Page 5 of Beautiful Desire
“That’s not the point.” He chuckles. “You’ve had a crush on her for how long now?”
“I don’t have a crush on her.” The urge to turn around and punch him in the face is strong, especially when he keeps going.
“Bullshit!” Reese barks out another laugh. “You spent every single summer in Blossom Beach at your mom’s house in high school, and I distinctly remembermanya times you calling to tell me about the massive hard-ons you got from seeing your hot, older stepsister prancing around the pool in her swimsuit when she came back from college.”
My ears are ringing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m seconds away from stroking out with how high my blood pressure has to be. “I was a horny teenager,” I point out, refusing to look at my best friend. “And she was much older and more developed. Any guy that age would pop a boner. Doesn’t mean I had a fucking crush on her. Be for real right now, dude.”
Reese snorts. “Whatever you say. Can’t wait to hear all about you jacking off in the bathroom to the thought of her. This is gonna be good.”
“Fuck off,” I growl. “That’s not happening.”
It’s not.
Don’t get me wrong, Georgia is a beautiful woman. Of course, she is. But there’s nothing wrong or weird about saying that. It’s just a fact. And sure, Imayfind her attitude attractive, and I’vemaybe,just once or twice in passing, thought about what it would be like to be bossed around by her, but only because I’m not used to women like that. All the women I’ve ever been with expectmeto bossthemaround. They’re more than willing to submit to my every want and desire, so seeing a woman so confidentlynotsubmissive, in any aspect of her life, is different. It’s hot. And yeah, okay, I admit, her curves-for-days figure, full, pouty lips, and her big, round, honey-glazed eyes are kind of sexy.
Sue me, I’m a red-blooded man, who has eyes, but it doesn’t mean anything. Georgia is mystepsister, and I donothave—nor have I ever had—a crush on her. And I’ve definitelyneverfantasized about being completely at her mercy before.
Nope.
I donotwant my stepsister.
2
Georgia
Idrag my gaze away from the iPad in my hand, finding Hazel, one of my employees, strolling into the storage room, where I’ve been sitting on the floor for the last hour. Smiling at her, I say, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Dang,” she murmurs as she takes in the mountain of boxes surrounding me. “Is this all for that in-store signing next weekend?”
“Sure is.” I nod. “Gotta unpack and do a quality check on all of ’em. Make sure there’re no damages. What can I do for ya?”
As if remembering she came in here for a reason, Hazel’s gaze snaps over to meet mine, and she hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s some guy up front who needs to talk to you. Says his name is Fletcher. Want me to take down his info and tell him you’re busy?”
For fuck’s sake.I knew he was coming into town today, but I figured it would be at least a few days before he started bugging me and I had to start my end of this fucked-up deal with Alden.Guess I was wrong.
Blowing out a heavy sigh, I push to my feet and shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll come up.”
“He’s pretty cute,” Hazel whispers over her shoulder as I follow her out of the room.
I snort. “Yeah, he’s also a moron.”
Her brows pinch, confusion sweeping across her features. “An ex-boyfriend of yours?”
The front of the store comes into view, and I roll my eyes as my gaze easily finds Fletcher. Wearing a navy-blue Polo shirt, bright yellow Chino shorts—that are entirely too damn short—and a pair of god-awful boat shoes, he sticks out like a sore thumb.
“No, my stepbrother,” I correct Hazel before sauntering behind the counter.
“I think there’s a stray sitting in the front window,” he states before I have a chance to say anything. Arms crossed over his chest, the veins in his overly muscular biceps bulge. The silver chain around his wrist adds an extra special layer of preppy douchebag to his whole look. “It’s pretty rough-looking and is missing an eye.”
Annoyance flares in my chest. “Are you lost?” I ask. Hazel coughs, trying to cover a laugh.
“Uh, no?” Fletcher glances around.
“Then why are you in my store?”
His brows furrow as he brings his gaze back to me. “Because I need the key.”
The tone of his voice grates on my nerves, like I’m supposed to know what the fuck he’s talking about. “What key?”
