break down here in public.

  Zoe caught sight of a group of men and women in her age group. She threaded her way through the guests intending to introduce herself and determined to pretend enjoyment, even if it killed her. Inside pain tore at her, the ache of rejection and the knowledge Matt had used her. She’d really thought he was different. Wrong!

  She forced a bright smile. “Hi,” she said into a conversation lull. “I’m Zoe Underwood.” Matt’s stepsister, she thought with irritation.

  “Are you Matt’s sister?” a young girl asked.

  “I’m staying with Matt for a while,” she said, thought of the word sister almost choking her. No relation, dammit, but obviously, Matt worried about what people might say. No, blast it! “I’m his stepsister by marriage. We’re not related.”

  The girl nodded.

  “I’m Michael,” a blond guy in a leather jacket said. “Would you like to dance?”

  “Sounds great.” Anything to keep her busy.

  Zoe walked over to the impromptu dance floor at Michael’s side. Matt was looking at her; she sensed his gaze drilling into her back. Zoe winged a wide smile to Michael and tossed her head, pretending she didn’t care—she was an unattached female intent on enjoying herself. The music turned slow, and she slid into Michael’s arms. It was going to be a long night. The singer crooned of broken hearts and tears burned the back of her eyes.

  Two hours passed, filled with lots of banal social chatter and dances with different men. Zoe couldn’t have said what their names were or what she talked about. She managed to avoid both Matt and Marisa, but couldn’t drive them from her mind. Like a magnet, her gaze kept drifting to them and each time, a jab of pain stabbed her in the heart. People considered twenty-two as young but she was old enough to know her mind. She loved Matt. They had so much in common, thought the same way, and had the same beliefs.

  She swallowed the sudden helplessness. At least she’d discovered he didn’t return her feelings now, rather than later. She’d have to find another place to live. Of course, returning home was another option, but her stepmother would sense something was wrong. No, it was best to keep away from Auckland. Maybe she’d move into the flat with the other girls from work and continue on her business research. Zoe stared unhappily at Matt’s broad back. She could ring tonight and ask if she cou
ld crash on their couch but didn’t want to face a load of questions. Tomorrow would have to do.

  Matt watched Zoe closely throughout the evening and hoped like hell she didn’t do anything stupid. Like confront Marisa. A pissed Marisa was a vindictive one.

  Marisa slipped her arm through his and bent close. “This weekend will be wonderful. The resort is very luxurious. We’ll have a chance to relax and enjoy ourselves.”

  “I have plans for this weekend.” Because he knew Marisa wouldn’t take no for an answer, he decided it was way past time to speak bluntly. And then somehow, he’d make things up with Zoe. Hopefully, she’d forgive him for a moment of sheer stupidity. “Zoe and I are lovers.”

  Marisa waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re brother and sister.” She chuckled without warning. “Ah, I get it. It’s April Fool’s Day. Don’t you know you’re only supposed to play tricks before midday?”

  “It’s not a joke.” His stomach cramped as he waited for her reaction. “We’re not related. Zoe and I are a couple.”

  “But you’re brother and sister,” she repeated in bewilderment. “Matt, you and I are together. I thought we’d get married.”

  “Zoe and I are not brother and sister. How many times do I have to tell you?” He shook his head. “And what’s this about marriage? Marisa, the last time you spoke to me you told me you never wanted to see me again.”

  She laughed lightly but didn’t quite pull it off. “I was angry because you were working. I didn’t mean it.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s over between us.”

  “You’re sick,” she blurted into the resulting silence, totally ignoring his declaration. “Unnatural.”

  “Zoe and I aren’t related,” he stated in a tight voice. Hell, he could just imagine what she would tell their friends. The gossip…

  “Sick!” She spun on her heels and stalked off, her attitude one of a woman wronged.

  “Hell.” How to piss off women in two easy steps. He was two for two. Matt glanced around the crowded room. Zoe was on the dance floor. If the way she was plastered against her partner could be called dancing. A tide of emotion flooded him. Anger. Irritation. Jealousy. He didn’t like other men touching her. She was his. He stalked over to exert his claim.