Page 85 of Jealous Stepbrother
He doesn’t answer right away. Just slips an arm around my waist, pulls me flush against him, and lowers his mouth to my ear as we head for the town car parked on the curb.
His voice is dark velvet, hot enough to burn when he rasps, “A test.”
I blink harder. “A what?”
“A pregnancy test.” He nuzzles the corner of my mouth, his lips brushing the smile I don’t even realize I’ve lost. “Your tits are heavier and you’re four days late, baby sis. I’ve been keeping track.”
My breath tangles in my throat and I stumble to a halt. “Asher… what are you?—”
“I’ve been breeding you, Scarlett.” His voice is low and brutal and reverent. “Every drop of my seed in your tight little body was on purpose. Every time I made you choke on the wordbrother, it was with this in mind. Our future. Our family. Our babies.”
I shake my head, tears pricking with undiluted happiness. A greasy hot dog… and a baby I didn’t even know I craved until right this second?
My knees go weak. My heart breaks wider open.
Bodies pass us on the sidewalk, but he doesn’t care.
He never has.
“I wanted a piece of you any way I could have you. Now I’ll take it all.” He presses the bag into my trembling hand. “Let’s go home and find out when you’re going to give me everything I’ve ever fucking wanted.”
His eyes burn into mine, unyielding, unrepentant.
The world doesn’t matter.
Florence doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters but this—his madness, my surrender, and the baby he’s already decided belongs to us.
EPILOGUE TWO
FOREVER BRANDED
Scarlett
One year later
“What are you thinking?”
“About how to fashion the story of how their parents got married for our babies.”
Asher grins, wicked and beautiful. “And how will it start?”
I stare down at the huge diamond glittering on my finger. “Something along the PG version of you screwing me into a coma, then sliding on the ring while I was out like a light. Then when I woke up and asked if you were going to ask me properly, you said…” I arch a brow at him, daring him to deny it.
His smirk widens, and he glances down at the twin bundles draped over his thick, inked forearms, milk-drunk and drowsing like two blissed-out koalas.
Our miracles. Our sins made flesh.
“I said,no. You’ve been mine since you were sixteen. I was always going to marry you. I just simply needed to wait for you to catch up.”
I sigh in bliss as he lowers himself onto the sofa beside me.
Shirtless, of course. He swears it’s because he craves skin-to-skin with the babies, but I know better.
My husband takes every chance he can to drive me out of my mind, to keep me drowning in this rabid, ruinous love.
And really—what better sight exists than watching him cradle our babies? The same babies he planted in me, then tracked until he knew with smug and terrifying certainty that his seed had taken root.
