Long Shot: An MMA Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

“Oh God, even
you
think I’m awful.” Gulping, I try to hold it in. But after a second I can’t, and I slap my knee and laugh. It’s just a chuckle at first, but then I’m laughing as hard as I can. And Nat’s getting angrier and angrier. She picks up the dirty rag and starts wiping the table down again.
 

“Get the fuck on out of here,” she drawls. Her Carolina accent is strong as hell today, probably from all the stress she’s been under. “Seriously, go home. I don’t know why you’re still hanging around here anyway. It’s not like you’re helping anything. You’re making me feel even worse.” I take a breath and stop laughing.
 

“That ain’t intended, Nat.” Nat picks up the rag again and starts wiping the dining room table all over again. Something riles up inside of me, and I want to hear her curse just
one
more time. “You just love that rush, though don’t you? The rush of going out… under the cover of dark, sneaking into the clinic like a cat burglar—”

“Seriously, get the
fuck
out.” The country is rising in her voice. I try to keep a straight face, but I fucking
love
it. If she were mine, I’d get her riled up just to hear it. Out of her mouth, it sounds like the dirtiest, sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. And that ain’t intended either.

“Nat, you’re nothing like your daddy. Nothing like he
was
. He’s gone now. You use those things to
help
people that no one else cares about. Now you might have a little of that talent for thievery, but as long as you use it like Robin Hood, I think you’re fine. Just don’t get
caught
.” I lean back against the wall, and I can’t help that my eyes are drawn down to her tits again. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and immediately, I move my gaze to meet hers. Tears stream down her cheeks. “You’re better than everyone here, Nat. I’ve always known that. You’re prettier, smarter—”

“Since when did you care about someone having any kind of a brain?” She lowers her gaze and wipes a tear from her cheek.

“Since I met you. I just didn’t understand that’s what I wanted till I got to know you.”

“You never acted like that’s what you wanted.” Nat’s voice is a mixture of sadness, hurt, and anger. She stops wiping the table and just stands there, holding the rag in her hand.

“You have no idea what I want, Natty.” Acting on instinct, I walk over to her and take her into my arms. She drops the rag on my foot, and her body goes rigid. She grips me hard, her hands clasped around my shoulders. I smell the top of her head—fruity and tropical—and I kiss her there.
 

“What the fuck are you doing, Josh? Why the fuck—” She tilts her head up toward me, and I look down at her sweet face. Her lips are the color of ripe raspberries, and her amber eyes are big and wide open. Her eyebrows are arched up high, and I find myself thinking for a moment that there might be a world, a place, a time where she
is
my type of girl, and more importantly, that I’m her type of man.

“Maybe I just like to hear you curse. You used not to, not ever,” I tell her. It’s the wrong thing to say, but it’s true—I like just about everything that comes out of that gorgeous mouth of hers. Without thinking, I cover her mouth with mine, groaning just a little as her full lips soften. She tastes better than any woman I’ve ever kissed, her lips unbelievably delicious, like they were fucking made for kissing. Lifting her by the hips, I sit her down on the edge of the hutch. She looks up at me and runs her tongue over her bottom lip. Her eyes are big and bright, her hair even wilder than before. She lets out a little moan, and the sound of her voice makes my cock stir.
 

I kiss her again, but this time she’s hesitant. I remember that time, after prom, we almost kissed, fumbling in the dark. We’ve been skirting around it for years. And here I am, still a little drunk, I might admit, and I want her
now
.
 

“What are we doing?” She wraps her legs around me, puts one arm on my chest and taps me gently. My mouth hungers for more, my body still wired from the shock of touching her like I’ve wanted to for so long.
 

“What do you mean, ‘What are we doing?’ I kissed you—just like
you’ve
always wanted me to.”
 

She taps her fingers against my chest again.
Tap tap tap.
“And how do you know that?”
 

“Come on, Nat. It’s always been
obvious
. You’ve always wanted this… us.” The words tumble out of my mouth, and as I’m saying them, I know they’re the dead
wrong
things to say. I chuckle, nervous, then realize that the chuckle just makes all that shit sound even
worse.
It’s my biggest flaw, among many. When I’m drunk, I sound even more like a cocky asshole.
 

Natalie purses her lips and pulls her legs away from my body, letting them dangle against the drawers of the old hutch. “I’m an easy score, am I? With such an
obvious
crush on you since high school? What, you couldn’t get some MMA fan girl from the gym for tonight? Trying to book me instead?”

“No, Nat, of course not. You’re different—you’re—”
 

“The only girl in town you haven’t slept with?” She pulls her knees up to her chest and pushes me hard. I stumble backwards, and I can feel Natalie slipping away from me, retreating back into herself. “And I’m your stepsister too. A fucking novelty. The boys at the gym must really like that one.”
 

“Natalie, no—”

“Then what is this, you and me? Friends? Friends with benefits? Something
more
?”
 

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, Nat. I find it’s best not to overthink these things.” I step towards her again, but she pushes me away, this time with her foot.
 

“You don’t think that far ahead. That’s your problem. What? Tonight we
fuck
, then you sneak out in the middle of the night? You’re back at the gym in the morning, training for another fight? Do I drive back to Chapel Hill by myself and wait another year to see you? Do you follow me there—no job, no degree, Frank’s debts on your back?”

“Natalie—”

“Is this a casual hookup? Or something else?”

“Nat, we’ve always wanted—”
 

“Stop with that ‘we’ shit, Josh. You don’t know what I wanted way back when, and you sure as hell don’t know what I want right now.” She slides off the hutch and adjusts her dress. With sharp, assured movements, she pushes me out of the dining room and towards the front door. I raise my hands up, fumbling, swaying, unsteady.

“Nat, shit, I didn’t mean to upset you. It could be a casual thing. I’m happy to make it one and done, Natty.”

“Fuck you, Josh. I know one thing for sure, there’s nothing casual about you fucking me on the night after my daddy’s funeral. You’re my
stepbrother.
You were my best friend for years. There’s nothing
casual
about any of this.”

“Technically our parents divorced, and your dad just passed on, so I could be any random guy on the street.” I smile and cock my head to one side. Inside, there’s a voice trying to watch out for me, telling me to shut the fuck up, that Natalie’s the finest woman I’ve ever known, that chances like this one don’t come along every day. But that voice is overpowered by my own cockblocking idiocy. Her sweet round face shows growing anger, eyebrows knitting together, lips pursing tight. “You take everything way too seriously.”

Bam
.
 

Natalie makes a loud, frustrated noise and shoves me so hard that the screen door almost rattles off its hinges when I slam into it. My body is on the edge, wired, cock still at half-mast from the whiff of Natalie’s hair and the momentary taste of her lips.

“I’m twenty-one, Joshie. I’m
not
taking things too seriously. And I’m not serious about finding a
man
right now. I’m going to fucking medical school. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to ask you what your
intentions
are. Fact is, you
ain’t
some random guy off the street. You and me? We got a history we can’t erase.”

“Nat, I wasn’t thinking—”

“You never are.” She leans in and smells me, not sensually. Not like she’s taking in a lover’s scent. “Are you drunk? I mean, I know there were people drinking here. There always are, with anything having to do with Daddy. But hell, Josh, you smell like you’re both
hungover
and
drunk
. What the hell? And you try to kiss me like this? While I’m vulnerable and distraught?”

“You’ve never been vulnerable for a second, Nat. That’s what I like about you.” I smile, and I know it’s not genuine like I mean it to be. Women talk about that
resting bitch face
thing, but I’m wondering why men don’t complain about resting asshole face. Or resting douche face. I’ve seen plenty of terrible cases in my time. I gulp and try to wipe the grin from my face. Natalie softens for a moment and brings her hand to my face.
 

“I’m glad you see me that way. But that’s not who I really am. If we do this—I don’t want it to be like this. I want it to be something we both want—”

“I
do
want this, Nat.”

“Tonight, you do. I’m leaving town after this, Josh. What do you want then?”

“I—I don’t know—”

“Then I suggest you go on and figure out—go down to Frank’s Gym and find a fight to get into or—”

“That ain’t what I want, Natty.” I open my mouth to say more, but the frustration is clear on Natalie’s face. I think about her words, roll them over in my mind.
 

“Then prove it,” she says.

“What?”

“
Prove. It
. Come back here tomorrow and help me sort through all of Daddy’s things. Help me pack up for school. Don’t disappear into thin air tomorrow. Then
maybe
I’d consider kissing you again.”

“I’m not looking for some kind of relationship.” I cross my arms, defending myself against what she’s saying. My heart pounds even as I’m speaking, and there’s a small but insistent voice trying to tell me not to be such a gigantic
dick
. “You don’t get to put parameters on me.”

She laughs. “You’ve hurt me again and again. And it’s not in the context of any
relationship
. For me to put myself out on the line, you gotta
prove
that you got basic human decency, that I’m more than a warm hole to stick your dick in for a few seconds.” Her words sound harsh, but there’s affection in her voice. It’s the way we talk to each other, and maybe that’s a good thing, and maybe that’s a bad thing.

“It would be more than a few seconds, Natty. Much more.” She punches me on the arm, hard.
 

“Get out. Come back tomorrow morning, and
help
me. Then we’ll see what happens. I don’t need a hook-up. I need help.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll come back and help you, I swear it.”

“All right, Joshie.” She brushes a lock of hair away from my forehead, and her fingers are soft and cool against my forehead. Her eyes are skeptical, but her lips curl into a smile, and that pouty mouth opens something up inside of me. Even after a year, even after I swooped in, thoughtless, on the day of her father’s funeral, she musters a smile, and all that’s bad fades away.

“You want me to leave now?”
 

“Yeah, now. If you stay any longer, I might…” I want to hear what she has to say next. Even in my slightly drunken state, I can tell that she wants me. Her thighs are pressed against mine, even though her arms are crossed. There’s still a slight part to those full, heart-shaped lips, and the way she’s breathing even
sounds
like sex. I lean into her again, trying for a kiss, but she turns her head. Instead, she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Just come back. Show me you can. And we’ll see what happens tomorrow night. I
want
you, Josh, but right now I
need
something different.”

When I look at her, something in my chest fills with warmth—a warmth that no other woman has ever made me feel. It’s why I’m standing here right now, I guess. It’s why I stayed to help her clean up, though I realize I didn’t do anything but get in the way—that and try to fuck her. I gulp. I don’t let myself get into situations like this. This isn’t
me.
Natalie’s always made me feel something like this, which is why I always pushed her away, held her at arm’s length. But now, after her daddy’s death, after my mother’s disappearance, we’re left standing face to face. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my gut, like I’m on a boat, swaying back and forth as a storm is about to start. That feeling—it makes me want to push her out of my way. At the same time, I want to kiss her again, taste her against my lips, let my fingers trail down lower and look into her eyes when I make her come for me. If I start, though, I won’t be able to stop.
 

You’re just drunk and making shit up,
I tell myself.
But maybe you’re sober enough to get out of here. Best to get us
both
out of the storm before it starts.
It occurs to me that this feels dangerous for Natalie too. I gulp and nod and step back with an overwhelming feeling of needing to get the hell out, as fast as possible.
 

“Okay Nat. I think you’re right.” I back up slowly to the door, and she’s watching me the whole time. Her gaze shows disappointment, like I’m not quite doing what I’m supposed to do. “I’ll be going now.”

“See you tomorrow?”
 

“Yeah, yeah. Totally. You can count on me.” I see doubt already forming on her face. It hurts, but I already know I won’t be back. It ain’t
right
. I’m not a man who does this complicated emotional bullshit, and I could have stayed away from all of it—this whole uncomfortable situation—if I’d just steered clear of her daddy’s funeral.
 

I turn and walk out the door, marching my ass out to the old ’67 Camaro that I bought after my first big fight. I turn back, and I see Natalie watching me. Her gaze meets mine, and my heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Her beauty strikes me hard. She kinda looks like a mess from kissing me, from almost letting me feel her up. I didn’t
plan
to kiss her. I’ve thought about it a million times in my life, but today I fell into it. Natalie can be impulsive too, like me, but she’s more thoughtful about when she lets her impulses act up. Looking over her body one more time, I wonder if I’m more scared of the fact that she
wanted
to give into me, or the fact that she ultimately
wouldn’t.