Page 83 of Stepbrother Dearest

“Rough night?” he asked.

“You could say that.” I chuckled sardonically. “My brother is dating my high-school rival and I just spent the last few hours watching them make moon eyes at each other while they talked about all their future plans.”

He bit the corner of his lip, his expression shrewd and calculating. “How many enemies do you have?”

“More than just you. Shocker, I know.”

He smirked. “So Eli is dating your old rival? I mean, that’s gotta suck, but high school was a long time ago. Maybe it’s time to let that shit go.”

“Maybe if the consequences of that rivalry didn’t still kick me in the ass every single day, I could.”

“What do you mean? How could something that happened in high school…”

“What?”

“Nothing. Still want to do this?”

“Yeah.”

I waited for him to bait me or make me say the words. He simply nodded and said, “Upstairs.”

I made my way up the stairs, my dick going half hard as Caleb’s heavy footfalls followed me.

When we were in his room, I turned to face him.

He looked me up and down, his eyes dark with lust. “Get naked.”

I pulled off my shirt. “You too.”

“Not yet.” He grinned and pressed the heel of his hand against his bulge.

Goosebumps prickled my skin. I undid my jeans. My heart pounded in my chest.

This was ridiculous. I’d spent every weekend for a year taking my clothes off for money. Why did doing it in front of Caleb make me nervous?

“Christ you’re hot.” He rubbed his cock through his jeans.

His praise and the look of pure appreciation in his eyes lit me up inside and settled my nerves.

But why? I put a shit ton of work into my looks, and I knew how to use them. I was used to people complimenting me. My job depended on people finding me hot.

So why the hell did his praise make me feel…special? Why did it hit that deep, dark part of my brain I’d spent years trying to destroy when compliments usually rolled right off me?

“Don’t start overthinking things now, G.” He nodded to my jeans. “Get those off.”

This time he stripped down with me. When we were naked, we stood there, staring at each other.

“Get on my fucking bed.”

Swallowing, I got onto my hands and knees.

“Move up to the pillows and get on your stomach.”

I did, not bothering to fight the little tendrils of pleasure that snaked out at his bossy tone.

“Spread those legs for me, G.”

The bed dipped as he settled between them. He split me open with his hands. I clenched involuntarily.

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