Stepbrother Studs: Warren: A Stepbrother Romance by Selena Kitt Page A

my best to be quiet.  The last thing I wanted was calling any of the staff’s attention to my appearance.  I smoothed my hair back as best I could and lowered the door handle.  The door swung open so quickly, I was unprepared and began to fall over the threshold.
     
    Strong arms enclosed me.  The scent of Warren’s natural musk filled my nostrils.  For a moment, I clung to his arms and simply breathed.  My heartbeat evened.  Inside, I grew calm.
     
    Once my feet were beneath me, he set me back, then stared. 
     
    I met his gaze as steadily as I could.  Well, as calmly as a girl with a bruised cheek and torn dress could.
     
    “What the hell happened to you?” His dark brows drew together in a ferocious frown.
     
    I’d never heard him speak in that tone before—harsh and slightly hoarse.
     
    I quivered, but reminded myself he wasn’t angry because he cared.  I lifted my chin.
    “Nothing I didn’t invite,” I lied.  How could I admit I’d completely misread Ham’s character?  The last thing I wanted was for Warren to gloat because he’d been right.
     
    “The hell you did!”  He gripped my upper arm and marched me through the parlor, down the corridor to the library.  Once there, he pushed me toward the center of the room.  An antique chandelier glowed brightest in that spot.  He cupped my chin and lifted my face, his gaze studying my cheek. 
     
    “Harmony.” He drew a deep breath, then closed his eyes for just a second.  “Did he hurt you... anywhere else?”
     
    There was the slightest quaver in his roughened voice, and I shivered.  Drawn by the intensity of his stare, I gave a shallow nod.
     
    “Where?”
     
    I glanced away.  My mouth trembled. 
     
    “My inner thighs.  They’re bruised,” I whispered.
     
    “Did he rape you?”  His voice was a tense whisper.
     
    I shook my head.  “Once he had my legs apart, he couldn’t...” 
     
    My mouth trembled, so I pressed my lips together.  The tears I’d been fighting welled in my eyes.  I hated that he saw them.  Hated that knew how stupid I’d been.
     
    “Let me see.”
     
    “But he ripped away my panties.” My breath hitched. 
     
    “Harmony, let me see.”
     
    I let him turn me.  His fingers gently pushed the dress off my shoulders, then past my hips.  Nude, except for my rhinestone heels, I stood shivering as he walked around me then knelt. 
     
    His hands glided softly up my inner thighs and touched the telltale bruises Ham’s pinching fingers had produced.  For a moment he was still, then his fingers inched upward.  He traced the red line the elastic bands had dug into the creases between my thighs and my pussy. 
     
    I couldn’t help the little whimper that leaked from my throat.  How many times had I dreamed of him touching me there, and now, it was simply to examine the hurt another man had caused. 
     
    He stood and, again, his hands moved over my skin, stopping at my breasts, which he lifted and examined.  When he touched the side of one, I winced.  He’d found another mark.  He walked behind me, his palm gliding over my ass.
     
    “We should call the police.  Bring assault charges against him.” 
     
    “No!” I glanced back at him.  “And have the press start comparing me to my mother? I won’t be seeing him again anyway.  I told him that tonight.  It’s why he... drank.” 
     
    “And you got into the car with him? Why didn’t you call me?”
     
    “And have you say I told you so?”  I gave him a cool glare. 
     
    His eyes closed again.  A look of the deepest pain tightened his features.  When he opened his eyes, I nearly lost it.  There was regret shining there.  And love.
     
    The next morning, I dressed in slim yoga pants and a figure-hugging, long-sleeved black shirt.  I’d discovered more purpling marks on my arms and didn’t want to incite Warren to anger again. 
     
    After he’d examined me, and then given me his shirt to wear as I made my way