Page 50 of Heartless Stepbrother
“I’m not.”
But the denial came too quickly, too brittle.
He floated closer, his body moving with that predator’s ease, the kind that pretended to be effortless but was meticulously controlled. The water parted around him like it knew him, like it bowed for him.
“You know,” he said softly, “you do this thing.”
“What thing?”
“You get defensive when you’re tempted.”
My breath snagged. “I’m not tempted by you.”
He hummed, a low sound that felt like a fingertip dragging down the inside of my spine. “Then why are you whispering?”
I hadn’t noticed I was whispering.
He was inches from me now. Two or three breaths. Maybe less. The night wrapped around us, thick as velvet, the stars blurring until they looked like someone had smeared them across the sky with wet fingers.
I should have stepped back.
But the water held me still, warm and heavy and hypnotic.
Riley lifted one hand from the water, droplets clinging to his skin like liquid diamonds. He brushed a single wet strand of hair away from my cheek.
Not possessive.
Not cruel.
Just… gentle.
It scared me more than any threat he had ever thrown at me.
His fingertip traced the damp line behind my ear, slow enough to make my pulse stutter. “There you are,” he whispered. “I was wondering when you’d stop pretending.”
The world wavered. “Pretending what?”
“That you don’t feel this.”
He let his hand drop back into the water with a quiet splash, but the ghost of his touch remained, a brand inked into my skin.
The pool settled. The ocean breathed. Somewhere far behind us, someone laughed, but it sounded muffled, like it was coming from the bottom of a deep well.
“Riley…”
I meant it as a warning. It came out as something else. Something softer. Something that betrayed me.
His eyes dipped to my mouth, quick, subtle, devastating. “If you don’t want me near you,” he murmured, “tell me to go.”
I opened my lips.
Nothing came out.
Because he wasn’t smirking now. He wasn’t mocking or cruel or sharp. He was just watching me with a focus so intense it felt like a touch, like a hand pressed to the center of my chest.
“Thought so,” he whispered.
He drifted even closer.
