Forgotten Identity (Dangerous Desires #3)

CHAPTER 1 – THE MORNING RUSH

Tara

I could do this job blindfolded, and sometimes I think I might as well, considering how little of my actual brain is required to dose espresso and microfoam milk.

I’m all muscle memory after two years on the job: flick the portafilter, polish the pitcher, pour a leaf or heart or (when I’m feeling extra) a particularly pretty fern design that I’ve just mastered.

However, my signature is the three-layer tulip—no one else can pull it off without botching the symmetry. It’s my tiny, sweet legacy.

My phone buzzes, face up on the stainless, lit with a blue bubble: it’s Eliza, my best friend. She’s already been awake for hours because my buddy has always been an early bird, but she always has time for my moral crises. Which is good, because today’s is extra.

Her: “Hey girl, saw you pinged. What’s up?”

Me: “Confession. It happened again. I’m a lost cause.”

Her: “Hunter??”

Me: “Yes. My favorite sex dream subject appeared again. OMG, he’s going to break me.”

I can almost hear Eliza giggling.

Her: “You’re so bad. It’s not that awful though. I mean, they can’t put you in jail for dreaming about a man. Even if he is your stepbrother.”

I smile and write back.

“I’ll tell you all about it later and it is that bad because, girlfriend, my dream man is better than any real man. But listen, I have to go because the café’s busy today. I’ll call you when I get off shift.”

Then, I tuck the phone under the register, fingers flying as I work on a six-ticket drink order. Muscle memory takes over; my mind is free to return, in all its shameful, vivid detail, to last night’s epic mistake.

Of course, the dream was X-rated. Of course, it was totally steamy, with the big body of my older stepbrother playing a starring role.

But the thing is that the dream wasn’t totally pulled out of the blue because actually, I was intimate with Hunter once before.

Only once, and we didn’t go all the way, but it was enough to start me down this treacherous, forbidden path.

It happened about a year ago at a party for Hunter’s company, which I had zero business attending except that Mom begged me to “be supportive.” I guess his company, Justify AI, had launched some new product that was going to change the world, and they threw a big shindig to celebrate.

All I knew is that for me, it meant hours in too-tight heels, sipping flat chardonnay, listening to men in fleece vests debate “venture capital synergy.” I lasted until dessert, then ducked out for air—only to find Hunter already outside, alone, back against the brick wall, tie loose and hair haloed in vapor from his breath.

He called my name low, so it came out like a dare. “Tara.”

I spun around, the darkness cloaking his big body. Still, I could make out broad shoulders clad in a perfectly-cut suit, as well as a strong jawline and the dangerous gleam of those blue eyes.

“Hey Hunter,” I stammered. “I thought you’d be inside. This is your party, after all. Aren’t there a ton of people you have to chat up?”

He shrugged, stubbing his cigarette.

“Yeah, but a man gets tired of pressing the flesh. Half those people are barracudas just waiting for me to make a mistake. At the first opportunity, they’ll tear the skin from my bones while I’m still alive.”

I choke a little at the vicious metaphor.

“Oh, I see,” I say in a soft voice. “I had no idea.”

Hunter doesn’t say anything, but I can feel those blue eyes scanning me in the darkness, taking everything in.

OMG, do I look okay? I’d recently gone through some big changes, and put on twenty pounds.

The thing is that when you’re young, the weight goes on in all the right places.

Now, I had big Double D breasts highlighted by the cocktail dress, as well as a narrow waist, wide hips, and thick thighs.

The stiletto heels I was wearing were new too, and suddenly, I felt really unsteady.

Far too unsteady, actually, and without knowing how, I stumbled and fell over.

Straight into Hunter’s arms.

“Oof!” I cried out.

“Don’t worry. I got you, baby girl,” he rasped, pulling me against that hard form. I flushed, tipping my head back to look at him, taking in the raw masculinity of his features.

“Thanks for saving me, Hunter. I don’t know what caused that. I guess I don’t wear heels very often and it must have been a pebble—”

But I barely had time to speak before he caught my wrist and pulled me further into the darkness, casting us in shadow.

In seconds, his mouth was on mine, hungry and rough, tasting of whiskey and peppermint.

My knees actually buckled. His hand cupped the back of my head, fingers tangling in my blonde tresses as his lips worshiped mine.

I could have run, but I didn’t. It felt good, and I pressed into him, let his thigh wedge between mine, and kissed him back like my life depended on it.

But then sanity broke through.

“Wait, what are we doing?” I whispered, pulling back in a daze. “You’re my stepbrother! We can’t do this!”

He laughed, deep and raspy in his throat.

“Yes, we can, baby girl. I’ve wanted you for a while now and you look so fucking ripe in that tight dress. Goddamn, when did you become a woman?”

Then, the CEO pressed me against the wall again, his palms splayed across my ass. He yanked me flush against him, and this time, I gasped because I could feel, unmistakably, how hard he was.

“Oh!” I whispered.

I shouldn’t want this. I absolutely should not. But the more wrong it gets, the hotter I burn for it.

Hunter broke the kiss first, his eyes pinning me, pupils blown wide. “You want me to stop?”

I shook my head, couldn’t form a single word.

“Use your words, Tara.” The sound of my name on his lips made me melt. His hands slipped up, cupping my breasts over the soft fabric, thumbs flicking my nipples until they ached. “Tell me.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” I whispered.

That’s all the commanding alpha male needed to hear. Hunter slid a hand under my dress, up the wetness of my thighs, and paused at my drenched slit.

“No panties, sweetheart?” he rasped, going stock still.

I blushed, even though I knew he couldn’t see in the dimness.

“This dress was so tight that I had panty-lines, so I decided to go bare,” I whispered, so embarrassed to be telling him this. OMG, OMG, he’s going to think I’m insanely lame!

But Hunter merely chuckled deep in his throat, lightly brushing my sensitive spot.

“I like it,” he growled. “You’re a naughty little girl, aren’t you? Let’s see just how naughty, Tara-bear.”

Then, his fingers kept searching, skimming over my clit and making me moan. I bit down hard on his shoulder, as with a throaty chuckle, he slid two fingers inside.

“Oh, mmm!” I cried out, unable to help myself.

“Shhhh,” he rasped against my lips. “Quiet, sweetheart, although I love that your moans are just for me.”

He moved slow then, rotating his fingers in a sensuous motion, knuckles brushing the insides of my thighs, palm grinding against my clit. I could barely keep standing.

“Oh, mmm!” I cried, quieter this time. “Oooooh!”

“Look at you,” he murmured, thumb circling. “You love it when I touch you like this, hmm? My slutty little stepsister.”

What was he saying? Yet the words sounded good, and I nodded, eyes closed, whole body strung out on the edge.

He pushed me higher and higher, until I started to whimper.

I heard voices—someone leaving the party—and panicked, but Hunter clamped his hand over my mouth so that my cries were muffled.

Yet the handsome man kept working me, relentless, until I shattered in his arms.

“Oh oh oh!” I shrieked from beneath his palm, my cries muffled by his square hand. “Mmmph!”

“Shhh,” he soothed, still stirring his fingers in my wetness. “Shhhh, you’re so beautiful baby, coming like this in my arms.”

After, I sagged against him, limp and gasping, cheeks flushed and panting. He pulled my dress down and kissed my hair.

“You’re trouble,” he whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear in a gentle motion. “Goddam, how did you become so beautiful?”

Then, he stepped away and melted back into the party, leaving me flushed, startled and altogether hungry for more of him.

But I didn’t see much of Hunter after that.

Sure, there were a few family gatherings but he stayed away from me.

I’d only see his tall figure and dark hair from across the room, although there were a few times I could swear those blue eyes trailed my figure hungrily.

But whenever I turned, he was always in conversation with someone else.

So I chalked it up to a chink in his armor, and a passing obsession that went as fast as it came.

I try not to think of my stepbrother, but obviously, Hunter still haunts me in my dreams.

Now, once again in reality, I’m pulled back to the bustling atmosphere of the Daisy Cafe. The espresso bar glistens with steam and the tinkle of cups. Yet, my reverie has shaken me, and my cheeks are hot. My legs are actually shaking. I reach for the milk pitcher and almost drop it, hands unsteady.

Fortunately, there’s more than enough to keep me busy.

The morning crowd thickens: grad students, tech bros, yoga moms in matching Lululemon, all vibrating with caffeine anxiety and gossip.

I keep thinking about Hunter’s hands on my skin and almost over-pour the next latte.

I squeeze my thighs together. God. I need to get a grip.

Between customers I text Eliza under the counter:

Me: “I can’t stop thinking of him.”

Her: “Stop! Work! Focus!”

I sigh, which earns a side-eye from my manager, a stern but gentle Midwestern woman who thinks I’m sweet and pure. If only.

A regular—quiet old man with a beard like Santa—slides up to the register. “Morning, Tara,” he greets.

“Hey Harvey,” I respond in return. “What’ll it be?”