Hooked: A Stepbrother Romance

by Iris Parker

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, noting my tone. “I thought you knew. You didn’t go to Johnnie’s this morning?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, come on then!” he said with a grin, jogging towards the exit and gesturing for me to follow.

  By the time we made it to the field, everything clicked.

  A bus.

  He’d rented a bus.

  A nice bus, I realized, as we stepped inside. The seats were upholstered in soft leather, and the air conditioning was a frigid relief from the summer heat. There was even a bathroom in the back, fully functional with running water.

  “This is insane,” I whispered to him over the din of our teams. “The game is practically just down the street. It’ll probably take us longer to drive than to walk. How much did you spend on this?”

  “Not too much,” Simon reassured me. “It’s pretty cheap if you rent for the whole season,” he added as an afterthought.

  The words sank in slowly, and a thousand criticisms popped into my head. The money could’ve kept the rec center open even longer, and what if we lost and couldn’t advance? Yesterday’s surprise of custom team uniforms had felt excessive, but a bus? It was crazy, it was…

  Looking around, I cut my inner critic off mid-rant. Everyone was hooting and hollering, grinning from ear to ear. They looked good. So proud and professional, each player wearing a shirt emblazoned with his or her name. They were grinning from ear to ear, looking happier than I’d ever seen.

  They were all part of something bigger than themselves, now. The pressure had been building for weeks, team spirit growing along with the anticipation of testing themselves against others. They were full of adrenaline, and not a single trace of the apathetic boredom of last month could be found on any of their faces.

  Today, we all wanted to win. Today, we all loved rugby.

  And Simon.

  As much as I wanted to criticize him, the man had been nothing short of a great coach. I’d been sure that sticking him with the girls would sabotage him irrevocably, but he’d managed to form a real bond with them in record time. Even Shauna, who resented male authority thanks to the string of assholes her mother dated, seemed to sincerely like Simon.

  The bus ride lasted all of ten minutes, most of it in traffic, and the enthusiastic teens surged out without missing a beat. The other team was already there, and soon the referee began calling the players to the field.

  Simon and I waited together on the bleachers, side by side. His strong thighs pressed into me, and the skin of my arms erupted into goose bumps. It took all my willpower to avoid the shiver that was threatening to run up my spine. This man, with his quiet masculinity, was beginning to drive me crazy in more ways than one.

  In sore need of a distraction, I fixed my attention onto the field. My team was up first, and I started motioning to them, reminding them that they needed to listen to the referee and his instructions. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see Simon waving at someone far up in the bleachers.

  She was in the fourth row, standing straight across from us and waving frantically back in our direction. Sliding my sunglasses down from my forehead to hide my eyes, I stared shamelessly at her distant figure. Of course, I had no business doing it, but part of me needed to know who Simon was seeing.

  I felt a sick lurch in my stomach as I looked her over, noting the flamboyant bright red hair and the pink floral dress. He had very much found someone here, someone he was already declaring his love to, I realized as I recalled the phone conversation I’d overheard.

  Did that surprise me? After all, I was probably the last person on the planet who still disliked Simon. He was everybody’s hero, a great catch. Hell, even I was starting to warm up to him.

  Still waving, he turned his smiling face to me and a nervous-sounding laugh escaped his shapely lips.

  “Mom,” he said cryptically.

  “Sister,” I corrected without thought. What was he on about? Mom was in California with Dad….

  “You’ve never met her, right?”

  Suddenly, it clicked.

  “You have a mother?” I asked, apparently trying to impress him with my ability to ask profoundly stupid questions. “I mean, of course you do. But what’s she doing here?” I corrected.

  “She came to watch the game.”

  “She came all the way here? For a recreational summer amateur league game? Doesn’t she get enough rugby watching you perform with the English national team?”

  “England’s not down the block from her place. This is.”

  “This is down the block from your mom’s?” I echoed.

  “My mother lives here, Emilia. Always has. I grew up here. Hell, I attended the rec center as a kid,” he explained, his sparkling smile slowly turning apologetic.

  Simon and I had spent two ill-fated summers together, but it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t really know much about him. The rest of the year, he lived in a boarding school in England, but I never stopped to think about his mom. He didn’t seem fit for the love of a mother. He’d been feral, out for blood and little more.

  Shut your fucking mouth, or I’ll make you regret it.

  I chased the memories away. It was hard to reconcile the two men, the polite and even-tempered coach who’d made himself a hero to everyone at the rec center, and the insufferable bully I’d known as a teenager. Even more difficult was the thought that he’d grown up here, attending the same inner-city rec center I’d been working in for years.

  “Is that why you’re donating? Why you got us a bus?”

  “One reason, yeah.”

  “What are the other reasons?”

  “It’s an investment,” he shrugged, running his hand through his hair and down to his neck.

  “An investment? Oh sweetie, you’re never seeing that money again. You knew that, right? You had to know that,” I said, hairs rising on the back of my neck from worry-panic. Was he delusional?

  “Not that kind. This is more…personal.”

  “What, you made a promise to your old coach? Want to relive some childhood memories?”

  “No, I just really wanted an excuse to stare at your ass all day,” he quipped, looking me straight in the eye without so much as a blink. My heart started racing in my chest, and the only thing that stopped me from bolting was the sudden touch of his hand on my leg.

  “Sit. Stay. The game’s about to begin, and your team needs you.” Looking around, I saw the referee and his assistants walking into the field. The shiver that had been threatening earlier overwhelmed me, the force of it shaking me to the core.

  “How could you even have known I worked there? Or that the center was closing?” I asked.

  “Oh, you know. I like to stay informed,” Simon said with a shrug, looking more than a little sheepish.

  My eyes narrowed. “Stay informed about what? The center?”

  “Not what. Who.” It was quite the shock when I learned you’d been hired here, believe me. The youth center doesn’t hold many good memories for me.”

  “What the hell, Simon? How long have you been keeping tabs on me?”

  “Long enough to wonder what happened after you bought a date with a fireman at a charity auction. How did that go, by the way?”

  “That’s fucking creepy, Simon.”

  “Yeah, well, the image of you beneath a sweaty behemoth like that still kept me up more than a few nights. And that was before I knew how fucking hot you were now.” He paused for a second while I desperately tried to process his words.

  “Were you expecting something different from me?” he asked softly, and when I looked in his eyes I saw a mix of lust and pain, longing and hurt. Unable to face me, he turned forward with a sigh.

  We sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before he again turned to me, whispering in my ear. “The game’s about to start,” he said, his lips so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath blowing across the tender skin below my earlobe. Shivering again, I looked down at th
e referee just in time to see him blowing his whistle.

  Closing my eyes, I prayed I’d be able to regain my composure by the end of the match.

  Everyone’s heard the rumors by now.

  She’s a great little cocksucker.

  She puts out for anyone.

  Let’s see how the little princess goodie-two-shoes does with the entire school breathing down her neck.

  See what it’s like to have everyone either hate you or want to use you, bitch?

  Welcome to my world.

  The roar of applause washed over us from behind, every bit as invigorating as a gentle breeze would’ve been. Between the handful of ads I’d placed in the paper, and a couple of human-interest-story segments played on slow news days, there was a veritable mob of well-wishers cheering the team on.

  With so many friends and family members watching, the boys rose to the challenge. The game had been fantastic. I’d known all along that Emilia had a good team on her hands, but I hadn’t counted on them outdoing themselves so much. They’d scored ten tries in the first half of the match alone. Now victorious, they eagerly surrounded their coach and chattered with excitement.

  Choosing to stay on the bleachers myself, I watched in fascination as Emilia’s petite frame was overshadowed by the large builds of her players. Only Theo was smaller, and even he seemed to be catching up to her rapidly as the summer progressed. Besides, the bright smile on his face more than made up for his height.

  As the players left the field, I had to force myself to look away from Emilia as the girls got ready for their turn. That lasted for all of a second, before she jogged up to me with a brilliant sparkle in her eyes.

  “My gosh, Simon, we won!” she shouted above the noisy celebration. She was ecstatic, more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. Her long hair was flowing out over her upper arms, and the sway in her hips hit me straight in the heart.

  Well, not only in the heart.

  “Congratulations!” I called back, enjoying the moment. Theo was riding Cedric’s shoulders, inciting the crowd further as the female teams finished getting ready.

  Five minutes later, the referee’s whistle resonated on the field and I held my breath as Emilia came to sit next to me. She was positively glowing, intoxicated by the rush of success. I knew the feeling all too well, but seeing it on Emilia’s face was sending its own kind of glow all over my body.

  She put one of her small hands on my leg, and it took everything I had to ignore the jolt it sent further up my thigh.

  “Gosh, I hope the girls perform as well as the boys! Wouldn’t that be fantastic?” she asked me loudly, though I could still barely hear her above the din of the crowd. Her eyes were fixed on me, her hand still pressed against my leg. My gaze fell towards her small breasts, concealed under the red tank top but still unquestionably perfect. I looked up in a fog, my eyes finally meeting hers, my breath deep and heavy.

  She must’ve finally figured out what was going on in my head, because she pulled her hand away and mouthed a silent “sorry.” I expected her to scoot far away, but she didn’t budge. Sitting right next to me, she studied my face in silence.

  Our silent bond was broken a few seconds later by a roar of applause when Shauna scored the first try, and reminded myself that the team needed me. Turning my head forward, I focused on the game with everything I had. The girls needed me, and I wasn’t going to let them down.

  I was, after all, their coach.

  Back home.

  Back in the saddle.

  Back on the field.

  Everything back to normal.

  Everything will be back to normal once I get her out of my system.

  I hope she realizes I

  I warned her.

  Not my fault.

  Hope the bitch is suffering as much as I am.

  I’d always heard about the after-game rugby parties in Europe. Drinking, womanizing, crazy stunts by the teams. I’d never quite let myself imagine Simon participating in the debauchery after winning a game, but I knew what it must’ve been like. Mindless yelling, obnoxious drunken celebrations, cringe-worthy moments that gave team sports a bad name.

  It goes without saying that I’d never approved of the idea.

  But tonight, things felt different. Both teams had won by a landslide. Shauna’s eyes were bright and present, without a trace of the withdrawn girl I’d known for years. For the first time, she was acting dependable and succeeding at something. Theo was trembling with happiness. So many players had undergone some kind of transformation, coming out the better for it.

  So I looked the other way when they blatantly conspired to ditch us and make their own fun away from the center. Not like I could’ve stopped them if I’d tried. They’d won the day, and it was their night to celebrate.

  Besides, I wanted to celebrate in private too. With alcohol. Without the pressure of being a role model.

  With Simon.

  We headed towards the closest bar, a dive geared towards biker-types and their girls. Everywhere I looked I saw pierced-this and tattooed-that, with beards and dark leather all around us. Simon wrapped his arm around my waist as we approached the bar, and I felt gentle pressure as he pulled me into him.

  “Today was such a good day,” I chimed in, intoxicated equally by the thrill of victory and by the closeness of Simon’s touch as he ordered a couple of beers. “I was so unsure about me coaching rugby, you know.”

  “You shouldn’t have been. You’re a great coach, and you’d be an amazing one with a little more practice.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You’re a top-notch runner, but you don’t have much experience playing rugby. When you’re demonstrating moves on the field, I see the way you tense up.”

  “Oh, listen to you, Mr. Professional Specialized Athlete. Unlike you, I have to branch out. Of course you’re good at rugby.”

  Good at rugby was the understatement of the year. The man had led his team to international victory in several tournaments, and he was acclaimed in sports circles everywhere. Everywhere. Even living in a country where the sport was virtually unheard of, I’d heard his name mentioned in passing a few times over the years.

  Of course, his good looks had catapulted him beyond athlete and into full-blown celebrity.

  You’d think, then, that his eyes wouldn’t have lit up when he heard my compliment. He was better than good, and he knew it. All the same, his cheeks broadened into a smile as he mouthed a silent “oh?” at me.

  “Shut up,” I teased. “Besides, I don’t even like rugby. Or your bad manners. I bet I could beat you in a game where you don’t get paid a bajillion dollars to practice it sixteen hours a day. Like lacrosse.”

  “Ha. Lacrosse? That’s such an American game—”

  “—You’re half American,” I interrupted to point out.

  “So how does that work? We play half a game? A whole game, with half the equipment? I call getting the stick, I think I’d win then,” he quipped.

  Laughing, I slammed my hand into his chest playfully. My breath caught in my throat as I touched him, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt.

  Oh god….

  “Give me something we can both play. Like basketball. Give me a ball and I’ll pound you into the court faster than you know what’s happening,” he said.

  Oh. my. fucking. god. I don’t know if I actually whimpered or just thought about it, but there was no way his double entendre had been an accident. I looked up at him with wide eyes, wishing I was about five beers further along, so I’d have the courage to respond in kind. Tell him he didn’t need a ball to pound me, something like that.

  Instead, I just stared.

  “So, is it a deal? Winner takes all?”

  “All—all what?” I managed.

  “How’s everything you gave that fireman sound?”

  “Assuming you win,” I pointed out, amused in spite of myself. When had his arrogance become cute? “What do I get if I win?”

&
nbsp; “Everything the fireman gave you. And more. Much, much more,” he winked, laughter sparkling in his mischievous eyes. I went to hit him in the chest again, only to realize my hand was still there from earlier. I slid it down a little, tracing his curves and feeling the heat radiating from his body.

  “You’re on,” I whispered just before slamming half my beer back in one long gulp.

  Suddenly, my mouth was feeling very dry.

  The sweetness of her lips.

  The curve of her ass.

  She’s driving me crazy.

  Like she always has.

  She was in my veins, taking over all the space that kept me from going insane. From acting like a wild thing, an ape that only knew how to do things beginning with the letter f. Her hand was on my chest, and that alone set me back at a good million years of evolution.

  “Don’t,” I said, glancing down at her delicate fingers. The same fingers I’d always imagined touching me, just like this, leading their way down and down until they made contact with my waiting cock….

  “Or what?” she asked, staring straight at me. Deep in her eyes, I could see the same. The animal within her. Except hers was different, waiting to be claimed and conquered by a hunter. She was practically daring me to drag her back to my cave, to—”

  Suddenly, someone behind her pushed to get through the bar, shoving her unceremoniously against me. And just like that, the moment was lost.

  “Learn some manners, bloke,” I growled angrily. The guy got one look at me before glancing down at his shoes, mumbling a drunken apology and scuttling off into the crowd. Emilia’s head was against my neck, the sweet smell of her hair wafting up and taking control of my senses. I rarely lost my cool anymore, but this felt different. She was too good, and I wanted nothing more than to protect her. To keep her safe, happy, sheltered, and fed.

  The feeding part had been easy, actually. My daily trips to Johnnie's were a habit now, bringing a paper bag full of warm muffins to the rec center every day. Watching her eat breakfast, a meal she’d always skipped, always filled me with a strange sense of pride.