Page 3 of Possessive Stepbrother

“Why?”

“Because I can’t afford it? I just graduated a few months ago. I’m supposed to be starting a new job, but Mom got married and ordered me to move here.”

He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he cocks his head to the side. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d thank her for bringing you to me, but why didn’t you tell her no?”

I’m going to dissect that first part later. For now, yes. I wonder the same thing because I can never say no to her. She has a way of guilt-tripping me into doing everything she wants.

I already received a job offer, but now, I’m back to square one. I need to go job hunting again. In the meantime, I’ll go crazy without anything to do. I’ll end up stress-baking and stress-eating, and when she comes back, Mom will comment on my weight…again.

Same old. Same old.

“I-I can’t.”

He’s about to say something when my stomach rumbles…loudly and embarrassingly. God, I’ve made such a great first impression with him, haven’t I? What’s next? Me slipping on the floor in front of him? Dammit, universe. I’ve just met the hottest man I’ve ever seen. Stop embarrassing me.

He chuckles and the sound is so unexpectedly sexy that I instinctively cinch my thighs together. “I’d love to hear you explain that comment, but we need to get inside. Don’t wanna be accused of starving my stepsister now, do I?”

Well, that puts a damper on things. Why does he have to remind me how we’re related? Ah well. It’s probably for the better. I shouldn’t have these thoughts about him, shouldn’t have this kind of reaction.

Weird but understandable. He looks like a Roman god, like those men I see on TV playing superheroes. That chest. Is it as hard as it looks? I want to run my hands—

He slides in the key, turns it, and pushes the heavy wooden door. Even his door looks expensive. Those intricate carvings on the sides? Yup. Definitely expensive. The door to my last apartment was one slam away from falling over me.

We step into the threshold, and my eyes quickly scan his space. For someone without a permanent home and can’t even afford a studio apartment, I’m pretty judgy with other people’s places. I don’t understand it either.

Rowan has an open-concept living area, with nothing but a sectional sofa upholstered in black leather, a wooden coffee table, and a huge TV mounted on the exposed brick wall. Simple. Minimalistic. And so…him.

“You can rest in your bedroom. I’ll make dinner.”

He leads me to a bedroom adjacent to the living room. Its walls are painted light gray. The queen-sized bed has a plush, upholstered headboard with diamond stitching. The crisp, white linens, fluffy pillows, and cozy dark gray duvet make me want to dive into the mattress and find out if it’s as comfy as it looks.

“Dad comes to stay here once in a while, so the room’s always ready.”

I whirl to face him and find his forehead still creased. “You need to stop doing that if you don’t want to have premature wrinkles”

Without thinking, I chuckle and reach out to smooth his forehead. His fingers fly to my wrist, holding it. Oh god.

We both stand in suspended animation, staring into each other’s eyes, the only sound is our heavy breathing. I’m not sure if he can hear, but my heart is beating wildly in my chest.

He sucks in a sharp breath as his fingers brush my forearm, my elbow, and rest on my upper arm. My cheeks are warm, my nerve endings crackling with sparks.

I don’t know how long we stand like that, but the spell is broken when a sharp chime pierces the silence. The sound echoes against the walls, and I feel a vibration in my back pocket.

Rowan’s pupils are blown, and he runs a hand along his five o’clock shadow. I can’t move. I can’t even look away.

But he gives me a sharp, tight nod. “You better get that. Might be important.”

It isn’t. It’s just my friend telling me her cousin, whom I met last year, lives near me and is throwing a Halloween party tomorrow. I don’t want to go, but I’m a pushover, which is why I say yes even if I have nothing to wear.

Minutes later, when I head to the kitchen, I find a microwaved lasagna on the counter. Rowan is nowhere to be found.

****

It is almost midnight and I still can’t sleep.

I’m curled up in bed, the thunder rumbling outside like a beast. Each burst of lightning illuminates the room, and I shut my eyes every time, afraid of finding a silhouette outside my window.

This is yet another reason why I hate Halloween. It amps up my overactive imagination.

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