Hooked: A Stepbrother Romance (13 page)

Somehow, the terrible night had turned into something good. I had Emilia with me, and maybe, if I could avoid idiotic outbursts like the one I’d had earlier,
maybe
we could actually rebuild something.

“Get in bed, I’ll get the cart” I said, fetching Emilia some herbal tea and a
madeleine
before settling into bed myself.

She clicked on the television and patted the space next to her, enticing me to come sit right there. As soon as I did, she smiled sheepishly and slowly rested her head against my chest, warm and solid against my skin.

I felt blessed with her generosity and wondered if she could hear just how fast my heart was beating.

Another summer with my so called “family.” Great.

Maybe it’s just because she has a reputation for being a slut, but damn, Emilia is freaking hot now.

Probably for the best that she won’t even speak to me.

Wouldn’t want to fuck a stuck-up bitch like her anyway.

“So, ready to get your ass kicked tonight?” Simon asked.

“That depends, are you ready to stop staring at it long enough to beat me?” I shot back, enjoying every second of the reaction that followed. His face went from painfully smug to shocked, and from shocked to embarrassed, before finally settling back on smug.

Of course, his arrogance was probably deserved. I’d never really gotten into team sports very much, only with a stint on the lacrosse team back in college to show for my pedigree. I had enjoyed it, but my joining was also a total fluke. Like all the other team members, I’d only tried out because my track-and-field coach had begged me to do so, desperate to get the school’s first foray into lacrosse off the ground. It was fun, but not nearly as fun as running.

Simon, on the other hand, had devoted his life to team sports. The truth was, I probably
was
about to take a pounding, but I damn well wasn’t going to feed his ego any further by admitting that.

He grinned at me as I finished the last crumbs of the poppy seed muffin he’d brought me, and I smiled back. After spending the night in his arms, I’d been sleeping better than I had in many years, and our endless power struggle had almost completely transformed into a friendly rivalry. Both of us were in a fantastic mood, especially after spending so much of the weekend helping Ella and Theo.

Simon had focused his efforts in Theo’s bedroom with Ella, clearing out the unbelievable mess that had accumulated over the years. Somehow, in just a couple of days, the mountains of clutter that had been buried in every nook and cranny were slowly cleaned in a feat that would’ve made Hercules proud. Meanwhile, I had gone grocery shopping and cooked up a storm on Ella’s old, greasy cooking, range. By the time I had finished, there were enough frozen meals prepared to last all of Theo’s convalescence.

On both Saturday and Sunday, after we’d taken off for the night, Simon had invited me to eat at the Greek restaurant attached to his hotel. We’d had loads of fun and, against all odds, managed to catch up on our lives since we last saw each other.

“How is it,” I’d asked between bites of absolutely amazing falafel, “that I’ve never heard about you living here before? Or attending the Goodman Youth Center, for that matter?”

“You never asked,” he’d shrugged.

“Oh come on, am I supposed to ask every little detail about you? Hmm, did you ever change your name from Aaden? Aaron?
Abel
?” I’d teased. “But honestly, I’m surprised the center never bragged about you. Having such a famous professional athlete among its alumni seems huge.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly attend it with any kind of regularity, you know.”

“Why not?”

“I was too busy being a little asshole thug. I had so much hate back then,” he’d said quietly.

“I remember,” I’d responded somberly.

“No, you don’t. As hard as it is to believe, I used to be
worse
.”

“I don’t see how that’s even possible. Besides, you were already living in England when you were just fifteen. How bad could you have really been, back when you were barely out of your tweens?”

“Well, let’s just say I was an early bloomer. Very early. But by the time I met you, I’d already turned most of it inward. After Jake…”

His voice had trailed away then. As much as I’d wanted to hear more, I knew better than to push. The Simon I was discovering now had nothing in common with the terrible bully he’d been so long ago, and the sad look in his eyes had told me that, while he had broken free from the past, he still hadn’t forgotten it. I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to chain him back up with old memories.

“Hello? Earth to Em?” Simon said, waving a cup of coffee in front of my face. “What’s going on?”

“Just thinking,” I said, blinking a few times and returning to the here-and-now.

“About?”

“How much I’m going to make you regret thinking you can beat me at basketball, you silly British git.”

“Blimey, been saving that one,
little lass
? Tonight at seven, we’ll see who’s full of guff,” he teased, making his way towards the door. Before leaving, he turned and looked back at me. “And Em?”

“Yes?”

“I hope you remember the stakes of our little wager, I know I do,” he said with a wink, swaggering out of the room.

“Bloody hell,” I said quietly.

She’s in my face all day, flaunting her fine ass and bare legs right in front of me.

I can’t stand it here.

The air was sweltering. Still and humid, it seemed to blanket the whole city in a stifling fog. Heat radiated up from the asphalt, and out from the slew of players who’d invited themselves to join our game of streetball. Even the clothes on my back prickled my skin, making everything about this midsummer evening an unbearable, sweaty mess.

So, it shouldn’t have surprised me when Simon pulled off his shirt.

It really,
really
shouldn’t have.

Except, of course, it did. Majorly. Seeing the muscle shirt peeling up his chest and over his head, the grin on his face, the way his damp skin glimmered in the light. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, as if a heavy rock had landed on my stomach and stayed there.

Oh boy
.

I’d been holding my own quite well until that moment. We had four members on each team, and even though at five-feet-two I was greatly outsized by the other seven players, I’d put up a fierce competition. I hadn’t cared about the streams of sweat running down my neck, or the fact my tank top had gotten soaked long ago, or the way I looked like a hot mess in front of Simon.

Except, Simon had taken off his shirt, and now suddenly I was a
hot mess
. My concentration immediately bottomed out, and he grinned triumphantly at me. His black hair tousled, sweat dripping on his face and running in rivulets down to the most majestic chest I’d ever seen. He was wide and strong, bulging with a well-defined physique that the Phys Ed student in me took a mental inventory of.

His deltoids, his biceps, his triceps, even muscles straining through his athletic shorts and making themselves known. Tension filled my body, making me want to shake, to shiver, to touch.

Anatomy class would’ve been a hell of a lot more fun if we’d been studying models like Simon Ferguson.

Even with my disheveled appearance, I felt incredibly feminine. I was dwarfed by his masculinity, his presence, the ripples in his arms as he grabbed the ball and dribbled towards the hoop. I could see the veins in his chest clearly, imagining the blood that was pumping through them as he surged towards me. With every heavy breath he took, I imagined a thousand stories of lust and physicality. Pain and athleticism, strength and testosterone. His most striking feature, however, was the tattoo sleeve that began on his upper arm and spanned to his left shoulder, running all the way to his back. How intricate it was, how the—

“EMILIA! Helllooooooooo?” roared one of my teammates, his arms flung wide as he yelled. “He ran right past you! How about you just take a picture and be done with it? Or do we need to stick you in an all-girl game to get some focus out of you?”

A large group of spectators, most of which were regulars at the youth center, all burst into laughter from the curb. Mortified, I realized that I’d probably been standing there gawking, completely immobile, for at least a minute.