Infatuation: A Rebel Stepbrother Romance

by Phoenyx Slaughter

  Infatuation

  A Rebel Stepbrother Romance

  by Phoenyx Slaughter

  Copyright 2015

  Digital ISBN#-978-1-943950928

  Love begins where infatuation ends.

  Infatuation makes you do things you’ll regret later.

  Step-siblings at thirteen. Lovers at sixteen.

  Ella and Flynn have a lot of shared history.

  Their worlds were flipped upside down when their parents discovered their secret.

  Love makes you regret nothing.

  Now they’re adults and nothing can tear them apart again.

  Except for the one dark secret Ella’s keeping that could destroy everything.

  Love begins where infatuation ends…

  Infatuation is a 20,000 word novella. It does not end with a cliffhanger.

  Infatuation is not related to Phoenyx’s Iron Bulls MC series.

  Cover

  Blurb

  Copyright

  Stalker Links

  Newsletter Sign-Up

  Thank you

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Also by Phoenyx

  Notes from Nyx

  Preview of Asunder

  COPYRIGHT

  Written by Phoenyx Slaughter

  Edited by Valorie Clifton

  Cover by AJ Lake

  Cover Photo: Dollar Photo Club

  Published by Ahead of the Pack, LLC

  Copyright © 2015 by Phoenyx Slaughter

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  At this time, Infatuation is ONLY available for sale at AMAZON as part of the KINDLE UNLIMITED program. If you downloaded it from ANY OTHER location, you have STOLEN it. Neither Phoenyx nor Ahead of the Pack, LLC give anyone permission to upload Infatuation, share it, or offer it for free downloads anywhere.

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  I’ve met a lot of awesome people this year, so it’s hard to single out just a few. My readers are so passionate and vocal. I love hearing from you guys. My girls in the Iron Bulls MC clubhouse—you’re awesome,

  thank you for your persistence.

  Thanks to Valorie Clifton for editing Infatuation on short notice—you rock!

  Thank you to the Hype PR for jumping right in at the last minute to help me with the cover reveal and promo for Infatuation.

  Sierra Farris, Krystal Fahl, Tammie Smith, Tanya, Kori, Jessica, Melony, Rosa, Kim and so many people I’m probably forgetting, thank you for everything you’ve done to help me spread the word about my dirty books.

  And finally, the chosen few that I’ve entrusted with my dirty little secret, thank you for supporting this endeavor, even though I know you think I’m batshit crazy. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.

  Chapter One

  Flynn’s downshifting kicks me in the ass. All the weaving and dodging of potholes along the turnpike doesn’t improve the situation.

  “If you’re going to spend ninety grand on a car, shouldn’t you at least know how to drive a stick?” I tease, then snicker.

  “I’m learning, little sis.” He glances over and smirks. I don’t move a muscle. He knows how much I hate when he calls me that.

  "I could have sworn I taught you how to drive a standard back in tenth grade," I mumble as I place a hand on the dash to steady myself while my stepbrother rounds the exit ramp at rocket speed.

  He chuckles, but doesn’t slow down. “It’s a sensitive clutch.”

  “Make a right at the next street, and take it easy. This is a quiet community.”

  I catch him rolling his eyes, a sly grin playing over his lips, but he eases his foot off the gas. “Your mom asked if you’d come home with me after the wedding. She misses you.”

  “I have to work this week.”

  “Ella, you haven’t been home in four years.”

  “That’s not my home. She knows where to find me if she misses me so much.”

  Conversation grinds to a halt after that. He follows each one of my directions until we’re parked at the curb, staring at the old Victorian beach house that’s our home for the next seventy-two hours. “Sweet digs. Summer and Stu went all out,” he comments.

  I want to be excited about my best friend’s wedding. Summer and I have known each other since first grade. But the thought of spending a weekend watching Flynn pick up chicks sours any excitement. “Everything will be perfect.”

  He glances over with a questioning arch to his brow. “You’re not pissed about your bridesmaid dress?”

  “Nope. It’s beautiful. Summer has excellent taste. She also paid for it, so even if it were a burlap sack, I’d be happy.”

  His forehead wrinkles at the mention of who paid for my dress. My billionaire stepbrother hates that I refuse to take any money from him or accept a job at his father’s media corporation. Okay, billionaire is probably an exaggeration, but Flynn has done well for himself. Having a rich daddy to set you up in life works wonders.

  “Any idea why they chose the Jersey Shore?” he asks as he opens my door. Such a gentleman.

  “Don’t you remember? They spent every summer here. Oh, maybe you don’t. They stopped coming maybe a year after . . .”

  I can’t finish the thought. After what? After the one time Flynn and I gave in to our attraction and it changed my world forever.

  Six years later, and he still turns me inside out.

  Little Sister. No matter how much Ella hates when I call her that, it’s important to keep saying it so I don’t forget. She’s off-limits.

  If I were the kind of guy who got nervous, my palms would have been sweating from the moment Ella slid her sweet little ass into my car. I’m about one step away from confessing my feelings, telling her to fuck what anyone thinks, and fucking her on the hood of my car. The romantic beach setting only highlights what Ella and I will never have.

  I’m sure I can find several women at the wedding who’d love to ease my suffering. Not to be cocky, but I’m young, ripped, and come from a wealthy family. I’m also packing a larger-than-average dick.

  We’ll be in close quarters with Ella’s former friend, Lena, who’s never been shy about her appreciation of my assets.

  My ex-whatever, Lena.

  Yeah, she’d been a huge mistake.

  I think Ella’s forgiven me, but you never can tell with her.

  What an awkward weekend I have to look forward to.

  “Christ, lil’ sis, what did you bring?” I ask as I drag her luggage out of the trunk.

  The blush that races over her cheeks reminds me of how my stepsister turns pink in other places. Places I have no bus
iness knowing about.

  “I’m doing Summer’s makeup, so I had to bring all my supplies,” she answers so seriously I almost feel bad for teasing her.

  But not really. Teasing puts us back in familiar territory.

  The bored-looking receptionist imparts some lovely news as soon as we roll up to the desk and Ella asks for her room. “I’m sorry, Ms. Parker, but I don’t have a reservation for you alone. I have a Parker-Masterson reservation.”

  I have to clamp my lips together to stop myself from laughing out loud. The gods must really hate my ass. Sharing a room with Ella all weekend without touching her is too much to ask.

  Nudging Ella out of the way, I pin the desk clerk with my bedroom stare. “I’ll pay extra to get my own room.” I punctuate it with a raised eyebrow designed to let her know maybe she’ll get an invitation if she gives me what I want.

  Flustered, she taps a few more times on her keyboard. Next to me, Ella snorts and rolls her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Masterson. If I could, I would. But it’s not the money. We just don’t have the room.”

  I turn to Ella and give her my “I tried my best” smile. Even agitated—hell, especially agitated—Ella’s fucking beautiful. Her crystal blue eyes are practically throwing off sparks, she’s so pissed. It only makes me want her more. I’d be offended that she’s so adamant about not sharing a room with me, except I’ve never been able to stay mad at Ella for more than a second.

  “It’s fine. We’ll make do.” I snatch the key from her hand and lead my stepsister upstairs to our room.

  Chapter Two

  This is the worst. The absolute worst. Sharing a room with Flynn? Nope. No way. Not gonna happen.

  A thin squeal at the top of the stairs can only belong to the bride-to-be. I’ll kill Summer. I’d bet Flynn’s fancy Porsche she’s behind the room mix-up.

  “I’m so excited you guys are finally here!” she shouts.

  “Easy, killer.” Once I extract myself from her tight bear hug, I sweep my gaze over her. “You’re pretty calm for a woman about to have her last night of freedom.”

  My friend flails her arms in the air—her way of waving the comment aside. Summer has a way of speaking volumes without saying a word.

  “Flynn, looking handsome as always. I haven’t seen you in forever.” She catches him in another vise-grip hug. Unlike me, he has the strength to lift her in the air and spin her around. Good grief. My stepbrother’s not only smart, rich and gorgeous, he’s buff as hell too. He’s one of those nerds who works through problems by sweating it out at the gym. It’s infuriating.

  “You’re gorgeous, Summer. Stu’s a lucky bastard,” he says as he sets her down.

  Summer giggles. I swear Flynn can make a nun giggle. “Why don’t you go to your rooms and get settled in,” she suggests with a coy smile. “We’re all meeting at the beach a little later.”

  No thanks. The “all” probably includes Lena. According to rumor, my former slutty friend is hoping to win my stepbrother back this weekend. Even though he can never be mine, that’s not something I need to witness.

  “It seems . . . ” I pin her with a glare and draw the word out. “there’s been a mishap, and we have to share a room.”

  Summer covers her mouth in mock horror. “Oh! How terrible. Well, I’m in the Bridal Suite. Come see me when you’re settled in.” She eyes my train case of makeup and the two dresses draped over my arm. “You can drop that stuff off in my room if you want,” she offers before turning and flouncing off—without offering to let me bunk with her. Fabulous.

  “Did I miss something?” Flynn asks.

  “No,” I grumble. Clutching the room key in my hand, I march to our door and let us in.

  Flynn sets everything right inside the door and puts his hands on his hips. “At least it’s a nice room.”

  “There’s one bed.” Duh. Why do I have to state the obvious?

  “No big deal. I’ll take the couch.” He lifts his chin at the tiny loveseat shoved in the corner.

  It’s a huge deal. All weekend long, I’ll be fantasizing about him throwing me on that bed and fucking the hell out of me.

  “It’s too small for you.”

  “We can always share the bed,” he suggests with a raised brow.

  “We’ll work something out,” I offer lamely.

  We unpack while chatting about nothing in particular. It’s one of the things I love about our relationship. When the sexual tension isn’t messing with my mind, we always have things to talk about.

  Except the one thing we never talk about: us.

  There can’t be an ‘us’. We tried it once, and it ended in disaster—for me, anyway. Our parents are still married and would never forgive us for the scandal. Flynn would lose everything he’s worked for. What’s worse, I don’t think he even sees me that way anymore.

  Even if he did, I can’t forget how after the big disaster, he dated one of my best friends. As if I were replaceable.

  “Ella? You okay?”

  Shaking myself, I plaster on a false smile. “Yup.”

  “Want to change and head to the beach?”

  Oh, yeah. Nothing sounds more appealing than sitting next to supermodel perfect Lena in our bathing suits. I’ll add that right underneath get hit by a train on my priorities list.

  “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

  He gathers up a few things and nods at the bathroom. “I’ll change in there.”

  “Thanks.”

  I plop down on the bed and take stock of my situation. I’ve shared lots of spaces with Flynn over the years. Why is this bugging me?

  Well, every other time, we’d had other people with us. Like our parents or our friends. Ugh. We have too much shared history.

  “Buck up,” I whisper to myself. Pawing through my suitcase, I locate the pretty ombré, metallic-print, one-piece suit I brought with me.

  Worried Flynn might pop out any second, I rush out of my clothes.

  Of course, the second I step into the suit, he opens the door.

  “Eep!” I yank the suit up—giving myself a ridiculous wedgie in the process—and notice the bathroom door never shut.

  “Sorry,” he says, so low and soft, I almost don’t hear him.

  And oh my God, when I turn around, I’m staring at his wide, perfectly sculpted, tattooed chest.

  Fuck me.

  I can’t catch a break. She should have been finished by now. I gave her enough time. Christ, it’s been years since I’ve seen her magnificent body. She hasn’t gotten wrinkled or cursed with frog skin or something. No, she’s more fucking beautiful than ever.

  The last time I saw her, she was a girl. She’s all woman now.

  It takes a lot of self-control to keep my hands at my sides. Shutting myself back inside the bathroom would be the polite thing to do. But I’m not polite. Not with her. Not anymore.

  Stepping behind her, with every intention of grabbing her ass or tits or something, I pause when I inhale her vanilla scent. She turns and gasps when she realizes I’m so close.

  “Sorry I’m such a slowpoke,” she whispers while staring at my chest.

  That’s right. She hasn’t seen me without a shirt in a few years now.

  “W-When did you get—”

  I rub my hand over my heart and down my stomach, loving the way her eyes follow. “Ongoing process over the last few years.”

  She finally flicks her gaze up to meet my eyes. “Such a rebel,” she says with smirk.

  “You know it.”

  “Anything to piss your Dad off?”

  “Yeah. Even bought a motorcycle. You remember what he thinks of those.”

  She chuckles. “Sure. Who could forget?”

  My shoulders lift. “I don’t give a fuck what he thinks.”

  “Think you’ll give me a ride sometime?”

  “Oh, I’ll give you a ride.”

  The cheesy come-on makes her laugh. With laughter still tinkling from her lips, she leans over, giving me another view of that spectac
ular ass that I want to grab. “Will you do my back?”

  I almost choke. But she’s talking about sunscreen.

  Taking the bottle out of her hands a little harder than necessary, I motion for her to turn. Her hair’s tied up in a ponytail. All I can imagine is wrapping my fist around it while I shove her against the door and fuck her blind.

  “Flynn?”

  “I’m going.” Shit, man, get a grip. The lotion squirts into my hand and I take a second to warm it up. She jumps when I touch her, and I love how she’s off-balance around me. At least I’m not suffering alone. She pulls her ponytail over her shoulder, then pulls the straps of her suit down. Leaning in, I get a whiff of coconut and a peek at her breasts spilling out of her suit. Pink, pointy little nipples, begging for my fingers and tongue.

  “Flynn?” she prompts.

  I’m so focused on her tits I totally forgot what the hell I was doing.

  “Sorry.” Get your mind off groping her and rub the fucking lotion on her.

  Not happening. The coconut scent mingles with her natural scent, completely intoxicating me into stupidity. My hands linger on her shoulder, and before my brain knows what my hands are doing, I turn her around and lean down to kiss her.

  At first she tenses up, but then her body surrenders, melting into mine.

  Her slender arms circle my neck, pushing all our parts together. My hands slide down to cup her ass, and she doesn’t protest at all. The soft slide of her lips and the tentative touch of her tongue against mine send fire straight to my cock. She’s definitely getting jabbed if I don’t back up a couple inches.

  Moving away elicits a moan of protest from her throat, and she presses herself against me again.

  All right then.

  My fingers trace the elastic of her suit over her ass. Running my hand forward, my knuckles brush against bare, slick skin.

  Fuck me.