Stepbrother Fighter: A Love in Steps Standalone Novel

by Rachel Angel

  “What is this? Oh no, you and she, no. This can’t be happening! Ian, how could you seduce your stepsister?”

  “I didn’t…” Ian began to protest. “We’re both eighteen and adults, Mom. As far as we’re concerned, we can choose who we want to love…”

  Evelyn stormed in and slammed the door, not caring about the compromising position we were in. I wasn’t able to say a word, just listen. “Love, what do you know about love?” she hissed. “You’re sleeping with the daughter of that cheating manwhore.”

  Okay, now I was pissed. “Don’t call my father that.”

  “I can call him whatever I want. It’s the truth,” Evelyn spat. “So, you little whore, get out of that bed. My son and I are leaving.”

  Evelyn wasn’t going anywhere and I felt about as low as a slug as I got out of bed and put back on my sundress and panties, so eager to escape the room and the intense scrutiny.

  “You don’t have to go, Anabelle,” Ian said.

  “Yes, she does,” Evelyn demanded, putting her hands on her hips and then moving them into a crossed position across her midriff.

  I just shook my head at Ian, indicating that now wasn’t the time for him to stand up to her or challenge her. It wouldn’t end well.

  With my face bright red and my eyes stinging from tears I refuse to shed in front of Evelyn, I reached for the door. Ian ran over to me, a blanket wrapped around his waist. “I love you. We can find a way to overcome this.”

  I couldn’t even answer because she came up and took over, spreading her hate filled venom to my already wounded heart, and ego. “Not if I can help it!” She looked at me. “You stay away from my son, I’m warning you.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I just walked out of the door and into my room, hoping I could talk to Ian in a bit, with her not there. Unfortunately, that moment never came and I got a message from the concierge from Ian: I had to go. I’ll find you. Promise.

  The note made me smile and cry, gave me hope but left me feeling all alone. I had no way to control any aspect of this situation. I’d had a beautiful night where I connected with an amazing man, and it had been snatched away from me on someone else’s terms—not Ian’s, not mine.

  Back on the mainland, I tried to get a hold of Ian via email, telephone, and even letters, but I received nothing back. It was devastating and I didn’t think I could feel any worse, until there was a knock on my door and when I opened it, some man was standing there with a piece of paper for me. It was a restraining order that said I had to stay away from Ian and avoid contact at all costs. The worst part of it was that it was signed by Ian, because he was an adult, I supposed, but it stung so badly.

  I didn’t believe for a second that he’d wanted that; it was his mother. What type of hold did she have over him to make him agree to do such a thing? Maybe he didn’t; I wouldn’t have put it past her to have his signature forged. She was an evil bitch—clearly and obviously. Despite what I suspected, my hands were tied. I had nothing left to be excited about at that moment, feeling like I’d already lost the love of my life despite being only eighteen. There was only one thing left to do…dive into college and try to focus on something that wasn’t related to a broken heart. I could be successful in my career, if not in love. Although heartbroken, I couldn’t let it stop me from trying to move on, trying to find happiness and love once again.

  Chapter 9

  Six years later…

  Annabelle

  At 24 years old

  I’d never felt more blessed or on top of my game than I was feeling presently. With my Communications Degree out of the way, I was able to use my past experience and connections to land what many would call the dream job of sports broadcasting, getting to be on the field and close to the action with college football, arena football, and even courtside for basketball, too. But it was also busy, busier than most twenty-four year olds were, to be certain. Every spare moment was spent reviewing footage, stats, and also doing personal searches on the people that I would be talking to during the games, including coaches, star players, and those individuals who happened to have a break-out or stellar game. But I was happy.

  Walking into the building where Sports Channel headquarters were, I pulled out my phone to check my Twitter, always trying to respond personally to a few Tweets a day. It was good karma and smart personal marketing. It wasn’t that I was the only one doing it, but I was one of the few to actually manage this myself—my words to my fans. I chose to ignore the few that weren’t fans, because really, what was the point? And wow, those who wanted to be haters could be really nasty.

  @TheRealAna#Beauty—thanks for your coverage of the game. Even though my team lost, you eased the pain. #Love

  I smiled. Beauty, what a nickname to have. I’d be ridiculous to say that I wasn’t beautiful because I knew most people believed I was, calling me that my entire life. But, nonetheless, I had worked extra hard so people would see that the real beauty in me was my sports-driven mind and intelligence, my ability to get a good story out of athletes and not just ask the same lame questions and conduct interviews like “business as usual.”

  I could pull up enough stats and information to win a trivia contest against the big dogs of sports. I knew it for a fact, because for a Celebrity version of Jeopardy for raising money for kids’ sports organizations, I’d taken it, raising a cool $10,000 for Las Inner City Basketball Complex. It had been so fun to win that game.

  Everyone had discredited me, thinking it was all for show—the beauty against the big boys of sports—but I showed them. I loved the victory, without a doubt, and what I loved even more, was the man I’d met when I went down to the complex for a small party—Pedro. He was thirty, dreamy, and so Latin sexy that I was instantly wet from just shaking his hand. When he looked at you, you could even feel your blood start flowing faster.

  But now, it was time for me to visit with the boss, who’d called me up to come in for a meeting. Everything else could wait. I wondered what was next on the plate.

  “Ana, good to see you,” he said.

  “Hi Vince, what’s happening?” I asked, sitting down and taking a sip of my latte that I was holding so carefully.

  “Your ratings were phenomenal from the play-offs this past week. Great work, and great questions.”

  “Thanks, it was worth burning all the midnight oil to get it done,” I said, smiling. My smile was deceiving, though, because what I was really thinking of was the breaks between burning the midnight oil given to me by Pedro. The way he pushed my buttons.

  “Well, I have a new opportunity that I’m assigning you to, if you want it.”

  “I’m listening, Vince.”

  “We’ve just gotten a network contract for MMA fighting—the biggest circuit, the Vegas one. I think you’d be incredible on this, not so squeamish like some and also able to extract the real stories, none of the fluffy shit that others tend to do.”

  “Really?” I asked, my eyes widening. I knew this was huge and I was instantly excited.

  “Yeah, if you want. I’ll warn you, you’ll have to transplant yourself for about the next six months to Vegas from LA. Better for time and the crazy schedule. Can you handle that?”

  “I will find a way to handle it,” I said. “I’m in.”

  “I knew you would be. I’ll make the calls and send you over a dossier with some of the contact information for the various featured fighters, their managers, and everyone else.”

  “When do I have to leave?” I asked.

  “About a week; take it to get ready. No other assignments until that time. We’ll take care of a six month lease on some corporate housing for you, too. Part of the deal.”

  I must have said thank you about five more times. I knew that this was a break-through opportunity and it was a huge compliment that they’d trust me with it. Putting a new premier sport for the channel into my hands was something that didn’t happen often to someone who’d only been working full-time in the business for a few years.
It was a reminder of how much my hard work paid off.

  Chapter 10

  I didn’t even have to enter into my apartment to smell something delicious coming from inside of it. Red sauce, pasta, and fresh baked bread, for certain. Pedro was there and a huge smile instantly spread across my face. I loved his cooking, almost as much as I loved having sex with him. His skills were…well, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. He made me want to be a dirty, naughty girl. I even surprised myself with how much I loved that side of me being explored. No inhibitions.

  “You’re home,” Pedro said to me as I walked through the door. “And how was your day, amante sexy?” That was his nickname for me—sexy lover.

  “Excellent,” I said, walking up to him and flinging my briefcase to the side, wrapping my arms around him and eager to feel his around mine. “It smells great in here.”

  “I’ve made a feast that you’ll surely enjoy,” he said, giving me a seductive smile that made my body instantly be reminded of the magic of the orgasms he could deliver. “But first, you must have your energy, let’s eat.”

  “And let’s celebrate,” I said, smiling at him.

  “What happened?” he asked, flinging the kitchen towel over his shoulder. It looked so sexy on him, even with him in that light blue t-shirt and tight jeans that made him look even more exotic, so tanned and defined and yummy.

  “I got a new sports job with the station…Vegas and the new MMA circuit. It’s a really huge deal,” I said.

  At first, I noticed that Pedro’s eyes didn’t quite match the smile on his face, which seemed forced. He looked at me. “This is a good opportunity?”

  “One that could take me to the next level,” I said.

  “So, we’d have to arrange our time together for during the week, no weekends for awhile, yes?”

  “Well,” I said, “let’s get some wine and then I’ll tell you all the details.”

  “A wine talk,” he said. I saw that he was nervous and I felt bad about it, but there was no way that my relationship with him took precedence over the career I’d worked so hard to establish. If that was what he wanted, he was going to be disappointed.

  “Come on, you have this wonderful feast prepared and I have great news. I say we celebrate,” I said. Strangely enough, in that moment I felt more like the man, but the way Pedro made me feel in bed was definitely something that reminded me of how much of a woman I was; a woman who longed for his magical touch and experienced how he could find buttons to push in the bed—or wherever—that she didn’t know she had.

  Sitting in my kitchen and watching Pedro’s masterful culinary skills come to life, I talked about what I’d learned that day…the potential.

  “At least LA is only an hour and a half from Vegas, that’s not so far, and it’s only six months,” I said. Twice as long as we’ve been dating, I thought.

  “Since all of my dealings are virtual, I could just go and live there with you. I could pay for the apartment, you wouldn’t have to deal with limited options and corporate,” he said.

  “That’s very kind, but not necessary. I’m sure corporate has some pretty sweet options, and am confident that I’ll like one of them. Plus, it’s ridiculous, too much to consider on your end. Disrupting six months of your life doesn’t make sense. And, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to see each other, hon,” I said.

  “It drives me crazy to watch you on television with all those men, the way they stare at you and do anything to touch you when you’re interviewing them,” he said.

  “Are you jealous?”

  “No, but I know how men think,” he said.

  “And what about all the women who pretend I don’t exist when they see you, flirting with you and clearly showing that they’d do anything you wanted for a chance to be with you,” I countered.

  “I know I wouldn’t do anything,” he said.

  “And you don’t believe that I wouldn’t?” I asked, feeling a bit irritated by that statement. It was BS, really.

  “I’d just feel better if you’d at least allow us to take the next step; share an apartment and get engaged. We don’t have to get married,” he said, coming up to me and kissing my neck. His act of seduction was tempting, but I had to remain focused. I’d seen my father being suckered by good words too much in my life to allow me to follow his pattern.

  “And I’d feel better if I got engaged when I was ready. I love what we have right now, at this moment, and where this is going, Pedro, but I’m not there yet. Please don’t ask me to be,” I cautioned. Then I reached my hand over and slowly dipped it into the olive oil mixture for the bread and put my finger in my mouth suggestively. As I slid it out, I licked my lips. “Delicious.”

  He groaned, unable to say anything else and I was relieved, knowing that the simple gesture had distracted him enough to end the conversation. I wanted to celebrate with good food and a scrumptious desert in bed, not talk about making anything permanent.

  With dinner complete, all I had to do is look at Pedro the right way to signal that I was ready and I saw the excitement in his face from the invitation. He got up in one swift, graceful move and walked around the table, extending his hand out toward me.

  I took his hand and stood up and after we took two steps, he picked me right up and held me tightly in his arms, his breath tickling my neck. “I am going to make you feel so good that you’ll be begging me to stop,” he teased in a silky, seductive tone.

  “I can’t wait,” I said softly, already feeling my body start to quiver at the mere suggestion.

  As he set me on the bed and slowly stripped off my skirt, panties and stocking, I knew that Pedro was going right for my sweet spot, the place where he could almost completely control me. He was a master of cunnilingus and I didn’t mind being a slave to it. It was no lie when I said that his skill in this area had sold me hook, line, and sinker into a relationship with him. He was nice, of course, plus sexy and successful, making him ideal boyfriend material for any woman, but I didn’t love him the way I loved our physical energy. That was what rocked my world. Emotionally, it just wasn’t what it was physically. But while he kept hoping I’d come around, I just kept coming.

  With his thick head of black, wavy hair, I looked down and saw him go between my legs eagerly and as ambitiously—a man who knew what he must have. My knees were bent and my feet were on the edge of the bed, him kneeling before me like I was his queen. The flickers of his hot, wet tongue were so intense that I felt myself unwillingly melting right on the spot from his actions, not able to hide or resist what I wanted to feel. Then I’d feel a wild spark erupt from an aggressive thrust and it would awaken my senses, making my juices start to trickle in pleasure as he murmured that they were ambrosia to his desires. And the wetter I got, the harder he went, completely into satisfying me in the most incredible way a woman could experience. He was selfless this way and I was selfish, something I’d never been before in bed.

  Exhausted from what he did to me between my legs, Pedro began nibbling my inner thighs softly, working his way up my torso in a thorough and thoughtful way, using one hand to unbutton my blouse as he kept going. His hot kisses followed by gentle blows of cold air were so stimulating, inviting and confusing in the most delightful way. I never knew how, exactly, I would respond.

  “I love you, Ana,” he whispered.

  I heard him, but chose not to respond. I refused to say those words if I didn’t know for certain that I meant them. I’d explained it to him before, but all he’d said was, “That’s okay. I’ll keep saying them, though, because that is what I feel.” Perhaps a wiser woman would have just slowly severed the ties, but I wasn’t ready to say he could never be the one, either. I just trusted in the fact that something would come alive in me that made it impossible for me to deny that I was with the man I should be with. Maybe it happened right away, or maybe it took some time like what it was with Pedro. I didn’t know. There were always so many questions in the back of my mind that remained unanswered
; emotions that stirred inside of me no matter how hard I tried to get rid of them.

  Then his lips pressed against mine, urgently. I could taste my satisfaction on him and feel his giant erection pressing on my thigh. “Take me now,” I whispered, always liking to say when I was ready. And he did. He peeled off his clothes and slid into me, moving back and forth thrusting hard until we both climaxed.

  Laying there, my head cradled in Pedro’s arm, he played with the back of my hair as we breathed heavily, not talking yet, and remaining quite still like we were glued together. My palm was down on his chest and I could feel how rapidly his heart was beating.

  “It’s always amazing,” I said.

  “The connection is what makes it this way. Otherwise, it would just be fucking,” Pedro said.

  I hadn’t been with a lot of men in my life so I couldn’t really argue what he’d said. Of course, in high school, Sax had been my boyfriend, but I didn’t really understand the power of connected intimacy. As a result, I had no expectations. Then there was the one night of passion with Ian, a night that felt more urgent and demanding than anything I’ve ever experienced.

  Since then, I’d had two other boyfriends, but the connections just hadn’t been there. When I met Pedro, he instantly seemed too perfect and ideal, which sadly, made him less ideal. I felt that it was impossible to have things be too smooth, because when they were it might be because people were acting. Even my father had been in amazing relationships that didn’t go sour until after a year or so. Pedro and I still had a long way to go.

  “You okay?” Pedro asked, snapping me back from my thoughts.

  “I’m fine, just thinking about all I have to do,” I said.

  “You don’t have to do it alone. I’d do anything for you, you know that. I have the desire and the means,” he offered.