Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance

by Irons, Aubrey

  “No problem, how about ‘you’re a fucking shithead’? You get that okay?”

  “Yo comprendo,” I mutter back, furrowing my brow at her. “Look what’s your fucking problem?”

  “You, Hunter; you’re my fucking problem.” She snatches up her coffee mug, scoots the stool back, and breezes out of the room.

  “Oh, are you a Nationals fan, Hunter?” I jerk my head up to see Eleanor smiling at me in her bathrobe as she pours more coffee into her mug. “Terrible season, isn’t it?”

  *****

  I corner her at the top of the stairs by the doors to both our rooms, and she jerks her arm back when I grab her.

  “What, Hunter?”

  “You better not have anything on under those PJs, you know.”

  She rolls her eyes, but this time, it’s not that cute little embarrassed flirty eye roll. It’s a ‘fuck off’ eye roll.

  “Go away, Hunter.”

  I frown, but as she turns to open her door, I grab her arm again and pull her close.

  “How about we put that big bed of yours to the test, princess,” I growl into her ear. “And you can show me exactly what I hope you really slee—”

  “Hunter, fuck off,” she says with a snarl as she yanks her arm back and shoves her door open. She turns back to glare at me as she steps inside, giving me just the slightest shake of the head, her jaw set, before she slams the door shut.

  So, that’s where we’re at, apparently. I’ve gone from “Oh God, I’m going to come, Hunter” to “you’re a fucking shithead, Hunter.”

  Fuck me, huh?

  Part of me wonders if it has to do with the announcement, as if somehow that reality has finally caught up with her and now she’s shutting down with me. It’s like now that things are out in the open — well, relatively speaking — she wants nothing to do with me. Like the publicity surrounding our parents makes it all too real.

  Or possibly it’s because of what happened yesterday; maybe us actually fucking again jarred her later on or something, or embarrassed her.

  Except that’s fucking ridiculous.

  In any case, Maddie’s shutting me out, and if I have any pride or sense, I’ll do the same with her. If she wants nothing to do with me, or if she’s pissed about what happened, I should do the same. Self-preservation or some shit.

  And besides, what the hell is it between us? So we had this sort of crazy, pent up attraction, and we acted on it. Big fucking deal, it’s not like it makes us boyfriend and girlfriend or anything like that. And it’s not like there aren’t a hundred other women out there I could be and should be fucking. I mean, war vet? Wounded in battle? And now I’m the fucking President’s stepson? Yeah, getting laid was not a problem before, but it’s going to be like fishing with dynamite now.

  Except the idea of going out and fucking someone new just does not appeal to me, at all.

  I growl as I shut the door to my room and lean back against the door, frowning at the floor. What the fuck is wrong with me? I try and push her out of my head — to forget her like I’ve done with a hundred other women — but I fucking can’t.

  Because all I can think of is her sitting there in the kitchen just now; disheveled hair, pajamas, sipping coffee with that cute little scowl on her face. She’s not some dolled-up club girl, or a Senate intern with a wardrobe from daddy’s credit card, she’s just her; plain, perfect, sitting-at-the-breakfast-table-in-pjs her.

  And it’s sexy as fucking sin.

  Sexy, untouchable, sin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Um, so can we talk about your new stepbrother now?”

  Can we not?

  Jessica whistles on the other end of the line, a line that’s much clearer than the last time we talked now that she’s back in L.A. “Girl, he is sex on a platter.”

  I roll my eyes. “He is not.”

  “Oh please, it’s not like he’s your real brother, you can admit it he’s hot, Mads.”

  “He’s…” I trail off. “He’s a jerk.”

  “Jerks are hot, Mads.”

  “Not this one. Particularly not this one,” I add, feeling the rage building inside me and picturing Anya’s stupid stupid face. “He’s so cocky and domineering, and a total manwhore. And he thinks just because he’s got a big dick that he’s God’s gift to women.”

  Shit. Oops.

  “Giirrrrl!”

  I cringe at Jessica’s squeal, burying my head in my hand.

  “Okay, what do you know about his dick?!”

  “Nothing!”

  “Well what was that supposed to mean then!?” she says, giggling.

  I feel my face burn hot, “It’s nothing! I just heard it was big, okay? Some stupid White House rumor.”

  Jess snorts. “Well, that’s a way better rumor than I thought went on in that place.”

  I swallow thickly. “Yeah, my PA mentioned it, I think.”

  My PA who was fooling around with someone I still haven’t identified, I might add.

  “Okay, so let’s just recap then. Not your real brother, hot, sexy as fuck, war veteran, cocky, domineering and likes to fuck? Oh, and he’s hung?” Jess laughs into the phone. “Maddie, what is the problem with any of that?”

  “Um, national scandal? Embarrassment? Ruin of reputation?” I’m ticking them off on my fingers as I spit them into the phone, as if I’m keeping tally myself.

  “So, you have thought about it.”

  I groan. “Oh my God, no.”

  “Fine, then when I’m finally allowed to come visit you, I’m certainly jumping on that.” Jess snorts. “Literally.”

  For a second, I see red. The very idea of Jessica with Hunter like that gets me suddenly furious, but I stuff it deep down inside. But that little piece of rage is enough to have me sitting there on the edge of my bed thinking of him and his ex, and that gets me even madder.

  Oh, excuse me, “Anya”, the apparently very much NOT ex.

  Anya, who I want to hate, but I know I may have played a part in her being cheated on. The first daughter, and the second girl.

  Ugh.

  And then I start thinking of Harry back at school, and how fucking shitty it felt to be in those shoes, and I squeeze my eyes shut and drop back onto the bed, somehow feeling even worse.

  “Jess I have to go, something’s come up.”

  “Is it Hunter’s big cock?”

  I snort and grin in spite of myself. “Goodbye, Jess.”

  “Put in a good word for me, okay?”

  I laugh as I hang up and then slump back onto the bed, letting the myriad of thoughts in my head flood over me.

  Because if Hunter is nothing, and just this ‘thing’, then why does the thought of him with anyone else in the world get me so mad that I see red?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Without the job, and now without the distraction of fucking around with Maddie, there’s one word for days spent at the White House: boring.

  I’m bored; bored out of my fucking mind, even with the crazy amount of distractions this place has. I mean there’s a movie theatre, and a pool, and a gym; shit, there’s even a damn shooting range in the sub-basement of the place.

  Except none of those things can possibly get my mind out of the funk of kicking around this place with her avoiding me like she is. And I’m still not even really sure why.

  I’m lost in thought when I duck into one of the random study rooms somewhere in the south-east corner of the house. Dexter suddenly comes tumbling out of the door hidden behind a floor-to-ceiling portrait of Washington. He’s grinning and out of breath, but he freezes and quickly shuts the painting behind him as he nods his chin at me.

  “Whats up?”

  I frown; he looks guilty as fuck. “What were you doing?”

  “Nothing, man.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Dude, this isn’t private school. If you get busted with weed in this place, it’s going to be some serious shit.

  Like I’m not guilty of worse.

  Dext
er gives me a look. “I’m not an idiot, Hunt.”

  I raise my brow at him.

  “Oh c’mon, give me some credit.”

  I sigh. “Just don’t be an idiot, okay?”

  “Says you.”

  I furrow my brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I growl out, feeling a cold chill run up my back.

  Dex rolls his eyes and grins at me, “Hunt, I’m not fucking retarded.”

  I bristle, and he steps towards me, his hands up.

  “Hey, I’m not saying shit, man, I’m just saying I’m not fucking blind.” He arches a brow at me, “You’re my brother, and I know you.”

  “Look, whatever you think—”

  “Hey, like I said, it’s not my business and I’m not saying shit.” He punches me in the arm, “I’m just looking out for you, bro.”

  “Hey, you take care of you, okay? I’m watching out for both of us.”

  Dexter shrugs and pull his fucking cigarettes out of his pants and puts one in his mouth.

  I yank it away.

  “Hunt—”

  “You know mom hated those fucking things.”

  I narrow my gaze at him, as if daring him to say something sharp back with mom involved, but he just sighs and nods.

  “Yeah, I know.” He grins, “I think she’d be happy with all this, you know,” he chuckles.

  “I think she’d be laughing her ass off that dad’s going to be the first First Husband.”

  I snort, “Yeah, she’d probably get a kick out of that.”

  Dex grins again. “Big bad Major Alec Ryan hosting a charity luncheon, huh?”

  I crack up. “Book drives, for sure.”

  “Maybe he’ll start an elementary school exercise program.” Dexter starts scowling comically and strikes a wide-stanced pose. “Drop and give me twenty, you fucking second grade pussies!”

  And then we both lose it completely, holding our sides, and I’m actually wiping a tear away by the time we’re finished.

  “This is going to be a good thing man, I think,” my brother says with a shrug. “It’s going to be different, but good.”

  I nod, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He grins and start to turn for the door when my eye catches something and I grin.

  “Hey, Dex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “On the subject of watching out for each other,” I clear my throat, grinning at him. “You got some lipstick on your pants there, buddy.”

  His face goes a little red, but he just shrugs and grins at me, “Thanks. Oh, and on the same subject, that thing I don’t know about and have zero possible notion, clue, or hunch about?”

  I clench my jaw and he holds his hands up again.

  “Hey, just thought you should know that she met Anya.”

  My jaw drops, “Fucking what?”

  Dex grimaces, “Yeah, Eleanor fucking had her come to the White House or some shit.”

  I groan and feel my fists tighten at my side.

  “I don’t exactly think she and that thing I don’t know shit about are going to be pals anytime soon.” He shrugs, “Just thought you should know,” he’s says, before he ducks out of the room.

  I drop into the chair behind the desk, one that’s far smaller and far less important than the Resolute desk in the Oval Office.

  I also haven’t fucked Maddie on this one.

  Fuck. So that’s where all this shit came from; fucking Anya. Anya the attention-whore, Anya who doesn’t actually love me, or even particularly like me. I’m sure she has some sort of angle here, pretending we’re an item again.

  Some sort of angle like my new stepmom: the President.

  So that explains the sudden frost from Maddie. Honestly, it’s almost funny though, in a way. I mean, is she actually jealous of my ex? The thought is almost adorable, and not altogether unsexy. Actually, I think with a grin as I lean back in the chair, it’s sort of hot to think of her being that possessive of me.

  We’re not even a thing.

  I mean to boil it down to brass tacks, we’ve had sex twice. Okay, sure, incredibly hot, mind-blowing, fucking insane sex, but that the idea of another woman with me gets her that jealous is actually sort of cool. And that’s obviously what it is.

  I shake my head at how silly it is, except when I think of her with another guy, it suddenly clicks.

  It clicks as I see a flash of red rage across my mind. The idea of any other man on the planet touching her has my blood boiling and the fury welling up inside. Because she’s mine.

  I’m fully aware of how weirdly and crazy possessive that sounds, and how backwards it is. It makes me sound like I’m some sort of ancient lord or whatever, claiming my right.

  But claiming is what I want to do with Madison Adams. I want every part of her; I want to consume her. I want to make her mine; every part of her.

  I growl as I take that to its fullest extent in my mind, and it gets me hard as a rock. Every part of her; all of her. I feel my cock swell in my pants as I wonder briefly if she’s ever…

  Yeah, no, of course she hasn’t.

  But she might.

  *****

  “You’re jealous, aren’t you?

  Maddie gasps as she jerks her head up to see me crouched on the edge of the pool, where she’s just come up from her lap. Yeah, like I said, the White House has a pool in the basement.

  “What?” She sputters, pushing her hair back and wiping the water from her eyes.

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s kind of adorable how mad you got, but that is it, right?”

  She shakes her head, “Get over yourself, I am no such thing.”

  She reaches for the handrail to the ladder and starts to pull herself out of the pool.

  “Sure you are, it’s obvious.”

  She steps up the ladder and out of the pool, and my jaw drops just little bit. She’s dripping wet, and she’s wearing this hot, black bikini.

  Jesus, talk about a scandal: “President’s Sexy as Sin Hot Daughter Caught Giving Heart Attacks In World’s Skimpiest Bikini: Hottest Thing To Ever Happen At The White House?”

  I’m aching my brow at her, freely letting my eyes roam over her body as she goes red and rolls her eyes before she snatches the towel out of my hand.

  “What do you want, Hunter?”

  “Oh, me?” I grin, “Nothing, I just wanted to let you know I’d figured out your little possessive jealousy problem.”

  “You are such an ass,” she mutters, pushing past me as she wraps the towel around her body. She shoves the door to the women’s changing room open and waltzes inside. I start to follow before she jerks her head around and glares at me.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m not done talking with you.”

  She sighs heavily. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

  “Not anymore, remember?”

  She rolls her eyes, “How about a fiancé to attend to?”

  I grin broadly. “And here I was thinking you weren’t jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous, you ass, I’m just allergic to douchebags.” She marches into the locker room, and I follow.

  “I’m going into the steam room, so fuck off, okay?” She says, storming away from me once we’re inside. She’s heading for the glass door of the sauna. I shrug and start to unbutton my shirt and she rolls her eyes.

  “Oh my God, you’re incorrigible.”

  I strip all the way down to my briefs, fully aware that little miss wants-nothing-to-do-with-me is standing there watching me the whole time. I look up and wink at her as I start to pull on my boxer briefs just to get a rise out of her. Which of course, works; she makes this huffing sound and whirls to the sauna.

  I follow.

  It’s hot, and the air is thick as we sit on the wooden benches inside. “So, that’s it then?”

  “What are you talking about?” She spits out, sitting on the far side of the bench away from me, which is almost a cute gesture consid
ering the whole room is hardly bigger than a bathroom.

  “I’m talking about you being jealous.”