Step Brother

by Jayna King

  8 -- Reed

  I tried to pay attention to all of the dinner conversation. I really did. But Tatum was all I could think about. The taste I’d gotten in the office just wasn’t enough. The heat between us wasn’t going away, and no matter how much she tried to push me away, I knew she felt it just as much as I did.

  “So who wants dessert and espresso?” Mom asked, clearly enjoying her role as hostess of the manor.

  “I’m so full, I don’t know where I’d put it,” Tatum said. “And Garrett will kill me if I take another bite.”

  Fucking Garrett. I wasn’t so sure I liked the fact that Tatum was living with a single guy.

  “I’ll take some espresso, for sure, and I’ll eat some dessert, just to be polite,” I said.

  “We have the lovely pie you brought,” Mom said. “And we also have tiramisu and pecan pie, as well.”

  Tatum groaned. “Noooooo. Tiramisu? I can’t turn that down!”

  Silently laughing at the fact that both Tatum and I were avoiding the cat-ravaged pumpkin pie, I opted for pecan pie.

  I nearly had to excuse myself from the table once dessert was served. The look of ecstasy on Tatum’s face as she took tiny bites of the tiramisu was unbelievably distracting.

  “Want a bite?” she asked, holding her spoon out toward me.

  I fixed her gaze with mine. “Absolutely.” I wanted to take her right then and there.

  We polished off dessert, and I could feel Tatum getting restless.

  “Shall we adjourn to the fire pit?” Donald asked, waving toward the patio.

  I worked up a pretty convincing fake yawn. “I probably need to hit the road, as long as you don’t mind, Tatum. I have an early appointment tomorrow.”

  She practically leapt out of her seat. “That’s fine with me. I’ll be in the gym early tomorrow working off dinner.”

  We managed our goodbyes, promising to see our parents in Tahoe if not before, and I was practically vibrating with my need for Tatum as we pulled out into the street. I couldn’t stand having her so close without being able to touch her. It was exquisite torture.

  “So where are we headed?” Tatum asked as I pulled out of the neighborhood.

  “What’s your pleasure?” I asked. “Cocktail? Wine?” All I wanted was her, but I was willing to be patient, difficult as it was.

  “After all that rich food, I would love a scotch.”

  “Didn’t peg you for a scotch girl. You’re in luck, though. I know a place with a great selection.”

  The car was silent for a few minutes.

  “Dinner was actually nice, huh?” Tatum asked.

  “It was. You were well behaved.”

  “Yeah. You were right. I need to work my shit out and not take it out on Tina. She hasn’t done anything to me.”

  “She does seem to be trying—decorating and trying to make your dad happy.”

  “Yeah. He’s not an easy man to please—at least not long term.”

  “So you’re really going to Tahoe, right? You weren’t just saying that?”

  “Yeah. I’ll go if you will.”

  “I was going to say the same. I don’t know if I want to ski while I’m there, but it sounds like it could be fun—if you’re there, anyway.”

  Tatum got quiet, and I wondered what was on her mind. I’d kinda taken charge back at the house when she flipped out, so I decided to hold my tongue. If she had something she wanted to say, I figured she’d speak up.

  “So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” she finally asked.

  “It’s kinda complicated. Let’s wait until we have a drink.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Oh, just this little place I know.”

  “Are you sure they’re open on Thanksgiving?”

  “They’re always open.”

  When I turned into my driveway a few minutes later, I looked over to see Tatum looking at me, eyes narrowed.

  “I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”

  “Well, I am sure. Let’s go.” I got out of the car, opened her door, and took her inside. I turned on the light in the living room. “Have a seat. I’ll get the scotch.” I walked into the kitchen. “Neat or rocks?” I called.

  “Just a splash of water,” she called back.

  When I came back into the living room, I found her studying one of my paintings.

  “This yours?” she asked.

  “Yup.”

  “You didn’t sign it,” she pointed out.

  “Nope. I don’t sign my work, unless it’s for sale. Don’t really see the point.” I took a sip of the smoky whisky. “How’d you know it was mine?”

  The single lamp in the room made it just bright enough for me to see Tatum blush.

  “I might have looked at your website. This looks like the tattoos you do.”

  “Interesting. Even though it’s abstract?”

  “Absolutely. It’s bold, and … I don’t know. It just has the same feel.”

  “Good eye.”

  “So what did you want to talk about?”

  “You’re persistent, aren’t you?” I said with a smile. “Let’s sit.” I took a seat on the smaller of the two sofas and held a hand out to her. She sat down next to me, and I thought about what I wanted to say.

  I still hadn’t decided what to do about my father, and as wrapped up in baby stuff as Marla and Butch had been over the last few weeks (yes, Marla had finally “broken the news” to me), I hadn’t really had a chance to discuss it with anyone I trusted. I trusted Tatum, though. My concern was her near paranoia about celebrity and fame. I was afraid she’d run out the door if she found out my dad was more famous than she could imagine. I decided to see if I could bring the subject up without actually telling her who he was.

  “So, you know I’ve never known who my dad was, right?”

  “Yes. Your mom knows, but has refused to tell you, right?”

  “Until a couple of weeks ago. I finally talked her into telling me. I know who he is, but I haven’t contacted him yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “To be honest, she told me he wasn’t interested in getting to know me, and I don’t know if I’m just setting myself for disappointment by reaching out to him.”

  “Did he ever pay child support?”

  “Every now and then. Nothing formal, though.”

  “Could he not afford it?”

  I sighed. “That’s not exactly a problem for him. He is pretty well off, but he was married when he slept with my mom. He asked her to keep it quiet so that it didn’t wreck his marriage.”

  Tatum snorted. “If he cared about his marriage, he should have kept it in his pants.”

  “You have a point.”

  Tatum sipped her scotch and thought for a moment. “So what’s your question?”

  “I guess I just want another opinion on whether I should try to contact him.”

  “I think it depends on what you want out of it. If you’ll be disappointed by anything less than being fully integrated in a new family, then you’re likely to be disappointed. If you just want closure, then I’d say go for it. I’d do a cost-benefit analysis. Look at the pros and cons of both options.”

  I leaned back and looked at the gorgeous woman next to me. “That’s pretty logical advice from a girl who was practically foaming at the mouth earlier today.”

  Tatum shook her head in disgust. “I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that. Thanks for talking me off the ledge.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Reed?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Watch out. I don’t want you to spill that scotch.”

  I looked at her, puzzled. “It’s fine.”

  “Not for long.” She reached out, took the glass from my hand, and set both our drinks on the table. She turned toward me. “I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but Reed, I want you.”

  She leaned forward and kissed me. I could feel the brush of her breast against my arm, and I had an instant hard
-on. Without taking her mouth from mine, she straddled me.

  I groaned. “That’s music to my ears, Tatum. Ever since the night at the Hard Rock, you’re all I’ve been able to think about.”

  “I don’t want to think. Maybe it was the wine at dinner, or maybe it was the thing in Tina’s office, but I want you, Reed, whether it’s right or wrong.”

  I reached up and pulled her face toward mine. “It’s right.”

  I kissed her hard, and the pressure of her on my hard-on was almost more than I could take. I’m not quite sure how I managed to get my brain to work—with all the blood rushing elsewhere—but it occurred to me that Tatum had been drunk the night we’d slept together, and she mentioned the wine tonight. I pulled back. “Hey, I don’t want to do this if you’re not sober enough to remember it.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m not drunk. I just—I don’t know. I just feel this pull toward you, and I’m not going to resist anymore.”

  I didn’t need to hear another word.

  “I’ve been wanting to see what you’re wearing under that see-through top all day.” I reached up and slowly unbuttoned her shirt, slipping it from her shoulders to reveal gorgeous, full tits, barely concealed by her peach lace bra. “Tan lines,” I observed, tracing my finger along the line revealed by her bra. I could see her nipples through the lace, and I decided I was going to take my time with Tatum. I felt like I’d been waiting my whole life for this night, and I wasn’t about to rush it.

  “Oh,” she gasped, as I ran my fingertips over her nipples through the fabric.

  I wanted to own every inch of her body. I unhooked her bra, peeled it off, and tossed it onto the sofa. She was a vision. “You’re gorgeous.” I ran my hands over the swell of her breasts, filling my hands, bending to lick the tip of her nipple.

  “Oh, Reed, that feels good. I’ve wanted this all day.”

  I sucked her nipple into my mouth, sucking and licking, while I squeezed the other with my finger and thumb. She arched her back, and I started to question how long I’d be able to wait. I needed her with an ache I couldn’t ignore. I felt like my sanity depended on burying myself deep inside her. Nothing else would slake the hunger I felt.

  Her nipples were as sensitive as I remembered, and I thought about how wet she must be getting. “You have way too many clothes on.” I stood up, her legs wrapped around me, and started toward the bedroom.

  Her arms were wrapped around my neck, and I could feel her tits pressed up against me. I reached up to turn the light switch off and she put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Stop,” she said.

  “I’ll turn the light on in the bedroom if you like,” I said, misunderstanding.

  She swung her legs down. “That’s my phone.”

  You have got to be fucking kidding me. My hard-on started to ache as I watched Tatum bend over and dig through her purse. Looking at her perfect ass was not helping my predicament.

  “Hang on a minute. It’s Garrett. I need to take this.”

  I rolled my eyes and picked up my scotch glass. Tatum’s roommate was a fucking cockblocker, and I was not happy about it.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  I figured if Tatum had wanted privacy, she’d have left the room, so I didn’t even bother to conceal the fact that I listened to her side of the conversation.

  “Whoa, whoa, honey. Slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.

  “He called you what? And what did your dad say?

  “Oh, no you didn’t.

  “Garrett, what were you thinking? You had the perfect opportunity, and you let it pass you by.

  “I know you’re scared, but sooner or later…” Tatum looked at me and measured her words. “Well, sooner or later, it’s got to happen, Garrett.

  “What?

  “Um … I’m over at Reed’s. We’re having a drink and, well, it’s been an interesting day for me, too.”

  Tatum sighed as she listened, and she looked at me. I couldn’t interpret her expression.

  “Yeah. I’m about ten minutes away. Be there soon.”

  “No, really. It’s fine. See you in ten.”

  She hung up the phone and looked at me. I didn’t say anything. I just put down my scotch, picked up the keys, and walked out the front door, knowing that she’d get dressed and follow me. I sat behind the wheel of the car, fuming. I was angry. I was hurt. And I was so fucking horny, I felt like I’d explode. I started the car when Tatum came outside.

  She got into the passenger seat. “Reed, I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be.”

  “It’s just that Garrett’s situation is complicated. He’s in the middle of a family crisis, and I …”

  I shook my head. “You don’t need to explain, Tatum.” I wanted to scream at her, and I wanted to pull over and tear her clothes off and fuck her, but I was going to stay in control. She had a choice to make, and she’d chosen Garrett. I wasn’t an idiot, and I wasn’t going to try to change her mind. I didn’t have to work this hard just to get laid.

  We sat in uncomfortable silence until I pulled up in front of Garrett’s house. She didn’t move to open the door, and I wasn’t about to get out and open it for her.

  “Can I call you?” she asked, her voice sounding like a little girl’s.

  “Free country,” I answered.

  She looked at me, a little bit of the fire I loved so much kindling in her gaze. “So you’re just going to pout? Is that your thing?”

  I stared at her, unable to believe that she was pissed at me. “Really? I was about to take you to bed and make love to you—something I’ve been thinking about doing since the second you snuck out of bed and left without saying goodbye. I want you, Tatum, and you know it. I had you half naked in my arms, and with one phone call, you’re rushing off to go spend the rest of the night with another guy? I’m pissed, but you’ve made your choice. Get out of the car.”

  She shook her head and put her hand on my arm. “Reed, you don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.”

  “Garrett is in a bad situation. He…”

  “Tatum, I don’t care about Garrett. Just go.”

  “But Reed…”

  My voice was thunderous. “Go!” I yelled.

  I saw an expression on Tatum’s face I hoped never to see. She was scared. Of me.

  She picked up her purse and opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride home. I’m sorry, and I’ll call you.”

  She looked at me, waiting for a response I wasn’t going to give. The car door closed quietly, and I watched as she got inside before I drove away.

  9 -- Tatum

  I’d felt wretched the entire weekend after Thanksgiving. I’d gotten Garrett calmed down about the ruckus at his parents’ house that night. Apparently, his brother had called Garrett a faggot, and Garrett’s mom had thrown a big fit, railing about how the gays were going to be the downfall of the country and how everything from AIDS to the common cold was the result of God raining down punishment upon the world because gay people … well … exist.

  Garrett had gotten upset, had thrown a punch at his brother, a fat, lazy slob who had never held a job for longer than a month or two, Garrett’s dad had thrown Garrett out for starting a fight, and his mom had been sobbing when he stormed out of the house. I’d told Garrett he could solve the entire problem if he just told his family the truth, but he couldn’t see any way for him to have a relationship with them if he came out.

  Not my circus, not my monkeys.

  I had my own problems.

  I’d called Reed. I’d sent text messages that he didn’t answer. I completely understood why he was pissed at me, but it was starting to infuriate me that he was going to sulk and not even let me properly apologize. That was how I came to be sitting in my car in the parking lot of Inked.

  “Are you sure he’s there?” Garrett asked.

  “That’s his Tesla. He’s there.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to talk to y
ou?”

  “Quit it. It’s going to be fine. He’ll either talk to me, or he’ll have a raving lunatic in his store.”

  “Would you really make a scene?” He looked skeptical.

  “Watch me,” I said with a smile. “Let’s go. I have a phone call scheduled this afternoon with what I’m hoping is a job offer. I want to get this mess wrapped up.”

  “Well, it’s the least I can do after having been single-handedly responsible for fucking up your sex life with your brother.”

  I looked around the parking lot, hoping no one had overheard Garrett. “Shut the fuck up. It’s not even just about the sex, although your timing certainly sucked in that respect. I actually like Reed. That’s the trouble.”

  “I’m gonna fix it, Tatum. I don’t want your celibacy on my conscience.”

  He opened the door for me, and I was hit by a wave of angry heavy metal music.

  “God, I hope that’s no reflection of the owner’s mood.”

  “Can I help you?”

  The woman who asked was striking. She was voluptuous, like an old-school pinup model, complete with Bettie Page blunt bangs and jaw-dropping cleavage.

  “Is Reed around?” I asked with a smile I hoped would make it easier to get through the gatekeeper.

  Her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to ascertain my reason for being there. “He’s with a client. Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, I don’t. And I’m not here for a tattoo. I just want to talk to him for a minute. Is that possible?”

  She studied me for a second before she answered. “What’s your name?”

  “Tatum. I’m his stepsister.”

  “Oh,” she answered, spinning on her heel and walking into the back without another word.

  “I think she’s heard of me.”

  “I wonder if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Garrett said as he leafed through one of the artist portfolios that covered the tables in the waiting area.