Page 91 of Stepbrothers with Benefits
“Well, makes sense now, but not important. What was important was that as you fell asleep, feeling a little better until the epic hangover the next day, you muttered something about being glad you had me and you hoped you always would because no other guy was ever going to treat you like I do.”
I stared at him and wondered briefly how he’d had no indication, not the slightest hint back then, that I might have feelings for him that ran a little differently than he thought. Then again, I still thought it was a miracle that I hadn’tcompletelyspilled my guts to him. “That’s always been true. I just didn’t think it would...well, I’d made up my mind to accept that what we were was all I was going to get, and while there might always be the hurt of not having more, it wouldn’t make sense to fight for what couldn’t happen and enjoy what great things I did have.”
“Mmm, now there’s the warm and fuzzy feelings,” he said with a laugh, reaching across the table again, and I took his hand without hesitation. Even if we decided it wasn’t for us, I would fight like hell to beat the pain and grief and remember moments like these with crystal clarity and happiness. “But I remember lying there for the longest time after you’d passed out, watching you sleep. I mean, I obviously spent a good chunk of time hating him for what he’d done, but I kept thinking about what you said. And I remember thinking how stupid it was that things like sexuality existed. Why couldn’t we just be programmed to be into whoever we’re into? Why did people like you and me have to miss the chance at something great just because I didn’t like dick?”
“I think Mason would agree with you.”
“Mason’s idea of a perfect partner is a man who hates him as much as he loves him, so maybe God should have toned something about Mason down, for the rest of our sakes.”
I let out a bark of laughter and then quickly covered it when I saw heads turn our way. “You’re so bitchy sometimes.”
ELIJAH
I had been comfortable, but in the vaguest, hazy annoyance, I was aware that I was less comfortable than before. Not enough to exert energy to pull myself up in bed to figure out what was intruding on my happy cocoon. Mainly because another brain cell or two let me know I’d been uncomfortable for a while. I knew because the spot next to me, which should have been a living, warm, and welcome body, was empty.
That spot was cool, but that wasn’t a reason to disturb my peaceful sleep.
“Oh, Eliiiiiiii,” came an irritatingly chipper call. It was a voice that, on most days, I considered welcome. After all, it belonged to my favorite person in the world. A person who filled my life with joy and wonder, who had brought me happiness, and who I admittedly wanted to have naked more often.
Right now, though, it was the source of annoyance. In truth, if I could find the source of the noise, I would happily smack the shit out of it like an alarm clock from one of those old cartoons. Sadly, the owner of the voice probably knew that and was keeping his distance. If I wanted to smack the shit out of him, I would have to leave my comfortable cocoon. And if I left the cocoon, I would officially be more awake than asleep.
“Eliiiii,” he called again, and even with my groggy brain cells, I knew he wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon. Either I would have to get up and join the rest of the world, or get up to cause him pain. “Quit grunting. We both know I’m not going anywhere and that you need to be dragged out of bed.”
“G’way,” I muttered a little more coherently as I wrapped the blanket around me, wondering why I had ever wanted him in bed with me. I was clearly incapable of thinking things through when I was awake, because that version of me was happy to have him around.
He chuckled, and I cracked open an eye to see him leaning on the doorway, watching me with a smirk. “You’re so grumpy right now, and I should be worried, but you also look cute.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered. “You’re not charming me out of bed.”
“I’m serious,” he said with a shrug, walking into the room. He must have been up for at least an hour because his hair was under control, dangling over his forehead neatly, and he had changed into jeans without a shirt. As irritated as I was, my eyes lingered on the waistband of his jeans, which hung low on his hips. I remembered people referring to the line of hair from the stomach down to the groin as a ‘treasure trail,’ and while I knew what they meant, it had seemed a little dramatic. I suppose it was because women didn’t typically have them, so I’d never had to deal with it, but now I was officially into at least one member of the sex that sported treasure trails, I could finally see why some people were borderline feral about the sight.
Though at the moment, the feral part of my brain was more interested in going back to sleep than his accidental sexy display.
More interested, not completely.
“So am I,” I growled, realizing that wouldn’t work. I didn’t have a leg to stand on with Milo. As it was, he’d been dealing with how bearish I was in the morning. Now I had even less ofa chance of scaring him off because he ignored the threat of my growls, and he had been turned on by it in the past.
Maybe changing our relationship had been a mistake.
“I made the good coffee,” he promised as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Mmph,” I shot back because damn it, the good coffee did sound good.
“I know,” he said, though he clearly didn’t. Milo could wake up instantly and, within minutes, go about his day with clarity and enthusiasm.
“No,” I muttered, trying to pull the blanket over my face, but was stopped when he grabbed it and opened it enough to slip his arm in. It seemed he had come prepared because his hands were warm, so I didn’t cringe when he laid his hand over my stomach and stroked it gently.
“Come on,” he coaxed, as unbothered by my mood as ever, except his hand was slipping lower.
I rolled to glare at him. “Quit.”
“Make me,” he said as his fingers slipped further down my body. Not that there was anything in the way of his Roman Fingers because we had both crashed into bed without a stitch of clothing. The fact that my morning wood was being particularly stubborn wasn’t doing much to keep me safe as his fingers brushed along the shaft. Which didn’t immediately spark interest in me, but I could feel the small ember that flared to life from seeing him in only his jeans kindle a little further.
“This is rude...and illegal,” I muttered, though I did nothing to stop him.
“One of those thingsmightbe correct, but the other isn’t,” he said with a grin and leaned over, hand resting beside my dick as he hovered over my face, angling for a kiss.
Alright, so, I was well on my way to being seduced, not a difficult thing as he’d come to learn, but I did not want to beseduced. Not because I didn’t want him to touch me sexually or because I was disgusted, it was the principle. Milo could not be allowed to learn that using sex to wake me up was an effective tactic. He already had enough advantages over me; the last thing I should do was give him another...even if said tactic could be a lot of fun.
