Page 38 of Cruel Steps

His eyes searched mine, something flashing in them as he scanned me, but I dropped his gaze and stared at the floor.

Holden lifted me, and I let him move me like the puppet Hope claimed me to be. The fight was gone, and all that was left was numbness. He didn’t talk as he cleaned my wounds. It was only then I recognized we were in a bathroom. With soft swipes, he cleaned the blood off my arms and fingers and took his time with each digit. Warmth seeped into me the longer I sat on the counter, the numbness wearing off with each caress.

“Why are you being nice to me? I thought you hated me?”

“You might be the enemy, Wildcat, but I don’t hate you.” He glanced up, his aquamarine eyes swirling, and I wished I was brave enough to ask him why.

“I don’t want to be the enemy,” I whispered.

Holden stared, his throat bobbing, and I wished I could read his mind. If I wasn’t his step-sister, would he want me? If it wasn’t for Hope, would we be together?

The answers didn’t matter. Because I was his step-sister and Hope was his sister. We couldn’t change those two things. I would always be the enemy.

Holden’s thumb brushed against the mark he’d left on me this morning; the pad of his thumb sending shivers as he pressed the sensitive flesh.

“It doesn’t matter what we want,” he said, eerily echoing my thoughts.

Sucking in a breath, I nodded and slipped off the counter. His body caged me between him and the counter, blocking me from leaving. We stood in silence, my eyes on his chest, and my fingers itched to touch him.

But I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t.

“Let me go, Holden.” The words hurt to say, but they needed to be said. We couldn’t keep doing this, sex chicken or not. I wouldn’t survive.

Holden’s body tightened, and I wondered if he wouldn’t let me. Then, slowly, he stepped back, giving me enough space to slip through.

Once I was clear of his body, I could breathe better, and his intoxicating scent no longer filled my nostrils. Why did he have to smell like a fancy cabin?

I managed to take two steps away before he hauled me back to him. Holden lifted me, and my legs naturally wrapped around his waist seconds before my back hit a wall and his lips were on me.

This kiss was desperate, sloppy, and full of passion. My toes curled, and I forgot my name. I forgot about the video and the roses. I forgot everything outside of this moment where our lips met.

Hands gripped me, his cock nudging my center, and I was so lost in him that I would’ve let him do anything to me right then.

A door slammed, and he froze, his body stilling beneath me. Holden turned his head, and I hid in his chest, reality sneaking in and reminding me how bad of an idea this was. We couldn’t be together. This was only a ploy to get the upper hand.

And just like with his sister, I fell for it.

“Uh, sorry, man. I’ll use another restroom.” The door shut again, and silence returned.

“Put me down. This was a mistake.”

Holden’s muscles became stone. He slowly turned his head, his blue eyes simmering with undiluted rage and lust. Then he blinked, and it disappeared. The cold mask he’d worn since stepping into my father’s house returned. His hands squeezed my thighs once before stepping back and lowering me. My legs wobbled, but I maintained my footing and rushed out the door.

The more distance I put between us, the more in charge I felt, and by the time I reached my car, I felt steadier. Stems and petals littered the area around my car, but I ignored them and pulled my bookbag out of the back.

At least one good thing had occurred.

Holden had reminded me I couldn’t let them win.

I wouldn’t run this time.

Hope needed to be held responsible, and I couldn’t do that if I folded. I didn’t care what these students thought about me—well, maybe two of them—so to hell with them all. I wouldn’t be here next year, anyway. But Hope would, and she cared a lot about what they believed.

With a renewed purpose, I held my head high, despite having red and tear-stained cheeks. If they wanted to laugh, I’d make them face the pain it caused. I wouldn’t hide so they could ignore how their taunts and jeers affected a person.

I’d dare them to look me in the eye and ignore my pain.

The benefit of losing everything—there was nothing left to be taken. So, I’d wear my scars and show my battle wounds. I’d be damned if she took these from me, too.

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