Brock leans even closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to mine. "I can't help it. I want to kiss you."
"Not right now." I move back, deflecting his kiss. "We haven't even arrived at the mall yet. This is a public place. Not here."
Brock looks frustrated, but he nods in agreement. "Okay, you're right. We'll wait until we're alone." But he smirks. "And I will kiss you when we're alone. That's a motherfucking promise, stepbro."
A mix of excitement and guilt fills me at his words. I know it's wrong to feel this way about my stepbrother, but I can't help it. I'm so fucking attracted to him, and now that he's admitting his feelings, it's hard to reject him.
But damn, he's totally playing me, isn't he? This is his reputation—that's what Stella told me. Okay, now he's turning his charms onto a guy instead of a girl, but the underlying motive is the same.
Brock wants to fuck me. Then, despite the wonderful hugs and conversations we've shared, he'll ditch me. Like every other asshole guy has done.
It'll be ten times more painful because he's my stepbrother and I'll be forced to be around him for the rest of my life.
We head toward the mall, and Brock's eyes on me, his gaze intense and hungry. I try to ignore it, but it's hard. I feel myself getting hard, my skin flushing with desire.
God, I want him so bad.
But I can't let myself get sucked into his trap. I have to stay strong and resist his charms. If I give in, I'll only get hurt.
At last, the mall emerges before us. It's a new, modern building, with bright lights and cheerful decorations. The mall's interior is bright, the tiles polished to a shine. The music playing in the background is upbeat and fun. There are tons of stores, and to my relief, they seem to be doing well despite the recent slowdown in the economy.
The inside of the mall is permeated with the scents of air freshener, incense, and the perfume of the mall's shoppers. It echoes with the chatter of people enjoying themselves, the clinking of coins, and the ringing of cash register chimes.
Smells of fresh-baked cookies waft from the food court, and the scent of buttered popcorn lingers from the movie theater. Everything is inviting—perfect for a night with Brock.
"Where to first?" Brock grins.
I glance around, trying to decide. "I could go for a shake."
"Let's do it."
Brock takes my hand and leads me over to the ice cream shop.
We order our drinks, then take a seat by a window. For a few minutes, we sip our drinks in silence.
I'm trying to think of what to say. I want to tell Brock how much I care about him, but I'm nervous. What if he tells me I'm delusional?
I try to peek up at him from beneath my lashes. He's hot as fuck. His skin is tanned, his hair a sexy mess, and his muscles bulge beneath his shirt.
Brock's eyes meet mine.
"Thank you," I say before I can lose my nerve. "For talking to me last Sunday. For letting me tell you about my feelings and my past. For allowing me to be honest with you."
Brock's eyes widen. He sets his shake down. "That's so fucking kind of you to say. You know, my ex never would've told me something like that."
"It's the truth."
Brock reaches across the table and takes my hand. He laces his fingers with mine and squeezes. "I plan to be open too. I want to tell you more about Carlos, my other dad, my life, and how tough shit's been since he cheated on Nathaniel. I only told my ex-girlfriend a bit about what happened—err, scratch that. I barely told her anything. My gut told me not to. We held each other when I was down in the dumps, but I hardly explained what was going on."
Tears threaten in my eyes. "Really?"
"Really. I was too scared to admit that things weren't working out between us. She was a cool girl, but her goals didn't align with mine. We weren't a great match."
"I get what you mean."
Brock squeezes my hand again. "I don't think I could've told this to anyone but you. My ex was my first serious girlfriend, but I was afraid she'd think I was a pansy if I told her too much."
"You're not a pansy. You're a sweet, caring, sensitive man." I squeeze his hand back.