Page 11 of Stepbrother Obsessed

Unfortunately, my reverie was interrupted when another woman accidentally lost her balance. It looked like the otherwoman’s heel got caught in something, and she went down, but not without taking Kristie with her in a jumble of arms and legs.

“Oof!” my stepsister cried, tumbling to the rough cobblestone while losing her grip on the bouquet. “Ouch!”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” the other woman asked, standing up before dusting off her hands. “Oh shit. I kind of landed on you, and you hit the ground hard. Here, let me help you up.”

She extended a hand, and Kristie was lifted to her feet but I could see that there was some real damage. Blood streamed from my stepsister’s knee in a red trail, and her hands were scratched up and slightly bloody from the rough gravel.

“Oh my god!” the other woman gasped, looking at Kristie’s knee before calling out into the crowd. “Do we have a doctor here? We need medical help!”

It was my cue. I stepped forward before locking eyes with my gorgeous stepsister. Her bottom lip trembled and it was everything I could do to not lean down to kiss those pouty lips. Instead, I held myself aloof, and kept my manner professional.

“I’m an ER doctor,” I said in a low tone. “Come on, Kristie. Let’s go inside because there’s bound to be a first aid kit somewhere. I’ll patch you up.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, I turned and stalked into the wedding venue. I felt, rather than saw, the curvy girl hurrying after me, and my heart raced because finally ... I’ll be able to touch my obsession once more.

5

Kristie

Nick looks grumpy and a little mad, to be honest. He was efficient, and able to grab a first aid kit from the venue staff before bringing me to a private restroom. It’s a luxe one within the hotel, and not at all gross or disgusting. Instead, the space is divided into two parts: a small, carpeted women’s lounge, outfitted with a mirror, vanity table, stool and a small couch, and then the facilities in the space beyond. Heavy damask covers the walls, and there are luxe curtain swags as well, although no actual windows. A chandelier glints overhead as the handsome physician tends to my knee.

“There,” Nick growls low in his chest, eyes fixed on the white bandage pasted to my limb. “That’ll help stanch the bleeding for now, but remove the dressing once a day, and rinse it with warm water. It’ll heal on its own. You’re lucky you don’t need stitches.”

I nod, my heart fluttering in my chest.

“Thanks Nick,” I say in an almost-whisper. “I really appreciate your help.”

He nods curtly, still avoiding my eyes.

“Show me your hands. Are you injured?”

I hold my hands out, palms uplifted, and sure enough, they’re scratched and bloody, with some small rocks embedded in the skin.

He growls with displeasure. “Go wash your hands in some warm water, and then I’ll clean that up for you,” he rasps. “Go on. There’s a sink in the other room.”

Slowly, I get to my feet, totally aware of the alpha male’s presence. After all, this is a tiny space, and Nick is huge. Is it possible he’s even bigger than before? His broad shoulders resemble boulders, and his chest is wide as well as massive. Long legs are encased in suit pants, but that can’t hide the fact that his thighs are thick and powerful, his calves toned like a man who does manual labor for a living. I suppose he’s on his feet in the ER, but still. This is clearly the physique of a man who works out.

Yet there’s something in those blue eyes. I can feel it. His azure gaze is stormy and yet magical at once, and my heart lodges in my throat. I’ve never gotten over Nick Bradley, despite avoiding him for two years. Thoughts of him continue to haunt my memory, making me come awake at night, panting and gasping his name.

But he doesn’t know about my pathetic longings, and I give myself a talking to while washing my hands.

This man thinks you’re a slut, the voice in my head whispers.He believes you hooked up with his dad, when you did no such thing. Not only that, but he never gave you a chance to explain.

Of course. Nick Bradley is an arrogant asshole, and I was a fool to forget it. Slowly, I return from the sink, my hands still damp.

“Sit,” Nick barks, gesturing to the stool in front of the vanity. “Let me see.”

I sit once more, cursing the betrayal of my body. My nipples feel taut and my breasts heavy and achy. There’s a low pulsing in my pelvis and my thighs are already damp with need. It’shim. Merely being in his proximity arouses me, despite my mind’s warning. What can I do? My curves long for this man with every ounce of my soul, and yet my brain is screaming like a five alarm fire. Even worse, Nick hasn’t said anything remotely kind or romantic. He’s only been civil, and acted the way a doctor should when confronted with an injured patient.

Plus, he’s still avoiding my gaze. He kneels before me, big fists on my wrists to turn my palms towards him. The scratches are relatively light and form pink dots on my skin.

“You’re fine,” he growls. “No treatment’s needed here. Just don’t do anything crazy using your hands, obviously.”

I smile at his bended head, despite myself.

“You mean, no games of tug of war? I was thinking about getting myself some good rope burn,” is my playful murmur. His head jerks up, and for the first time, our eyes fully meet. The sizzle is immediate as we stare at one another, the connection intense.

“Don’t fuck around,” Nick warns in an unsteady voice. “I’m not fucking kidding when I say stay off your hands. Now where else does it hurt? I’ll take a look.”

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