Billionaire Stepbrother: Autumn (Our Forbidden Year Book 2) by Emilia Beaumont Page A

he leaves notes dotted around the apartment for me to find; each one makes me wetter than the last. Forcing myself not to touch any part of my body for the duration of his absence, as that is our agreement, is agony. My nipples stay painfully erect as I relish the thought of what he will do to me once he gets home. The build–up and time apart is more than half the fun. He isn’t normally gone for too long, a few hours here and there – quick business meetings, and things more important than me.
    But today, there was no note. Today, he is later than usual.
    Did he forget? Is his interest wavering? Does he fear being found out?
    No time to think of this now.
    I scramble for the robe, my fingernails accidentally scraping the stone like claws on an old–fashioned blackboard, as I gather it up. Frantically I search to find the arm holes; I spin the dressing gown around every which way, but the material seems to get even more knotted and confused. I need to cover myself up, need to get off the balcony.
    I’m too late.
    I should be used to it by now; no matter what I’m doing, the experience never changes. His arrival, his need, even when I’m expecting it, consistently surprises me. I can’t prevent my heart from beating hard against my chest. There’s nothing I can do about the thick lump that rises in my throat, making it painful to swallow. It’s as if my body has been trained to react to him in this way, and god, how I love it.
    The glass door slides back, agonisingly slowly on its rails, to reveal me naked on the balcony.
    I don’t want to look at him yet, and I keep my gaze pinned to his highly polished shoes. I stand cradling the bundle of silk that does its best to cover up my nakedness. But it’s pointless. My ass is hanging out and my breasts are too full to hide.
    I hear him breathing, short excited inhales and restrained exhales. He’s trying his best to stay calm. No doubt his jaw is tightly clenched, pulsing as he grinds his teeth together. He must be as hard as a rock, I hope, as a smile escapes me.
    It feels like an age before he speaks. I just want him to take me into his arms and punish me for my disobedience, yet I keep my head bowed and avoid making the first move.
    “Aimee, the balcony is off–limits,” he growls with a hint of disappointment, as if he’s had to tell me this a thousand times before.
    He waits for my response, but I allow the seconds to tick by. He wants me to answer, but I keep my lips pressed together, barring any retort. I can feel the need increasing in him; the heat pulses off of his delicious, suit–clad body.
    I know exactly what I am doing – winding him up. Wanting him to get angry so that he’ll take me hard against the rails of the balcony for everyone to see. But tonight, his tone is off… something doesn’t feel quite right.
    “Why do you disobey me?” He moves closer, his legs straddle the boundary onto the balcony, and I catch a whiff of his spicy scent. I try to resist, but my body overcomes my mind, and my eyes roll back into my head as I breathe him in deeper. I hate myself for longing to step forward. For wanting to bury my face into his neck as he slips a finger into my wet cunt; I know what we are doing is wrong, but he is everything to me now.
    I almost don’t remember the question as his arm darts out and clamps itself around my wrist. Sparks fly up my arm, and I am ready for him to take me.
    “Answer me!” Lex cries as he pulls me inside and whips the sliding door shut. The force causes the glass to crack as it hits the vertical frame running up the wall. This is not how the game normally plays out.
    My chest is about to burst, and blood rushes to my head trying to make me see sense; he’s different.
    A momentary look of confusion flashes across Lex’s face as he looks back at the splintering glass clinging to the internal door–frame; a spider–web pattern spreads from the bottom corner all the way to the very top, making sharp cracking