Stepbrother Master (9 page)

“R-right,” I said, hurrying to play along. It was almost unnerving how confident and unruffled he was. Where had he learned to be such a good liar?

“Isn't that your favorite spot, Ford?” Russ beamed, wrinkles deepening at the corners of his eyes. “I guess I shouldn't have been worried about you two.”

Huh? Worried in what way?
I tried to force myself to calm down—nobody was making any accusations. But it felt like every single dirty, naughty thing I'd done with Ford was painted on my forehead.

Ford looked wry. “I told you I wouldn't leave her to fend for herself, Dad.” I couldn't tell if he was annoyed or embarrassed.

Celeste chose that moment to resurface, calling, “Food's on the table. I'll get out of your hair now.” With a wave, she disappeared from the room.

We all went to the dining room to continue catching up while our parents ate. Under the table, Ford's hand edged closer to mine, as if to reassure me. I shifted it away. I had to start controlling all the ways my body automatically responded around Ford. No more casual touches, lingering glances, or kissing on the mouth. The heaving bosom and wet panties were probably hopeless, but I'd hidden those since I first came to the ranch, right? I tried to ignore the voice in my head that sneered,
Yeah, for a whole week
.
Amazing restraint there.

Eventually our parents finished their sandwiches and Ford excused himself, saying that he had work to do. I went to my room, relieved … but already dreading dinnertime.

Sitting down to dinner with my father, new stepmother, and Emma carried a touch of the surreal. It drove home the point that she was actually my
stepsister
, but the hard-on that had imprinted itself against my zipper didn’t seem to get the memo. Maybe because I
didn’t care about labels at this point. She was just Emma—and was becoming a whole lot more every day. Having her tied and under my hand had been … intoxicating. Her reactions—her enthusiasm—had been everything I could have asked for. Our last week together, seeing how well we’d meshed, both in and out of the bedroom, changed everything, and I wasn’t sure exactly what to do about it yet. But that was for another day.

“Anything I need to know about that happened while we were living it up in wine country?” my father asked, drawing me out of my thoughts and back to the conversation.

“Sorry, what?”

Dad lifted a heaping forkful of mashed potatoes to his mouth and chewed, giving me time to gather my thoughts before he repeated his question. “Report. Update. Rundown.”

“Oh. Nothing of note. Cattle are all good. The farrier was out. Horses are in top shape. I’m thinking we may need to hire on another hand—even though Griff won’t admit it, he’s starting to slow down more and more, and I’d like to take some of the load off him. I know he tries to keep up with the younger guys, but he’s earned his retirement.”

              “He’s going to argue about being put out to pasture,” Dad commented.

“I know, but we don’t have to put it to him that way. I’ll just ease back his responsibilities slowly. Maybe get him training a new guy to take up some of his time, and it can be a gradual process.”

Dad shrugged. “If you think you can navigate that minefield without blowing off a leg, I’ll leave it to you to handle.”

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the clinking of silverware on china.

I nabbed another piece of bread from the basket in time to see my father reach for the dish of mashed potatoes. Cynthia snatched them away and slid the salad bowl into his grip. Part of me was glad to see someone taking care of Dad again, but I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last. This wasn’t Cynthia’s first honeymoon phase by a long shot.  Before I could think much on that, Cynthia dabbed at her lips with her napkin and launched into conversation.

“Emma, honey, I knew you would love it here. I’m so glad you’ve given the ranch a chance. There are so many things to do and see. I haven’t been so active in years.”

Emma bit down hard on her fork before swallowing a bite. A pink blush tinged her cheeks, reminding me of the color of her ass before I’d switched from my hand to the paddle. The urge to rile her up was too strong not to give in.

“Emma was definitely
active
last week,” I said, glancing up as I finished buttering my bread and lifted it to my lips. “We had a great time giving things a chance. I’d like to think Montana has given her a whole new range of
impactful
experiences. She was in good hands while you were away.” The double entendres weren’t lost on Emma; her pink slowly turned to red. Teasing her like this was juvenile as hell, but she had about lost it at lunch when we talked about ‘ropes’ and ‘riding.’

Cynthia sat straighter in her chair, smiling brightly. “I’m so glad you two are getting along. I had such concerns.” She looked pointedly at me. “I hate to say it, Ford, but you’re not the easiest man to get to know. I’m glad you’ve been so welcoming to my girl.”

“Just one more thing I love about you, Cyn.” My dad’s voice boomed out over the dinner table. “You’re not afraid to tell it like it is. Keeps us all honest.”

I met Cynthia’s direct stare. “Nothing to worry about here, Cynthia. I think we’re getting along
very
well.” I lost my battle and cut my eyes to the girl in question. Her cheeks had heated to a bright red. “And I think it’s safe to say that Emma and I have both … let each other in. We spent last week
bonding
all over the ranch.”

Emma choked on her steak, coughing into her napkin for nearly a minute before shoving away from the table.

“Excuse me. I … I need to go. I don’t feel well.”

We all watched in stunned silence as Emma disappeared down the hallway.

“What in the world?” Cynthia said, rising and following after her daughter.

My dad looked to me, brow wrinkled. “Do you have any idea what that was about?”

I shook my head. “No. No idea.”

We both dug into the remains of the meal, but mine sat like rancid feed in my stomach. Had I pushed Emma too far? I fucked up, that was for sure. I thought that we were sharing an innocent joke, but I hadn’t recognized what she was really feeling until it was too late. She had
run
from me. Angry or disgusted or maybe even scared … whatever it was, I never wanted to see that look directed at me again. Something cold seeped into my veins. It felt a lot like fear that I’d damaged the trust we’d been building. I cleared my plate quickly and excused myself. I needed to fix whatever I’d just done. And for the first time in a long time … I wasn’t sure of my next step.

I beat a hasty retreat to my room and slammed the door. My stomach was still in queasy knots. What had Ford been thinking, dangling our sex life in front of Mom and Russ like that?

But I already knew that wasn't the worst part. All his teasing brought everything into focus, letting me see how
wrong
our relationship really was. The real question here was: What the hell had
I
been thinking? What did I expect when I got involved with him in the first place?

Someone knocked. Mom's muffled voice called, “Are you okay in there? Do you need me to bring you anything?”

I tried to pull myself together. “Y-yeah, Mom. I mean, no. I mean … come on in.” She would lurk in the hallway until I let her fuss over me, so I might as well get it over with.

Mom opened the door, her brow furrowed. “Do you feel sick?” She reached out to lay her hand on my forehead. “You don't seem feverish, but you
have
been looking flushed for a while.”

“Jeez, Mom.” I sighed. For a moment, I regretted inviting her in here to play Twenty Questions. I already felt like I'd time-traveled back to high school—if I wasn't careful, she'd be stuffing me into a stroller soon. “Don't worry about it. I'm fine. It's just, uh … ” I cast around for a change of topic. “All this new stuff takes some getting used to. I guess I just got carried away having fun with Ford.” I mentally kicked myself. “I stayed out in the sun too long, or got too much exercise, or maybe I ate something that didn't agree with me … ” Oh God, why couldn't I stop rambling?

But Mom nodded with an understanding smile. “You never did do anything halfway.” She chuckled. “Even when you really should have. As soon as you tried something, you wanted to master it, come hell or high water. It's great that you're enjoying Montana so much, but next time you go out with Ford, don't push yourself so hard. He's been doing this stuff a lot longer than you.”

I returned her smile, half-hearted and a little sick. “Okay, Mom. I'll try to take it easy.”

She brushed a stray hair off my face. “It's been so nice to see you this summer. I know I'm repeating myself, but I really am glad that you're getting along with your new stepbrother.” She paused, glancing down briefly. “I know it's tough to deal with your mom constantly shuffling new relatives around your life. You've really been a trooper for all this time.”

I interrupted, “Don't blame yourself for—”

“Let me finish, sweetie.” She sighed, thoughtfully rather than impatiently. “What I'm trying to get at is … you're used to that kind of thing. But Ford's not. So he was a little gun-shy when I first got here.”

I almost wanted to laugh. “Shy” was the last word I'd ever use to describe Ford. But I remembered the first day we'd met: the cold suspicion tempering the lust in his eyes, the way he'd acted like his father's guard dog. Maybe Mom wasn't
too
far off the mark here.

“You and Ford got off to a rocky start, but it seems like some time alone did you both some good.” Her tone and voice softened further, into the same tenderness she always showed when talking about her new husband. “Russ is one of the best things that's ever happened to me. If you can feel at home here … that would mean so much.”

All over again, it struck me that I'd never seen Mom so happy and in love. Her run of bad luck had finally ended. This marriage was here to stay.

If I didn't ruin it by screwing her stepson.

My stomach twisted with a mix of sick guilt and anger. I hated lying to Mom like this. We had always been close since we were each other's only constants in life, but now I was hiding from her. The fact that she didn't know I was pushing her away changed nothing.

“I do, Mom. Thanks.” I hugged her, fighting back sudden tears as I breathed in her perfume—that rose-jasmine smell from my earliest memories. “I … I think I'll go to bed now. I still feel kind of crappy.”

She squeezed back and kissed my cheek. “Sleep well, sweetie.”

I nodded, afraid that my voice would crack if I spoke, and closed the door behind her. Then I sat on the bed and cradled my head in my hands. My mind ran in circles. What the hell was I going to do?

But I didn't have long to think. Footsteps approached my door, heavier and more widely spaced than Mom's. The door opened to reveal the man I least—and most—wanted to see.

“What are you doing up here?” The words came out more harshly than I'd intended. “You're going to get us caught.”

“For Christ's sake, relax.” Ford walked over and rested one hand on my shoulder. For some reason, I didn't brush it off. “It's normal for a guy to care about his sister. Our parents just think I'm up here checking on you.”

“But I—”

“They don't know. Trust me,” he said. “And even if they did, we're two consenting adults. It's none of their fucking business. We've got no reason to worry.”

I wanted to believe him so badly. To just listen to his calm, confident voice and fall into the warm strength of his arms. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. Despite myself, I started to relax.             

“Attagirl,” he said with a slight smile. Holding my eyes, Ford cupped my chin with his free hand. My body responded automatically and my face turned up to his.

He bent down and drew me into a slow, lingering kiss that made me ache. Then, with his lips still brushing mine, he murmured, “I want to fuck you again.”

A soft noise of surprise and desire escaped me. That familiar heat I always felt around Ford was quickly rising under my skin.

“I can't stand not being inside you. I want to make you come and feel your body writhe against me.” He kissed me again, wilder and hungrier than before, and this time I returned it. Somehow his other hand was already on my knee; it strayed over my thigh, then further up, and I arched toward him. Slowly I began to surrender, melting under his touch…

But the memory of Mom's smile resurfaced. She and Russ were probably eating dessert now, or watching TV cuddled on the couch, or some other cute couple thing. Comfortable and peaceful in marital bliss … while their children lusted for each other right above their heads. Nausea and guilt overwhelmed anything else I was feeling. It was only for a moment, but that was just long enough to push Ford away.

He blinked, a line appearing between his eyebrows. “What's the matter?”

Wasn't it obvious? Was he just messing with me again? The only words I could find were, “I can't. I'm sorry.”

“Hey, stop it.” He glanced down for a minute. “I acted like a dick tonight. If you're still mad, I can't really blame you.”

“No, I'm not … well, sort of.” I shook my head. It was nice of him to fess up, but I couldn't get sidetracked. “That's not what I meant, though. I was talking about
all
of this. Us. It's just too weird.”

Ford reached for my hand again and I stepped back away from the bed. He gave a huff. “If you would just listen for a second, I'm trying to apologize.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it; I really do.” I tried not to sound frustrated and landed somewhere in the region of sarcastic. “But if
you
were listening, you'd know that's not what I'm upset about.” That close-knit “happy family dinner” feeling had clashed so horribly with the sexual charge between me and Ford. Even the memory made my skin crawl.

“You didn't think it was weird last night. Or the night before that. Or any of the dozen or so times we've fucked in the last week,” Ford replied a little louder. He wasn't crowing about his conquest; there was no smirk on his face or in his voice. He seemed genuinely confused—and he started to get pissed.

My own anger flared up in response. Why didn't he fucking get it? After everything I'd just said, how could he still not understand? How could he not feel as creeped out as I was? Before I could stop myself, I snapped at him. “But that week's over, Ford! Our parents are back. We're a
family
now.” I gave a humorless bark of a laugh. “God, how screwed up is that? I let myself forget you're my stepbrother for a few days, but I can't do it anymore. Even if I wanted to, I just can't.”

“And
do
you want to?” His gaze seared into me.

“N-not with our parents right here in the house!” I quickly lied. Just like yesterday—and every day since I'd first laid eyes on Ford—I still burned for him. In my heart, I knew that last week had been more than a lapse in judgment. And if I was being brutally honest with myself, the way I felt about Ford went deeper than my body. No man had ever commanded me like he did or given me so much pleasure.

“So I was just one big mistake to you?” he demanded. His eyes narrowed and his jaw muscles bunched. He was full-on mad now—the kind of mad, I suddenly realized, that you only feel when you're in pain.

But it didn't make a difference. Even if it hurt both of us, I couldn't back down from this.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “That's not the point. It would never work between us in the long-term. Our parents are married now and we need to start acting like a family. You're my stepbrother. I'm your stepsister.” I turned away to hide the stupid, illogical tears that pricked at my eyes. “I'm sorry, Ford. It was fun while it lasted, but … please go.”