Stepbrother. Stepsister.
But in the eyes of everyone else, that differentiation wouldn’t matter. He was my stepbrother. He was forbidden.
Cassie got up from her folding chair and adjusted the top of her bright yellow bikini so more of her cleavage was on display.
“I can’t stand it anymore,” she said. “I’m going in.” Then she turned to me with a pleading look. “You don’t mind, right, babe?”
I gave her an exasperated look in return. “Cassie, think. Don’t you remember how much of a douche Logan’s been to you? To all of us?”
She squirmed. “I can’t help it that I like the bad ones!”
“Oh, jeez,” said Melanie, shaking her head even as she continued to text.
“Besides, maybe he’s changed,” Cassie continued in hopeful tones.
“No, he hasn’t,” I said. “He may look different but he’s still the same dick that told Jimmy Falhorn you had herpes.”
Cassie flapped her hand, clearly brushing my words of advice away.
“Whatever,” she said, pushing her boobs together one more time, “That’s, like, forever ago. We’re all adults now. So can I please have your blessing to fuck your hot, loaded stepbrother?”
Envy and irritation filled me, but I masked it with a sigh.
“Fine, do what you want.”
At home, I folded my arms across my chest and glared at the microwave reheating a pizza slice as I remembered the chummy back and forth between Cassie and Logan earlier this afternoon. All my warnings had been for naught. The moment Cassie had strutted her shapely, tanned body over to meet Logan, he’d climbed down off of his perch and they’d struck up friendly conversation like they were chums all the days of their lives. Though I’d struggled to appear as if it didn’t affect me, I’d occasionally glance in their way, and my mood darkened further when I heard Cassie’s high, flirty laughter and noticed Logan’s smile directed at her ample chest.
How could Cassie be interested in a mean jerk like Logan? And how could Logan want a superficial slut like Cassie? Guilt that I judged my friend so harshly, jealousy that she could openly show her interest in Logan, and frustration that I could not do the same churned like hot acid in my stomach. When I finally sat down to eat my pizza slice, I barely nibbled on the crust.
“Well, if you’re not gonna eat that, don’t mind if I do,” came Logan’s voice from behind me as he leant over my chair to filch my pizza slice from my plate.
“Hey!” I cried in outrage. “That’s mine!”
But he’d already taken a fat bite out of the pizza slice and propelled away from my angry slaps against his forearms.
“Aw, too slow, kid,” he said as he stuffed the rest of it into his mouth.
I was on my feet, glaring at him. “You pig!”
“Oh, ouch.” He rolled his eyes as he headed for the fridge to grab a carton of orange juice. After pouring himself a glass, he turned to survey me.
“You could have got your own,” I continued, unnerved by his direct gaze. Despite his unpleasantness, Logan was too smart for his own good. It was how he’d acquired his wealth at the incredibly young age of twenty-three two years ago when he’d sold the car-safety improvement software he’d created. A part of me feared that if he stared at me long enough he’d discover the dirty feelings I harboured for him.
“It is my own,” he said. “Need I remind you that this,” the orange juice sloshed around in the glass as he expanded his arm outward to encompass the kitchen with all of its modern appliances and shiny surfaces, “is my house?”
I scowled. “Fuck you, Logan. I don’t have to stay here, you know.”
He snorted then gulped down the juice. Settling the glass in the sink, he said, “Truth be told, I’d rather you not. Especially with that filthy mouth.” He headed past me to leave the kitchen. “Later.”
2: Logan
I don’t know why I behaved like an ass whenever I was around her.
Actually, I did know, but I wasn’t going to say it out loud. Better to deny, deny, deny until you believed the lie because the truth was way worse to accept.
I mean, who the hell lusts after their sister? Only sick bastards, that’s for sure. And, yeah, even if I wanted to get down to the particulars that she was actually my stepsister—like emphasizing ‘step’ made a difference—that still didn’t change the fact that what I felt for her was more than brotherly love wasn’t the most disgusting shit anybody had ever heard.
Not like anyone would hear it, anyway. Like I said earlier, no admissions meant whatever feelings or thoughts I harboured for Alyssa did not and could not and should not exist.
I stared at my laptop screen grumpily, my eyes scanning the lines of code but not actually registering their meaning. I was working on a security patch for my prized piece of software that had garnered my riches, but my mind was caught up in the whys and the unfairness of the world. My world, really.
Why did she have to stay with me? Why didn’t she stay with one of her friends for their summer vacation trip? Why the hell was she so beautiful? Whenever she was near and I was sure I’d succumb to weakness and pull her against me, I had to force myself to remember the 10-year-old Alyssa to put me back on track. The skinny, flat-chested little girl with a chestnut coloured bird’s nest for hair. I had to remind myself of the instant dislike I had for her the first moment her big hazel eyes met mine. I had to return to that initial period of misdirected resentment towards her when my father had made it clear that he’d finally gotten over my mom by dating hers.
I just don’t know how it got to this. One moment I hated Alyssa’s guts and found her quiet but obvious need for my approval irritating, and the next moment she had breasts and fantastic legs and her hair looked ‘curly’ and not as though electricity had zapped her multiple times. My friends commented on her transformation from semi-pretty duckling to hot swan and I pretended I hadn’t noticed because she was my fucking stepsister. Then college came along and I ran for it without looking back. Out of sight, out of mind, I thought.
Yeah, well, that didn’t work out at all.
I leaned back into my chair and rubbed my eyes. Maybe I just needed to get laid. I’d been working too hard lately between my software program and being a lifeguard. I’d considered dropping that lifeguard gig. Not like I needed the money. But it was a fun side thing to do especially when I got to experience the inventive ways women (and sometimes men) decided to approach me. Still, all work and no play made a dull boy out of Logan. Perhaps I just needed a willing pair of spread legs to get between so I could, you know, release all this pent up frustration. Maybe someone that looked like Alyssa—
Damn. No. Someone that definitely did not look like Alyssa.
My cellphone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I did recognize the voice.
“Hey, Logan,” said Cassie, her voice extra flirty. “Wanna come to a party tonight?”
Cassie. Someone that definitely did not look like Alyssa.
I smiled. “Yeah, sounds good.”
3: Alyssa
“Stop fiddling already. You look awkward.”
I made a face at Melanie as I tugged some more on the skirt of my teal mini-dress. We were waiting for Cassie to show up while Jared parked the car.
“It’s because I am awkward. This dress is tight and short. It rides up!”
“You bet,” said a guy behind us, grinning at my legs.
Melanie curled her lip at him before turning back to me. “So why’d you wear it then? Not that I’m complaining. You look killer.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. Seemed appropriate for the venue of choice.”
That was a half-truth. When Cassie had invited me to the party not only had she said it was being hosted at a high-end club, she’d also mentioned Logan attending the party too. I had other classy-sexy outfits, but this teal dress with its short hemline and figure-hugging material turned heads, and try as I might to deny it, I’d worn it with the hope of catching Logan’s attention.<
br />
A waste of time, I knew. Logan wanted nothing to do with me, least of all in any non-stepbrotherly way. But despite my best efforts, that tiny, sputtering flame of hope that he’d reciprocate what I felt for him just never died. As we waited for Cassie outside of the line, I felt incredibly foolish and I regretted wearing the dress. I regretted coming to the party. I even regretted coming on this summer vacation trip with my friends. I should have stayed home with mom and Harry and settled for a quiet summer before my last year of college. I wouldn’t have had to be close to and pine away for a man I couldn’t and shouldn’t have.
“Hey guys!” This was Cassie as she approached us. She wore an even tighter, shorter black mini-dress than mine, and combined with her blonde hair poised on the top of her head in a sexy updo and her long, tanned legs on display, Cassie looked gorgeous. Nobody could take their eyes off her, including Logan who walked alongside her holding her hand, dressed in a stylish charcoal grey blazer, white button down shirt, and dark jeans. It was like looking at an ultra hot celebrity couple. No couple looked more perfect together.
Jealousy never tasted so bitter.
“Wow, Cass,” said Melanie, “Between you and Lyss, I feel like an old lady in this getup.” Then she glanced at Logan. “Hi, Logan.”
“Hello, ladies,” he greeted, barely looking my way. I was crushed.
“Come on, come on,” said Cassie. “Let’s go get our drink on!”
We were admitted via the VIP entrance, not because of my brother and his fame, but due to Cassie’s aunt’s girlfriend who was friends with the club’s owner. Inside, the music was at full blast and most of the people were already dancing. We sat in the VIP lounge on the first floor landing above the club, enjoying the complimentary drinks—except Logan.
“I’m driving, remember?” he said when Cassie waved her drink in his face. Soon, Jared returned from finding parking and I became the obvious fifth wheel.
“We need to find you a man tonight, Lyss,” laughed Cassie and I laughed drily in return before taking another long swig of my drink. I tried to be more interested in the shouted conversation going on and not in the way Cassie’s hands touched Logan constantly. With each sip of alcohol, that task became easier. Once or twice, my gaze met Logan’s but I always looked away first. What the eyes don’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over—or some such phrase I’d heard long ago.
After two shots and one and a half bottles of fruit-flavoured vodka, I was tipsy and in a considerably better mood. I got to my feet.
“Let’s dance!” I shouted to Melanie and Jared over the loud music. Cassie and Logan could go take a hike for all I care. But once Melanie, Jared and I were down on the ground floor, I noticed Cassie and Logan had followed us. Just as I was about to dance, the music died and the lights of the club were suddenly turned off.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” said the DJ into his mic, allaying any worries that the club’s electricity had suddenly been shut off. “We’re changing shit up tonight.” Music pounded into the club once more, with a heavier bass and a sexy saxophonic underlay. Cheers and laughter erupted as people resumed their dancing. “Fellas, you better hold onto your ladies before they get stolen away because we’ll be dancing in the dark!”
Strobes of light cut through the darkness intermittently as the music throbbed through the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. I danced, unable to see anything but feel and hear as other people moved around me. I heard Melanie’s familiar laughter and I swayed in her direction until I felt arms surround my waist and haul me back against a firm body. I laughed. Had the vodka not loosened my inhibitions, I would have shoved this stranger off of me. Instead, I danced with him, swaying my hips and grinding my ass against his front. He moved with me, matching my rhythm effortlessly.
The music seemed to feed us, give us energy and bolstered our courage. His hands slid down to touch my naked thighs before sliding back up to cup my breasts. Then one of his hands splayed against my belly while the other settled on my hip, holding me against him in a possessive embrace that made me warm with arousal. I should feel ashamed, I knew, to allow myself to be felt up on the dance floor, but I didn’t care. Didn’t want to care. Only to enjoy the feel of his hard cock pressing against my ass, his lips as they grazed my earlobe and my neck, his hands as they roved my body as we danced, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne as he held me.
Panties wet, I decided I’d fuck him. I turned to see his face. But the place was still too dark. By the time the strobe light flashed in our direction, he had relinquished me and melded back into the crowd.
***
We danced the night away until around two in the morning. Outside, the cool evening breeze from earlier had become chilly and my skimpy outfit offered little protection against the cold.
“Why didn’t you carry a throwover or something?” asked Logan in irritation as he removed his blazer and handed it to me. I frowned, ready to open my fat mouth and foolishly reject his offer, but a particularly cold breeze brushed past us and shut me up fast. I took the blazer with a mumbled thank you.
“Hey, what about me?” teased Cassie.
Logan smiled at her. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You’ll be warmed up soon enough.”
Ugh! Cassie giggled and I rolled my eyes and made a gagging gesture. Melanie snorted at this.
“Maybe if you went and got the car we’d all be warm right now,” I said in snippy tones as I threw on the blazer. It engulfed me and still held the warmth from Logan’s body.
Logan glared at me before stalking off with Jared in tow.
“Brr,” said Melanie, shivering when another cold breeze blew around us as we waited for the guys to bring the cars around.
“Guys, I think tonight’s the night,” said Cassie, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement.
There was no ambiguity about what she meant, but instead of responding, my attention was caught up elsewhere. The unknown man who’d felt me up earlier was nearby! I could smell him. Well, his cologne, rather. I looked around the area in the hopes of spotting him, but beside the two girls heading toward their car, it was just me and my friends.
“…sure you don’t scream too loud for poor Lyss to hear,” Melanie was saying, and she and Cassie laughed, but I ignored them. I inhaled deeply, and it was as though I was enveloped in his scent. Like if I—
I looked down at Logan’s blazer wrapped around me.
No. It can’t be.
I turned my head and pressed my nose against the right shoulder of the blazer.
Another deep inhale.
No fucking way.
Shock coursed through me. Why the hell did Logan’s blazer smell like the man who’d danced with me. Was Logan the guy who’d palmed my breasts and kissed my neck? If so, had he known it was me or had he thought he was dancing with Cassie?
“Alyssa, get in the car.”
Startled, I discovered that Melanie and Jared were waving goodbye as they drove away and Logan had the car stalling, waiting for me while Cassie had already hopped into the front passenger seat. During the drive home, that stupid hope spluttered back to life once more. The hope convinced me that Logan had known it was me and not Cassie since Cassie and I were nothing alike. Her breasts were bigger and her dress had sequins. Surely he would’ve noticed the difference! The hope encouraged me to nourish it, that maybe there was a chance Logan didn’t hate me as much as I’d thought.
And when Logan dropped me home but drove off with a smiling Cassie, the hope dimmed a little, but it quietly assured me as I got ready for bed that someday, I’d no longer have to hope at all because whatever I hoped for would’ve been made into reality.
4: Logan
“Had fun last night?”
I lifted my arm away from my eyes. Alyssa propped her forearms on the back of the sofa I was lying in, leaning over to watch me. I could see down the front of her shirt. The fleshy tops of her breasts made for a fantastic view. She must have noticed my staring because she looked down
at her chest then stood up straight, a light blush colouring her face.
“Perv.”
I covered my eyes again. “You’re the one who had them on display. And yes, I had an obscene amount of fun last night. Obscene.”
Last night was the worst. I’d suffered the mother of all blue balls because I’d dry-humped and felt up my stepsister, and instead of relieving myself in the willing arms of Cassie, I’d been a true gentleman and headed home to a cold shower and an unsatisfactory self-applied handjob.
I’d been a real bonehead and a disgusting bastard. Not only could someone have seen us, Alyssa had been drunk while I was stone sober. She hadn’t known who exactly she’d been grinding her perfect ass against, but I had been fully aware of whose soft body I’d been fondling. Shame and guilt coalesced into something thick and heavy in the pit of my stomach and I could feel anger being borne from that horrible mass. I was angry at her, angry about this situation; mostly, I was angry with myself.
But I suppose my lone consolation from last night was that I’d gotten the chance to feel her luscious body against mine. Both a shame and a relief that she would never know it was me.
“Did you dance with me last night?”
Shit. Play it cool. Deny, deny, deny!
I moved my arm away from my eyes to look at her again. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I danced with a guy last night and your blazer smelled like him. So I thought…”
“It wasn’t me,” I said.
She didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because—”
“Look, it wasn’t me,” I snapped. “I danced with Cassie all night. Besides,” I continued, my frustration fully underway now, “maybe if you didn’t dress like a slut then you wouldn’t have random guys grinding up on you.”
I instantly regretted what I’d said, but the damage was already done. Her face looked like she’d been slapped and if there was anything lower than a heel, then that was how I felt.
Gripped: A Stepbrother Romance (Bonus Story: Stepbrother Forbidden) Page 7