Nine Steamy Step Stories

by Lilian St. James

  I was pretty in a blonde, blue-eyed girl-next-door way, but did everything I could to hide it. I dressed frumpy and hid behind my clothes. I didn’t want people thinking I was anything like my mother. Tonight was the first night I’d worn a dress in as long as I could remember. From now on, jeans and sweaters were my uniform.

  “Elle. Elle. Wake up.” A voice I knew well chipped away at the edges of sleep. I opened my eyes and blinked several times, trying to process where I was. Then it all rushed back. The club. The mugging. The attack. Dylan. I stared at the threshold where he stood and crossed my arms over my breasts.

  “Get the hell out of here.”

  “Relax. I can’t see anything. I’m not a pervert who spies on sleeping women.”

  I sank lower into the tub. “How long have I been in here?”

  “An hour.”

  “An hour? But the water’s still warm.”

  “It’s a heated tub, remember?”

  “Right, I forgot.”

  “Here.” He stepped into the bathroom and held open a fluffy bath towel so it covered his face.

  “I don’t need your help, Dyl. I’ve got it.”

  “I’m not looking, I promise.”

  “You’d better not be.” Flinching with every tiny movement, I inched my sensitive body from the tub. I grabbed the towel and wrapped it around myself.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “No.” My stomach rumbled, betraying my words.

  “While you were in the tub, I ran out for bagels. Let’s eat and you can tell me what you’ve been up to for the past four years.”

  When Dylan left the bathroom, I threw the towel to the ground and examined myself. Darkening bruises lined the front of my body like leopard print, and my bones creaked every time I moved. Time would heal my wounds. As for my memories, who knew? I dried off and threw on a black robe hanging behind the door.

  I sauntered into the bright, open planned kitchen and settled myself on a bar stool by the island.

  Dylan poured me a steaming cup of coffee and edged a plate of bagels and tub of cream cheese toward me. “So, you’re at Colombia?”

  I picked up a knife and smeared a plain bagel with cream cheese. “How’d you know?”

  “I used a crystal ball called Google.” His lethal green eyes shone with interest. “Why education?” He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow and picked up a mug of coffee. “What happened to becoming a fashion designer?”

  “After everything, I kinda went off the rails. The teachers at school found me help and got me through some tough times. This is my way to pay it forward. I want to make a difference in kids’ lives, especially the lives of kids who maybe don’t have anyone to care for them.”

  “Commendable.”

  His compliment scorched my cheeks. “Not really.” I took a bite of my bagel and swallowed, not really tasting it. “I don’t even have to ask how things have been going for you. Still at the top of the property world?”

  “Can’t complain.” He set down his cup. “My dad still asks about you.”

  A piece of bagel stuck in my throat, and I pushed my plate away, my appetite gone.

  “Oh.” Ugly accusations gnawed at my throat, seeking a way out, but I pressed my fingers against my lips to keep them in. “You still see him?”

  “Sometimes I need him to sign papers. It’s not like I hang around and shoot the shit.”

  Despite the turmoil wrestling my insides, with a calm composure I didn’t feel, I scraped my stool away from the island and stood. “I’m exhausted. Think I’ll get some sleep, then when I wake up, I think I’ll go home.”

  “You just came back into my life, Elle. I can’t lose you again.”

  I could hear the strain in his voice, but I ignored it. Being with him was a safe haven I didn’t want. It reminded me too much of the past, of everything that had happened. I didn’t want to be that girl again.

  “You don’t know who I am. Things have changed. Who I was then is not who I am now. I was a spoiled brat, jeez, I was so shallow I sneered at anyone whose clothes didn’t have a label. I wasn’t a nice person. This—” I swept my hands around,”—I don’t want this. What if I become that person again?”

  He strode toward me, narrowing the space between us. “You won’t. You’ve grown up. Like you said you’re different. But a privileged life doesn’t make you a bad person. I’m not a bad person, am I?”

  Not wanting to look into his eyes, I lowered my face. “That’s not what I’m saying. I guess I don’t want to fall into the materialistic trap again. Affairs and jealousy. And… my mother. I have to prove I’m not her.”

  “So by living on Ramen noodles and working in a twenty-four hour coffee shop, you’re proving something?” Irritation flashed across his face. “What does that prove?”

  I hugged my arms around my stomach. “That I don’t need money. That I’m not stuck up. That I’m not my mother.”

  “That’s it?” There was a bitter edge to his words and disbelief flickered in his eyes. “To prove you’re not your mother, you’re going to cut me and everyone else out of your life again. Un-fucking-believable.”

  The thought of not seeing Dylan every day pierced my heart, but I wouldn’t give in. “We’ll see each other, say once a month for lunch or coffee.”

  “I want more than that. I can’t not have you in my life. I’ve thought about what happened between us. A lot. Since our kiss, I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than two months. I lo—”

  “Don’t you dare say it. I can’t.” The passion behind his words shook my body. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t want this with him…did I?

  “Come on, Elle,” he pleaded, “we could have something great.”

  I blew out an exasperated breath. “I don’t understand what’s happening here. I just…don’t…”

  “Are you saying you haven’t thought about us?”

  “No…yes…I don’t know. I need sleep.” I scurried toward my old room, followed by Dylan. This was too big and too much for my bruised brain to process. I’d spent almost twelve years with Dylan as my big brother. Our kiss was me needing comfort, not about needing him.

  “At least stay for a few days. Give me that.”

  My heart ached for him. “I don’t know.” I closed the bedroom door and fell onto a blue silk comforter covering my once pink and frilly bed. Sleep would make everything so much clearer.

  When I opened my eyes, Dylan was sprawled on the sofa by the window, fast asleep. What would happen if I went to him? If I woke him and said I wanted him in my life, not as my stepbrother, but as something more. But I wouldn’t do that. He deserved someone who would make him happy and that someone wasn’t me.

  My heart slammed against my ribcage, as if trying to wake him and warn him I was leaving. Tiptoeing to the closet, I grabbed some of my old sweats and sneakers. I snuck into the bathroom and dressed. Sleep hadn’t come easy, and when it did, old nightmares terrorized my mind. Even though I still had the odd sleepless night, seeing Dylan stirred up emotions I didn’t want to acknowledge. The past needed to say in the past, and he was part of my past. Without going back into the bedroom, I left the apartment and, once again, Dylan’s life.

  Chapter Four

  I slammed dirty coffee cups into the dishwasher. It’d been two weeks since I’d walked out on Dylan. He hadn’t tried to contact me. Not once. I didn’t care. Well, not that much. My leaving his apartment without saying goodbye made my feelings perfectly clear. What I did was nasty and inconsiderate but necessary for my self-preservation.

  The emotions he’d unearthed terrified the crap out of me. I didn’t want love. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want him. In time, my need for him would lessen, but I wasn’t sure when. Even though over four years had passed, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, my need for him was stronger than ever.

  When my shift ended, I went straight home. Everyone at work was super helpful and agreed to me taking the day shifts. I wasn’t afraid of the dark, I�
��d lived in this part of the city for years and I knew the area, but I was a little jumpy walking on my own when night fell.

  I opened my apartment door, threw my keys into my bag and triple locked the door. “Alisa, you home? Want Chinese?” I strode into the sitting room and my body jolted as if the floor was an electrical grid.

  “What are you doing here?” Sitting on my sunken sofa in my shoebox apartment was Dylan. Dark circles ringed his red-rimmed eyes, but they weren’t enough to make him look any less handsome. “How’d you get in?”

  His brows knitted together in a fierce expression and he swept his eyes over me, absorbing every inch of my body. “Your roommate let me in. She said she’d see you tomorrow, something about staying at her boyfriend’s house.”

  “Wonderful.” I tossed my handbag and coat onto the dinner table in the corner of the room. “So, why are you here?”

  “Wanted to make sure you were okay. Looks like your bruises are healing.”

  I sat on the edge of the table and picked at the peeling wood. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

  “I get the hint, okay.” His words came out hoarse and weary, the muscles in his throat working hard when he swallowed. “But, you can’t…you can’t come in and out of my life like that. You can’t treat me like I don’t matter.”

  I cleared the lump clogging my throat and forced myself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. Leaving without saying goodbye was beyond rude. I appreciate your help. I was desperate, but I want to keep the past where it belongs.”

  He ran an agitated hand through his disheveled hair. “I loved her, too.”

  “What?”

  “Your mom. You don’t think her death broke my heart? You don’t think I cried for you, for her?”

  Unexpected pain bloomed in my chest and stole my breath. “Please leave, Dylan. I don’t need this.” Even to my ears, I sounded broken. “Not having you or your family in my life helps me deal with things. I’m having regular nightmares again. Staying awake is easier than sleeping these days.”

  “Damn it, Elle.” Anger flashed in his eyes, and he crossed the creaking floor until he stood mere inches from me. “I’m not leaving, not until you admit how you feel about me. What’s between us is bigger than anything that’s happened in our past. We’re drawn to each other and I’m fed up running away from it, denying it.”

  This was too open. Too raw. Too overpowering. If I admitted how I felt, I’d have nothing left to protect myself. “I can’t do this, Dyl. I have too much damage inside of me.”

  “Stop hiding how you feel from me.” The hurt in his eyes and the thunderous expression on his face scared me.

  I slid from the table and took a small step backwards. “Hiding? You think I’m hiding? Look in the mirror. You didn’t exactly do anything to find me these past four years.”

  “You told me to stay out of your life, so I did. It wasn’t easy. Sometimes I’d give in and have someone track you down just to make sure you were alive.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned. “Plus, I was afraid of what I felt, of what I’m feeling. Kissing you like that was wrong. It was almost like I was taking advantage of your pain. You were sixteen. I was almost twenty-one,” he said. “When my dad went to prison, you refused to acknowledge I existed. Way to make someone feel like crap.”

  “I felt like I had no one.” Suppressed grief tore at my insides demanding a voice, some comfort.

  “You had me.”

  We both stood in silence. Staring. Waiting. Neither of us making a move. Hurt and rejection filled Dylan’s eyes, and his jaw muscles twitched. He reached out to me, but I stepped away. He followed.

  With every step Dylan took toward me, I took a step backward until he trapped me against the wall. Adrenaline surged through my veins, tingling my skin and shoved me into fight or flight.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “For the rest of my life, I’m going to be sorry for what happened. There isn’t a day when I don’t think about you. When I don’t need you in my life.”

  I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes, shutting him out. My heart thudded and my pulse stampeded. I needed to escape, because if I crossed the line and gave my heart and body what they craved, there was no going back.

  “Don’t. Just…don’t,” I said, my whispered words barely audible. “I can’t do this. I can’t give myself to you.”

  He lowered his lips to my throat, brushing the gentlest of kisses over the column of my neck. “Why not? We both want this. You can’t stand there and tell me you don’t want this.”

  Exquisite pleasure shot through my body, and I tilted my head, offering him my neck. “I don’t know what I want.”

  “You do, Elle. Give into temptation, if only for one night. There’s nothing to stop us. It’s just you and me.” His eyes locked with mine.

  I couldn’t resist him. I wanted him. Had always wanted him. My lips parted. I didn’t have to say any words, because that was all the encouragement he needed.

  Our lips crashed together, devouring each other viciously. Demanding. Pleading for more. Dylan pressed me into the wall, lifted me up until I had no choice but to wrap my legs around him. His erection strained against his jeans and I eased myself against him. Riding him. He held onto my thighs, pushing me against the wall, biting my lip. Exploring my mouth with his tongue. My fantasies didn’t do justice to the sensations coursing through my body, to the sweet, sweet buildup of desire. Dylan moved away from me, his lips swollen, his pupils dilated, darkening his eyes.

  “I don’t want you to stop.”

  “I won’t.”

  Taking his hand, I led him to my small bedroom with its twin bed, chipped dresser, and metal railing for clothes.

  He sat on the edge of the mattress and opened his legs, inviting me in. I stood between them and rested my hands on his solid thighs. I zeroed in on his mouth and nipped his still swollen lower lip. A shaky breath escaped his mouth.

  “You kiss better than I remember.”

  “I was barely sixteen.”

  He moved his hands to the waistband of my jeans and circled his thumbs over the softness of my stomach. Shivers ran up and down my body. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin.

  He inched up my sweater and pushed it over my head. He traced his thumbs up from my bellybutton and brushed them under the cups of my bra. My back arched until we were a wispy breath apart. Slowly, he moved his hands around to my back and unhooked my bra, freeing my straining breasts. A low, husky sigh sounded from deep within me, as if every ounce of tension from the past four years had been released.

  Dylan traced his fingers up my spine and rested them on my shoulders, pausing, waiting before he slipped them down, his fingers leaving a trail of burning skin in their wake.

  Dizzy with need, I waited an eternity before he brought his hands to my breasts. My puckered nipples ached for him. I needed his touch. I needed him to pinch, lick and suck. How had I denied myself this pleasure? Why had I waited so long to experience this sweet, sweet ecstasy?

  Finally, Dylan gently cupped my breasts and thumbed my tight nipples. He lifted one and then the other to his hot mouth, devouring, sucking, biting, licking. I buried my hands in his hair, trapping his face against me. He pulled his head back, our eyes locked. Dark need consumed both of us. With wild desperation, I clawed at his shirt, not caring that the buttons popped or that the material cost more than a week’s salary. Dylan didn’t seem to care either.

  I pushed him onto the mattress and drew my fingers down his smooth chest, stopping when I reached the thin line of hair that started at his belly button and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

  “Touch me,” he groaned.

  I trailed my fingers oh so slowly down to his crotch, circled my fingers around the bulging head and touched the heel of my hand against his length.

  With a flick of my wrist, I opened his belt, popped the fastener and unzipped. Leaning over, I moved my thumb inside the flap of his boxers shorts until I skimm
ed over his hardness, the tip of his erection beaded with desire. Unconsciously, I licked my lips.

  I removed my hand from inside his boxers, gripped the sides of his jeans and pulled as he toed off his socks and shoes. I wiggled the stiff material down until his legs were free.

  Sucking in a breath, I stood back and surveyed the man in front of me. This was everything I wanted—him wanting me.

  In a rush of movement, he sat up, grabbed my hips and pulled me to him. “Off. Now.” He hooked his fingers into the loops of my jeans.

  “You want them off, take them off.”

  His mouth was level with my breasts and he nudged them with his jaw. The roughness felt so good against my tender skin. He took one of my nipples into his mouth and worked his tongue around as his fingers quickly unbuttoned my jeans. He pulled them down, along with my very wet panties. Getting naked in front of him for the first time should have embarrassed me, but it didn’t; it thrilled me more than I would have ever believed. Curving his hands around my waist, he stood and pressed his body to mine. Then he kissed me with a gentle hunger that told me how much he wanted me.

  He eased me onto the bed. Lying back, I brought my feet to his hips, hooked my toes into his boxers and pushed them down. He shoved them off. Before he moved, I curled my toes around his hardness and moved them up and down. His thick erection was beautiful perfection.

  “You’re amazing,” he rasped

  “Remember that tomorrow when the blood goes back to your brain.”

  “I’ll never forget it.”

  Wrapping my legs around his waist, I tugged him forward until his legs hit the mattress, and he climbed onto the bed between my thighs. The head of his cock brushed against my swollen clit and my body jerked in response. It wouldn’t take much to make me come. Dylan wrapped his hands around my hips, lifting me to him, and brushed his length over my folds, his erection hotter than fire and harder than steel. I strained upward, but he resisted entering me, teasing me, making me wait. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted him. Now.