Stepbrother Anonymous

By: Aria Cole

Love is for suckers.

That's always been Hudson Farrow's take on it. His mother has practically made a career out of saying I do, which is why he's found himself in another upstate town, preparing to watch her walk down the aisle with another yacht club asshole, nursing his cynicism with scotch at another lonely dive bar. A sassy siren that sets his blood on fire wasn't part of the plan, neither was a new stepsister, and now Hudson's a man with a problem because he's just found out they're one in the same.





Skylar Walsh never thought the one and only man she's ever brought home would turn into anything beyond a few orgasms. Until six-foot-four, sinfully sexy, talented and tattooed sweeps her off her feet—and right between his thighs—on his custom Harley. When Hudson demands her phone number before the night even begins she knows she's in for a wild ride. When she runs into him at her father's wedding the next day, she realizes she may have just made the biggest mistake of her life. A dozen sheet-clenching, toe-curling, and soul-shatteringly good mistakes in the last twenty-four hours.





Warning: Hudson is hell-bent on his Sky, and he won't let a little thing like I do come between them. Filthy-sweet tattooed hearts, perfectly placed piercings that hit all the right spots, and love and fate inked so deep no force can keep them apart--hold onto your hearts because Stepbrother Anonymous stole mine! xo Aria





One





Hudson

“Two fingers of top-shelf Scotch,” I murmured at the bartender, anxious for the dark liquid to quiet my head. He poured a few ounces, sliding the glass across the bar with a nod. I tipped the glass of amber amnesia to my lips, the booze easing a little more of the tension out of my shoulders. My neck. Fuck, I’d been wound tight in the weeks before I even had to make this trip.

I finished the glass, setting it back on the bar and nodding to the bartender. Another upstate asshole—why did my mother always find herself around these types of people?

I swear, sometimes she tried to find herself by marrying someone new. This was her fourth wedding, not that I was judging, but she’d picked some real losers before.

I’d had my fair share of shitty stepdads, so when she’d called a few months ago and told me she was getting married—again—I’d shoved it to the back of my mind.

If I could have avoided this wedding, I sure as hell would have.

But she was my mother, despite all the dysfunction, and I wasn’t the kind of man to leave my own mother flapping in the wind.

Thankfully, she and the new beau weren’t going traditional with a wedding party—I’d been forced to step into a monkey suit at the age of fifteen when she’d married the last one, and I’d fucking hated every minute.

She was lucky I was here; that was about all the enthusiasm I could muster.

The bartender replenished my whiskey, nodding at me before tapping on the wooden bar to my left, a grin crossing his face that could only be reserved for a woman. A good-looking one.

I knew men, and I knew there must be one helluva piece standing next to me.

I took a sip of my drink, glancing out of the corner of my eye to find a woman next to me, waves of auburn hair falling around her shoulders and eyes so big and wide I nearly swallowed my own tongue.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having.” She gestured to the glass in my hand.

A smile spread over my cheeks. “You sure about that? This’ll create a fire in your belly.”

“Bring it, then.” Her eyes darted up to mine, leveling on me and ripping all the sense from my mind. Ice-blue oceans swirled back at me. I was sure I’d never seen eyes quite that color.

“Woman who handles her liquor, I’m intrigued.” I took another sip, enjoying the way her eyes hovered on my lips with each of my words.

“You’d be surprised what I can handle.” The bartender deposited her drink on the bar top. “Cheers to a good weekend.”

I clinked my glass with hers then watched as she took a healthy swallow. My eyebrows rose and my grin deepened.

This woman had fire, and hell if I wasn’t drawn to her flame.

“I’m going to need another one.” She set the glass on the bar when she’d finished.

“Well, hell, remind me not to go underestimating you again.”

“Again?” She cocked her head to the side, a pretty, sarcastic as hell grin darting across her lips. When she did that, I couldn’t help wanting to cover her mouth with mine, lick up the dips and swells of her body, and make her scream and shudder around me. My dick twitched in my pants, demanding to be let loose and cradled in her warmth. “What makes you think you’ll get a chance at again?”

Sweet fucking Jesus, she had sass. Sassy women were the sexiest to me. There was something about this woman; something that made me want to bend her over and spank that fine ass until she begged me to stop by shoving my rock-hard cock deep into her wet, warm cunt. Just the very idea of that made me feverish.

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