Stepbrother Thief

by Blaze, Violet

  I imagine him smiling through the pain, struggling with that loss alone, and I feel a wave of sadness break over me.

  “Thank you for sharing with me,” I tell him, and I mean it, too. The things he's telling me now, these are things that Gill never shared before. It gives me hope, too much hope, that this could really work between us again. Shit. I step back out of his arms, crossing my own over my chest and staring down at his bare feet on the hardwood floor. “But I assume this all ties together in the worst of ways?”

  One of my tears hits the floor and splatters on Gill's toes. I'm transfixed by it, can't even bring myself to look away.

  “It gets worse,” he admits, and I nod because hell, I'm invested now, all in. I gave up the life I'd built, the only life my daughter had ever known, that my stepdad loved, and I dragged them all into this with me because I still love Gilleon. I could live a thousand years and still love him with a fierceness that hurts. Whether we end up back together or not, I'm a part of all this, so I have to see it through. “It gets so much worse, Regina.”

  And it does.

  Because all of this, this pain and this tragedy, it all leads to the day that Gilleon left. And even though I miss my mom, miss her so fucking much that I can't breathe sometimes, I missed Gilleon more. More. Most.

  The idea that my mother is dead because of … Gilleon. I don't see how all this fits together yet, but I'm scared, a cold chill traveling from my heart right down to my toes.

  “I need a minute, okay?” I say, realizing that I can only take so much, can only process so much at once, and he nods again, not trusting himself to speak. In the back of my mind, I know why I'm doing this, why I'm asking for a break: I don't want whatever this is to come between us, to push us apart, to make me lose Gilleon again. I'm afraid.

  I glance up, and we look into one another's eyes for a moment, the feelings I admitted earlier floating in the air between us. We need to talk about those, sure, but first, I have to hear what Gill has to say about all of this. After more than a decade, I'll finally know why he left.

  But, I can't help but wonder, is it too little, too late?

  I take the cell phone Gill gave me into my bathroom and perch on the edge of the refinished claw-foot tub, rubbing my thumb across the screen to unlock it. The picture he left me is still there, the words I'm Sorry, Can You Ever Forgive Me? floating in front of my blurry gaze.

  “How the hell did I ever get myself into this mess?” I murmur, my fingers twitching as I consider dialing up Anika or Leilani. But no. They don't need me dragging shit into their life, putting them in danger just because I feel like I need a friend to talk to. It's not fair, and their lives are worth way more than that. Instead, I sigh and turn the screen off, tossing the phone onto the vanity and dropping my head into my hands.

  Elena, she's dead because of me.

  I try to wrap my head around Gill's words, around the secret that burst from his lips like a bird with wings. That, and the truth of my own heart finally revealing itself. I love him, and I want him back. I feel like it's a disaster waiting to happen, a trap waiting to be sprung, an inevitable future heartbreak, but I can't stop the feelings. They're there and that's that.

  I sit up and rub the tears from my face, rising to my feet and staring at my reflection in the mirror. Honey blonde hair curls gently around my shoulders while pale brown eyes stare back at me, the expression on my face so foreign yet so familiar. I lift up a finger and trace the heart-shape of my face, the gentleness of my parted lips. Love. It shimmers in my gaze, layered over heartache and fear and grief.

  I close my eyes and turn around, leaning back against the sink as I lift my chin up and let my hair hang down my back as I think things through. After that kind of conversation, most people would just assume that dinner plans were out the window. Not Gill. He'll be downstairs at six waiting for me. I stand up and open my eyes, checking the phone for the time. Five-fifteen.

  Okay.

  I can do this.

  No matter what Gill says to me, I can handle it.

  I pull my sweater over my head and drape it over the closed toilet seat, sitting down to pull my heels off. I'll get through this. I will. I'll get through it and I'll do it looking fabulous because my clothes are my armor, my beauty a shield, my makeup a mask. And right now, I could use all the help I can get.

  I turn on the water for the shower and finish stripping down in the ensuing steam, letting the warmth caress my naked skin. I can only imagine the filmy mist is Gilleon, curling his body around mine, holding me close, touching me everywhere. Just the idea makes my body throb, my heart pound, my breath catch.

  I climb into the shower, letting the hot water wash away Gill's confessions until I can't think of anything but the pressure of the spray on my skin. I wash my hair, condition it, scrub my body, and I manage to keep all of the feelings and the thoughts at bay until I climb out and wrap a towel around myself.

  The first thing I do is put the diamond pendant back on, letting it rest against my heated skin as I lay my palm over it and close my eyes.

  “Regi.”

  Gill's voice startles me so badly that I jump, spinning to face him in a whirl, the towel sliding off my body and hitting the floor with a wet thump.

  “Jesus, Gilleon!” I yell, my heart beating frantically as I bend down and snatch the pink fabric back, letting it dangle in front of all my most important bits. “Don't sneak up on me like that!”

  My stepbrother's sitting on the edge of my bed, elbows on his knees, hands in fists, chin resting against his knuckles. He glances over at me with a small smile, a real one this time, not even a hint of bitterness. Guess my reaction is funny enough that we can pretend the rest of the day didn't happen—for at least a few minutes anyway. Personally, I could use a break from all of that intensity; you won't find me complaining about a change of subject.

  “What are you doing in here?” I ask him, not bothering to inquire why my locked bedroom door did nothing to keep him out. I think Gilleon impulsively picks locks for fun, just to prove that he can. I turn away, sacrificing a small view of my ass so that I can get the towel in order, tucking the end in over my breasts before I spin back to face him.

  Gill's blue eyes are half-hooded and dark, drinking in my near-naked form before he turns away like he's ashamed of himself.

  “Don't think that just because we had one emotional moment together that you're welcome in my bedroom whenever you damn well feel like it.” I take a deep breath and force myself to stop talking. I'm using anger as a shield right now, and I hate that.

  “I don't think that,” Gill says in a near whisper. I watch as he clears his throat, composes himself and turns back to me, rising from the bed until he's standing there looking down at me with a fierce tenderness burning in his eyes. “I was worried about you, Regi. It's almost six-thirty, and I can understand if you don't want to go to dinner, but—”

  “Six-thirty?” I ask, retreating back into the bathroom and grabbing my phone. Holy crap. It really is as late as he says. Which means … I was in the shower for that long? Our conversation must've affected me more than I realized. “Oh my God.”

  “Regi,” Gill says, drawing my attention back to the doorway. He's leaning against the doorframe, his massive form filling the entire space. I notice that he's shaved his face again, leaving a stark contrast between the conversation we just shared and now. Dark and light. I watch him tilt towards the latter and wonder if I have the strength to catch him. “Are you sure you're alright?”

  “I'm fine, Gilleon,” I say, making myself smile. “If it's okay, I'd still like to go out tonight. I think I could use a night away, you know?” And if we're going to have this conversation, I want it to happen in public. Everything gets toned down in public. I don't think I can survive another moment like the one we just shared.

  I take a deep breath and turn away, reaching up to rub the fog off the mirror. As soon as I do, I see that Gill's standing right behind me.

  “Shit,
Gill,” I gasp out as one of his strong arms encircles my waist and pulls me close. “Stop doing that.” I reach down to pry him off, but I find that I can't do it. Instead, my fingers curl around his wrist and my eyes close of their own accord. It feels too good to do this, to fall back into old habits. And it's easy, so easy. When Gill touches me, I can almost imagine that it's still that day, the day that my life stopped. I imagine for a moment what would've happened if he'd been there waiting for me, if I'd handed over the bag of baby goodies and smiled shyly at him. So different … everything would've been so different.

  I open my eyes up and move away. He lets me go, waiting as I turn around and look up into those bright blue eyes of his.

  “I said I loved you,” I tell him, the words making me feel queasy. It's not easy to look somebody like Gilleon in the face and admit the most private thing in your heart. “I didn't say that we were a couple again. I didn't say that I'd take you back.”

  “But you want to?” he asks me, taking a step closer, his boots squeaking on the wet floor. I back up, not because I'm afraid of Gilleon, but because I'm afraid of what I'll do if he touches me again.

  “I haven't heard the whole story, Gill,” I admit, because that's a huge part of all this.

  “But if you do, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I'll spend every second of the rest of my life making it up to you.”

  Shit.

  “You can't just barge in here and say things like that,” I mumble, running my hands down my damp cheeks, knowing as I do that they're tinged with a hint of pink—and I can't blame any of that color on the warmth still clinging to the bathroom. “I'm not a teenager anymore, Gill. I need more than blushes and butterflies.”

  “I give you butterflies?” he asks with a small smirk, running his knuckles down my bare arm, knocking stray droplets of water from my skin with the motion. I shiver, can't help it. Gill's touch is … well, it's always made me feel like this. I spent the second year after he left trying to prove that it wasn't true. At the time, I'd only ever slept with one man, only ever kissed one man, so how did I know? But, as I soon discovered, nobody could make me feel like this, touch me like this, love me like this. It was a heartbreaking conclusion to have to come to; the one man I wanted would never be mine again.

  Only … he could. Right now, the only person standing between us is me. Part of me wants to throw up my hands and say forget the past while the other part … can I ever really forgive and forget? Those scars will always be there, but can I live with them and with Gill at the same time?

  “You know you do,” I tell him, unashamed. I take another step back, trying to put some space between us and end up bumping into the countertop. Gill follows me in, leaning down and brushing some wet strands of hair from my forehead.

  “Listen to the rest of the story, Regi, and give me a chance. That's all I'm asking. When you know everything, all of the reasons why and how, then think about it. If you decide you don't want me, then I'll let you go.”

  I snort and shake my head, trying not to let his nearness affect me. He's dressed in boots and jeans, and here I am in just a towel, warm and damp and wet from the shower. I feel a certain vulnerability standing before Gilleon like this, but I like it. I like it even though I shouldn't, even though I know he's dangerous, that he's teetering on the edge. I think I could save him, I do. Under normal circumstances, I'd be rolling my eyes: women who seek damaged men in order to fix them, usually not a story that ends well.

  But Gill isn't just any man. He's my man, and he always has been. Since the moment we met, when I was sixteen and he was seventeen, I knew. For half my life, I've loved him.

  “I can't see you giving up so easily,” I say as he runs his finger across my naked collarbone and I shiver again, goose bumps racing down my arms.

  “Maybe you're right,” he says with a bemused smile, getting awfully close to the tucked edge of the towel. “But I'll at least try to leave you alone.”

  “That's not creepy at all,” I say, trying to imagine him keeping an eye on me all these years. When I wept for him, he was there. When I ached, and I hurt, and I wanted to give up on everything, he was right fucking there. I know I couldn't have watched him from afar and never reached out. How and why he did it I'll never understand. Unless, of course, I let him finish his story and I listen, really listen, and keep an open mind, an open heart.

  I take a deep breath as he reaches for the edge of the towel, pulling it open and letting it drop to the floor at my feet. I wrap my arms around my bare chest and close my eyes for a moment.

  “I'll listen, Gill,” I tell him because I'd always planned to. “And I'll think about it, really think about it.”

  “So there's a chance?” he asks me, and I nod.

  “There's a chance.”

  My voice comes out in a whisper as his arms slide down my sides and take hold of my hips, his mouth dipping to mine in a soft brush of lips that sends those pesky butterflies flapping around inside my belly.

  “Say it again for me, Regina,” he whispers as he moves his mouth to my ear and nibbles on the lobe. I should be telling him to get out, to stop touching me, but I can't. I just can't. No matter what happens, I need this right now. I need it.

  “Say what?” I ask, my fingers sliding under his shirt, greedily taking in the hard planes of his abs. If I'm in right now, I'm all in. Then, even if I decide to walk away, I can have this night for the rest of my life.

  “That you love me,” he growls, his fingers tightening on my arms for a moment before he relaxes and breathes deep, leaning in so that our bodies press close—his warm, dry, clothed and mine, wet, shivering, naked. The contrast excites me enough that I feel like I should fight against it, the feelings so intense that I'm scared by the fact that they could backfire on me. But no. No, I'm saving those thoughts for later. Right now is only for … this.

  “I still love you, Gilleon. And I never stopped. That's why it hurt so much, all these years.” I reach up and run my fingers along his smooth cheek, turning his face to mine so our lips can touch, so we can kiss long and deep and sensual, slow. We've been fucking lately, but we haven't been doing this, loving each other like this.

  “God, I missed you, Regi,” he says, pulling back just long enough to speak the words before he reaches down and scoops me up into his arms. I don't stop kissing him as he carries me, running my mouth up the side of his jaw to his ear and enjoying the shiver I get in response. “I missed you so fucking much.”

  Gill lays me down on the bed and stands up, pulling his shirt over his head and reaching down to remove his belt before climbing in between my legs, looking down at me with an arm on either side of my head. I can't help myself, finally giving into the wonder I felt after seeing him again for the first time. I touch his face, trace his lips, run my fingers up into his hair.

  When Gilleon leans down to kiss me, I wrap my arms around his neck and drag him down so that our bodies are pressed close, naked chest to naked chest, the firm bulge of his erection brushing against me through his jeans. We don't rush things though, not this time, letting our hands roam, our mouths taste, our breathing even out until the pulsing pound of our heartbeats feels like it's in sync.

  Gill pulls back, moving his mouth to my breast, running his tongue in a circle around my nipple before reaching up to knead and caress the tender flesh. His fingers scald my skin as they travel down and trace my ribs, making me realize that I'm holding my breath again. I let it out in a rush as he continues kissing down, across my belly and towards the patch of honey blonde hair between my legs.

  I spread my knees as Gill runs his fingers up the insides of my thighs, drawing me open before he dips his mouth down and breathes hot against me, making me arch my back and bite my lower lip so hard it bleeds. No more words pass between us. We're beyond them now.

  I moan, turning my head into the pillows to keep my voice down. Stars flicker across the insides of my eyelids as I bite the fabric and gasp at the sudden pressure of Gill's fin
gers gripping my hips tight. I realize why a moment later when he moves his lips over my clit, kissing me gently and testing the waters before increasing the pressure.

  I'm so wet right now, so desperate to feel him inside of me again, but I don't push it. I wait, letting him circle my clit in slow, lazy whorls, drawing his mouth down to my opening and teasing me for a split second before working his way back up. By the time Gill's fingers slide inside of me, I'm lost, floating on a sea of pleasure, but sinking fast. I tighten around him, clamping down hard and feel him groan against my body, breath fluttering against the inside of my thigh.

  My girlfriends back in Paris used to say that they thought oral sex was a step up from vaginal intercourse, an act of intimacy that wasn't acceptable during a one-night stand. Coming from the States where people act like oral isn't even sex at all (a sentiment I never echoed, by the way), I didn't really get it. I mean, it's sex, obviously, but is it really more intimate? In this moment with Gilleon, I see where they're coming from. I feel so open, so exposed, and I know he's there and he can see everything, and not just the physical bits. Gill's pleasuring me, watching me writhe and moan, but he isn't wrapped up in his own body, in the slide of his cock between my legs; all he's doing right now is watching. Looking. He's looking right at me.

  I drag a pillow over my face to hide a scream as Gill's knuckles slam into me, his tattooed fingers disappearing between my legs as he continues working his tongue around my clit. Always patient, never rushed, Gill listens to the rhythm of my body, the pulsing ebbs of pleasure that radiate through me, and he holds steady until I'm gasping into the pillow, fireworks flickering and flashing behind my eyelids.

  Without missing a beat, Gill sits up and unbuckles his pants, dragging the pillow away from my face and tossing it to the floor before he enters me in a slow, smooth motion, riding right through the blooming pleasure of my orgasm. His blue eyes look right into mine as he slides deep, rocking our hips together until I can feel him hit the end of me. Gilleon's just long enough to tease, not long enough to hurt.