Page 2 of Stalker Stepbrother

Yeah, well, tell that to my rock-hard dick.

I don’t let go of her hand, and I notice her skin is peppered with goosebumps. Fire plunges down my body with every second our skin touches, and I resist the strong urge to yank her up against my body and act on the filthy thoughts running through my head.

“But you need to make sure to keep those college boys at bay,” Janis chuckles and my father joins in as if it’s even remotely funny.

In that instant, I realize I’d rather have someone stick a hot knife into my chest and twist it than think of another man having her. If anyone dares to touch her, I’ll bury that man alive. And then, I’ll sleep soundly later. I’ll sleep better knowing no one else can have her…but me.

But she’s my stepsister.

That alone makes her off-limits.

Add in the fact that I’m twice her age, and well…

But our parents don’t need to know that, do they? My father has never acted like one, leaving me to fend for myself as he drowned himself in debt and alcohol. He only ever remembered he had a son when I was making millions. Convenient.

“I-I’m not sure. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I actually have to st… Oh, shoot. Where the hell is it? My calculus book!” Her voice pulls me back to the present, and I see her crouching low to her bookshelf and running her forefinger along the spines of the books.

“It’s not here. I have to study for tomorrow’s exam!”

I cannot hear what her friend is saying on the other line, but Callie groans and moves to her desk—a chaotic mess of coffee mugs and papers. She sifts through the loose sheets, scattering some to the floor.

Next, she kneels down and rummages through stacks of books and folders littering the carpet. She begins to fumble through the small heap of dirty clothes piled high on a chair. I know it’s unclean. I’ve stolen a pair of panties and came all over it two days ago.

Callie’s running a hand across her face when she stops in the middle of her room.

“Wait, what? Why didn’t you say so? Uh-uh. Fine. I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

She puts her phone on the bed and lies back down, staring at the ceiling, her pajama shorts riding up her deliciously thick thighs. What I’d do to be able to run my hands along her inner thighs and rest my lips on its junction.

She stays like that for a few more minutes before getting up and donning a cardigan. With a huff, she grabs her purse and phone and heads out.

What the fuck?

Where is she going at this time? Granted, it’s a bit early. But she never leaves once she’s in her pajamas.

Who is she seeing? Is it a guy? It better not be or I’ll wring his neck. Maybe break every bone in his body until he fully understands he’s trying to hit on someone who belongs to me.

Fucking hell. I’ve really claimed her already, haven’t I?

It’s funny. Not even my biggest, most ruthless, and psychotic enemies could bring me to my knees. But for her? I'll kneel and worship the ground she walks on. Where this instant obsession comes from, I have no idea. All I know is I want to spend every waking hour making sure she knows what she does to me, how she pulls the ground from under me.

How can someone have this kind of power over me? I don't understand.

I hear her shuffling outside my door and wait for a full five minutes before walking out and following her. Jesus Christ. This girl doesn’t even notice me. She’s too focused on her phone that she doesn’t hear my footsteps. What if she’s outside and someone else is stalking her?

Shit. This won’t do. She’s too innocent, too trusting.

She needs me. She needs me to look after her, protect her, make sure she’s safe. I’m never leaving her out of my sight. Ever.

She’s still waiting out in front for her ride when I slip into my truck. She has her hands wrapped around her tiny body. I’m about to get outside and grab her a coat when the taxi arrives.

Gritting my teeth, I follow them, noting the plate number in case this little shit tries something funny.

My hands grip the wheel tightly, navigating a neighborhood Callie has absolutely no business visiting. Even from this distance, the echoes of boisterous laughter and thumping bass fill the night air, and I know there’s a raucous party nearby in full swing.

The taxi stops in front of a cul-de-sac with parked cars lining both sides of the street. The Victorian house glows with pulsating lights. With the bass thudding in my chest, I can almost feel a headache coming on.

Fuck. I’m too old for this, but I can’t leave. Not without Callie.

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