Loathing Temptation: Be Tempted duet Book 1 (Lockgrove Bay)

by Caz May

  Her hand reaches down to grab mine, our fingers brushing lightly against each other. And it sends that rush through me.

  No, and no. I can’t let her in now.

  “I can help,” she suggests with a smile trying to curve her lips.

  I snatch my hand away, seething. “No you can’t!” I bellow, throwing the face washer at her. “You’re the reason he does this to me!”

  She takes a step back, biting down on her lip and sobbing, “What? What do you mean? How?”

  She’s looking at me worriedly, and confused, like she’s trying to remember. And like her heart is breaking along with mine.

  I want to tell her, and I’m about to open my mouth to tell her but she rushes out of the bathroom in tears.

  Fuck, I’m an arsehole.

  After cleaning up the gash on my face I head out of the bathroom, and instead of heading into my own room I go into Tem’s. She’s lying on her bed, clutching her pillow and sobbing into it.

  I hate that I’ve made her cry. And thats a first for me.

  I sit on the bed, and she looks up at me when I speak, “Temptress, I’m sorry,” I tell her, rubbing my fingers up and down her bare arm. She murmurs softly, but doesn’t say anything.

  My heart is hammering in my chest when I continue, “I...um...my dad beats me. I can’t do anything right. And it’s been happening since I was a kid.” The words all come out so fast I’m out of breath, gulping in air to calm myself.

  Tem moves to sit up against the headboard, her glassy eyes looking straight through me.

  “But what do I have to do with it?”she asks, grabbing my hand.

  Her touch feels amazing. My breath hitches, and I ask her worriedly, “You don’t remember much from before you left?”

  She shakes her head, biting down on her lip nervously, before she wipes a tear away from her cheek with the hand that isn’t gripping mine tightly.

  “No, I…I blocked it all out. What happened to me before we left. Why dad left mum. Everything but you,” she confesses, a blush colouring her cheeks.

  “Me? You telling me you thought about me?” I ask, with a hint of teasing in my tone.

  “Everyday, Simba.”

  I laugh, feeling a pang of desire hitting me.

  “Simba?” I ask with a wink.

  She smiles at me.

  “Yeah, you’re my lion, Ashton. My protector. Thinking of you got me through.”

  I can’t believe her words. She’d thought about me these past ten years, for completely different reasons than I’ve thought about her. And I feel like the biggest arsehole of the century.

  “Shit Tempany. I...fuck…I…”

  There isn’t anything else to say, so instead I lean in closer to her, kissing her, and letting the desire for her take over.

  She murmurs against my lips, asking for more. Her hand still clutching mine yanks me down and I fall on top of her, still kissing her like I need her to survive.

  I deepen the kiss, my tongue licking her lips. I can feel her heart beating rapidly against my own crazy heartbeat.

  And I can’t…

  Breaking the kiss, I pull back, glaring at her for a moment before I stand up from her bed and walk out of her bedroom angry with myself.

  I’d thought the first time I’d kissed her was the most epic kiss of my life, but that was so much more. That kiss was laced with feelings I’m not sure I’m ready to feel.

  Feelings I shouldn’t feel for my temptress of a stepsister.

  Forty

  Tempany

  Tears break through, cascading down my cheeks the moment Ashton walks out my bedroom door.

  A million and one thoughts are crashing into my mind, thinking back to before I left Lockgrove Bay ten years ago.

  The memories are painful, him—that horrible man with the dark eyes—touching me, his words telling me to be a ‘good girl’ and he’ll reward me.

  And then the memories of playing basketball with Ashton. Being with him was the only time I could block out the horror of being at home, around my mum and him.

  Dad had left because mum was drinking herself into oblivion, and when she drank she didn’t know who he was.

  That was when he—the dark eyed man—came over and said those words to me, always after he’d been loudly having sex with mum in her bedroom with the door open.

  The memories are hitting me hard.

  I pull my covers back, crawling underneath and letting the tears fall, trying to think of the good memories.

  The ones with Ashton.

  With the boy who made the butterflies flit in my stomach.

  But the only memories that come to me though make my heart shatter.

  I can see that day in my mind, taking his basketball before Mum called out my name from across the park.

  I didn’t really mean to take it, but I knew we were leaving this time, for good. And my heart was hurting.

  I just wanted something to remember him by. And I’d wanted to give him a kiss goodbye.

  He made me giddy when I was seven, and now he owns my heart, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

  Without a doubt, I’m in love with Ashton.

  And I have been since the day I first laid eyes on him, playing basketball when I was six.

  I close my eyes then, wondering for a moment if I should go into his bedroom and tell him that I remember taking his basketball.

  I wonder if I should ask him more about his dad beating him, but it’s clear he’s not ready to share, so I’m not going to pry.

  Closing my eyes, I let the tears fall down my cheeks, crying myself to sleep from the painful memories of the past and the longing for a future I can’t have.

  After waking up from a horrible sleep, barely getting in a few hours where the memories didn’t haunt me I’m wandering around school like a zombie.

  I’m avoiding Ashton, but he’s always there glaring at me, being suggestive with his winks and sticking his tongue out at me.

  He looks wickedly gorgeous when he does that, and it makes me think of kissing him, his tongue lacing with mine.

  But thinking of kissing him—and wanting more with him—makes my heart hurt. I want more from him, but I know I can’t have that.

  Thankfully I only have one class with him, and for the rest of the day I hide out in the library, reading. Lorena isn’t at school again, but when I’d spoken to her last she was as sick as a dog with the flu. I sent flowers and her fave choccies over and she sent me back a selfie of her practically inhaling the chocolates.

  Rubbing my eyes I amble into the house after school. Ashton and Zeke are on the couch playing video games. Hearing me come inside, Zeke’s head turns to me and they both eye me. My eyes are stinging and I’m about to burst into tears.

  My feet feel glued to the floor. I hate this feeling. But I can’t move.

  “Oh, Tem, why you crying baby?” Zeke jeers at me giving me his signature wink and cocky smirk. The tears have streaked my cheeks now, and if I felt better I’d be slapping him again.

  But I don’t have the energy to do that or even care about what he’s saying.

  Ashton glares at him like he’s giving his best friend ‘A how you dare call her that look.’ That makes my heart skip a beat.

  “Shit day,” I mutter as I head closer to the staircase.

  Zeke nods suggestively at Ashton. “We can make it better, hey Ash?” he jeers again. Ashton‘s eyes dart between his best friend and me, but he doesn’t respond to Zeke’s taunt.

  He turns away, going back to playing his video game.

  Zeke gives me a slight smile before doing the same as his best mate. I rush upstairs to my room, throwing my backpack on the bed and sitting down with it at my feet.

  I’m upset with myself for being in love with Ashton when he doesn’t give a shit about me, even after everything we’ve been through, in the past before I left and in these past couple of months since I’ve been back.

  It annoys me that he’s a completely different pers
on around his best mate. He’s not the same guy who gives me sweet kisses that make me want to melt. But then again, he’s not the same sweet boy I left behind on the basketball court ten years ago either.

  He grew up to be an arsehole. And I hate that I want him so much. That I love him so much.

  Wiping my arm across my face, I tell myself to get it together. I need to stop crying over Ashton Castello.

  Getting out my homework from my bag—my English workbook—a tear drops onto the page, right where I’ve written I ♡ Ashton.

  Why do I have to be so desperately in love with him? I’m writing it on my books like a lovesick fool. I’m such an idiot.

  Picking it up, I let out a scream and throw the book across the room.

  Fuck him!

  My stepbrother can go to hell.

  Forty-One

  Ashton

  Zeke is giving me side eye. He clearly wants to say something, and deliberately makes his character die, before he questions me suddenly, “You right mate?”

  “No, you fucking douche,” I tell him, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. “I hate you talking about Tem that way.”

  The fucker has the gall to laugh, before replying cockily, “Like what? Teasing her? Or calling her baby?”

  “Calling her baby,” I tell him, anger in my tone. “She’s not your girl.”

  Again he laughs, like a cocky arsehole. I want to fucking slap him. “And what? She’s yours? You actually told her how you feel?” he taunts me.

  “No,” I snap, shaking my head. “Well, if you mean that I’ve told her I hate her, then yes.”

  He pauses the game, shifting closer to me on the couch and slaps me around the ears, his open palm slapping against my head.

  “You’re a fucking idiot Ash,” he booms out. “If you hate her then why are you acting like a pussy whipped wanker?”

  I shift back, leaning my back against the armrest.

  God, I want to slap him back so fucking hard.

  “I’m not acting like anything,” I protest. “You’re the only wanker here. You need to grow the fuck up and stop with the sexual shit every damn second.”

  His eyes boggle at me, his face aghast with shock that I’m calling him out on his bullshit for once.

  “I’ve had enough of your shit, especially about Tem,” I bellow at him.

  He lets out his annoying as shit chuckle again, and god I wanna shut him up with a fist to the fucking face.

  “Damn man. You’ve got it so bad. Seriously get up to her damn room, and fuck her brains out.”

  That’s it! I’m fucking livid!

  Standing up, I throw my controller on the floor, grabbing Zeke by the shirt and pulling him up to his feet. He’s shitting himself, and if I wasn’t so fucking angry I’d be cacking myself laughing.

  With my teeth clenched I seethe in his face, “Doing that would make me an arsehole. And I won’t be one to her anymore.”

  Zeke lets out a grunt and I let go of his shirt shoving him back towards the couch. Again he laughs, berating me with his cocky grin, even though seconds ago he was about to shit his daks.

  “You are an arsehole, Ashton,” he informs me like it’s news to me. “Don’t hide from it,” he taunts, stepping around the coffee table like a scared little mouse.

  I shake my head. “Yeah, Nah, her dad is an arsehole for what he did. Leaving her. And I’m not going to be with her when I’ll turn out to be an arsehole too,” I tell him, suddenly feeling guilty for how much of an arsehole I’ve been towards Tem since she came home.

  “Whatever, dickwad...I’m out. Man up.”

  He strolls out then, leaving me to think about his words.

  Stepping into the kitchen after an early run, I’m surprised to find Tempany sitting at the breakfast bar eating fruit loops.

  “Hey,” I greet her.

  She grunts at me, spooning more of the fruit loops into her mouth.

  “Oh, it’s like that is it temptress?” I jeer, leaning on the bench and dipping my finger into the bowl.

  I put the milk covered finger in my mouth, moaning. “Mmm, tastes good, but you know what tastes better, temptress?”

  Again she grunts, her mouth falling open watching me sucking my finger. “Yeah, your pussy, temptress,” I tell her with a laugh and a smirk.

  “Eww, Ashton! Seriously, stop!” she yells at me before scooting the bar stool back, and grabbing her bowl with two hands.

  She turns her back on me for a moment, and I step closer to the fridge to get out some orange juice. With my back turned, I feel her step up behind me, but I don’t move, until I feel the cold milk and the sticky fruit loops dripping down my back.

  “Whoops,” Tem says, laughing.

  Oh no she fucking didn’t!

  “What the fuck temptress!”

  She laughs again, and even though I’m pissed with her it makes my stomach flip flop with desire for her. Fuck me dead.

  “It seemed like you wanted some of my breakfast. And I slipped.”

  “Oh right, well don’t let it happen again.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dare. But sorry if you did want some fruit loops.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ll have to eat them off the floor. I ate them all,” she tells me with a sweet smile, laughing when she puts her bowl in the sink and saunters off to get dressed. It’s then I realise that she’s wearing some sexy nightie and has nothing on underneath.

  Ash Jnr jolts in my daks, and I curse myself for being such a dick again. I could have pushed her up against the counter and tasted her for breakfast. What a damn waste, but I have to admit she got me back. And it turns me on so bad that my temptress is giving me sass back.

  Forty-Two

  Ashton

  For the past few weeks, I’ve barely seen Tem, and she’s been constantly on my mind. I know I’ve been an arsehole to her, especially when I cursed out at her about her dad being an arsehole because he left her with her mum.

  The look on her face broke me, fucking shattered me. It was like I literally tore her heart out of her chest and was holding it bleeding in my hand. I’d wanted to kiss her, tell I’m sorry and I wanted to tell her about my own arsehole of a father, but she screamed at me, running out of the house with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Yeah, I could’ve gone after her, because I knew exactly where she went. The basketball court. But I didn’t go after her because I’m an arsehole. Dickhead of the century. And a downright fool of epic proportions when it comes to her.

  I need to make it up to her. I need to apologise, even if she doesn’t accept it. I—Ashton Castello—need to fall to my knees for her.

  When I get home from school, she’s not in her room, which is perfect as it gives me time to put my plan into action.

  From the kitchen, I grab the chicken shears—hoping they’ll be sharp enough—and I head out the back door to the rose garden.

  Taking a few moments I bend down and smell the roses. So cliched I know, but I kinda like—ok I love the smell—of roses. They remind me of her, of Tempany.

  And inhaling the deep red ones my mind fills with thinking about our kisses, and I know that this time I need to leave her a red rose.

  I don’t want the rose to bite me this time, so using the shears I snip off the big thorns before cutting the rose. It’s a large open blossom, and it smells so damn good. I could get high off it, dreaming of going all the way with Tem. I’m kinda secretly hoping this little gesture will get me at least a kiss, but all the way I’d be in rose-orgasmic heaven. I want to fuck my temptresses brains out, whilst inhaling her tempting smell.

  With the rose in hand, I go inside, creeping into her bedroom. I can hear the shower, which possibly means she’s home and I don’t have much time. Her English workbook is open on her bed and I rip a page out. There are other pages ripped out already, so she won’t miss the one I’m holding in my hand, but I do wonder for a moment why she would have ripped out pages of her workbook when it seems like she keeps all
of her things like that perfect.

  I sneak a pen from the ugly as shit unicorn pencil case that’s fallen out of her open backpack and I scrawl out a note to her.

  Tem, my temptress. I'm sorry you had to see my thorns.

  Ashton xxx

  Quickly I put everything back in place, as though I haven’t touched it, leaving the red rose and the note on her pillow.

  Stepping out of her room, I see her coming from the bathroom in her oversized jumper again, rubbing her hair with a towel. She doesn’t look at me, and my heart falls. I head into my room, and try to occupy myself with doing homework.

  I’m hoping she comes in to tell me that she’s accepted my apology, but when fifteen minutes pass I go out to get a drink and find her door is closed.

  Message received, temptress. I’m an arsehole. And my apology has not been accepted.

  Forty-Three

  Tempany

  I’d been moping around the house for a week, giving Ashton the silent treatment since he left the rose and note on my pillow.

  He hadn’t made much of an effort after that to talk to me or anything. We just lived in the same house, walking around on eggshells and not saying one word to each other. He wasn’t doing his suggestive gestures, instead, he just smiled at me every time we were in the same room. And it makes my heart beat so hard as well as the butterflies flit in my stomach.

  But I hate being the lovesick fool, pining after him when he clearly doesn’t love me back.

  We also need to talk about the past, about the day I left because the fact I took his ball, for something to remember him by obviously bothers him for some stupid reason. It’s just a basketball.

  Even so, I got him a new one, a truce, peace offering. I’d been nervous about giving it to him all week, more so now I’m clutching it to my chest and about to give it to him. Thankfully Zeke isn’t over for their usual Saturday afternoon video games and Ashton is sitting alone on the couch, playing a basketball game; of all things.