Unleashed (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance) (193 page)

I stare at the email on my phone. The blood in my veins has gone cold. All my hairs are standing up on end.

I’m so angry at myself that all I can think about is how this affects me. I should be happy for Dad! But all I can think about is myself.

And Pierce.

He is beside me, still asleep in bed. He’s thrown all the sheets off, and he’s just lying flat on his back, naked, sleeping. His hard muscle looks oddly relaxed, completely lacking in any kind of tension.

I take a moment to look down his body, and that’s when I notice he’s got a fucking erection.

“Oh my God,” I groan, rolling over.

Even in his sleep!

I refocus on the email, and read it again, and again, and again. I can’t believe it. This has got to be a joke. Pierce and I are going to become stepbrother and stepsister?

That’s so messed up. I don’t want to deal with that. The phone slips out of my hand and lands loudly on the floor, thudding on the wooden tiles… and waking Pierce.

He rolls over, looks at me, looks down at his naked body, and his erection, and then back at me.

He grins, sliding a hand over to my breast. I slap it away, irritated.

“Okay,” he says in a quiet voice, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He gets out of bed, and walks to the bathroom without looking at me. His dick bobs with every step.

I hear him running a glass of water, he downs it in one go, and then starts brushing his teeth.

“Whas yerr pwobwem dis marning?” he asks, dribbling toothpaste onto the floor. He grins and shrugs, and picks it up with a finger and flicks it into the sink.

I grimace. “Pierce, check your email.”

Some minutes later I hear him spitting out his toothpaste and rinsing his mouth.

“For what?” he asks, emerging at the door to the bathroom, toweling off his face. His hair is a little wet in front, and it sticks to his forehead. He brushes it to the side, giving him a goofy side-parting.

“Would you do something about that?” I ask, pointing at his erection.

“Nothing to do,” he says. “Got to wait.”

“For what?”

“It to go down?”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Morning wood. Just a guy thing.”

“You mean there’s no way you can get rid of it?”

“There’s one way,” he says, grinning and winking at me.

“Oh, please.”

“But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Why?” I ask, curious.

“Because I really need to fucking piss, not sure it would even work if you tried.”

“I’m not trying anything,” I say, frowning. “Can you check your email please?”

“For what, Penny?” he asks, sitting at his computer.

“You sit on your chairs
naked?
That’s so disgusting.”

He turns to look at me, an annoying look on his face. “You’re a bit bitchy this morning. Let me guess, you hate waking up. You’re one of
those
kinds of people.”

“Oh would you just fucking check it, Pierce?
Please?
”

“Jesus Christ, okay,” he says, frowning. “What the fuck is the email about anyway? Why can’t you just tell me?” He shakes his mouse and the screen comes alive.

“You have to read it yourself.”

“Well, I don’t have any new fucking emails, Pen.”

“What?” I ask. “Doesn’t your mother email you?”

“No. She prefers to write, even over calling.”

“Write?”

“Yeah. I think they call it a letter. It’s something from
ye olde
days.”

“She writes you snail mail?” I gasp. “The wedding will happen before it even gets here!”

His eyes open wide, and he cocks his head to the side. “What wedding?”

I groan, and bury my face in my hands. “You’re not going to believe it.”

“My mother?”

“Yeah.”

“And who?”

I shut my eyes and just shake my head.

“No,” he says. “You’re not serious.”

“I got an email from Dad this morning.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Penny.”

“I’m not
fucking
with you,
Pierce
.”

He starts to laugh. At first it’s a chuckle, but then he’s slapping his stomach and holding onto his chest, and tears are streaming from his eyes.

“Oh, God, I’m cramping, I’m cramping,” he wails as he laughs.

I am beside myself.

“This is
not
funny, Pierce.”

“It is! Oh, it fucking is. Don’t you see what that means?”

“Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes, waiting from something crude to come out of his mouth.

“It means you’re fucking your stepbrother!” He bursts out laughing again. “This is unreal. This is only shit that you
read
about. It’s always something that happens to somebody else.”

“You’re not my stepbrother yet, you idiot.” I fold my arms, and sit up in bed. “And we’re not
fucking
.”

“Right,” he says, walking over to me. His erection is half-gone now, and he stands right next to my face.

“Go away,” I say, making a face.

He leans down, tilts my head up, and kisses me quickly.

“Eugh!” I say, pushing him off me. I turn away from him and put a hand over my mouth. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“Pen,” he says. His cock throbs as he pinches his pelvic muscle. “I really don’t care.”

I get out of bed, rush past him into the bathroom. “We’re not doing this again,” I throw at him on my way in.

“Yeah we will,” he says.

I catch a flash of his arrogant smirk as I slam the door shut.

My head is spinning. Our parents are getting married!

Oh, God, how awkward is this going to be?

I brush my teeth, gargle mouthwash, and then examine my hair.

Sigh
.

That’s when I remember that I’ve got my hat in my bag. Perfect.

Rushing out of the bathroom, I get dressed, sling my bag over my shoulder, and walk toward the door. Pierce watches me from the kitchen counter. He’s drinking something thick and brown – probably a protein shake – and watching me with an amused grin.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” I say. “I’m leaving. I’m have to get to work.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

It’s always surprised me how fast irritation can lead to lashing out. I fire an angry glance at him. I feel… foolish. The news that our parents will be getting married has totally shaken me.

I mean, this is something I’ve got to get out of early. There’s no way I want to start forming any attachment toward my soon-to-be stepbrother.

Because once you dig that hole, climbing out involves a whole lot of awkwardness and embarrassment. I hate both of those.

And I have to admit to myself that I hate the idea of heartache even more.

“Pen,” he says. “What’s gotten you so worked up? We’re only going to be stepbrother and stepsister.” He laughs as he says it, apparently unable to contain himself. I don’t know what he finds so funny. It would only be funny if I were watching it happen to somebody else. It would only be funny if this was part of some television show.

But it’s not. It’s real. It’s happening.

It’s weird, icky. It’s not something people should do.

“Come on,” he says, as if reading my mind. He’s got a frothy protein-shake mustache, and wipes it off on the back of his hand. “It’s not like we’re
actually
related.”

“Officially we’re going to be.”

“So? We’ll keep it a secret.”

“Keep
what
a secret?”

“Keep fucking,” he says, shrugging.

“I’m going, Pierce.”

I make a beeline for the door, glancing at the clock. I’ll make it on time if I can get a taxi. Just as I’m about to open it, the doorbell rings, and then a gruff voice booms through the wood: “Pierce Fletcher!”

I freeze, and look at Pierce. The voice sounds… off. It’s bad, sounds like an order rather than a question.

“Who is that?” I whisper. “You’re expecting somebody? And you didn’t tell me?”

He shakes his head, and already I can see his expression has changed. He very definitely
wasn’t
expecting somebody.

“Nobody knows where I live.”

“Well, obviously somebody does!”