Step Brother: Off Limits

by King, Jayna

  “You look lovely,” I said as I sat down next to her, our backs to the restaurant so we could watch the housewives and chefs who emerged the same time every day to haggle for fish fresh from the boat.

  “Merci.” Her smile was enigmatic, sexy.

  “Looks like we’ll have fish for dinner if we want it,” I said, pointing at Madame Roisset down at the water’s edge.

  The owner of the cafe we currently occupied, Madame Roisset made the walk to the water’s edge every day but Sunday. Her chef husband trusted no one else to select his fish, and her notorious bargaining skills were prime entertainment day in and day out. We watched, laughing, as she held a wriggling fish by its tail, her finger pointed in accusation at a fisherman. His tired expression told the story of the tirades he endured every evening when it came time for the tiny, stern cafe owner to purchase her fish.

  I turned my attention back to Marie. “Wine?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  I waved down the waiter—the same one I had every time I’d dined there—and ordered two glasses of red wine.

  “Your French is improving,” Marie said, smiling through her long, dark lashes.

  I shrugged. “I’m a little embarrassed at how little I’ve learned in a month. I should really try to pick up some more, but everyone here speaks such good English that I haven’t really had to learn much.”

  Marie took the glass of wine from the waiter. “I could give you some private lessons, if you like.”

  I couldn’t keep my gaze from traveling down her throat to the deep V of her dress, where I could see the curve of her breast. “Okay,” I said, trying to keep my cool. The fact that I hadn’t been with a woman since Tatum made it hard to control my desire. I needed a woman, and Marie was a perfect choice. “Let’s start tonight.”

  We drank two glasses of wine before we even started dinner, and by the time we finished the bottle I ordered to go with the fish, I was feeling no pain. Tatum who? I was at least trying to put her out of my mind. We had after-dinner cocktails, and as Marie moved her chair closer to mine, between the sunset and her hand creeping up my thigh, I was ready to take her right on the table. I was sure she was deliberately giving me glimpses of her lace bra beneath her dress, and when she went to the ladies’ room, I could clearly see the outline of a skimpy thong. I couldn’t wait to get her out of it.

  When she returned, I stood up, fueled by lust and wine, and took her face in my hands, kissing her in full view of everyone on the terrace. “Let’s go. Now.” I took her hand and pulled her with me, pointing out the money I’d left on the table when I caught the waiter’s eye.

  As we rounded the corner to turn onto the street behind the cafe, I looked up and down the deserted lane, deciding to seize an opportunity. I pushed Marie up against the old stone wall along the sidewalk, and I stepped close. “I want you, Marie. I don’t care about language lessons. I want you out of those clothes and in bed.”

  She smiled up at me in the dusk. “And you can have me.”

  She pulled my face down and kissed me, and I couldn’t control myself. She wound her arms around my neck, and I wanted to lose myself in her body. I picked her up. She wrapped her legs around me, and I pushed her back against the wall, my erection straining at my jeans. I knew she could feel it. She muttered something in French, and I slid one hand in between our bodies to unbutton the top of her dress. I pushed the dress aside, and the sheer white cotton of her bra was a stark contrast against her deeply tanned skin. I could see her rose-colored nipple through the cotton, and I leaned down. I licked her through the bra, and her nipple hardened beneath the now transparent fabric. I watched her face as I fondled her, her head leaned back against the stone wall as I squeezed hard enough to make her cry out.

  “Reed, take me here,” she whispered, and that was all I needed to hear.

  I shifted my body against hers so I could slide a hand beneath her dress. I pushed aside her thong and slid one finger inside her, glad to discover she was wet and ready for me. All I could think about was burying my cock inside her, fucking her hard against the stone wall. She arched her back, moving to press her hips against my erection.

  I knew we were in a gossipy small village, but I couldn’t stand it. I kept her pressed against the wall as I reached down to unbutton my jeans. “Marie, I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you in the street, and then I’m going to take you home and fuck you in your bed.”

  She rattled something off in rapid French, but whatever she said, it sounded like she had no complaints about my plans. I looked at her, her dark hair clinging to the rough stone, her half-unbuttoned dress with the evidence of my mouth on her breast, the nipple slightly reddened through the wet cotton. I could smell her scent on my fingers as I reached up to pinch her nipple again, and I pulled my hard cock from my jeans, putting the head at her opening, the thong simply pushed aside. I was just about to bury myself deep inside her when a bright flash of light pulled me back to reality.

  I turned and saw the very last thing I would have imagined. A photographer stood at the end of the lane, shooting photo after photo, and I knew exactly how bad the situation looked. My heart sank, and as I lowered Marie to the ground and buttoned up my jeans, my first thought was of Tatum.

  2 -- Tatum

  I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I couldn’t resist. I clicked on the headline and waited for the story and photos to load.

  “Rock Star’s Son Caught in Passionate Encounter.”

  I looked around the lunch room to make sure no one else was looking my way as the pictures of Reed and a beautiful French woman filled my laptop’s screen. After the mess with the pictures in Tahoe, I certainly didn’t want to dredge up any more interest in my personal life. When I’d first returned to work after my disastrous attempt at a romantic getaway with my stepbrother and our newlywed parents, I could instantly tell who knew about the mortifying stories and pics that had been splashed all over the tabloids and celebrity gossip websites.

  Knowing I just had to grit my teeth and tough it out, I told myself that at some point, the men in the office would stop picturing me half naked, sitting on top of Reed having sex in a rental car. I’d briefly considered quitting my job, but I’d worked too hard to get where I was. I’d landed a position at one of the top legal firms in Las Vegas, and I wasn’t going to let my temporary lack of judgment keep me from achieving my professional goals.

  Garrett had let me hole up for a few days, drowning my sorrows in merlot and Häagen-Dazs, but he hadn’t let me slip too far into my antisocial pity party. He’d badgered me until I’d signed up for a new bootcamp class, and the sore muscles every morning let me know that while my personal life might be all fucked up, at least I was going to look good.

  The article about Reed didn’t say much about the woman whose legs had been wrapped around him, but I did learn that he’d spent about a month in some little French seaside village. I was home trying to put the pieces of my life back together—dealing with daily bullshit from my dad and Reed’s mom—and he was lounging around in the sun and fucking French women.

  I tried to tell myself that I wasn’t jealous and bitter, but I couldn’t make myself believe it.

  My laptop chimed with an incoming email. I assumed it was work related, but I clicked on the mail icon and rolled my eyes when I saw it was from my stepmother.

  Tatum, darling. (Did she not realize how ridiculous she sounded?) Donald and I are having a little cocktail hour tomorrow evening for a few of our biggest supporters, and we’d love it if you could attend and help us present a united front. Your welcome (apparently, her grammar lessons didn’t extend to the written word) to bring a suitable guest if you wish (meaning someone other than her son), and your father has also made arrangements for a very nice young man to provide you with some company if you prefer. (What—did I need a male escort now?) Please let us know if you can make it. Kisses (gag), Tina.

  Part of me wanted to send a scathing reply, but I knew in the long run I sh
ould just be nice. If my dad and Tina were an item for the long haul, I was going to have to deal with it, and being gracious was more likely to keep things civil. I dashed off a reply letting her know I’d be there solo and I was looking forward to seeing them both.

  I felt like I needed a shower after I sent the message.

  Looking at the picture of Reed and the French woman, I decided I also needed a spa day, or at least a few spa hours. I closed my laptop and went to see my boss. He’d acted a little odd when all the tabloid trash had come out, and while I still felt like he was mentally undressing me when we talked, he’d seemed really supportive of my father and his campaign. All I could figure was he saw some advantage to having the daughter of the mayor on his staff. Given the fact that I’d seriously been concerned about losing my job in the wake of the media attention, I was grateful he kept me on at all, even if he did have an ulterior motive.

  I knocked on the open door and stuck my head inside. “Hey, Brad, you have a minute?”

  “For you? Absolutely. Come in.”

  I stepped just inside the door. “I’m ready for the depositions tomorrow morning for the Mirage lawsuit. My dad has an important event tomorrow, and I’m wondering if I can take a few hours off today to prepare for it.”

  “Absolutely. You’ve done good work here, Tatum, and the partners all agree your father’s campaign could be great for business if it’s successful. Take the rest of the afternoon off, if you like.”

  “Thanks, Brad. I appreciate it.” I turned to leave.

  “Hey, Tatum, if you need company at any of these events, just let me know. I’d be happy to go with you, you know. I’m a networking pro.”

  I fixed a smile on my face that I hoped looked sincere. “I appreciate the offer, and I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  I was never going to get past the feeling that he just wanted a blow job in his car. Those pictures were going to haunt me for the rest of my life, and I wanted to strangle Reed for it. Even though I was the one who’d made the lousy decision to have sex in the car, he’d known there might have been photographers looking to snag a picture of Gordon Gentry’s son, and he hadn’t shared that information with me. I couldn’t ever trust him again, and I wasn’t going to be with a man I couldn’t trust.

  By the time I got home that evening, I felt like a new woman. I had a shiny new ’do, perfectly polished fingers and toes, and I’d even gotten a facial. Since I knew Tina was likely to be dressed to the nines, and I didn’t want to give her another reason—other than sleeping with her son—to criticize me, I’d even shopped for a new dress and shoes.

  “Well, look at you,” Garrett said as I came through the front door. “New hair, nails done. You have a hot date?”

  “I wish. I’m going to a thing at Dad’s tomorrow night. I figured I’d get myself into presentable shape.”

  “You’d be better off getting yourself a date, honey.”

  “Garrett, I’ve decided I may never date again. I feel like everyone I meet is imagining me half naked in a car. Reed Randolph has ruined my life.”

  Garrett put his hands on his hips. “Tatum, you should hear yourself. You sound like a spoiled little girl. It wasn’t like Reed forced you to have sex in public. In fact, it looked like you were rather enjoying yourself. You need to quit blaming everything that’s wrong with your life on someone else.”

  “But he knew how I felt. He knew how terrible it had been for me to have reporters following me around in high school, and he didn’t tell me his father was all famous and shit. He should have been honest.”

  “And what would you have said if he’d told you?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I never got the chance to say anything, because by the time I found out, my pictures were already splashed all over the tabloids.”

  “Tatum, I know you really liked Reed, and I understand your feeling like he wasn’t as open with you as he should have been. But the pictures—those weren’t his fault. It’s not like he called the reporters and put on a show to get publicity, did he?”

  “Well, no.”

  “You’re holding him responsible for something that was completely out of his control, and can I be honest with you?”

  “Good grief, Garrett, I’m not sure I can take much more of your honesty.”

  “You’re a little ridiculous about the privacy thing. I get that it was hard to have cameras in your face when your dad was going to prison, but those days are over. Your dad paid his debt to society, and he’s turned over a new leaf.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. And his campaign means more reporters. It’s like every nightmare I’ve ever had is coming true all at once.”

  “Nightmare? Really?”

  “Garrett, my picture was all over the place.”

  “So you slept with your stepbrother, really liked him, and there were a few pictures of you having the time of your life. That’s your tragedy?”

  “You really think I’m being ridiculous, don’t you?”

  “I do. Instead of enjoying your getaway with Reed, you threw a temper tantrum, and now you’ve completely shut out the only man who really interested you—at least for as long as I’ve known you.”

  “But he should have…”

  Garrett held his hand up in front of my face. “But he didn’t. You can’t change what happened, honey. Be honest. Did you like Reed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was the sex good?”

  I blushed. “Yes.”

  “Is he smart?”

  “Yeah.” I could hear the tone of my voice starting to get sulky.

  “Is he successful?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was he interested in you before you acted like a child and refused to talk to him?”

  “Yeah, but he should have…”

  “Quit. It. Just stop. You’re throwing a fit and shutting out a smart, sexy, successful man who genuinely cares about you because things didn’t go exactly the way you wanted them to. You need to think about that, and you need to make sure the life you’re setting yourself up for is really the one you want. I see you ending up as a lonely, bitter woman if you can’t learn to be a little more flexible.”

  I stood there, aghast, completely unable to summon a single word in my defense.

  “And speaking of flexible, you’re gonna get your ass to the morning yoga class with me.”

  I didn’t know what to say about Garrett’s sharp criticism of me, but I did know I didn’t want to get up any earlier. “Yoga? I’m already killing myself in your fucking bootcamp.”

  “Variety, my dear Tatum. It’s good for you.”

  He left the house, probably on his way to his gym to torture someone else besides me for a change, and I stood in the kitchen, trying to wrap my head around what he’d said to me. I didn’t want to think about whether I’d been unrealistic and overly demanding. I didn’t want to think about Reed or the fact that the man I’d been falling in love with was halfway across the world—all because I’d acted like a petulant child.

  I think part of me knew Garrett was right, but I certainly didn’t want to dwell on it. Assuming Garrett was going to roust me out of bed early in the morning, I took refuge the only way I could think of—in bed with a Netflix marathon and a pint of ice cream.

  When Garrett knocked on my door in the morning, I felt better than I had in a while. I’d slept well, and I realized there was some truth in what he’d said. I did need to move on, and I figured a new class might be a step in the right direction.

  The yoga class actually helped me clear my mind, and I found myself better prepared for a challenging day at work. We took depositions in the biggest case I’d been assigned to yet, and not only was I well prepared with all the information the attorney in charge needed, but I was also able to point out an inconsistency that he’d missed between the day’s testimony and the job application of the person in question. The junior partner who’d listened while I explained the discrepancy told my boss I’d done exceptional work.
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  I left the office feeling positive and strong—the first time I’d felt that way since those terrible pictures of me had come out. The feeling lasted until I pulled up in front of my dad’s house.

  “Tatum, darling, we’re so glad you could make it.” Tina, dripping in diamonds, turned to the valet they had hired for the evening. “Paul, please pull Tatum’s car around to the back. We’re trying to cultivate an aura of luxury out in front here.”

  I’m sure my eyes looked like saucers as I handed my keys to the valet. “Sorry to spoil the illusion, Tina. I’ve been so busy at work, I haven’t gotten around to buying a new car yet.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Tatum. I’m sure you’ll find something more appropriate for the daughter of our future mayor soon enough.” She put her hand through my arm as she led me inside. “I’ve just found that people are more willing to part with their money if they believe you don’t actually need it.” Her fake laugh echoed throughout the polished marble entryway. “You look lovely, by the way. I’m so glad to see you’ve found a better hair stylist. You’re such a pretty girl, it was a shame your hair was so … well … frumpy. A vast improvement, my dear.”

  “Um, thanks, I think.” I followed her through the dining room and into the enormous living room. “Wow, the lights in the pool look awesome.” Hundreds of little lights danced on the surface of the freeform in-ground pool out back, and portable heaters were positioned to warm up the terrace on an evening that would have felt warm to anyone except Las Vegas natives.

  “Hm.” Tina looked a little irritated. “I wanted to handle the decorations myself—you know how talented I am—but your father insisted we hire a professional. I thought the lights were tacky, personally, but I guess there’s no accounting for taste.”