Stepbrother Studs: Taboo A-Z Boxed Set Volume 2: A Stepbrother Romance Bundle (Stepbrother Studs Boxed Sets) (9 page)

A pain lodged in my chest.  It kind of sounded like there wasn’t anything else left to try. 

Finn cleared his throat then placed his palms on either side of face, holding me there while he locked his gaze with mine.  “Dad said something before I left.  I wanted to run it by you.”

I frowned.  I didn’t want to talk about our parents while we were naked.  Didn’t want to think about them at all.  Yes, there was a little guilt still lodged inside me over what we’d done—over the possibility we’d broken their trust. 

“What did he say?” 

“That he wanted me to look out for you when you come to school in the fall.  That it would be easier, safer, if we shared a place rather than living in separate dorms.  He’d help with the cost.”

“Do you think...?”  I drew a deep breath. 

“If Janice was reminding you we aren’t blood, then yeah.”  He nodded.  “Come on, they sleep together.  They have to have talked.”

“But how would they know?  I mean really know...  about us.”

“Maybe they read something in one of my journals.  I keep them locked up, but hey—she’s
your
mother.  Guess we know where you got your spy gene.”  He grinned.  “The point is...  if you want...  we can room together.”

“As in separate bedrooms, with me listening through the wall while you fuck some coed?  No thanks.”

“Uh-huh.  As in you and me, sharing a bed?  We have different last names.  No one has to know we’re brother and sister.”

“Which we aren’t.  Not really.”

“Exactly.”

“You sure?”  I couldn’t breathe.  Not deeply anyway.  And my eyes were beginning to fill.  “You’re not obligated.  This was just supposed to be—”

“Fun.  I know.  But we both know that was a lie.”  His eyes on mine.  Speaking truth.  “What do you think?  Want to keep fucking me?” 

I smacked his chest.  “I don’t know.  You are not going to introduce me to your friends as Pim-D or Pita.”

“I could call you ‘my pretty pussy.’ Or...  ‘my favorite fuck’.”

I smacked him again.  “I’ll tell them you’re my Clark Kent with a dick of steel.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”  He grinned. 

But I couldn’t smile.  I felt my lower lip begin to tremble. 

“Really?  You really want to do that?  Be with me?” 

“No more fantasies...
Molly
.  Just you and me.  And anytime you want out, all you have to do is tell me.”

“I know you think I’m too young.”  I shook my head.  “That I might wake up one day and find out this was just puppy love, but Finn, I’ve loved you for the longest.  I’m not going to change.”

His hands settled in the small of my back, and his chest and abdomen tensed beneath me as he lifted his head to kiss me.  It was sweet.  A simple press of lips.  An unspoken promise.  It was too soon.  And we had all the time in the world to fall more deeply in love. 

When he laid his head on the deck, he smiled.  “Now, what about that swim?” 

I whooped and leapt off him, then made a dash for the end of the dock, I dove in cleanly, making barely a splash.  When I bobbed out of the water, strong hands closed around me from behind.  I snuggled my back against his chest and sighed.  I was exactly where I wanted to be.  The water was warm, the sun hot.  Life was good. 

He nuzzled my cheek with his bristly jaw.  “How good are you at holding your breath?” 

Sasha’s younger stepbrother, Gavin, is an exasperating little hottie—and he knows it. 

The two siblings enjoy teasing and tempting each other, just to see if they can push each other over the edge. 

The sexual tension between them is so thick you could cut it with a pair of scissors, and when Gavin agrees to be his stepsister’s test subject, allowing her to give him a shave and a haircut so she can practice her new beautician skills, Sasha discovers just how much lust exists between them. 

But that isn’t all they’re feeling.  And once that taboo line is crossed, Sasha knows there will be no going back.  Now that their forbidden desires have been exposed, she has to decide how far she’s willing to go. 

And, she wonders, how far is her stepbrother willing to go with her? 

“Gavin!”  Sasha stood on the bottom stair tread, calling up for her stepbrother, tapping her bare toes on the hardwood. 

“What?”  Gavin shouted back down the stairs. 

“We agreed, didn't we?” 

“Yeah, I guess.”

She scowled at him as he came down the stairs, walking past her, brushing stray hair from his eyes.  He was in desperate need of a haircut and, as her not-so-willing victim, he was going to get one.  She was finally practicing on real people at beautician school—she would get her certificate in two more months and, at twenty-four, it couldn’t come fast enough.  Her younger stepbrother made for the perfect subject, even if he’d signed on under duress. 

“Here, slide up to the sink,” she pointed to where she’d set everything out, her own little work station. 

Gavin pushed the chair over, dragging the wooden feet across the linoleum. 

“Don't drag it,” she snapped.  “You'll leave marks.  You know my mother will have fit if she sees it.”

Her stepbrother rolled his dark, smoky-gray eyes, but he picked up the chair and set it carefully in front of the sink. 

“Where is her highness anyway?”  Gavin settled into the chair, leaning his head back against the sink.  “Out with Dad’s credit cards?” 

“Likely.”  Sasha snorted, turning on the water so she could get it to a good temperature.  She wished she had one of those chairs like they had at the salon that leaned back and a sink with a dip in the front, but this would have to do.  “She mentioned something about a sale at Macy’s before she left.” 

Their parents had been married all of a year now and Sasha didn’t think it was going to last.  Gavin’s parents had gone through a hellacious divorce and his biological mom still called their house all the time to talk to her ex-husband.  Whenever Sasha’s mother answered the phone, she called her the “fucking slut who stole my husband.”  It was a bad scene.  They’d lived with this sort of menage-a-divorce for over a year now and it was getting tiresome. 

Thankfully, Gavin had turned eighteen last year and there was no more child support or custody to fight about, but that didn’t seem to stop Gavin’s mom’s phone calls or the late night arguments they caused between Gavin’s dad and Sasha’s mom. 

Gavin and Sasha became involuntary spectators to all the shouting matches.  During those times, Gavin would bury his nose in a thick science fiction novel and Sasha would peruse fashion magazines, glancing at each other over the tops of their respective reading material with knowing looks. 

“Stop squirming,” Sasha told Gavin as she put a smock on him—she’d “borrowed” one from the salon.  It fastened around his neck and covered him all the way around.  “I need to wash your hair first.  Just how much product did you put in it?” 

“Just do it, already!”  He scowled as she ran a hand through his thick, dark, sandy-brown hair.  He let it grow long—it was almost to his shoulders—and had a habit of just pulling a beanie on over the mess.  Not that he didn’t look good in it.  He did.  Her stepbrother was a little hottie.  Problem was, he knew it. 

“Promise to behave?”  She pulled back Gavin's hair with both hands, tilting his head back and leaning in to look him right in the eyes. 

“Sure, Sis.”  He flashed her a devastating smile.  “Just don’t shave me bald.”

“You’re not Samson and I’m not Delilah.”  She rolled her eyes, testing the water, making sure it wasn’t too cold or too hot.  “Head back.  Sorry it’s kind of awkward.” 

“It’s all right.”  He scooted back against the sink, letting her guide his head. 

“Too hot?”  She sprayed a trickle on his scalp, watching his face, but he’d already closed his eyes, a half-smile on his face. 

“Feels good,” he admitted, letting out a breath, and giving her another confession.  “I like when you wash my hair.” 

Sasha smiled, using the sprayer to wet his thick hair.  She liked it too, to be honest.  The way he closed his eyes and relaxed, letting himself go.  Even when Gavin was just chilling on the couch or reading a book, he was always all too aware of his surroundings.  Hypervigilant, even.  Probably due to living with his psycho mother. 

It was good to know that, despite appearances to the contrary, Gavin enjoyed being Sasha's test subject.  She took great care to wet his hair thoroughly before using something masculine-smelling—he’d protested the flowery scent of the shampoo the first time she’d done this—to start washing. 

“Comfortable?”  Sasha inquired, feeling him shift as she leaned in to use some of her more advanced scalp-massaging techniques. 

“Very.”  Gavin nodded, not opening his eyes, but he drew his lower lip between his teeth as she made slow circles with her fingers.  “Goddamn, your hands are like magic.”

That made her smile even more. 

Her stepbrother was an enigma.  His perpetual single status either came about because Gavin exhibited the classic symptoms of the chronic introvert or because he had a willful contrarian nature.  He acted like a put-upon sci-fi nerd, but his body didn't fit the stereotype.  After his father forced him to go out for track and field, his body bloomed with the cultivation of body lifting, distance running, and cross-training.  She’d watched him blush and get tongue tied around other girls—although he seemed to have no problem talking with Sasha—but the boy was cut. 

He could have had any girl he wanted, but he didn’t have any.  What friends Gavin did have involved a cast of social misfits and Dungeons & Dragons freaks, who did nothing but talk about character classes, quests, and DM-ing.  And Sasha knew it would catch up with him eventually, but clearly one of the perks of being just eighteen involved having a Thor-like body based on a diet of Funyuns and Mountain Dew. 

She’d seen him bring home a couple girls—dark-haired, long-limbed, athletic girls who looked, a little eerily, quite a bit like Sasha.  The nerdy ones, like the unconventionally attractive, geeky girl they occasionally let play D&D, he didn’t seem to notice.  Although she’d noticed the nerdy girl noticing him.  Not that she could blame her, poor thing.  Her stepbrother was way out of her league, in spite of his geeky tendencies. 

She remembered telling him about it, thinking maybe she could give the girl a chance at her dream guy. 

“You know Stephanie likes you,” she said.  She had come down to the basement to dig her favorite pair of panties out of the dryer—she had a date.  The basement was the holiest of holies for the D&D players. 

“Shhh,” Gavin said, clearly embarrassed.  “Not so loud.”

“Hi Stephanie,” she said over his shoulder. 

She noticed him looking at her in her cami and boxers.  She noticed some of the other nerds—who didn’t have Gavin’s physique—trying not to get caught looking. 

“Fuck off, Sasha.”  He scowled, waving her away. 

“Now that's not very nice.”

“Leave us alone.  We're busy.  This is important!”

“Clearly.”  She smirked and she saw him looking at the pair of black lace panties dangling from her index finger.  “Word to the wise, Poindexter.  Sometimes the thing you’re looking for is right under your nose.  Stick with something closer to home.”

She turned to go and saw him looking pointedly at her ass. 

“Not that close, buttmunch.”  She had given a little laugh when his neck flushed. 

Stephanie had just stared straight ahead, like she hadn’t heard the whole exchange.  And somehow, Sasha knew he wouldn’t give the girl a shot.  Stephanie just wasn’t his type.  He liked a girl with more sass.  A girl who would verbally spar with him.  A girl who wouldn’t be a doormat.  And he liked them curvy.  Not fat, but with real curves.  Round hips.  Busty.  Sasha glanced down at her own cleavage, which was practically spilling out of her white tank-tee, now pressed against her stepbrother’s bulging bicep.  She couldn’t see it, but she could feel the hard sinew of him under the cape, the flex of the muscle. 

She was older, and she should have known better, but she had to admit, she liked tempting him.  The way his gaze followed her around the house, whether she was wearing yoga pants, jeans, or just panties and a tank top, made her feel tingly in all the wrong places.  Or the right ones.  He liked it as much as she did. 

And while she really did need the practice, when she’d suggested cutting his hair for the first time, she hadn’t been thinking about her future career.  She’d been thinking about running her fingers through his hair, pressing her breasts against him, feeling him shift.  She’d been thinking about watching him bite his lip, almost like he was in pain, when she leaned in to blow away the little hairs that stuck to the back of his neck. 

He’d gotten an erection the first time she cut his hair.  He’d tried to hide it when she took off the cape, but she’d seen the considerable bulge in his jeans when he stood, mumbling something about the bathroom and breaking into a speed-walk. 

She’d known better, but she followed him anyway. 

And he’d left the door open, like an invitation.  He always did. 

She’d watched him unzip his jeans and scoop out his cock, already slicked with pre-cum.  It was just as gorgeous as the rest of him.  One hand leaning against the wall above the toilet, the other tugging furiously at his cock, he was quite the sight to behold.  Watching him made her nipples hard, her ass clench.  Her breath grew shallow in his throat as she watched his hips thrust into his fist, as if fucking an imaginary cunt.  She wondered who he was thinking about when he grunted, head going back, lower lip turning white under the gnash of his teeth as he came.