Wicked Game: a Billionaire Stepbrother Romance by Bella Scully Page B

raised an eyebrow.
    I snorted.   "Weak ass men with your weak ass refractory periods."
    Damien shrugged.   "Not my fault I'm not a teenager anymore," he said, his gaze rolling down my body.   His fingers traced circles into my thigh.   "But I could probably make an exception for this."
    I flicked his fingers away and shook my head.
    I yawned, stretching and realizing how every single muscle in my body ached.  
    Neither of us could go again, at least not right now.   As much as I wanted to, I was worn out as he was.   Sneaking into museums, illegal breaking and entering, and hot caveman sex with your long-lost psychotic ex-stepbrother will do that to you.
    "Can't," I mumbled, barely able to talk.  
    I collapsed onto the bed next to him.  

    Damien's arms pulled me tight to him, and I fell asleep in his warm embrace.

In the morning, the soft sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains woke me.   A yawn escaped me, and I rubbed away the sleep from my eyes with the heel of my hand.   Every muscle was pleasantly sore, and every inch of me ached wonderfully.   The silk sheets of the bed kept my body luxuriously warm, like sleeping in the summer ocean.
    A silly smile crawled up my face as I woke.
    Why do I feel so good? I wondered, still half asleep.
    I rolled over, grasping at the pillow beside me.
    Damien’s sleeping face was only an inch from mine.
    “Shit!” I cried, flinging myself up in bed.
    Oh right.
    That’s why.
    Damien’s eyes fluttered open, and a confused expression spread across his face.   He glanced up at me with a raised eyebrow.   His eyes popped open for a moment, just as surprised as I was at the fact that we had slept together (in both senses).  
    Then a cocky, greedy smile replaced the confused one.
    “Morning, wifey.”
    “Don’t call me that.”
    “Oh God, not that again,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically.   “You’re naked in my bed with sex hair.   There’s no denying it anymore, wifey.”
    “I said don’t call me that.”
    With a groan, Damien propped himself up.   He ran his hand through his hair as he studied my panicking form at the other side of the bed.   He frowned sourly.
    “What is it, Cleo?   Why are you so mad?   What did I do now?”
    “We shouldn’t have done this.   This was a mistake.”
    His jaw dropped.   “You can’t be serious.”
    I threw the sheets off of me, ready to bolt.   Damien’s gaze lazily walked itself down to my chest, taking in the sight of my exposed breasts.   I snatched the blanket back and covered myself.   There was no way I was letting this trainwreck go on any longer than it needed to.   This ended now.
    “You didn’t seem so sure about that when you were begging for my cock last night.”
    I flinched.   Shit, I had begged, hadn’t I?
    This man really was getting to me.
    And that was dangerous.   I needed to put a stop to this.
    “So I wanted sex.   That doesn’t mean this needs to last longer than a night.”
    Damien flinched, like that had really hurt.  
    It confused me, but I pushed it out of my mind.   There was no way he could actually want me for longer than a night.   This was just another one of Damien Blackwood’s Ridiculous Crazy Adventures.   And I was just another lay.   As long as I was smart enough to remember that, I wouldn’t get hurt again.  
    This wasn’t a relationship, I reminded myself.  
    It was a way to steal his dead dad’s money.
    That’s all.
    “Cleo, you’re going to have to start making sense.   I can’t understand anything before my first coffee of the morning.”
    He leaned forward, and his finger stroked along my shoulder.   There was something strangely soft and affectionate about the motion.   I shrugged his hand away, disturbed by how sweet and romantic he was acting.  
    I wasn’t sure what he was up to, but I didn’t like it.
    Damien sighed.   “Okay, fine.   What did I do, and how much do I have to pay to make up for it?  
    “You didn’t do