Page 5 of Jealous Stepbrother

I turn to head to the bathroom when he grabs my elbow. It’s gentle enough, but he might as well have electrocuted me with the way my nerve endings crackle with sparks. He backs me to the wall and braces his hand above my head, caging me in and shielding me from prying eyes.

My breath comes out in a stuttering gasp. “What the hell? W-what do you want?”

“You screamed, ‘Yes. There. Please don’t stop,’ in a voice that could be heard all over the city block, but today, you hate me. Tell me, baby girl. What did I do to earn your ire?”

I don’t have an answer for him because I don’t understand it myself. I’m just as attracted to him as the night I met him. Actually, scratch that. He was handsome at the club, but in broad daylight, it’s magnified tenfold. He’s insanely attractive in a way that I might have thought of him as out of my league. When I remember how I behaved around him, it embarrasses me. For some reason, that embarrassment shifts into anger. “I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah? So why does your face scrunch as though I haven’t showered in weeks?”

“I … I don’t?—”

“Is the reason because you haven’t really moved on from me? Because I get it. I think about that night whenever I lie awake in bed. I can still hear the way you yelled my name or how you fluttered around me or how your body trembled as you came. You were, without a doubt, my best fuck.”

“Callum!”

“Those were your words, baby girl, not mine.”

My eyes dart to the crowd behind him, fear twisting my stomach into knots. “We can’t do this, okay?”

Callum gives me a devilish grin and lifts a thumb to graze my lip. “Why not?”

“We’re stepsiblings.”

“Not related by blood.”

“It’s wrong!”

“Says who? Your dad? My mom?” He chuckles. “Ah, the paragon of virtues.”

“Just … we can’t ever do that again.”

“Promise?” It’s a challenge. He can see on my face how much that night meant to me, but he wants me to say it out loud. Probably so I’ll end up looking like a fool if I ate my words. His smile softens as he runs a finger down my bare arm. “Dance with me.”

I can blame it on the weird vibes of this whole affair or my dad, who never passes up the opportunity to drag me down. Or maybe it’s Callum’s smugness. He knows what he did to me, and now he’s acting all high and mighty because of it. If I met him again under different circumstances, though, I might have flirted back. If I didn’t just find out he was my stepbrother, I would ask him to take me home.

But not here, and not now. Not ever. I need to make him stay away from me because I can already feel my resolve wavering because of his proximity.

He knocks me off my axis—something no one has ever done before.

The guests sway on the dance floor, and I scan the room. Without thinking, I sidestep Callum, grab the guy casually leaning against the bar, and march with him to the dance floor, weaving through the throng of dancing bodies.

When we reach the center, I spin around so my back is to the guy’s chest, and I’m facing Callum, who grabs a bottle of beer from a nearby server, his gaze burning through me. Without taking my eyes off my stepbrother, I slide the other guy’s arm around my waist and begin swaying to the beat.

Despite our distance, I can see Callum’s face darken, the bottle arrested halfway to his lips. He doesn’t even try to hide it. The thrill of realizing I affect him this way drowns out every other logical thought in my head. Better judgment is nowhere to be found. My actions thus far have been illogical, childish, and stupid. Why not add more to the list?

I grind my ass to the other guy’s crotch, chuckling to myself when I feel his erection, but I barely have time to enjoy myself because the next minute, Callum is before me, his face a mask of fury. He unceremoniously shoves the other guy and grabs my wrist, not caring that some people have turned to look at what’s happening.

“Callum, what the hell are you doing?” I try to raise my voice above the music, but if he can hear me, he does a great job ignoring my words. I don’t even know where we’re headed, but he’s basically dragging me, and I jog to keep up with his long strides. “Callum!”

He stops so abruptly that I collide with his hard back. Everything he’s done is giving me a whiplash, but when I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, he pulls me into the bathroom. Once inside, the chatter and music are muffled, and it feels like the party is worlds away.

I whirl to face him and jab a finger on his chest. But before I can say anything, he grabs the back of my head and crushes his mouth to mine.

Just like that, my resolve to stay away and have nothing to do with him crumbles into dust.

3

CALLUM

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