SNAKE (a Stepbrother Romance) (6 page)

M
y head was pounding
as I woke. As soon as I opened my eyes, it felt like the sunlight was slicing right through my head, the shaft of light pummelling its way into my skull like an unrelenting power drill. Groaning, I got up and shut the drapes to reclaim the soothing darkness.

Just as I started to move back to the bed, my eyes widened as I remembered everything that had happened. Seeing Monique with another man, breaking her rules by eating junk food and drinking, and then, oh fuck… Kissing Devan.

My hand flew up to cover my mouth as the memories started trickling in. Dread caused my hand to tremble.

I needed to get ready for work, but just the thought of seeing either Devan or Monique so soon after last night made my stomach churn; I was petrified of going downstairs to use the bathroom and kitchen in the main house.

Desperate and annoyed with myself, I groaned inwardly, cursing the fact that there was no bathroom and kitchen in the studio above the garage. Going into Dev and Monique’s home to pee had been awkward enough before, but with the added discomfort of her affair and the kiss I had shared with Dev, my anxiety levels were spiking through the roof.

Had Devan told her about last night? Our kiss? Had he come clean?

Fuck, what if he had?
I thought as my eyes widened. I shook my head. Monique would’ve bashed the door down, interrupting my morning sleep, if all had been revealed the night before.

I thought about my options for a second, wondering what I could do. Obviously, I could grab a bite on the way to work instead of making breakfast downstairs, but I desperately needed to pee and brush my teeth. With a heavy sigh, I gulped down the lump in my throat and headed on shaky legs towards the back door below.

If she knew, then I would face the music. I wasn’t a coward, afraid to admit when I’d fucked up.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, I moved into the kitchen, and even though I needed to pee, I needed to quench the lifeless desert that had set up camp in my mouth first. I poured myself a glass of cold water and gulped it down in long, thirsty sips.

“It’s good to stay hydrated.”

The cold voice that came from behind my back startled me, and I nearly choked. I turned around slowly, doing my best to fake a smile as my eyes landed on Monique.

She looked a little worse for wear, her eyes puffy and swollen like she’d been crying or had a bad night’s sleep. My stomach dropped, and the water inside my belly threatened to make reappearance.

God, did she know?

Monique remained quiet, not giving me any clues as to my fate, and busied herself by preparing a slice of toast while I tried to make myself invisible. Just as I was going to sneak out of the kitchen unnoticed, her voice interrupted again.

“How did the Doctor’s visit go?” she asked.

Letting out a controlled breath, realizing she wouldn’t be asking about the appointment if Devan had revealed all to her, I turned around slowly, finding her leaning against the countertop as she now fiddled with the coffee machine.

My mouth salivated at the mere smell of the decaf, and the feeling of guilt was instantly replaced with anger and jealousy due to the fact that I couldn’t have any. Coffee was on the banned list, even decaf, along with my precious burgers.

Not that I was a coffee addict, but at least I usually had the option of having it, and before it was forbidden, it was a taste I craved.

“I got the all clear,” I said and nodded, choosing my words carefully as I met Monique’s gaze. She let out a strange sound, something between a gasp and a cry of delight, turned around, and enveloped me in a quick hug, which felt strange, robotic. I’d been all but ready for a standoff or a fight, a screaming match… but not a hug.

My heart thudded rapidly in my chest, and I hoped she wouldn’t notice my apprehension as she chattered about the doctor I’d seen the previous day.

My lips were on your husband last night,
the unwelcome thought flashed in my mind.

The guilt was tying my stomach into knots, and I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick. “I have to use the bathroom,” I murmured and moving away from her embrace and padded quickly down the corridor.

After I did my business, I splashed cold water on my face and took a deep breath. I couldn’t let myself behave this way - Monique must never know what had happened. And in that moment I was furious at Devan, at what he’d turned me into. What we’d done was no full-blown affair, but I would still be considered the home-wrecker, the mistress who’d come between them, fracturing their sacred vow.

God, I was just the same as the skank, the bar ho, that I’d caught Mark with when I’d decided to surprise him at his apartment one night. The woman knew we were a couple, had seen us together at the bar she worked at, but she still went after him anyway, and here I was, doing practically the same thing.

This was all my fault. I must’ve led him on somehow. What had I been thinking, wearing my low-cut tops and dresses around him?

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I sighed. I could make this right, but I needed to keep a clear head if I wanted to do what Dev and Monique were asking of me, and that involved getting my shit together so I could give them a baby.

I took my time in the bathroom and jumped in the shower, skipping the hair washing but relishing the frigid water against my skin. I still felt Dev’s touch on it, and I was doing my best to get rid of that addictive feeling that surged through my body every time I replayed our forbidden kiss.

Hoping I’d dilly-dallied enough for Dev to be safely on the way to work, I dried off and put on my robe.

As I walked out of the bathroom, I nodded to myself; I was determined to get back on track and give them both what they wanted.
I could do this.
The previous night had been a mistake, and I needed to forget it ever happened.

I headed back into the kitchen with a clear mind - or at least so I thought.

“There you are,” Monique exclaimed as she saw me. “I’ve made some breakfast for you. Come sit down, you need something to eat.”

“I was going to grab a bagel on the way to work.” Breakfast with Monique was not my idea of fun even at the best of times, and that morning, with a mountain of worry still piling up, I knew I’d be tense the whole time we ate.

“Nonsense,” Monique shot me down. “Come sit down with us and eat something healthy. We agreed on no junk.”

Monique wouldn’t take no for an answer. She walked through into the dining room and gave me an impatient glance over her shoulder. And shit, she said to join
them
, which meant only one thing…

My fate was sealed; I didn’t have the energy to fight, plus it was probably best just to get the awkwardness over and done with. I followed Monique into the dining room where the table was set with an assortment of dishes, each one less appetizing than the last. And of course, Dev was sitting at the head of the table, his eyes skimming me as I walked in and pulled out a chair opposite him.

Holy-fuckballs!

My stepbrother was shirtless, tattoos on full display.

Why did he have to be shirtless?

My mouth went dry.

He had on a pair of comfy trousers and nothing else. His glorious torso was glistening, probably still wet from the shower in their upstairs bathroom, and his muscles rippled, making the snake tattoo dance in front of my eyes.

I told myself to look away, but then he nodded in my direction and my insides constricted. What, I didn’t even deserve a hello?
Prick
.

My mouth set in a line, I concentrated on the place setting in front of me, watching with dread as Monique proceeded to load my plate with minuscule portions of kale, chia seeds and other stuff I’d never tried before. She looked at me expectantly, and I rotated my plate, hoping maybe from a different angle it would look more appetising.

It tasted even worse than it looked, bland and nasty. I suppressed the urge to reach for the saltshaker, knowing my hand would be slapped away immediately. At least there were scrambled eggs, I thought, though they were a sad, miserable shade of pale yellow.

I could barely get the food down, especially when Dev and Monique started talking. The lump in my throat grew bigger and bigger, taking up the much needed space I required to breathe and swallow.

“Monique, this is wonderful,” Dev gushed, and I gave him an incredulous look.
Liar!
He could not be serious - the food was fit only for little furry creatures.

“Thank you.” Her tone was chilly as she cut her tofu. The smell was making me retch from the other end of the table. “Could you put on a shirt? You look like a Neanderthal.”

I stared in horror as his hand covered hers. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. He held on, smiling lovingly at his wife as my insides boiled.

“In a minute, honey. I’m nearly done. Let me finish this glorious breakfast you prepared,” he promised with another sickening smile.

I had absolutely no right to feel offended by this simple showing of love, yet it made me furious. He’d been kissing me only last night, and he seemed to be enjoying it, too. And now he was pretending that nothing had happened, sucking up to Monique?

Devan is a cheat, a liar and a fucking snake,
I thought as the image of his tattoo flashed in my mind and accidentally slammed my cutlery down against my plate making the two of them glance up at me.

“Everything okay, Mila?” Monique.

“I’m fine,” I replied through gritted teeth.

My mouth was tight as I reached for the jug of orange juice just as Dev did the same.

Our hands met in the middle, and we shrank away from the touch like lightening had zapped us both. For a split second, our eyes met over the table… Full of longing, need and lust.
Fuck.

I tried not to stare after that; I kept my head low, only looking at him out the corner of my eye, but my heart was pounding.

I tried to shake my feelings for him, my need for him, out of my head, but the more I tried to deny them, the larger my feelings grew. They filled me till I could no longer ignore them… or breathe.

Soon my heart and body would want their demands met – either that or I would explode. I sneaked a look at Dev, my heart swelling then instantly deflating as I saw him smiling at Monique.

Goddamn it, I was jealous. I wanted him all for myself.

Once a cheater, always a cheater,
I said in a bitter, sing-song voice in my head while snapshots of my past failed relationships lit up, surrounded by bright neon lights, taunting me… warning me. After all, I probably wasn’t his first.

Was I actually naive enough to think that this, him kissing me, was the first time he’d cheated on Monique? How would I know? Perhaps there was a long line of past indiscretions.

No wonder Monique was pissed at him, I thought. It would explain a whole lot.

But Monique was just as bad.
Maybe they deserved each other.

I tried to convince myself that he was pure evil, a man not to be trusted, but the longing in my chest would not leave me be.

I
had never had a more
uncomfortable meal in my life, and my jaw was beginning to ache from the plastic smile I used as a mask.

Fucking grin and bear it.

My wife was giving me the cold shoulder, and Mila was shooting daggers at me with her eyes from across the table. I felt like I was caught in crossfire, out in the open, snipers shooting at me from every possible escape route.

Trying to patch things up with Monique was going to be difficult, especially if she was cheating on me… she was damn sure not going to make it easy for me. Could I forgive her if it was true? But then there was the other problem, when a mere look at Mila in her flimsy robe made my cock stir.

I cleared my throat and adjusted my slacks so my erection wouldn’t be obvious. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop staring, and I only hoped Monique was too preoccupied with her own breakfast to notice where my gaze kept landing.

Mila pushed away her plate, her food barely touched. She got up from the table with a groan, her thin robe parting at the chest, revealing a sliver of flesh beneath. She headed towards the kitchen and opened the cabinets, hunting, I presumed, for something more edible than the breakfast Monique had served. Monique watched her like a hawk as she dug around.

“Anything I can help you with, Mila?” she asked in a syrupy-sweet voice, which I knew meant trouble.

“I’m just looking for some aspirin,” Mila mumbled, looking like a guilty kid. A deep need to console her arose in me, and I fought the urge to envelop her in an embrace right there in front of my wife.

“What for?” Monique wanted to know, her voice already getting that well-known edge to it. “Are you hurting?”

“My head is pounding,” Mila admitted with a groan, and my wife narrowed her eyes. I already smelled trouble, and I took a deep breath, knowing hell was about to break loose, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“I’d say that was from the junk you had yesterday,” Monique said angrily as Mila looked on with surprise. “Oh yes, Devan told me all about your little treat last night.”

Mila gave me a wounded look, and I winced.

“I never get headaches when I eat burgers, if that’s what you mean,” she said, trying to defend herself. “I’m only a little hung-over, is all.”

Fuck.

I sucked in a breath and shook my head, my fists holding the cutlery in a death grip. This was not going to end well, and I waited for the storm to come crashing down all around our heads.

I could tell what was going to happen even before Monique raised her voice. Mila’s eyes widened as she looked at me, knowing she’d just made a huge mistake. Yes, I had told my wife about the burgers, but I hadn’t mentioned the drinks. And now she was going to lose it.

“Why are you hung-over, Mila?” Monique asked, barely holding back her anger, her pencil-thin eyebrows raised high. Mila looked sheepishly at the floor, and my wife strode over to me, the anger seeping from her pores. “Why is she feeling like that, Devan?” she asked as she pointed an accusing finger at Mila.

I dropped my knife and fork and rubbed my eyes wearily, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. “We had a few drinks at the bar,” I finally admitted. Monique immediately shrieked in horror as if I’d just admitted we had worshipped the devil, not downed a few shots.

And Mila wasn’t even pregnant yet. Fuck, this was going to be a hell of a ride.

“Are you crazy? Are you both out of your minds?” My wife was yelling now, and I could only stare at my poor defenceless stepsister as Monique launched into another of her tirades. “You are so irresponsible. You should know better by now, and we’ve had this conversation! You promised to take care of yourself - you can’t be that selfish. Can’t you think of the baby for a second?”

“I’m not even pregnant yet!” Mila shouted back at her, tears welling in her eyes.

Monique strode over to Mila who was almost shaking now, clutching her robe in front of her body protectively. She had done nothing wrong, and this was fucking ridiculous.

Monique jammed a finger in Mila’s chest as she continued to shout. “You have to look after yourself if we’re gonna do this. We’re letting you stay here for free, and this is how you repay us? Don’t you care at all?”

I’d had enough. A primal instinct awoke in me, and I got up from the chair, sending it flying behind me, my hands forming fists at my sides. Mila was doing this amazing good deed for us, and Monique was attacking her for no goddamned reason.

“Monique! That’s enough!” I shouted, interrupting her raving. Then said as calmly as I could manage, “It was my idea. I wanted her to blow off some steam after the appointment. It would be her last chance for nine months, for fuck’s sake.”

My wife slowly turned around, and her wrath was finally on me, but I could take it, had been for months. Better me than Mila, anyway.

“I should have known,” she said with spite. This was god-awful; our relationship was on the rocks – no, strike that - it was already broken. We were drowning, and I’d dug an even deeper hole for myself… just threw away my goddamn life preserver.

I couldn’t let Mila take all the blame. It had been my idea, my doing, and my fucking fault.

“You’re a worthless, incompetent, piece of shit, Dev. Can’t even follow a simple request!” Monique shouted at me before storming out of the kitchen.

Great, I thought. I’d saved Mila from Monique’s fury yet had put myself in her bad books; those books were pretty thick by now, full of things that had pissed her off, I thought.

I took a moment to contemplate the situation, trying to calm myself down.

The air shifted and changed as soon as the front door shut behind Monique.

Raising my eyes, I met Mila’s gaze. For several long moments we just stood and looked at each other, blinking, catching our breath. The tension in the air switched as if it had taken on a whole other persona. No longer was it red with anger; it had turned more intense, lustful and swollen with promise.

She looked beautiful - big round eyes, bed-head hair with beads of moisture still clinging to the strands from her shower. And that goddamned robe, which had slid open again, just a sliver, revealing her creamy skin. She was going to be the death of me. I wanted to peel it away…

We continued to stare at each other, and I wanted to kiss her so badly. I wanted a repeat of everything that had happened the previous night, and then some. Mila looked like she shared the same thought as her tongue darted out of her mouth and she gently bit her lower lip.

“Mila,” I groaned softly, “Are you ok?” I made my way towards her, stepping dangerously close. She remained frozen to the spot as I reached out carefully, my fingers grazing the exposed skin on her neck. A soothing gesture.

I just wanted a peek at what lay underneath. A little something to make this day better.

But my touch was too intimate, too taboo, because she immediately shrank back and glanced away.

“We need to talk,” I said desperately, but my stepsister was already shaking her head no. “Please, Mila…”

“Just leave me the hell alone,” she murmured, the pain in her voice evident as she stumbled towards the door. She didn’t even give me one last look as she walked out, shutting the door behind her with a final thud.

I leaned against the wood with a groan, running my hands through my hair. Things were getting more fucked up by the minute.