Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance (9 page)

“Thanks for the peep show.”

I found Maneater at the back of the closet, wedged between a prom dress and a swimsuit. 

I pulled her out with a shit-eating grin.  Oh, yes, Nate would really hate this, I decided, modeling her in front of my mirror.  She was my one and only sexy dress—not because I objected to sexy dresses, but because she was perfect.  No other dress could beat her. 

Maneater was a sinful red color with a plunging neckline and a slit that revealed a strip of leg up to the thigh.  It stretched over my body perfectly, highlighting every little turn and curve in the most flattering way possible.  Not anywhere near what somebody should wear to a Friday football game, which was even more perfect. 

Nate would know this was for him, and he’d know he’d never get to touch it again.  I practiced a few hair flips and some hip swaying in the mirror.

You go, Bitch Nat.

I grabbed my purse when the rumble of Jess’s car roared up to the house, her headlights flooding my room through the window.  Cal was leaning against the bannister of the stairs, waiting dutifully for me. 

I gaped at him. 

He cleaned up very, very nicely.  A thin black t-shirt stretched tight over his muscles, and the leather jacket he had shrugged on gave him a badass look to match the motorcycle parked outside.  His jeans were still dark and distressed, but at least they were clean.  His perfectly messy dark hair was combed back from his face, giving me a full view of the dark five o’clock shadow and tattoos that licked his neck.

He glanced up at me, and his lips parted.

“
Jesus
, Sis,” he breathed, dragging out the word
Jesus
as long as it took his gaze to roll down my body.

I smiled.  I loved being a jaw-dropper.  Especially if the jaw dropping belonged to Cal Gatlin.

No.  Stop thinking like that.

“Hell, Sis,” he choked.  “Why don’t you wear that around the house more often?”

“It’s not for you,” I said, tilting my chin up.  My heartbeat was fluttering like a hummingbird’s wing.  It was true, it wasn’t for him.  So why did I want it to be for him so badly? 

“Then….?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“It’s for… well, it’s for Nate.”

His expression turned dark. 

“You’re not going back to him, are you?”

“Fuck, no.  I want him to stare at my ass and think about how he’ll never get to touch it.”

He threw his head back and laughed. 

“I knew you weren’t as good as you pretended to be, Sis.  Now I have to go.  Gotta see that douche’s face.”

I half expected him to throw his arm over my shoulders as we walked out, but chastised myself.  I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but I couldn’t keep thinking of him like that.  No matter how delicious he smelled.  Or how strong his arms looked in that jacket.  Or, God, how great his butt looked in those jeans. 

Jess met us outside with a raised eyebrow.

“You two look awfully close,” she said, barely withholding judgment.  “Are you riding in my car too?”

“I’ve got a bike,” Cal said, shaking his head.  I had seen the motorcycle before, a glossy black monster that Cal babied like his own infant. 

We waited for him to mount and get the engine going.  The purr of the bike, plus the sight of Cal working so expertly with it, did things to me.  He glanced up and smirked at my expression. 

“You want a ride too, Sis?  Plenty of room for us to get up close and personal.”

I scoffed, but Jess laughed. 

“No, do it,” she said.  “Jesus, can you imagine Nate’s face if he sees you riding up on that thing with your arms around Cal Gatlin?”

That ended that argument. 

I hopped on faster than the Flash and wrapped my arms around Cal’s chest, mounting the bike behind him.  He helped me find my seat.  His rough hands slid along my legs and grasped my thighs, pulling them apart to demonstrate how to sit behind him without falling off.  I squeezed up against him as his strong hands held my body, fitting me into him like a puzzle piece.  My chest pressed against his back, and my face was nuzzled in his neck again. 

God, he smelled so good.

“I knew I’d get between your legs,” he murmured in my ear, turning his head just enough that I could see the cocky smile.

I pinched his arm, attempting to scold him but shocked by how nice his warm muscle felt underneath my hand.  He chuckled, and the sound reverberated through his chest under my grasp.  It was almost as good as the vibration between my legs. 

No, no, no, don’t think about that!  Especially not with Cal Gatlin!

I chased the thought of my mind as Jess left and we peeled out of the driveway behind her. 

The game had already started by the time we arrived, so most people were distracted.  I did catch a few double-takes as Cal pulled in on his bike with my arms wrapped around him. 

Cal chuckled again.  He was doing that a lot lately. 

“You have admirers, Sis.”

“More like rubberneckers.  They’re watching the train wreck.”

“You think we’re a train wreck?”

“No,” I said too quickly.  Though I had to admit.  Even if this train was wrecking, I never wanted to get off.

Cal and I hopped off, and we followed Jess to her favorite spot to watch the game.  I felt his warm hand rest at the small of my back as he led me to the bleachers.  Electric sparks shocked my body wherever his skin met mine.  I closed my eyes hard, praying he didn’t notice. 

Don’t think about that, don’t think about that, don’t think about that.

“Ooh, hold on, I think I left my keys in the car,” Jess said, slapping her forehead.  “You two go sit down without me, I’ll be right back.”

“Is she really sure she wants to leave you alone with me?” Cal asked, leaning over to whisper in my ear.  His warm breath rolled down my neck in a delicious way.  Goosebumps rose on my skin.  “Isn’t she afraid for her friend, the good girl?  Doesn’t she know I’m bad?  Everybody else here does.”

I rolled my eyes, but when I glanced back at him, his gaze was lingering a little too long on my ass.  I lost my breath for a moment.  Not out of fear.  Out of something I refused to admit.

“Gatlin, are you checking me out?” I squeaked.

“Can’t blame me.  Jesus, Sis, I can’t believe you’ve had that dress hidden from me for so long.”

“Please.  I’m a dork.  I’m not half as beautiful as those girls you’re always chasing after school.”

“I think you’re incredibly beautiful.”  He thought about it for a moment, considering his next words.  “And fucking sexy.”

I shivered.  

No, no, no.  Stop!
 

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Gatlin.  I’m fine being a dork.”

Cal’s brow furrowed.  “I’m not sparing anything.  Look over there.”

I glanced over.  A huddle of freshman boys that had been staring at us immediately turned red and looked away, muttering to themselves.

“So what?” I asked, irritated.  “More freshmen gawking at the train wreck.”

“It’s not me they’re looking at, Sis.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked at me like I was a moron.  “You have to know what you do to men.  You have a dress called Maneater.”

“It’s a joke,” I said in a small voice.

“Well, it ain’t a joke that every boy in this school would do anything to get under that skirt.”  He crossed his arms and looked out into the game evenly.  “They don’t stare at us because we’re a train wreck.  They stare because they want you.  And because they can’t have you—because you’re mine.”

“Please.  That’s not even close to true.”

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

Cal looked over at me, his eyes searching mine.  “Whether you believe it or not, Sis, it’s true.  You’re fucking beautiful.”

I opened my mouth to say something back, but I couldn’t think straight.  Cal Gatlin thought I was beautiful. 

My lower lip quivered for a moment as I wracked my brain for any coherent thought, and Cal’s gaze floated downward and fixed on it.  He reached forward and ran his thumb along my bottom lip, leaving me paralyzed.

“You know how many boys would do anything to bite that lip?”

Cal Gatlin was touching me.

Holy shit.

But it didn’t feel wrong like when Nate touched me.  It felt safe.  And it felt warm, and it felt… sexy.  I wanted him.

Cal looked deeply into my eyes.  His fingers caressed my jawline, and his lips parted.  This was it.  I could feel it.  I wanted to kiss him.  I was going to kiss him.  I was going to open myself up to Cal Gatlin and taste him. 

Everything happened in slow motion: the electric touch of his fingers pulling my jaw towards him, the expectant opening of my mouth, the warmth of his breath rolling down my neck…

“Gatlin, what the fuck do you think you’re doing to my girlfriend?”

The sound of Nate’s voice broke us apart.  Cal’s hands dropped, more out of confusion than fear (as if Cal could ever be afraid of Nate).  We turned. 

Nate was marching down the sidewalk toward us, his shoulders thrown back and his glare mad as hell.  I noticed Vanessa Miller waiting worriedly in the distance.  She was wearing his varsity jacket.  My stomach turned.

It was true, wasn’t it?  Nate really was fucking around on me with her.  It was one thing to hear it, and it was another to believe it.  But it was nothing compared to being faced with the evidence firsthand and being forced to really feel it as the whole situation dawns on you.

I was going to be sick.

“Ain’t doing anything to your girlfriend.  She looks fine where she is.”  He nodded towards Vanessa.  His voice was bored and flat, but I could feel his grip tightening on my hand.  It wasn’t a dangerous or painful one, like the grip Nate always had on me.  It was protective.

“Fuck off, Gatlin, and get your hands off of her.”

“Why?  Afraid she’s found someone who gives a shit about her?  You’re right.”

Nate marched up to us, and Cal subtly pushed me behind him, shielding me with his chest.  What was Nate thinking, getting in Cal’s face like that?  He was a moron, but not that stupid.  Especially after what had happened earlier in the cafeteria.  He had to know that there was no way he could beat Cal.  So why was he provoking him so much?