Step Brother Undone Read online

  I can’t help but glance up at him out of the corner of my eyes. He’s focused on the numbers above the door and I’m quick to return my glance forward. When the elevator dings I step out and accidently brush his arm in the process. His heat sinks into my skin and I jolt at the oddly electric sensation.

  “Nice place,” he says, stepping into the room. I glance around my living room and nod, still trying to shake the startling heat soaring through me from his touch.

  I do love this place. It’s beautiful and serene. All bright white and sunlit from huge skylights. I set my bag on the modern white couch and head over to the kitchen.

  “Want anything?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and I grab a glass and fill it with water. When I face his direction again, he’s looking up, taking in every detail like a man taking his first look at life after a long stint in jail.

  “How do you afford this?” he asks, walking over to one of several brick accent walls.

  “It’s actually a steal. It’s only about $500 a month for everything.”

  He tosses me a shocked glance. “How many rooms?”

  “One.” I don’t need more. I live alone. But I don’t say that. It’s assumed, right?

  I drink my water while he runs a finger over the spines of books on my book shelf. “Is your mom paying for this?” he asks absentmindedly.

  “Kind of. She pays up front, but she’s keeping a tally so I can pay her back later.” I shrug. It works. I don’t want to owe her. And it’s not like I won’t be making good money when I get done with school.

  Silence follows as he wanders around, studying my place. I don’t care, so long as he doesn’t start rooting around in drawers and stuff. Though my room is really the only place I’ve got things hidden in drawers.

  I set my cup on the counter and sigh. I’m going to miss this place. And it’s sad. If going home for the holiday is this painful how horrible is it going to be to go back home for good? I shudder. I don’t want to think about it. For now, I’ll focus on the good part; I’m coming back in a couple weeks.

  Time to pack, I guess. He’s peeking out the living room window as I pass him by and open my bedroom door.

  I close it behind myself with a soft click and begin to gather up my hair. I don’t want it in my way, so I pull it up into a high pony tail. When it’s satisfactory, I secure it with the hair tie I’ve got around my wrist and get on my knees to drag my suitcase out from under my bed.

  “So this is where the magic happens, huh?”

  At Declan’s voice I jolt, slamming my head into the metal bed frame so hard the world flashes white. I groan and sit up, clutching the back of my head. Damn that smarts! Dull throbbing follows the initial sharp stab of pain and I gently rub the spot.

  I glance up at Declan whose back is to me as he peers out the arched window to the right of my bed. There are arched windows on the left and right, but behind my bed is the biggest window. It’s about six feet wide with a window seat at the bottom and glass panels to the ceiling.

  The window seat is my favorite place to read, especially when rain pelts the glass on gloomy nights. I’ve romanticized the spot since I moved here, often putting candles on my nightstand and relaxing there with tea and music. It’s a great spot to unwind and come to terms with whatever life hurls at me.

  And now, Declan is lowering himself onto the white and pale blue paisley cushion with an expression I can’t read. “Pretty damn cool,” he says, relaxing back. Now I wonder if I’ll ever be able to sit there without thinking about his hard body hanging partially off it again. I doubt it.

  I grab the suitcase and haul it the rest of the way out from under the bed. With a sigh I unzip it and lift it onto my bed. When I get to my feet Declan tosses an arm over his eyes and feigns sleep.

  Resisting the childish urge to roll my eyes at his antics, I walk over to my dresser and take out the clothes I’m sure I’ll need. Warm, comfortable stuff. Bland colors, muted tones, things designed to keep my mom from noticing me too much.

  It never works, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying yet.

  “You seem tense,” Declan says, right in my ear and I jolt, startled. I hadn’t even heard him get up and come over here. His hands find my shoulders and his thumbs work at spots I didn’t even know were sore. And, to my absolute horror, a moan slips past my lips.

  But he doesn’t say anything. He just continues massaging the knotted muscles between my shoulder blades that work their way up along my neck. Those are studying aches. Too much time spent with my head lowered slightly while I read and work on my laptop. Too much time reading notes and textbooks.

  And that spot he’s hitting right now is making my vision blur out. My knees threaten to dump me on the floor and I regretfully pull away from his touch.

  “Thanks,” I say while dropping the armload of clothes into the suitcase and refusing to meet his gaze. I don’t even want to know what kind of look he’s leveling at me now, after my moan and abrupt escape from his touch.

  He must think I’m a huge weirdo. And I am, I guess. But I’ve come to terms with that.

  Kind of.

  He surprises me with a softly growling answer. “Yeah, no problem.”

  I peek over at him, but he’s looking away. Still, I can’t help but wonder who he is and why he’s here. “So, my mom didn’t tell me why you’re here to get me. Or even who you are other than your name.”

  He seems surprised when he looks up. I can see a slew of thoughts going through his head, but he doesn’t give voice to any of them. Instead, he seems to be puzzling over what to tell me. “I’m just supposed to make sure you get home safe. Your mom worries about you.”

  The response seems off somehow. Mom trusted me to get on a plane and come here. Hell, she didn’t seem worried then. She didn’t even drop me off at the airport. She refused to be involved. So why would she worry about me coming home all of a sudden?

  And why don’t I feel like Declan is giving me the whole truth?

  Brushing off the worrying questions, I continue packing. Still, like angry little bees annoying thoughts keep buzzing back.

  Why did mom just tell me today, a few hours before he would arrive from a fourteen hour flight? Why not tell me yesterday, or a week ago?

  Behind me, I can sense Declan shifting his weight. In this confined space his scent struggles to overpower the gentle freshness of my laundry soap and signature sweet pea perfume. Not that I mind. He’s the first guy who has come in my room, and it’s nice, though strange, to have my space invaded by manly cologne.

  When I’m satisfied at the clothing I’ve packed, I grab a spare pair of shoes. They’re cute little black ballet flats, and I tuck them in next to the neatly folded clothes.

  The only other thing I want to grab is in a drawer I won’t open in front of Declan. I don’t really want him thinking about me masturbating.

  But how can I get him out of my room?

  I glance over my shoulder at him. His impressive arms are crossed and he’s still eyeing my space with a raptness that baffles me. I get that it’s an awesome apartment, but he’s kind of over exaggerating things.

  Then his gaze snaps to mine and he gives me a half smile that’s all amusement and infuriating charm. It’s almost like he knows he’s stopping me from packing something.

  Ugh. I guess I don’t need it. It’s only a couple weeks and I’m sure I’ll be stressed out to the breaking point thanks to dear old mom. Though that seems like more of a reason to make sure I have some outlet.

  I zip the suitcase up and turn around to sit on my bed with a sense of defeat crushing down on my shoulders.

  Home. The thought is a violent shudder that threatens to snap my bones. But I can get through this. I can. I will.

  The bed shifts as Declan comes over and sits down next to me. It feels like he’s eating into my space, but that’s just an odd feeling. His arm bumps mine and I glance up at him.

  “You ready?” he asks, a protective expression dominati
ng his face.

  I shake my head. I don’t know him, so divulging details isn’t really something I’m willing to do, but part of me wants to just scream, kick, and cry at the injustice of it all.

  Mom doesn’t really want me to come home. I’m just an afterthought.

  His hand captures mine in my lap and shock rips through me at the unexpected, warm touch. Our eyes meet and a sincere expression takes over his handsome features.

  “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I promise it will be temporary and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.” His lips settle into a softer line than I’ve seen so far and I’m shocked to the core.

  That might be the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to me. And it’s exactly what I need to hear. The holiday is going to be short overall and I’ll be back here, studying and falling into a routine that’s comforting. His fingers tighten ever so slightly around mine and I find myself enjoying the touch.

  A knock at the front door drags my attention away from him and allows me a much needed break to catch my thoughts.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, praying he doesn’t start digging around in my things. He merely nods and I hurry to the front door. I can’t imagine who’d be visiting right now, but when I open the door to Brian it makes sense all of a sudden.

  “I wanted to apologize for kissing you.” He says, wringing his fingers with a tense worry that makes me reach out to touch his hands. With a soft smile he lowers them. “I mean, I’m not sorry. It was a lovely kiss. I just wish I’d asked your permission first.”

  I wince when I hear Declan call out from the other room. “If you have to ask her permission, it’s almost definitely a no.”

  Brian’s shocked eyes meet mine and I can only shrug as Declan walks out, leaving the door to my room swinging wide. With my bed in full view. And Brian’s staring at me like I’ve done something so evil I should be burned as a witch.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” I say, embarrassment blazing through me. Declan really has no idea, does he? This is not America! There are rules, propriety, and an acceptable way of doing things.

  Brian shakes his head. “Have a charming holiday.” His voice is flat as can be and has a cold edge that leaves me certain our friendship is damaged beyond repair.

  I blink back tears as Declan leans against the back of the couch. He sounds impartial as he speaks. Hell, he focuses on his knuckle as if there’s something more interesting on his skin than the words that pop out of his mouth.

  “I’m her brother. So whatever you’re worried about isn’t a thing.”

  I glance at him, shocked by those simple words. But Brian meets my gaze and I have to mask my surprise. “Is that true?”

  Oh, god. I nod, mute, and instantly feel a flash of regret. I’m lying to him now. Now I’m really trying to hide things. Like I’m some kind of criminal. But I have to cling to the hope that it’ll allow me a chance to repair things later.

  Brian closes the gap between us and pulls me into a hug. I awkwardly pat his back. What’s with all the random touching today? People don’t usually touch me. Did I unwittingly put a “Prove I’m not intangible!” sign on my back?

  He pulls away and plants a kiss on my cheek. With that, he leaves, nodding at Declan who absentmindedly gives a halfhearted, almost sarcastic wave without looking up.

  I close and lock the door behind Brian. Pressing my back to it, I stare at Declan, who’s still focused on his hand.

  “Thank you,” I say. How did he know that that was the one thing that would actually make it okay that he was alone with me in my bed room? He doesn’t respond and I take the moment to hurry into my room.

  With a furtive glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s not following, I reach for my vibrator.

  But it doesn’t meet my hand as I grope around the drawer. Did I not put it back? Of course I did. This is the one place I put it. Where could it be? I dig in deeper, but it’s just a nearly empty drawer.

  “Lose something?”

  I jump and slam the drawer at Declan’s voice. “Nope.” I say, hating how out of breath my voice sounds. Did he have to scare me like that? And why is there a wicked gleam of pleasure in his eyes? He seriously gets a kick out of bothering me, doesn’t he?

  I grab my suitcase. Double checking to be sure it’s all the way closed, I lower it to the floor and look around the room. My eyes find the only out of place thing and focus on it. Declan.

  He’s standing with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his angular face is tilted to the skylight. Sun streams down on him and lights his hair to a brilliant golden brown.

  And I’m suddenly struck. He’s taking up the whole room. Every bit of space. All of it. He’s just a center fixture and everything’s cowering out of his way. Even the air seems to be vanishing. At least I hope that’s why my lungs are burning and my heart’s slamming in my chest.

  Ever so slowly he lowers his head and our eyes meet. There’s a dominance in his features that makes me want to bow to his will and bend under his might. Despite the predatory light in his eyes, I feel absolutely protected.

  Then, I do something so insanely stupid I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from saying it.

  “The magic has never happened here.”

  There. Those words. I wish I could snatch them back. I wish I could unsay them, or even better, I wish I could sink into the floor and disappear. My face burns so hot I’m pretty sure I look like I’ve got a first degree sunburn from my hairline to my mid chest.

  “Way to destroy my belief in magic,” he says, humor illuminating his tone and eyes. A grin dances over his lips and I wince.

  Oh, god, I could die of embarrassment here and now! He’s laughing at me! Why did I have to open my mouth? Why am I so stupid?

  “What about that Brian guy?” He jerks his chin over his shoulder toward the living room and I shake my head, mortified.

  My voice trembles as I speak. “We just agreed today to get tea sometime.” Why couldn’t I keep my stupid trap shut? I’m never going to live this down. I meet a good looking guy and trip all over myself.

  His gravely tone is somehow soothing. “Why are you so wound up about this?”

  I stare at my feet and root my toe over a knot in the hardwood. “I’ve never talked about,” I gulp hard around the lump of humiliation trying to choke me, “uh, relationship stuff.”

  Wow. That came out of my mouth. Relationship stuff.

  Is it too late to lock up my lips and throw out the key? Maybe my burning hot cheeks will literally catch fire and I’ll be out of this awkward conversation with a near stranger.

  Better yet, maybe a meteor will fall out of the sky and take me out. Just me, though. He can live. I just desperately want out of this fun little chat.

  I peek up at him, wondering how to interpret his silence. Of course, his cruel lips curve into an amused smile and I sense he’s holding back laughter. Why wouldn’t he laugh? I sound like a complete fool. If my words were coming out of anyone else’s mouth I might have to choke back laughter too.

  Can things get worse?

  “Well, who better to talk about sex with than a near stranger your mom sent to pick you up and bring you home?” His words sound easy, but they make my cheeks blaze even hotter.

  I guess that answers my question.

  He walks over and plops on my bed, continuing to talk. “Of course, I’m not good at the talking part. I tend to show the ladies—”

  He halts mid word as a tiny squeak of mortification escapes my tightly pressed lips. Was that a suggestion to show me? My glance skips to his lips as they move and I imagine them kissing me.

  How would they feel on my skin? Is he the kind of kisser to trail feather light kisses down the curve of my neck while blazing a path to my chest? His lips are still moving, and I snap back to attention.

  “And sometimes, when two people love each other—”

  Nope. I’m out. Daydreaming is so much better than whatever sill
y story he’s telling. My imagination takes over and I can almost feel him leaning in. In my mind his kiss is like a brand; searing hot, wicked, and impossible to forget.

  My fingers fly to my lips, but the daydream drags me away from reality and into a much more fun scenario.

  His kiss becomes deliciously wicked and his hands find my shoulders. I’m melting inside, but he’s holding me upright somehow. The way his thumbs press into my skin changes as he begins to rub them in small circles and work them down my arms in a way that brings every nerve alive and sends an army of goose bumps rising over every inch of me.

  And I’m done waiting. Swaying away from him, I pull my shirt up over my head and drop it beside the bed. His eyes study my body before jolting back to my face. With a tender look in his eyes he leans in once more.

  Our lips meet and I’m lost to his dominance. A fluttering begins to tickle deep in my belly and even lower a fire ignites. A tingling radiates through me in a spark burst of excitement and I want more.

  He doesn’t disappoint. With careful hands, he lowers me to the bed and traces delicately gentle fingers over my flesh here and there. And my body responds to him as if we’re two perfectly in tune instruments playing in harmony.

  His hands capture my slacks and he’s quick to release me from their confines. They crumple on the floor next to the bed and he leans down to kiss me again. It’s a naughty feeling to be still in my stockings and heels, but it’s addictively sexy.

  The look in his eyes startles me. There’s a passion and fire that burns so brightly I’m worried I’ll get burned. He moves off the bed and kneels between my thighs and my heart skips like a stone flung by a sure hand across the taut surface of a still lake.

  I lift up on my elbows, desperate to see what he’s about to do. There’s an evil gleam in his eyes and my excitement takes root deep within and bursts forth in a gasp. He closes the distance between us torturously slow and I want to whimper and beg, but I’m so still and quiet nobody would guess what’s about to happen to me.

  His lips touch my sensitive slit and I flop back onto my bed as if I’ve been hit by an electric charge.

  “But hamburger slippers with marshmallow eyes really catch people’s attention.” The sentence snaps me out of my daydream and I shake my head and look at Declan, who’s eyeing me with amusement and a hint of perplexing.