The Forbidden Brother. Joanne Rock

construction.

      The exposed brick walls and bamboo floors had been cleaned and restored. A staircase with dark slats and a thick, Craftsman-style handrail led upward, the mirror on the landing reflecting the dull light of silver pendant lamps. The beautifully detailed hammered-tin ceiling tiles looked original.

      But she didn’t have a chance to compliment him on the remodeling project in progress. He stalked toward her, his intent gaze rising from her mouth to her eyes. Her pulse quickened as she remembered why they were here.

      The music from the jukebox drifted in through the open door. The rest of the world was close, but not close enough to see what was happening in here. He paused near her, took off his Stetson and settled it on a wrought-iron hook beside the door. She could see his eyes better now that the brim wasn’t casting a shadow. Jillian let her satchel fall to the floor with a soft thud. Her eyes remained on Carson. The stranger she knew.

      Then his hand was cupping her face, tilting her chin. Her eyelids fell, the sensations coming so fast and fierce she needed to focus simply on what she was feeling.

      His kiss chased off any reservations she might have had, providing instant clarity about what she wanted. Desire shot through her; it felt like going up too fast in an elevator. Her knees almost buckled, and her whole body was seized with dizzying sensations. She reached to steady herself against him and ended up molded to the hard expanse of his muscles, from her hips to her breasts.

      Her instincts took over. Winding her arms around his neck, she sought a closer connection.

      For a moment, he kissed her harder. Deeper. She sucked air into her lungs in hard pants when he finally angled back, breaking the kiss to study her.

      “Are you okay with this?” he asked, his thumbs stroking lazy circles on her shoulders through the thin fabric of her blouse.

      She wanted more than a kiss, she knew now. Much, much more.

      “Better than okay.” She laid her palm on his cheek. Willed him to understand what she needed.

      Connection. Affirmation. Him.

      His jaw flexed; his breathing was as labored as hers. Then he backed her into the wall and she vaguely registered the rough brick against her spine for a moment before he hooked an arm under her hips and hefted her higher. The action slid her along the rigid length of—

       Oh. My.

      She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair, clearing a path to his ear so she could whisper, “Don’t stop.”

      * * *

      Her soft plea undid him.

      Up until that moment, Cody had been doing his damnedest to keep the explosive attraction in check. He’d made sure she was on board with what was happening between them. Helped her to feel safe and in control at all times. There was a bar full of people—well, a few people—just on the other side of the door.

      But now?

      She was like an out-of-control blaze in his arms. The chemistry was blistering. And her quiet, insistent “Don’t stop” torched the last shreds of his restraint.

      Cupping her sweet curves in his hands, he brought the juncture of her thighs against his rock-hard erection, feeling the heat of her right through her long skirt. With the flip of his belt buckle, he could be inside her in no time.

      “Please,” she murmured against his neck, kissing her way down his throat as she tugged at his T-shirt. “I have a clean bill of health. No partners since my last checkup.” She stopped kissing him long enough to glance up at him.

      His short bark of laughter surprised him. Hell, she surprised him with the glimpses of an efficient woman beneath the passionate kisses.

      “Me, too.” He set her back on her feet. “And thank you for that. I have protection somewhere. A bathroom upstairs, I think.” He’d stocked the basics, since he’d spent a few nights here overseeing the construction work when it had run late into the night.

      “I have one,” she blurted, scrambling to retrieve the patchwork bag she’d dropped on the floor. “I bought it when I—well, in a fit of optimism.” She combed through the papers and electronics in her satchel. A bright pink pair of earbuds and a lipstick tube spilled out. “Here.”

      She stood back up and stuffed a foil packet into his right hand, then launched herself into his arms. He wanted to move them upstairs where there was a sofa, but her fingers made quick work of his belt and the button fly, scrambling the last of his good intentions as she stroked him lightly.

      “Hold on to me.” The words were a brusque command as he lifted her against him, a thigh in each hand as he helped her to wrap his legs around him. With her secured that way, he stepped close enough to the door to lock it.

      She took the forgotten condom from him while he backed her against the door, a smoother surface than the brick wall. With her pinned there, he used a hand to tug her skirt higher. Out of the way.

      She was in the process of tearing open the packet when he touched her through the silk of her panties, finding her hot and ready for him. He withdrew the condom from her, rolling it into place. His pulse pounded in his temples, the need for her an undeniable urge. A fierce ache. He wanted to take more time, touch her until an orgasm simmered through her. But her restless hands roved over him, peeling away his shirt and undershirt, tracing down his spine, spearing through his hair. Her hips bucked, and the slide of her soft, feminine center against his rigid length threatened to take his knees right out from under him.

      Being inside her was his only option.

      Slipping her panties aside, he entered her, slowly. Her fingers flexed against his arms, her nails gently biting into his skin as she held herself still. Head thrown back, she parted her lips on a sigh of pleasure. Her cheeks flushed deep pink, her lashes fluttering as she started to move with him.

      The feel of her all around him was the sexiest high he could remember. From her boots hooked around his waist to her blouse sliding off one shoulder, she was all in. Her honeysuckle scent called to him, and he licked her tender skin while he buried himself deep inside her. Over and over again.

      He held back when he could tell she was close. Her cheeks went from pink to small spots of red, her breath hitched and her hips went still. He slipped a hand down to touch her intimately, caressing tender circles right...there.

      She came apart in his arms with a cry of pleasure that brought his release surging right afterward. Heat blasted his shoulders as sweat popped along his spine. The sensation went on and on, pummeling him, wringing everything from him. She clung to him, shifting against him as the aftershocks rocked her.

      “Carson.” She breathed the word with a sigh, her eyes closed and her head thrown back.

      His brother’s name on his lover’s lips brought everything inside Cody grinding to a halt. His heart rate slowed. His brain ceased working, too. Nothing made sense.

      “What did you just say?” His mouth formed the words even as a chill rushed over his skin. He shifted his hold on her, barely able to think.

      She peered up at him through eyelids at half-mast.

      Whatever she saw in his expression must have given her pause, because she tipped her head sideways and worried her lower lip with her teeth.

      “Carson,” she repeated, loud and clear, even though she looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I knew who you were when I walked into the bar. I was looking for you.”

      “Not me, sweetheart.” With an effort, he straightened his shoulders. “I’m Cody McNeill. You’ve got the wrong twin.”

       Three

      “You’re Cody?” The color drained from the woman’s face, as if that was extraordinarily unpleasant news.

      Not that