Page 48 of Jealous Stepbrother
I frown at the not-so-hidden insult, but Asher doesn’t even flinch. “You didn’t mind nepotism when you wanted me to come work for you despite my interest lying elsewhere besidesbusiness,” he says smoothly, then adds, “But if it helps, Scarlett has raw and hidden talents I think we all underestimated.”
My cheeks flush hot.
Victor leans back in his chair, eyes eerily similar to his son’s flicking between us. “And you’re the one to bring it out?”
Asher smirks at me—right at me—and says, “Absolutely.”
The table goes quiet for a beat, but it’s not awkward. It’s… loaded.
My mother clears her throat and changes the subject. I can’t swallow the bite of fish in my mouth because I’m too busy feeling like I’ve just been claimed in front of the entire family.
And it takes every crumb of composure I can muster to stop from jumping a mile high when Asher’s hand clamps on my thigh, then trails up to cup my pussy.
Oh God oh God oh God.
The rest of dinner is long, slow, and unbearable. Polite clink of silverware fades into murmured conversation.
It feelslikethe whole table’s one big performance.
Laughing where appropriate, keeping the conversation polite, but under it, I can feel Asher’s stare on me like a second sun.
When dessert’s done and wineglasses clink, I summon a smile at my mom. “It’s been a long day. Do you mind if I head to bed early?”
Her smile is warm, if a little forced. And I see the glance she slides to Asher. “Of course not, sweetheart. I’m just glad you made it after all. Both of you.”
I smile again and rush to my feet after a quick goodnight to Victor.
I’m halfway up the stairs, heading to my old room when I hear the sound of chairs scraping back from the table.
Three seconds later, I feel him behind me.
I quicken my steps but I know I won’t make it. Asher catches me on the stairs, his hand closing around my wrist in the shadows between the sconces.
“Asher—”
“Keep walking,” he murmurs, low enough that the rest of the family doesn’t hear. “Or everyone here will know exactly what’s running through your head right now.”
My foot catches on the next step. His hand finds the small of my back, steadying me. I gasp low and urgent as his heat sears right through my dress.
At the landing, I turn, intending to take the right hallway toward my room, but his eyes linger on me like a challenge.
“Going somewhere, princess?” His voice is low. Dangerous.
“Yes, like I said, I’m tired,” I lie.
“You’ll sleep when I say you can.” His thumb brushes over my pulse. “You have any idea how hard it is to sit there and pretend I’m not thinking about this beautiful mouth, how wet you are under the table?”
I glance down toward the hallway where the hum of conversation still drifts from the dining room. “Stop, we’re not doing this h?—”
But he’s already backing me up the last three steps and into the shadowed corridor that leads to his room. The murmur of our family fades, swallowed by the tempest of need, until there’s nothing but his breath and mine.
“Asher—” My protest dies when his mouth crushes mine.
It’s less of a kiss and more of a branding, a reinforcement of that power play with his father at the dinner table and everything that’s come before today.
His tongue tangles with mine, rough and demanding, while his hand clamps possessively at my hip, pinning me to the wall.
He takes without apology, sucking at my lower lip like he wants me bruised with his claim, reminding me with every hard press that I belong to him and only him. That everyone’s access, even my own mother’s, is only by his permission.
