Stepbrother Needs (His Twisted Game, Book Three) (3 page)

I opened the medicine cabinet over the
sink and looked for ibuprofen, but there was none.
 
In fact, the shelves were empty.
 
I stood there for a moment, staring at the emptiness, so
different from the medicine cabinet at home, which was always filled with a
mess of pill bottles and prescriptions, so many of them that they needed to be
stacked on top of one another.

I remembered there was a guest bathroom
just off the hallway, so I headed out into the apartment in search of pain
relief.

The sound of the TV came, muted and soft,
from the living room.
 

Cole must have been watching something.

The guest bathroom door was open, but I
hesitated, not feeling completely okay about going inside and rummaging through
Cole’s stuff.
 
It was one thing to
do it in the bathroom off my room – he’d given me that space.

I thought about going back to bed, but
the ache in my wrist was starting to intensify, and I knew enough about pain to
know that if you didn’t get on top of it, it could eventually become
unmanageable.

So I took a deep breath and headed for
the living room.

Cole was sitting on the couch in just a
pair of sweatpants and no shirt, the flat screen TV over the fireplace tuned to
SportsCenter
.
 
His dark hair flopped over his
forehead,
his
eyes bright and focused on the highlights of some football game.

My heart squeezed in my chest.

He looked so different than he had just a
few hours ago, all dressed up in his expensive suit, ordering me around some
fancy party that people expected him to be at.
 
Now he was just Cole, lounging around the house watching
SportsCenter
, the way he used to do all the time when we
were growing up.

He’d come home from whatever party or
girl’s house he’d been at, grab a bag of chips or a sandwich and settle onto
our couch and flip on ESPN.
 
I’d
grab whatever book I was in the middle of and sit down next to him, reading my
book while he watched sports highlights.

We’d sit there for hours, him watching TV
,
me lost in my book
.
 
We didn’t
talk,
except for the occasional time when he’d point out some sports play I wouldn’t
completely understand or I’d tried to tell him some plot twist in my book that
he wouldn’t care about.

We’d pass snacks back and forth and I’d
refill our sodas when they got low.
 
It was comforting, just having him there, being out of my room and
having him close to me.
 
I always
felt safer when he was around.

The scene in front of me now might have
been taking place in a New York City penthouse instead of our tiny, falling
apart house back in Jersey, but it was so familiar to me.
 
All I wanted to do was curl up next to
him on the couch with a good book.

“Cole?” I asked.
 

But the volume on the TV was too high, and
he didn’t hear me at first.

“Cole?” I asked again, a little louder
this time.
 
Even though the scene
was familiar, now that we were on his turf, it felt like I was intruding on him
in some way, like I was interrupting him and had no right to be there.

He turned to look at me, and he was so
beautiful I caught my breath.
 
I’d
been annoyed at him earlier, when he’d been Business Cole, but now he was just
here, my stepbrother, the person who used to make me feel safer than anyone in
the world.

Until he’d left and shattered my heart
into pieces.

“Um, is there any ibuprofen?”
 
I asked.

“What’s wrong?”
 
He shut the TV off and stood up.

I was suddenly aware I was in just a
pajama top and shorts, the thin material clinging to my body.
 
I wasn’t even wearing a bra, and I saw
his eyes lingering on my breasts.

“My wrist hurts.”

“Let me see.”
 
He walked over and took my wrist in his hand gently, running
his fingers over my skin.
 
His
touch sent fire roaring through my body, and I felt flush.
 

“It doesn’t look swollen,” he said.
 
“Where’s your brace?”

“I couldn’t get it on.
 
I think it’s okay.
 
I mean, I don’t think it’s getting
worse or anything, it just hurts.”

“Stay here.”

He disappeared into the guest bathroom,
then
returned with a bottle of ibuprofen.
 
He poured me a glass of water from the pitcher
that was in the fridge and watched to make sure I swallowed the pills.

“Drink the rest of the water,” he said.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“You need to stay hydrated, Avery.
 
For your wrist.”

I rolled my eyes and finished the
water.
 
“Happy?”

“Yes.”
 
He took my empty glass and set it in the dishwasher.

I admired the way his body moved, the
smooth planes of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders.
 
I shivered a little.

“You’re cold,” he said.
 
“You need to get back in bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Too bad.
 
We have to be at the office tomorrow at eight.
 
You don’t want to be tired for your
first day, do you?”

I shook my head.
 
I wanted to ask him why he was allowed to
be awake, why he got to stay up late watching TV when he had to work in the
morning, too.
 
But it didn’t work
that way.
 
I was starting to learn
that Cole made – or at least tried to make – the rules for me, but
I didn’t make the rules for him.

“Come on,” he said.
 
“I’ll help you with your brace.”

I followed him back to my room, through
the door and into the bathroom where he grabbed my brace and held it out to
me.
 
I held out my arm and he
clicked it on. The support instantly made my wrist feel better.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome.”

He stood there staring at me, his eyes
boring into mine,
an electricity
in the air, crackling
so intensely that it was undeniable.
 

But a second later, he looked away.
 
“Time for bed.”

We walked back into my room, and he
waited until I was under the covers before turning off the light.

“Good night, Avery.”

“Good night, Cole.”

I heard the click of the light switch and
the sound of his footsteps disappearing down the hall.
 
I held my breath, hoping he would come
back, yearning to feel his arms around me the way they’d been last night.

After a few moments, I’d given up hope.

And then the door to my room opened and
he slipped into bed next to me, so close I could feel the warmth of his body.

He didn’t
say anything
,
just lay there,
looking up at the ceiling.
 
I turned over and stared at his profile,
the strong line of his jaw, the faint stubble on his chin, the curve of his
lashes.

Finally, he turned and looked at me.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“Hi.”

He reached out and pushed a strand of
hair off my face, then moved closer so that his lips were just inches from
mine.

“Shit,” he said softly, shaking his
head.
 
“I can’t stay away from
you.”

I didn’t say anything, afraid that if I
said the wrong thing, I’d remind him of what we were doing, remind him that
we’d said we couldn’t do this anymore, and he’d get up and leave.
 
And I so desperately wanted him to
stay.

I hated him and loved him all at the same
time.
 
I wanted him to hold me and
had the urge to push him away.
 
It
was confusing and thrilling and it made no sense and perfect sense.

His hand cupped my chin.
 
“Do you know how crazy you drive me,
walking around in outfits like that?”

“I didn’t pick it out.”

“You are so fucking sexy.”

The pad of his thumb slid over my lower
lip, and then slowly, his lips came toward mine.
 
My breath hitched, catching in my chest, my pulse pounding
and my heart speeding up.

I wanted him to kiss me more than I’d
wanted anything in my life.
 

“Avery,” he whispered.
 
“God, what are you doing to me?”
 

He lowered his head toward mine and
kissed me gently on the lips.
 
His lips
were warm and soft, and when he pulled away, I opened my eyes.
 
The two of us stared at each other in
the dark for a moment.
 

It was the first time he’d kissed me on
the lips, and while the other stuff we’d done had been sexual and exciting and
had gotten me so horny and turned on I could hardly take it, this was more
serious, more romantic, more intimate.

Cole shook his head slightly and then
turned away from me, like he was going to leave.
 
Disappointment flooded my body, but a second
later,
he turned back around, took my face in his hands and
kissed me again.

This time, his tongue parted my lips and
moved against mine, making it clear who was in control.
 
He kissed me and kissed me and kissed
me, harder and deeper, pulling me close until I was pushed up tight against his
body.
 
I could feel his cock, hard through
his pants, and I tried to keep myself from grinding into him, tried to keep him
from knowing how badly I wanted him.

His hands slid up under the back of my
tank top, causing a shiver to slide up my back.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.
 
“Do you know how fucking beautiful you
are?”

I shook my head no.
 

“Let me show you,” he rasped, and then
his mouth was back on mine, his stubble rubbing against my cheeks and chin as
our mouths fell into a sensuous rhythm.
 
It was the best kiss I’d ever had in my life.
 
He knew what he was doing, knew just where to move his
tongue,
knew
just how to hold me close.
 
He tasted like peppermint and he
smelled like soap and expensive cologne, and it was a heady combination that
made me dizzy.
 
My pussy was wet,
and I was afraid if he touched me I was going to come already.

He pulled back and rolled his body on top
of mine, and I let my hands wander over his bare chest, lingering on his shoulders,
his
pecs
, his biceps.
 
He was so built that he made me feel tiny, and his hands
grabbed my tits as he kissed me, pulling my tank top off and tossing it onto
the floor.
 
Then he grabbed my
pajama pants and pulled them off, too, until I was lying there in just my
panties.

“Fuck,” he said as he gazed down at my
nipples.
 
He took one into his
mouth, sucking it gently, sending heat through my body.
 
His eyes locked on mine as he sucked,
adding to the intensity of having my nipple in my stepbrother’s mouth.

He stopped for minute, just gazing at me
as he pushed himself between my legs, forcing my legs apart so that his dick was
right against my pussy.
 
He started
grinding against me, and I moaned and bit my lip, arching my back.
 
Even though we were separated by his
sweatpants my panties, he was getting me dripping wet.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispered.
 
“Does my dick feel good against your
pussy?”

“Yes,” I moaned.
 
“Fuck, Cole, that feels so good.”

“You want me inside of you, don’t you,
baby?”

“Yes,” I moaned, imagining the tip of his
hard cock sliding into me, imagining him on top of me, pumping me harder and
faster, his balls slapping against my ass until we both came.
 

But instead of doing that, he stopped.

“Please,” I breathed.
 
“Cole, please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?” he demanded, his eyes
bright.
 
He pulled off his pants
and boxers, tossing them onto the floor, and I caught a glimpse of his cock,
thick and rock hard.

“Don’t stop grinding your cock against me.”

He grinned at me devilishly, then grabbed
my hand, like he’d done last night, and slid it over his stomach.
 
I could feel every muscle of his six-pack,
every distinct ridge of his gorgeous body as he guided my hand down until I was
touching his shaft.