Page 56 of Jealous Stepbrother
Asher
Dinner is a worse shit show than breakfast.
Scarlett thinks she’s being slick, pretending my hand on her knee is nothing, pretending her smile isn’t tight every time I touch her under the table. But I see the pulse jumping in her throat.
I feel the shiver that betrays her when my thumb circles her bare skin. It’s a bittersweet torture but it’s the only thing that keeps me half-sane as the evening unfolds.
We’re at some oceanside restaurant, all white tablecloths and candlelight, and of course half the goddamn country club crowd has decided to show up too. Family friends. Acquaintances. People who like to keep score.
We’ve somehow ended up at the largest table in the place with rich assholes and their trophy wives and kids.
“Sunday brunch at the club,” someone suggests to Annette, then glances at my girl. “Bring Scarlett along. There’ll be plenty of company her age. Some of the boys are back from school…”
I don’t even hear the rest because my vision tunnels.
My father is watching me. Not them, not Scarlett. Me. Gauging. Waiting. Seeing how long before I snap.
Scarlett doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t shut it down. Doesn’t tell them she has no interest in their idiot sons with their soft hands and fucking trust funds.
My jaw locks so tight it aches.
I can’t hide the fury.
My fingers flex on her thigh, digging in just enough to make her eyes dart to me, a silent plea not to cause a scene.
Annette notices anyway. “Asher?” she asks gently, concern lacing her tone. “Is everything okay?”
I can feel Dad’s eyes drilling into my skull.
I push my chair back, the scrape loud enough to hush the table. “Absolutely. I have a few calls to make.” The lie tastes bitter, but it’s better than the truth that’s burning my throat.
Better than the scene I’ll cause by grabbing Scarlett, throwing her over my shoulder like the Neanderthal she accused me of and stalking off into an impenetrable cave.
I toss my napkin down and glance at Dad, who’s still staring at me like he knows every filthy thought I’ve ever had. “I’ll see you at home.”
I summon a tight smile for Annette but I don’t look at her daughter because I know I’ll lose the last nerve I’m hanging onto, but I feel her eyes follow me. I feel her pulse beating in time with mine even as I stride out into the night air.
By the time I drop behind the wheel of my car, my hands are fists on the steering wheel, my mind already working through the ways I’ll make her say the words I need to hear.
A half-crazed laugh barks out of my chest. Because, yeah, it’s almost hilarious the absolute havoc I’ll wreck on anyone who even breathes on my girl.
She’s not meeting anyone for fucking brunch. Not one fucktard boy.
She’ll promise me that.
And I know exactly how to extract that promise.
I’ll have her on her knees, lips wrapped around my cock, until she admits she belongs to me.
I’ll bend her over my bed, pound her deep and raw, and make her swear she won’t even look at another man.
I’ll keep her there until her voice breaks, until the only name she remembers is mine.
By the time I’m finished, she’ll promise me anything.
And the best part? She’ll mean it.
Scarlett
