Sloane: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Novel (16 page)

           “Isn’t interview attire something more professional?” I asked him teasingly, referring to his sleeveless shirt and athletic shorts.

           “Oh yeah, I was decked out. I hit the gym on the way home, though” He said.

           I took in his scent of clean sweat when he walked in, and now it had made sense to me. I felt a dumb for not thinking of him stopping by the gym.

           “Oh yeah. Sorry, I just…” I started.

           “For what?” He jumped in; his hands dug into the back of my thighs now, and my eyes nearly rolled back in bliss. It was becoming harder to keep up conversation.

           “Um, I don’t know,” I laughed like a nervous goof.

          
Smooth one!
I thought to myself.

           Brandon didn’t laugh back, though. He grew silent and stolid.

           “Listen Elle, when we were younger,” He started, seeming a little nervous.

           “Well, I treated you like shit. I mean, obviously right? You remember those days probably better than I do,” he started.

           I felt instantly attentive to Brandon. I was jolted from the aimless relaxation and wondering if this would be the apology I’d always dreamed of, but never got. Granted, now it didn’t seem necessary.

           Rather, it seemed like picking at old wounds and I felt tense, despite the massage. I mean, I’m my
own
person now; the pimply-faced ghost of a younger Brandon wasn’t haunting me anymore.

           A new, mature and
fatally
handsome man had taken his place. And I felt an odd sensation as the negative emotions I’d always felt so strongly toward him, were being replaced by new positive memories.

           But Brandon clearly needed absolution.

           “Look, I’m really sorry about all of it,” he continued.

           “And I’m even more sorry that I didn’t apologize sooner; but I wanted to tell you in person, I guess because I thought you deserved that,” he finished.

           I almost felt tears welling up inside me, but I tried to fight them back.

           “I’m not trying to excuse it; but I was fucked up. I was sixteen and I’d been without a dad for a long time,” he started again.

           “And well, when your dad showed up I guess I just didn’t trust him to stick around. You guys
were
there for me and my mom but I still treated you like shit; I just couldn’t believe it,” he finished.

           I’d noticed that Brandon had an impressive way of clarifying his thoughts.

           He’d perfected the art of straightforward communication in a way that only a wiser person could.

           Hell, I was still very much a slave to my own emotions, but Brandon was a rock.

           I sat up, looking into Brandon’s eyes; I wanted to tell him that it was fine, that I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to tell them how much he’d hurt me back then, too. My mind swirled around.

           I wanted to cry and scream and hug him all at the same time. But instead, our gazes locked, we became heated, and he began to slowly lean in toward my lips.

           My mind was in disbelief as he approached me; my heart was thudding in place and my breath was held as his lips neared mine.

           Brandon didn’t feel like a brother to me anymore, he felt like a
man
. A lover.

           I closed my eyes and felt Brandon’s breath on my mouth before his warm lips pressed onto mine and the shudder of warmth rocketed throughout my body.

           And then suddenly it was cold again.

           Brandon pulled away fast. I saw him for the first time since he’d landed in Miami, looking embarrassed and ashamed.

           “Wow,” he laughed nervously.

           “I’m sorry; that was… kind of weird, huh?” He said, quickly jumping up from the couch.

           “I’ve got to go in the kitchen and um, make a drink” he said absent-mindedly before walking away.

           I couldn’t believe it. He actually kissed me, but then he pulled away.  What did this all mean?

          
What the hell?
I thought to myself, feeling completely confused, angry and humiliated all at once.

          
Was I bad? Did he honestly care that much about me being his stepsister or would he use that as just an excuse?

           My mind was wild with endless insecurities as I lay there on the sofa, trying not to make eye contact with him while he made noise in the kitchen. And then I watched him disappear upstairs for what ended up being the rest of the night.

           I was hurt, but I was even more furious; furious that he didn’t even give me a chance to tell him how badly I’d wanted it; furious that he just walked away.

           Brandon built me up so much with that single kiss that part of me wanted to rush upstairs and finish what he’d started between my legs.

           But I was so angry, my body shut down. My sexual appetite would have to wait for my mind to make any sense of the injustice.

           After spending several hours wide awake in my room, I thought about what I could do. There wasn’t much that I
could
do, though. It was in Brandon’s hands, really; he was the big man, after all – or so I thought.

           I decided to text Chrissie to see if I could spend the night at her place. I still have three days until dad came home and hopefully Brandon would be
his
problem.

           “Sorry. I can’t.” She texted back, leaving me annoyed and without any excuse as to why.

           Perhaps a little too misguided by my emotions, I even texted Andrew.

          
Brandon’s going to be sorry he jilted me,
I thought, hitting the send button to a message asking Andrew if he wanted to watch a movie the next day.

           “Sure.” He texted back, and I wasn’t sure if that was a happy agreement, or a bored one.

           I figured I could at least somehow get a rise from Brandon. He would see that I wasn’t awkward or angry, but instead way too busy with other guys to worry about
him
.

           Andrew was a pathetically weak distraction though, as I fell sleep with Brandon on my mind.

          
Chapter Four

           The next evening I came home from school and made myself up just a little bit as I waited for Andrew.

           Though I didn’t really feel much of anything for Andrew at that point, I figured I could at least tolerate him long enough to watch a movie with him. I just hoped he didn’t take the invitation as a cause to expect anything more, like he usually did.

           I hadn’t ever gone farther than a blowjob with Andrew, or any guy for that matter, and I hoped that he would understand I wasn’t offering anything beyond a movie that afternoon.

           He was always a little pushy though, and so I sort of dreaded the moment when he’d try to put the moves on; usually it was the cliché yawn that turning into his arm over my shoulder.

           Still though, I was willing to put myself through it for a couple of hours if Brandon was going to see.

           He’d mentioned that he was going to be gone most of the day signing papers at his new office, but he would be back by the evening. I remembered this and made sure to schedule my movie date with Andrew for the same time.

           I was suddenly a little concerned that he
wouldn’t
show up though. After all, he could just as easily hit a bar afterwards with his new co-workers, leaving me alone at home with Andrew.

           My thoughts didn’t have time to wander too far, as I heard the doorbell and I quickly fiddled with my hair in the mirror one last time before rushing downstairs.

           “Hey babe,” Andrew said as I opened the door.  H leaned over to kiss me and I could smell a beer or two on his breath already. I recoiled.

           It was supposed to be refreshing to see Andrew after a week apart; I thought as soon as I saw his cute smile I’d be smitten by him all over again.

           Instead, I was only reminded of why we broke up in the first place as he pushed his way into me.

           “Andrew, come on,” I said politely as he looked at me incredulous.

           “I thought we’d just watch a movie,
as friends,
” I clarified.

           “I thought you invited me over here because you finally wanted to… you know,” he said, grinning slyly.

           “Because I wanted to
what
?” Now
I
was incredulous.

           “You said
watch a movie
; come on, everyone knows that’s code for fucking,” he laughed.

           “I mean, it’s way past time that you let me get inside that, anyway” he said, trying to rub my clit over my jeans and my push became more intent.

           “You just came here from Dave’s house didn’t you?” I asked him, annoyed.

           Dave was Andrew’s friend and another great reason for why things between us had fizzled.

           It was bad enough that Dave’s philosophy on life was (as he’d had the nerve to explain to Andrew right in front of me) to ‘
get as much pussy as you can, bro.
’

           When everyone else was on my side about our break-up, Dave was right there to take Andrew’s side, applauding him and handing him a beer.

           Dave was only a loser that was mooching off of Andrew’s popularity at school though; it seemed obvious to everyone except the two of them.

           I figured that Andrew would get the message and drop Dave eventually, but instead he’d gotten into the habit of going to over to his house and playing video games while downing a few beers.

           The last thing I wanted was to confront a drunk Andrew
and
tell him that he wasn’t getting laid.

           “Yeah, so what if I came from his house?” He taunted me.

           “Look, I thought we were just going to hang out but if you’re drunk then I don’t know,” I said, looking away as I crossed my arms.

           “Babe, I came over here expecting
something
; what are you going to give me? Maybe some head, at least?” he asked in a tone that made my skin crawl.

           I couldn’t believe I had thought
this
was a good idea.

            “You’re acting like a jerk right now, Andrew.”

           “A jerk? Babe that’s a little harsh; don’t be such a bitch.”

           After being around Brandon for the past few days, the sudden contrast in maturity that I was seeing in Andrew took me by total surprise.

          
Is this seriously what I was putting up with for the past three months?
I wanted to kick myself at the revelation.

           Andrew started to lean into me with a slimy grin stuck across his face, as he cornered me against the wall.

           “Andrew, why don’t you just go; this isn’t working,” I told him in a forced but transparent bravado.

           “What the fuck?” Andrew’s eyebrows scrunched up as his tone grew belligerent.

           The uncontrollable rage that he always seemed to have, which admittedly had turned me on when he was channeling on the football field, was now directed toward me for the first time and I was shaken by it.

           “Andrew, will you please leave!? I’m trying to be nice here!”

           I was demanding him at this point, but he only pressed his body harder against me, and pushed his lips into mine as his sour breath clouded against my face.

           “You were always such a fucking prude, you know that? Maybe if you weren’t always leaving me with blue balls all the fucking time I wouldn’t have had to get Reagan to give me head!” He shouted.

           His hand started to press against my breasts and run down my sides as my breathing quickly intensified and I felt on the verge of panic; this guy I thought I’d known had turned into a complete monster.