Page 1 of Jealous Stepbrother

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CALLUM

“What did the whiskey ever do to you?” A small, angelic voice pierces my dark thoughts, and I turn my head to find a woman.

Not just any woman. The most beautiful one I’ve ever seen. I must be dreaming, or the drink hit me harder than I thought because there’s no way someone like this exists. Not just existing but actually talking to me.

Her brown eyes that remind me of caramel crinkle at the corners, her full blood-red lips tilting on one side. Her brown hair is up in a high ponytail, and she keeps twirling the ends with her finger. The soft, freckled cheeks, button nose, and a dimple on her chin.

God, a woman like this exists, and I haven’t met her until now?

All my anger evaporates like mist. I forget why I’m here, why I’m sulking, why I’m furious.

I forget my mother, who has done nothing but drop one bad piece of news after another.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The house music plays in the background, and the lights in the bar get dimmer. I don’t know if everything is going in slow motion or if the alcohol is doing a fine job of muddling my brain. I’m no lightweight, and I can handle my liquor well, but sitting next to this woman has my senses on overdrive.

She smiles again as if she knows exactly how she’s affecting me. “I asked what the whiskey did to you. You’re looking at it like you want to kill it.”

I snort. “That’s how I look when I’m thinking hard.”

“Hmm. What else do you do when you’re hard? I mean, ‘thinking hard’?” She adds air quotes to the last two words, but I don’t miss the glint of mischief passing her beautiful features.

A little flirt. I like it.

I raise a brow at her, wondering just how far she’s willing to go with this dirty talk. “I get hard just by looking at you.”

She slaps a hand to her chest and dramatically flutters her eyes. “Oh, straightforward, I see. Well, thank you, I guess?”

I slide from the bar stool and stand beside her, our faces inches apart.

This close, she’s even more beautiful. The kind of beauty that knocks the breath out of me. The sounds of other partygoers and staff milling about fade. I can’t see or hear anything past her.

A vanilla scent fills my nostrils, and I inhale it deeply.

“Please tell me you’re not drunk, beautiful girl.”

“Why?”

“I never take home anyone with alcohol in their system.”

She raises her glass, which is still half-full with something yellow. “Mocktail.” She grabs my shirtfront and pulls me closer, her breath warm on my face. “What makes you think I’m coming home with you or that I even want to?”

At this, I wrap a hand around her slender neck, relishing the way her pupils dilate and her lips part. “Because you want to know if you’re about to have the best fuck of your life.” I brush my lips against hers, and she sucks in a breath. I have to fight to keep my wits about me because my cock strains against my zipper, and it’s far from comfortable. “On second thought, I’m a regular here, and I know the owner. How about coming with me to one of the VIP booths instead?”

She chews on her bottom lip. “I’ve seen those. They just have curtains, not doors.”

“So? Scared to be seen?”

For a minute, I think she’s going to refuse, but she surprises me by leaning forward to bite my earlobe. Holy fuck. “What are you waiting for, then? Give me the best fuck of my life.”

The trip from the bar to the VIP area upstairs is hazy. We were all over each other, and I was nearly delirious with need, so much so that I almost tore her clothes at the stairs, with people passing us by.

By the time we get to our booth, a slight hesitation comes over me.

She’s right. It’s not exactly a room and doesn’t offer any privacy. The only thing separating every circular sofa is black curtains. If someone wants to take a peek, no one can stop them.

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