Page 34 of Bear
This time, the phone chirps with several text notifications, and I lunge, snatching it out of the cradle. As I read, the tip of my tongue glides slowly over my upper lip, then back again. It’s a nervous habit, one that happens when I’m trying to maintain control and not fly off the handle. My father isn’t making it easy on me.
The fuck, Duke.
Just had yet another call from the alarm company.
Handle. Her.
I let out an annoyed sigh. Lennon watches me carefully, a tiny line running down the middle of her forehead. It mars her otherwise perfect face. “One sec.” I shoot him my typical smart response. I don’t want to give him the idea that she means a damn thing to me, because if I do, he’ll only watch more carefully. He needs to believe I still consider her a thorn in my fucking side. And to be honest, some days she is prickly. But I don’t believe she’s the problem child my father insists she is. My observations have been very different. He doesn’t get to have that information, though. I’m keeping it close to my chest and fucking watching both her and everything that happens around her.
If you have solutions for sleepwalking,
I’m all ears.
Maybe I should come get her after all.
It’s about time we had her evaluated.
Deep in my gut, I sense there is more to this than simply a girl with a myriad of acute sleep issues. He wants to get her head examined, but I don’t think making her feel like a fucking mental case is going to help.
I’d love to know what the fuck is going on, but I’m afraid I’m not the one she’d bare her soul to—not by a long shot.
“Definitely Tristan?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” If being a complete dickhead about his stepdaughter’s issues is no big deal. I tap out another response that I hope gets him off our backs.
She’s hardly settled in.
Give her another week or so.
If she’s still causing trouble then, we’ll talk.
After the auction, okay?
Lemme get through that.
I toss my phone to the side, completely confused by his suggestion. I call bullshit. I. Call. Fucking. Bullshit.
I glance over at Lennon, waving it off, as if it’s nothing.
Her forehead pinches. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Unfortunately, sometimes where my father is concerned, I have trouble managing my facial expressions. My features must be ratting me out big-time, because one second, Lennon’s calmly waiting for me to answer her, and the next she makes a flying squirrel dive across my body for my phone.
She lands sideways across my chest, knocking me over, and we both topple backward onto the mattress. In her hand, she’s got a death grip on the phone, but I’ve managed to make a grab for her wrist, and I’m not letting go.
Determined to look at the messages, she grunts out, “Duke! Lemme look at it. What’s the big deal?”
The big deal is that I know what it’s going to look like to her if she does read those messages. “You don’t want to look.” She squirms on top of me, and truthfully, we’re in the worst of positions because her pussy—in those teeny little shorts—is right on top of my dick. I hiss, “Fuuuck. Stop,” but she keeps right on struggling, so I bring my free hand down on her ass. I squeeze hard, getting her attention. Then I roll until my body lands atop hers on the mattress, and I use my weight to hold her down. I wrench the phone from her and toss it out of reach.
“Duke!” She strikes out at me, frustration sliding over her pretty features as she slaps at my shoulders. “If he’s talking shit about me, I want to know.”
I take her hands in mine, threading my fingers with hers—even though it makes my knuckles scream in protest—and hold them over her head. “Seriously,” I gasp out with my jaw clenched, “you know how my father is. You don’t need to read a word of that trash.”
And still, she strains against me, trying to yank her hands from my grip, but all she succeeds in doing is rubbing her tits against my chest. I let out a tortured groan.
We freeze and stare at each other for several seconds, the awkwardness of our current position on the bed stunning us silent. From the look on her face, I assume, like me, she doesn’t want to be the one to say something or move away. I don’t have a fucking clue what that means, but my vision tunnels as I look down into pools of blue. All I see is her. And it feels so fucking good to be on top of her, my hips nestled between her slim thighs. So. Fucking. Good. Blood rushes to my dick so fucking fast my head spins.
I’ve got a raging, massive erection for my stepsister. Fuck.Fuuuck.
