Stepbrother's Gift (6 page)

I laughed in his face. “No, you don’t get to do that.”

“What? I said I was sorry.” Confusion filled his handsome features. “If I really caused you that much pain, I’m truly sorry.”

I stopped, my rage still frothing. But he had thrown me off balance. He actually looked sincere, as if he were really just a clueless idiot that didn’t know any better and felt bad about it now.
Hell no
, I wasn’t letting him off that easy. He had ruined too much already.

I tried to stoke my anger, to get back on track with my rant. “You don’t get to be a jerk your whole life and just say sorry and everything is better. That’s not how it works, James. You can’t just randomly be nice and think everything is perfect. You can’t just...”

I felt his warm hand on my cheek. He turned my face towards his and he silenced me with his lips.

I pushed him off of me and slapped his face. “What the fuck! You can’t...”

He took my face in both his hands again. Leaving no room for argument or escape this time, he crushed my mouth under his.

I gave in, more than willing to melt in his hands as his tongue dipped into my mouth, tasting and teasing mine. I kissed him back, stronger, fiercer, until my lips hurt from being pressed so hard against his. He bit at them playfully, moved his wet lips hungrily across my jaw line, down my neck and back up to kiss and lick my mouth again. I felt the intensity of his need and wanted desperately to reach down and feel for it in those tight blue jeans of his. I was practically humping the air in between us when he finally, unexpectedly, broke the kiss.

I panted, staring at him, feeling my lips swollen, my nipples peaking so hard they hurt, my belly aching with a horrible empty feeling. I wanted him inside of me. But I didn’t want to make love or have sex. I wanted him to fuck me, to feel the weight of his hard body against mine, to feel his marvelous cock thrusting deep into me with his violent desire until he came inside of me again and again.

I squirmed on my seat, waiting for him to grab hold of me, desperate to feel the heat of his touch again.

He stared back, his breath just as short as mine.

“We better get home,” he said, finally, his eyes not letting mine go.

I nodded, nervous and scared but still shaking with lust. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He turned away and put the car in drive, then pulled back onto the road. I sat back straight in my chair, fixing my skirt, trying not to think too directly about anything, trying not to think how wet the leather seat underneath of me was going to be when I got up.

When we got home we went to our separate rooms without a word.

I didn’t bother to get out of my dress before crawling into my bed. I was so exhausted, but it still took hours to fall asleep.

W
hen I woke up in the morning, I was sure I had dreamed the whole thing. There was no way James could have kissed me. None.

But he had.

I touched my lips. They felt puffy and sore from James’s hard kisses, but under my fingers they seemed normal enough. Normal but changed. It seemed impossible for me to get out of my bed, to dress and go downstairs. Life as a normal girl was impossible for me now. He was my
stepbrother
.

I pulled my sheets up over my head, not wanting to face the day or the black twisted thoughts that were clouding the air and choking me. Waves of contradicting emotions ran over me—the intoxicating joy of knowing he wanted me, if only for a minute in his car last night. The gut-tearing nausea of knowing I could never have him, that it was impossible, that it was
wrong
.

I rolled over, smothering my face in my pillow until I drifted back asleep.

When I finally did manage to get myself out of bed, I avoided James. He must have had the same idea. He skipped out on the family Christmas Eve dinner, claiming he had work to do, but I didn't care. I wasn't sure I could sit at the same table as him and our parents and not turn bright red and give everything away. I had this terrible idea that my father would look at me and just
know
. It was ridiculous, but it didn't keep me from hiding out in my room.

Christmas morning came with more excitement than I was used to. Years ago, it was all about the gifts and Santa, but this year, it was all about James. The idea that I would have to spend the morning with him, opening gifts and eating breakfast, was a rush parallel to anything I had felt as a child.

I had gotten him a gift, of course, but it had been before everything at the restaurant. I had spent much of Christmas Eve debating whether or not I should go get him something more, or if I should just give him the stupid college sweatshirt I had picked out. It felt so impersonal now.

I wanted to give him something more, something that indicated how I felt, but since I didn't even know how I felt, I had no ideas. I thought of adding a note, but nothing sounded right. Besides, he had already pulled that one with his infamous “IOU” gift. I didn't have the time or the materials to make him something from scratch.

So I just left my carefully wrapped sweatshirt gift under the tree without adding anything to it. It felt wrong, but I didn't really have any other option.

Dad and Nancy were already sitting in front of the tree drinking coffee when I went downstairs Christmas morning. They were cuddled up on the couch, watching the lights on the Christmas tree blink and twinkle.

“Good morning, sleepy-head,” Dad greeted me warmly as I approached. “We were just about to send James up to go look for you. We opened our presents to each other, but we were waiting for you to do yours.”

My  eyes darted over to where James was sitting in the recliner. He was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, but still managed to have a sophisticated air about him. A surge of heat went through me at the idea of him coming into my bedroom, to my bed, and waking me with a kiss. A kiss like the one from a day ago. I felt my cheeks flame and looked away.

“Here,” I said, picking up the purple wrapped package and handing it to James. Better to get the  hard part over with first. “Merry Christmas.”

“Thanks.” James smiled and held out his hand for the package. Our fingers grazed one another and I retreated like I had been burned. He on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber and proceeded to neatly tear the paper in two. He held the sweatshirt up to his chest. “You know I can't wear this around the office, right?”

I flushed. Way to put me down. “Yeah, but I didn't know what else to get you. I mean, what do you get a billionaire?”

James' eyes met mine and desire flashed through them. A kiss. That's what you get a billionaire.

“Well, I think it's sweet,” Nancy interrupted. “Did you remember to get Allie a present this year, James?”

Her tone was teasing and light, but it still hit me. I thought of the IOU gift. If he did that again this year, I'd be pissed.

“Of course I remembered,” James replied, pulling out two small boxes. “I have a secretary now to help me keep track of those kind of things.”

Dad and Nancy laughed. I did my best to smile, but I felt more like stomping off back to my room to pout. I opened the smaller box first. Inside was a t-shirt with his company logo. Nice. I held it up. At least it was the right size.

“Thank you so much,” I gushed, putting as much sarcasm in my voice as I could without alerting Nancy and Dad. “How terribly thoughtful of you.”

“Open the other one.” James rolled his eyes. To be fair, I had given him a sweatshirt.

The box was smaller. I peeled the wrapping off and stared at it. It was a tiny can of something with a light and whistle attached. “Um, thanks?”

“It's pepper spray. With a rape whistle,” James explained. As soon as he said it I realized I had seen girls on campus carrying similar defense items on their backpacks.

“What a thoughtful gift,” Nancy said, looking over my shoulder. “That's very protective of you, James.”

I met James' gaze and heat skittered south. It was obvious to that he was referencing the other night. He didn't want anything to happen to me. I didn't know what to say, but my lone gift for him suddenly felt lacking. I wish I had something more to give him. Something that would last forever.

“Open mine next,” Dad said, cutting through my thoughts. I turned to receive the shiny wrapped present he had ready for me. James stood and walked to the kitchen, typing away on his phone for something business related.

As I opened the rest of my presents and handed out the other gifts I had bought for Nancy and Dad, I made sure to keep the little can of pepper spray close by.

***

J
ames avoided me the rest of the day. And then, he left.

I came downstairs after a nap—the day was dark and it was snowing pretty heavily—and Nancy told me he was gone. Apparently he had business things to take care of. "He wouldn’t even let me drive him to the airport," she complained.

So, he didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

Good. It was better that way.

We could avoid each other until next year and by then everything would have been forgotten. Right?

I spent the rest of the day vegging and trying not to think about James. But, of course, I did just the opposite. I went over everything that happened again and again, combing through the details, trying to enhance and remember those that were blurred with emotion. Trying to make
sense
of him, to imagine what he might be feeling.

Yeah, right. I couldn’t even figure out what
I
was feeling!

Was he running away because he was ashamed, like me? Because he felt something he was afraid of feeling? Or did he really not care at all? Was I just projecting my own feelings on to him? And if I was, what did that mean about how I felt?

I wanted to scream, to run away from my thoughts, but wherever I went they followed.

I waited another day for the weather to clear and decided it was time for me to go. Maybe the air in New York would cleanse me. But before I left, I drove by Tessa’s for a final dose of girl talk and a big hug.

I picked her up and drove us to the coffee shop on Main Street, debating whether or not it would be a good idea to tell her everything that happened as I drove. She knew about Dennis—I’m sure everyone knew about Dennis by now—but she didn’t know about what happened on the side of the road on the way back home.

The wheels crunched to a halt on the hard-packed snow as I pulled into a parking spot.

“All right,” Tessa said. “What is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

We got out of the car and walked to the coffee shop. “Please, girl. I could hear that look on your face over the phone. What happened?”

I glanced at her in shock. “James.”

“Oh shit!” she shouted, just as we walked inside. That drew a few stares and a few shaking heads from a table of older ladies. “I was just fishing!” she said under her breath. “Spill. Now.”

“After I get something hot to drink,” I promised.

We ordered and I picked the table furthest in the back and farthest from any eavesdroppers. Then I told her, with all the detail I could, what had happened.

There was a pause after I finished. It unnerved me a little bit. “What? Why are you so serious? You’re freaking me out,” I said, sipping at my mocha.

“Okay, look,” she said, leaning in, much too solemn for my liking. Tessa was never serious. Like, ever. “You have two options here. Option one, forget it happened, go on with your life, and in a few years neither of you will care or remember some drunk kiss the day before Christmas eve. Probably.”

“And option two?”

“Do you need an option two? I really just recommend option one. Really recommend it.”

“I’d like to hear it,” I said, evasively.

Tessa grimaced. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“What?”

“So do you like,
love
him? Or just want to fuck him?”

I almost spat out my mocha. “Do I what?”

“Come on. Seriously. All this ‘I hate you so much’ crap I’ve been listening to for the last five years, it’s textbook. No fucking around. Be honest. Are you or are you not in love with him?”

I held my cup with both hands and stared down at it.

“I don’t know. There is something about him, I guess. I mean I feel
something
,” I sighed in frustration. “It’s complicated...”

“Okay, let me just shut you up right there. You need to be careful around James. I know you think you know him because he lives with you, but there's a lot of secrets he's kept from you.”

“Secrets, Tessa?” I set my coffee down. “James is box of secrets wrapped in an enigma. But that doesn't change the fact that he kissed me and I felt something. What's option two?”

She let out a resigned sigh. “Option two is you go to Boston, confront him, and tell him you want to jump his bones.”

“That’s not a real option,” I told her. “Have you forgotten a little detail? He’s my
brother
.”

“He’s your
step
brother. Get it out of your system so you aren't doing this to yourself. You don't need him.”

“Get it out of my system? That's not helpful,” I told her. Though, I loved the idea of not wanting him the way I did.

“So what, you two are a little freaky. Who cares?”

“Uhm, the rest of Western society?”

“Fuck them. What did they ever do for you? You think the world is going to do you some favor because you were a good girl who didn’t fuck her brother?”

Tessa’s voice was too loud. An old lady three tables over glanced at us. Tessa shot her a sarcastic smile. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down, grandma.”

“Jesus, Tessa.”

“I’m just telling you how it is. He’s not your brother. His mom fucks your dad and he lived in your house for a while. Some people won’t like it, but there’s always something people aren’t going to like about you. Besides, you're basically the only girl in Springfield he hasn't fucked. Might as well complete the set.”

“I just... I don’t know. I mean he was on the cover of a fucking magazine by the cash register! He’s a billionaire now, he doesn't have a shortage of girls to pick from. And even if he had the same feelings that I think I do for him, how could he act on them? He’s under a spotlight now. People will find out.”