I let the towel fall to the floor and I find a pair of grey sweatpants and a crisply-folded white shirt that Luke laid out for me. I slip both on and fall into bed. It’s soft and warm and the duvet feels like silk against my skin. I look down at the scar on my forearm, touch it for the first time in years. It pulsates under my touch.
Remember, I tell myself, remember what he pushed you to and how far you’ve come. Don’t stop now. Don’t let him—
The door cracks open. I pretend to be asleep—it’s silly, I know. No one can fall asleep that fast, especially after seeing what I just saw. My eyes are tight, but I can feel his presence over me, his scent, his energy.
Crouton hops on my bed and Luke sneezes.
“Bless you.” I say instinctively, immediately wishing that I could reach out and take it back. I cringe at how stupid I can be.
“Thanks.” He says. I don’t have to see him to know that he’s smirking at me. “Can I get you anything? Are you comfortable?”
“I’m fine…” I groan into the pillow.
“Hey… It’s okay.” He sits down on the bed next to me and places his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it through the duvet. “I know that it must’ve been your first time seeing a man naked.” My cheeks flush. Oh… my god. “I’m sure you’re wondering about what you’re feeling right now, but don’t worry, it’s natural. Completely normal.”
Fireworks explode in my head. The room may be dark but I’m seeing red.
I spring up and start slapping his body. “That’s. Not. Funny.” I say as he’s sitting there laughing, obviously amused with himself.
“It’s a joke!” He wraps his arms around me so I can’t move. “Calm down. It’s just a joke.”
His heady scent overwhelms my senses again, and my body relaxes in his embrace. I feel myself melting into him. My body tingles in his arms, in his firm grasp. His hand slides down my spine, rests on my lower back, heat penetrating my core, throbbing, aching—wanting for his touch, to feel his hands all over my body. I don’t care how wrong it is.
He pulls back, looks me in the eyes. At this distance, they’re a pale grey, and I can see them flood with lust. His right hand moves to my cheek and I rub my face against it, turn and breathe in his scent before looking again into the pale fire growing in his eyes.
Kiss me. Just kiss me.
I bite my lower lip, waiting. Waiting. But the moment never comes. His hand falls from my cheek and he leaves me alone on the bed. The air in front of me still buzzes with his energy and scent—a specter of him.
“Goodnight.” He says, then closes the door behind him.
I try to fall asleep, but I’m too wired. I’m not like him. I can’t push these feelings away so easily. I can’t run away from everything like he did. I toss and turn, tortured by my thoughts of Luke, the moment we shared. Am I making it out to be something more than what it was? I don’t know, but I can’t stop thinking about it, or him.
His perfect body. His perfect lips. His intoxicating scent that still lingers in the air.
I slip my hand underneath my pants, my breath hitching as my fingers slide over my wet mound. I finger myself, thinking about Luke until I come.
Only then does sleep cover me.
CHAPTER SIX
LEAH
CROUTON IS SCRATCHING AT the door when I wake up. I check the clock: 12:14 PM. It’s late. Much later than I normally get up. It was a long day and even longer night, so it’s not unexpected.
I bend over and scratch his ears. “You must be hungry!” I say to him as I open the door. “I promise I’ll—”
He shoots out without looking back. “Find you some food…” I finish.
The apartment looks so foreign in the daylight, and I feel like an intruder, and unwelcome guest among the high-end furnishings. Luke’s gone. I see Crouton sunning himself by the window on the opposite end of the apartment.
I look in the fridge for something to eat, but nothing looks appealing. My appetite is non-existent. I sink into one the the leather couches and decide to watch some television, but the remote has far too many buttons and I have no desire to fiddle around with it. So instead, I decide to explore Luke’s apartment. If I’m going to be living here for a while, I might as well know where everything’s at.
There’s a door opposite my bedroom that has been closed since I’ve been here. Every other door is wide open except for this one. I turn the knob and push the door open, peering inside. It’s dark, and I can’t see much—there aren’t any windows from what I can tell. The room smells of paint and chemicals, and my attention is so focused on the dark room in front of me that I didn’t hear Luke come in. I bolt upright as he pushes in front of me and shuts the door, then locks it from the outside.
He offers no explanation, just walks around me and lays a few bags on the kitchen counter. “I picked up some things for Crouton.”
I walk over to him and find cat food and litter and toys and an assortment of other goodies for Crouton. “Wow! Thank you so much.” I didn’t think he could be this thoughtful. It’s a welcome surprise. His scent reminds me of the night before, and before I have to chance to stop myself, the words are already out.
“About last night…” I begin, let the words hang in the air hoping that Luke will finish.
“Don’t worry about.” I couldn’t help but worry about it. I felt something, and I can’t ignore it, walk away from it like Luke walked away from me years ago. “You hungry?”
I can’t believe he’s acting so… normal. As though his mom didn’t just die, as though he didn’t just reappear in my life, as though we didn’t see each other naked last night. Or that we were moments away from kissing… It’s strange and infuriating and I can’t let it go.
“What are you doing? What exactly is going on?”
“I’m making eggs. Would you like some?” He says with a smile, raising the carton of eggs up for me to see.
“That’s not what I meant. What are you doing? Why did you bring me here?” I can feel myself getting more annoyed with him. He never took anything seriously, yet he was always the best at everything. It was so frustrating living with him. It still is.
“Well, where else were you going to go?” He cracks a few eggs into a pan, then tosses in a lump of butter.
“That’s not what I mean. You know that. You wanted to take me away before…” I didn’t want to say her name. “You know. It happened.”
“Don’t worry. In time. Right now it’s time to eat. Do you know what makes a good scrambled egg?” He asks, pointing a spatula at me, deflecting the conversation elsewhere. He was good at that. I didn’t want to indulge him but I’m sure he was going to tell me whether I wanted to know or not. I groan, apparently his cue to keep going.
“Control.” The word hangs in the air, his voice firm and his eyes on mine. “You have to control the heat.” I can see the muscles in his back ripple under his shirt as he adds butter and a few eggs to the pan. My mind returns to last night. “Keep stirring. When the eggs begin to solidify, off the heat, but keep stirring.” I feel his hand against my cheek, the way his eyes looked at me—their fierceness, flooded with lust. “Back on the heat. Stir. Stir. Stir. Control.” I want him to control me, hold me, take me. “Then back off the heat. Season… and serve.”
My hand unconsciously touches the back of my neck, moves down across my chest as I close my eyes and continue my fantasy. I can feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek, his scent.
The clang of plates jolts me from my fantasy. Luke scoops the eggs out of the pan and onto a plate, then sets it down in front of me.
“Enjoy.” He says, smiling down at me.
My eyes light up when I take my first bite. They’re the most delicious eggs I had ever tasted, creamy and salty and absolutely perfect. I won’t tell him that though—don’t want to inflate his ego any more than it already is. But of course Luke would be able to cook like this. What couldn’t he do?
“So are you going to tell me why you dropped in out of the blue?”
/>
“You really want to know, huh?” He kneels down beside me and places a hand on my knee, sending a chill down my spine as goosebumps erupt along my arms.
I look at him blankly.
“Fine. If you really want to know—”
His phone rings and he walks over to the counter to answer it. Ugh. His demeanor changes, he seems tense, agitated, and his responses are curt.
“Sure. Today? Fine. What time? Fine.” He hangs up and tosses his phone onto the couch. He grabs a cup from the cabinet, fills it with water and downs it in one gulp.
“What was that about?” I ask, looking at him then back down at my eggs, picking away at them with my fork.
“Miles. I have to go down to the station.”
“Why?”
“I was the last one to see my mom alive.”
BEFORE HE LEAVES, LUKE drops a leather-bound notebook on my lap. “It was Robert’s.” Robert was my dad, is my dad.
“I know that, but how did you get it? Not even I knew were he kept it and—“
“It doesn’t matter.” He cuts me off, still agitated. He takes a deep breath, adding more calmly: “I have a few sections marked, read them. They’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“Okay…” Is all I can manage before he turns to leave. Nothing in the past 24 hours has made much sense to me.
The door shuts as I flip to the last bookmarked page.
There’s a single sentence. No date. I recognize the handwriting as my father’s. The sick feeling in my stomach spreads throughout my body. I’m dizzy, light-headed and I feel like passing out. My limbs grow numb as I read the sentence again and again, hoping that it changes.
But it doesn’t.
Something other than myself takes control and I find myself in the kitchen, a knife in front of me on the counter. The blade is cold and sharp as my finger slides over it. The need for release consumes me, and I’m not sure I can resist this time.
PART TWO
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUKE
MILES’S OFFICE IS NOTHING special: a small, windowless box lined with metal filing cabinets. The air is warm and stagnant and smells of stale coffee and cigarettes. Random piles of shit clutter the floor and tops of cabinets; cardboard boxes with cockeyed lids spew papers.
A small clock hanging on the wall above the door ticks time away while the low hum of conversation trails into the office.
I’m sitting on a hard plastic chair, the kind of chair you might find in a high school classroom. I’m sure if I reach my hand underneath it I’ll find gobs of discarded gum stuck to the bottom. It’s tempting, but I think I’ll pass.
I cross my right leg over my left and lace my fingers together on my knee as I watch Miles shuffle papers behind the stacks of files and folders and refuse that litter his desk. At least, I can only assume a desk is hidden underneath it all. His shirt is freshly-pressed, his face clean-shaven, and his black hair well-groomed; he seems strangely out of place amidst the chaos of his office.
The crisp sound of paper rubbing against paper fills the office as Miles pretends to be busy and interested in what’s written on the pages. He’s been at it for the past 15 minutes: reading files, opening drawers, pulling things out, writing things down. Wasting my time. He’s trying to get me to lose my cool. It won’t work. I’ll play along, let him think he’s in control. It’s a fun little game, and I never lose.
I fold my arms across my chest as I lean back in the chair and close my eyes. Images of the night before flash in my mind. I see Leah’s naked body sprawled out on the bed, so perfect, so beautiful. I can smell her sweet scent, recall the feel of her silky skin under my hands, and how all of it led to the moment I nearly gave in to my urges, ripped off the thin fabric that separated her body from mine and claimed her.
I know she’s my stepsister, but there’s something about her that drives me wild… I can’t control myself.
My dick hardens as I continue to think about her flawless body: the way her daisy duke’s clung to her perfect ass; the swell of her breasts underneath her red flannel shirt. When I first saw her in that uniform at Buck Wild, I wanted to bend her over and take her from behind, feel her tight little hole clench against my dick. I still do.
I shake myself out of the fantasy. I’m getting too close. I’m letting her in and that can’t happen. I’m no good for her. She’s innocent, pure. I’ll only warp her, twist her into something else, something wrong. We’re wrong. What happened last night was a mistake—a small lapse in judgment. It won’t happen again. It can’t happen again.
A sigh escapes me as I pull out my cell phone to check my email. Miles’s eyes shift from the files to me. He looks at me as though I hadn’t been sitting here for the past 15 minutes.
“I’m sorry.” He grins at me, a shit-eating grin, before dropping the files on the desk. “I completely forgot you were here. Laser focus. I’m sure you understand.” A half smile forms on my face; I understand alright. “Would you like something to drink before we start? Water? Coffee?”
“No, thanks.” I want to get this shit done. I clear my throat as I shift my weight in the chair. My ass is growing numb sitting here.
Miles stands up, turns around and grabs a glass carafe from the shelf behind him and pours room temperature coffee into a white ceramic mug. “Sugar and cream?” he asks.
I applaud his effort. He’s really trying. He might make a mediocre detective one day. I say nothing.
“Yeah, I’m not a fan either. Black. That’s the only way.” He grins at me, placing the mug in front of me as he walks toward the door to his office. It clicks shut and he heads back to his desk.
“So.” He begins, sitting back down, the chair creaking under his weight. He clasps his hands in front of him and rests his forearms on the edge of his desk. “I just want to thank you for coming in today on such short notice, but I appreciate your cooperation with this investigation.” His hands bob to the cadence of his speech.
It’s an investigation now… interesting.
“And I’m truly, truly sorry for you loss.” Bullshit. He knew Judith, saw the shit Leah and I dealt with on a daily basis. This wasn’t a loss, and he wasn’t sorry. Judith had it coming.
“Not a problem.” I grit my teeth. With the door shut, the room begins to feel like a sauna.
“How’s Leah holding up? She’s had a rough few months.” Months? He has no idea.
“Fine.” I say brusquely; I’m growing tired of this chit chat.
He looks at me for a long moment, then nods. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to begin.”
“Sure.”
He grabs a small black tape recorder, places it in front of him and clicks it on. Then he grabs a pen and a pad of paper. His eyes harden as he looks at me. “What can you tell me about last night?”
I tell him about last night. Some of it true, some it false. Mostly false. He doesn’t need to know the whole story. It doesn’t matter much anyway.
“Uh huh.” He says, stroking his chin with his thumb and index, mulling over what I just told him. He leans toward me; I can see beads of sweat form along his brow and upper lip. “I still don’t understand why she… why your mom would attack you.” He points to the marks on my cheek.
I shrug. “Neither do I.” Lie. “She wasn’t the most stable person, as you know.” Truth.
“She seemed stable and lucid the last time we spoke.” There’s a tinge of irritation in his voice. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He clears his throat.
“Mrs. O’Malley overheard you two in a heated argument. Spooked her. Do you recall what that argument was about?” He leans back and takes a sip from his cup without taking his eyes off my face.
Why can’t he just give up? My shirt begins to cling to my skin as wet spots form across my chest and back. The heat is getting to me. These questions are getting to me. This is a fucking waste of time.
“Do you believe everything a drunk says?” I snap at him.
His lips curl into a sm
ile. I take a handkerchief out of my pocket and dab my forehead. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t lose my temper.
“Sorry,” I say more calmly, taking a deep breath. “The heat is getting to me.”
“No A/C.” He waves a hand in front of him. “I get it.”
“I wouldn’t call it a heated argument.” I continue.
“Do you recall what the conversation about then?”
“Money, I believe.” Another lie.
“What about money?” His eyes lit up. It caught his interest. Good.
“She wanted a loan and I wouldn’t give her one. She has—” I take a deep breath, let it out. “…had a pill addiction and I wasn’t about to fund it.” Partially true.
“I see.” He leans back and folds his arms below his chest, staring at me blankly. I know Miles well enough to recognize that he’s not convinced. We used to be close back in high school, but after what happened… Well, let’s just say neither of us goes out of our way to be friendly with each other.
I take my phone out and glance at the time. I wonder how much of the journal Leah has read by now—whether or not she can connect all the dots. It’s a lot of information to take in at once. I hope she’s okay.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hold you here much longer.” The right side of his mouths curls into a half smile. “One last question. If you don’t mind, of course.” He asks as though I have a choice.
“Go on.”
“When Judith attacked you, did you retaliate? Harm her in any way?”
There must have been a bump on her head when she fell.
I frown. “Retaliate? Is that a joke?”
“You don’t have to answer.” He says, raising his eyebrows.
I run a hand through my hair as I look down at the floor.
“No,” I say, looking back up at him, making sure my voice is level, smooth. “When she came at me, I grabbed her wrists to restrain her. She was kicking and screaming and spitting. I wanted to calm her down. But then she bit me.” I pull back my sleeve and show him a purplish bruise on my arm. He cringes.
Stepbrother: Scar Tissue - the Complete Serial (An Alpha Stepbrother Romance) Page 4